I just don’t know what to do with myself

How bad is it to make your blog an open journal? How bad is it to fill it with things that are closely bothering you and to discuss the small details in your life? I don’t know but I’m trying not to care. Here’s my dilemma: Since the New Year, every morning I wake up not knowing what to do with myself.

It happens like this: I roll out of bed, brush my teeth, wash my face, stumble into the kitchen to make coffee, walk the dog in an extremely slow fashion, stumble back into the house, sit at my computer reading the New York Time (food and health sections only) and a couple of food blogs that I’m addicted to, attempt to find more food blogs I could be addicted to, and then sit, and ponder; what the hell am I supposed to do with myself now?

I sit at my computer staring at a sign that hangs on my wall of New Years Resolutions, they list:
-Take care of your health
-Take care of your self (the mental part)
-Finish my ever so long-lasting community college degree
-Learn spanish in 365 days
-Train for a marathon (starting in March)
-Train for the North Shore Swim Series
-Do yoga at least once in January
-Surf at least once in January

So with all the exercise I should be doing, along with all the studying for spanish, shouldn’t I have a shit load of things to do? Apparently not and this is entirely because I don’t want to be doing any of those things I listed above. If I could be doing anything right now it would be… maxing chex mix, maybe. Or chicken liver pate. Or working at a job where people actually want me there; where I get paid well and am learning more about cooking and food then I ever have before in my life! But instead, I’m not making chex mix or chicken liver pate, and not working at a job I want to eat up and marry. I am sitting at my computer contemplating my next move in life. Contemplating my very, annoying, existence on this earth, and wondering, what the hell should I do with myself?

I emailed that place, that restaurant that strung me along, felt like a horrible date, where I met all his friends and then never heard from again. You see, they always call back as soon as you forget about them. But I emailed them, and didn’t hear back. I thought, “Wow, I must have really sucked.” but then a week and a half later I received an email. The email basically said that he will take me in as an intern. An intern? But I haven’t gone to culinary school. I don’t get it. Do they just want someone around to do the bitch work? Someone who can boost their egos because I will seem so small and pathetic to them? Whatever. I’ll be their ego boosting, punching bag, tall awkward girl in the kitchen. As long as they teach me how to make gnocchi and cook meat to the proper temp, I’m game.

 

I Scream

I really have nothing to write about. But I need the therapy of writing, of acting like I’m sharing my soul with someone and as if they are sitting there, nodding, understanding where I am coming from and then patting me on the back.

I have a confession to make; I’m putting myself in a bad situation. I’m scared and don’t want the job at that place. I’m scared that I’ll get it and be horrible at it. That I’ll put all my effort and soul into it and I will suck and my fears will become reality.

I had a dream the other night of Waimea Bay having the biggest waves of the season and there were drunk college kids, tourist families, and other random people playing in the shore break and getting washed out into the gigantic surf. The lifeguards were just chilling in their stand, not doing a thing. I was in such a panic trying to warn everyone about the dangerous surf and then I gave up and just let them all get swept out into sea.

What does it mean? I have no idea. But it was extremely emotional. Maybe my worst nightmare coming true? I felt vulnerable and sad.

I keep on thinking about Jim Carry and his attempt to become an actor. He would go and sit at the Hollywood sign and make statements such as, “Everyone wants to hire me!” and, “I’m getting job offers all the time and am going to be rich and famous!” and would climb down and take on the world. So, that’s exactly what I did today. Well, I hiked koko head, sat down, and said (to myself) “Everyone wants to hire me because I’m a hard worker, so much fun to be around, and am the best chef on the island!” Then I climb back down, trying to not let the feeling of being defeated wash over me.

Then I got home and started to cry. Then reminded myself how wonderful I am and that life will be okay and my career will work itself out.

And then it was time to spin my strawberry balsamic ice cream and everything will seem okay.

 

false hope

Wait, that was my interview? But it didn’t make any sense and I didn’t get to say the list of reasons why you should hire me. Instead we talked about pig slaughter and raising rabbits as food. We were supposed to talk about my current job and how it doesn’t lets me grow on a culinary level, how the food at work is slop, and how badly I want to learn about making good food. Instead, he just got a “vibe” and is trusting his intuition. Eh, can’t blame him. If he was basing his hiring off of experience then I wouldn’t have had a shot and well, still might not.

This is the wavering period of doubts and a nervous stomach. Now, we wait, hoping that they saw something in me that they know will excel in a restaurant type setting. That maybe they’ll go out on a limb and give a gal a chance to learn and grow and explore the main place where food thrives, in the fucking kitchen. I mean, I’d just be making salads for gods sake, nothing too crazy, just salads, trying to perfect the amount of salad dressing versus the amount of greens to other elements such as fired chickpeas, pancetta, and toasted walnuts.

There has been a steady flow of anxiety since I randomly applied for this job. The ad said, “COOK, restaurant in Kaimuki, $8.50 hr plus tips” and nothing more. Not what restaurant, not where to call or stop in, nothing. I instantly heard back. “Sounds great Nicole, can you come in on tuesday?”
“Tuesday is perfect, see you then.”

Wow, I can’t believe this is happening. Someone is really going to give me a chance? I don’t have to give up on society and the fact that only school can give you the knowledge  you need to succeed in life? Amazing.

But I messed up and didn’t go in on tuesday… or wednesday… or thursday, and by then I figured it was too late and I gave up and decided to possibly email him with a plea on sunday. But then something strange happened, I heard from him.
“Still interested in the job?” Was the lone no-brainer question that laid upon my email.
“Totally.” I wrote back with a spike of hope that might soon be destroyed.

He made statements such as “you don’t need to go to culinary school” and “you can learn from the kitchen”, as I rolled my eyes slightly knowing that actions speak so much louder than words. This is a test. This is showing me whether or not I need to step foot into the realm of culinary school a practice that once gave people the chance to learn in the kitchen. Maybe he just gave me a false sense of hope? I sit and wait.

Three other people applied, all guys, all with more experience then I have; two in culinary school and one already having kitchen experience. I knew by the way they talked about the culinary school goers that they were more excited to have them work closely. I’m sad and maybe my lack of confidence showed while I was in the kitchen. I don’t think I’m going to get the job.

So now what do I do? Wait and hope. If it doesn’t work out I will properly thank him and tell him what a horrible person he is. Just kidding. I will thank him, think up of a way to tell him ‘I told you so’, pick up my broken vulnerability and try something else.

 

Seriously? No.

“Don’t take life so seriously Nicole.” I hear my mother saying in the back of my brain at 5:43 in the morning. It is amazing the powers mothers have over their children, well, at least subconsciously. But she’s right, I’ve been taking life too seriously and “to heart”. I mean, it’s life. Life is a big deal. It’s this massive thing you just get pushed out into totally forced beyond your will. I can see why some people are so bitter. But Moms right, life is too short to be taken seriously.

Then I think of all the suicides. Okay, okay, horrible thing to be thinking about at 5:47 in the morning (yeah, my first paragraph took me four minutes to write). They must be taking life pretty damn seriously if they are that depressed and giving up on themselves and society. I’ve known people who have been successful and it makes me think that suicide is more like a disease. Any negative thoughts in your body can multiple like wild-fire, just spreading, till it takes over your whole body. I can understand. They took life too seriously.

But who am I to talk? Nobody really. Just the other day I had a nervous break down because I couldn’t build the guts to walk into one of the more popular/”cool” restaurants in town and apply for a job that pays crap. An “I take life too seriously” nervous break down consisting of cries and self-pity. I thought it was over. I stood this guy up a few times due to lack of courage, there is no way he would want to hire me. Especially want to hire someone who doesn’t have kitchen experience. Shit, what am I getting myself into? But he emailed me. Yes, he emailed me! Asking if I was still interested in the job. Fuck. Now I have no choice but to go in because hell yes I’m interested.

My significant other describes working in a restaurant kitchen (a “real” kitchen) as some sort of black pit of anarchy, and Anthony Bourdain does the same. I’m honestly just curious to see if it is what they say. I want my own restaurant experience. I also want the experience because I don’t want to work in a goddamn grocery store anymore. I don’t want my working experience to be grocery stores. When we move to New York I want to be able to apply to places like Prune and Momofuku and not feel scared. But I’ve talked to my future boss (feeling hopeful!) and he seemed laid back, mellow, and just down right nice. I won’t take this job too seriously if I get it. It will be a learning experience and a way to see how I function in a “high stress” in ordered anarchy with other people who love food just as much as I do.

Don’t take life too seriously.

 

2010, get the hell out of here.

I hate the holidays. It’s so fussy and everything is hyped up from the food to the parades. I just don’t like it. I also don’t like running into old faces that bring up old memories, it makes me bitter and grouchy. Maybe I just can’t get over my extremely old hurt feelings but when I run into those faces all I can see is that time I called you and you didn’t call me back for three months to then only want a shoulder to cry on. Forget it. Or the way you told everyone what a horrible friend I was. Please faker, don’t look happy to see me. I just can’t deal with it. Then I hate the catch up which is a three-minute conversation that contains these annoying questions, “How are you? What have you been doing the past (insert years here)? What are you doing for a living (insert awkwardness here)? Are you still with that one guy/girl (insert not really caring here)? Did you hear so-and-so is pregnant (insert trauma and jealously here)?” As I stand there wishing you would either ask me out to coffee so we could have a real conversation or just look at me, say hi, and continue on your merry way. So I stand there, with somewhat of an irritated look on my face, trying to make nice as best as I can, wishing I could just go back home to my kitchen and cook my troubles away.

I’m obviously bitter. This year has been tough. I don’t want to talk about how things have been because all the events that happen in my life are not something to be proud of minus the fact that I got engaged and moved back in with my parents. I don’t care what anyone says. I love living with them and they are never really home anyways. They eat and drink in the same fashion as us. They walk our dog sometimes and make us laugh and feel loved. I am grateful. But tell this to the someone you ran into from your teenage years and they will look at you like you’re crazy. Same with being engaged, not a big deal and usually a death wish for most. What do I do? What should I say? Should I rant and rave about my discovery of my passion for food? I could. Everyone loves food.

I don’t like feeling this way and part of me wants to say, ‘suck it up Nicole!’ And just go out and have fun with these old faces, forgiving them for what they did to me and hoping they would do the same. Yes, I haven’t been an angel also. In fact, maybe I’m the reason why I suck, which is probably the case. Some may say I don’t love myself very much.

So here I am, here we are, at the end of 2010 feeling somewhat sad and laced with a layer of anxiety. What does 2011 hold? Some wonderful changes I hope. I hope Jake gets a job he loves, that I get a job I love and can learn a ton from, that we can save enough money to move, that I can go to the CIA, that my Mom gets her travel business in full swing, that we make some awesome and cool friends, that I can have the guts to kill those crawfish that were in my dream last night, and that change happens. Good change. And lots of it. And that I become an awesome cook.

2011, bring it on.

 

Lesson One in Baking

I’m not going to lie, I’m not very good with my words in both writing and speaking. I can’t tell if this is just in my head or not but I feel like after I speak people usually look at me in a funny manner; a confused manner. I can’t blame them, really. I often look at myself and have that same puzzled appearance on my face. I get it when I bake something and it doesn’t turn out the way I wanted, when my bank account is too low, or when I’m running and I have to stop to breathe, and pant, and breathe; I look confused.

The most recent confusion was that of my whole wheat chocolate chip cookies. They spread across the entire cookie sheet. The most confusing part is I’ve made this recipe, from heart, multiple times. Damn you. Why this time, dear cookie, did you decide to take over that sheet? Usually it is my heart you take over but this time, you did me wrong.

I blame it on the butter.

You see, this time I followed the recipe, to the T, incorporating cold butter into the wet mix (for those of you who know how to bake, did your jaw just drop? ) And you see, the recipe always always requires one of these fancy kitchen aid mixers that are doing the mixing but I only rely on my, somewhat, unused muscles to do the mixing. This is where I’ve gone wrong.

Lesson One: Incorporate the butter FULLY into the wet mixture, stupid.

and here… I will share with you my flat cookie…

sad, I know. But still delicious, none-the-less.

Adapted from GOOD to the GRAIN, Whole Wheat Chocolate Chip Cookies

WET:  2 sticks unsalted butter
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
1 cup dark brown sugar
1 cup white sugar

CREAM the butter and sugars together. Once fully blended together add one egg at a time, mixing between each added egg. Add vanilla. Mix some more. Set aside.

DRY:    3 cups whole wheat pastry flour (or regular whole wheat flour)
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt

SHIFT flour, BS and BP, adding in whatever remains in shifter. Add salt. Mix.
ADD dry to wet in three stages. ADD 1 1/2 cups chocolate chips.
Bake at 350 F, in a pre-heated oven, for 16 minutes on a well buttered cookie sheet, checking every two minutes after 10 minutes and turning them after 8 minutes.

Godspeed.

The Beginning

I don’t know where to start. But what else is new? I told myself this blog would not be personal; I would not include my love life, my family and friends, or my personal mishaps. But honestly, that’s not me. I’m very personal. I’m the type of person that would want to tell you every possible detail of my life, the good and the bad, if you’re willing to listen. And let me tell you a little secret, nobody knows that about me. If you asked my friends if I’m an open, tell you whatever you want to know, talk your head off kind of person, they’d laugh.

I spend a lot of time being quite, keeping to myself, and keeping to my kitchen. I hate applying for jobs, I find the application and interviewing process to be somewhat of an energy drain. I feel defeated too easily and take it personally if I think you don’t like me, in other words, I care too much what you think. But don’t worry, I’m trying to get over it.

My friend, let’s call her Lady Red, said a few years back, “What do you have to blog about?” When My Love told her about my secret obsession with blogs and my desire to start one. I felt defeated, but continued to dabble in the blog world, creating and deleting multiple blogs and posts.

I’m vowing to not delete this time.

I’ve spent the past week pondering on what to write about and if this blog should have a premise and my conclusion; nope. I’ll write about recipes and life’s daily happenings, the good, the bad, and whatever I feel fits the glove.

This is the beginning and beginnings are always exciting and interesting. Let’s see what happens.