Friday, September 09, 2005

Finally Starting to Feel Like I'm Getting Somewhere...

Well, it's been almost 6 years since I started college. It's going on two years since I've finished college. It seems as if an eternity has passed since I have been in a career I know I can't stay in. Thursday, though, provided me with a splinter of light that I just last week I was sure had faded away completely. For as long as I can even remember, I have wanted to be a professional chef, working in a professional kitchen, preferably my own. I feel that, for most of us, the best way to get started in the field is with a top notch education. So, with unbridled youth and determination I maintained a goal of attending the Seattle Art Institute; a well regarded school of (go figure) the arts.

Life, as it is prone to do, has since taken shape in forms which I had not envisioned. For the past few years each day I seemed to feel a piece of my dream slipping away, piece by piece, until recently I found myself just a step above 'giving up'. I think, at this time, it is a good thing I really, really dislike most of my job; if I had a sliver of motivation to even think about doing this for the rest of my life, I am all but certain I would have decided to. But, thanks to a couple bad days, and a lot of thinking, I decided to check in to the local school. Now, to try and help you dear reader, get into my mindset before the meeting:

AiS website O of M CoT Website

In my head, I was comparing the diversity and choices of Seattle, with its Pike Place Market, to Missoula, with the most diversity probably stemming from the local Wal Mart. Encarta lists Greater Seattle of having a population just over 3.6 million, while a Google-cached fairus.org site lists Missoula at having a little over 60,000 in 2003. I guess the only thing that kept me going, as I mentioned before, was the thought of me fixing people's keyboards for eternity, and trouble shooting the God-awful program known as Corel Word Perfect.

So, out of fear more than anything else, I scheduled a meeting with the local college director of the Culinary Program. To further fuel my concerns, his instructions were "I am in the trailer behind the school, closest to the loading dock." As I walked up to the beaten white 'office', I saw a note saying "I'm in the store room." As I approached the kitchen, I was beckoned inside; my fate stood there, looking over the morning mail and sipping a cup of Starbucks coffee. Before I had time to even look around, we went to his office to talk about the program, and my life slowly began to turn in a direction that I hope is the one I've been waiting for.

More soon...

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