Saturday, 14 September 2024
Dear me/future self(s),
My name is Jond. Bames Jond.
I am kidding.
My name is Shreya and I am writing this, as well as that lousy attempt at humour, so when they/you need any help from me I can remember what happened when they decided to help me.
What am I on about, you may ask?
Well, firstly I am writing what happened to me, so I can remember it better because my brain is building stronger synapses to it.
Secondly, since I don't know who they are, I can't exactly leave this book for them to find and read; they could be living in a different city or galaxy. So, whenever they ask what happened, I have to be able to recall it from memory.
Sixthly and lastly, I include bad jokes or references to something so it's interesting for me. Also, so you can judge for yourself if you can stomach my writing in all its ridiculous glory.
I hope you remember all this Shreya. And I hope you all like it too.
P.S. Wait... I can just leave this book on the internet, can't I?
Dang forgot about that.
Future self(s) I address you in italics.
Sincerely,
Shreya
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My story began during my time as a college student. I was studying commercial cookery and hospitality management in Melbourne, Australia. It was one of three fields I wanted to work in before I left the mortal realm. The other two were History and English. I took hospitality/cookery because I liked making various dishes for my family and compared to the other two fields, this one seemed to have a more varied application and most importantly Money; 1) It costs less to study this and 2) Open a business using what you've learned, and BAM, make some money.
So, you can imagine my first day at college, this big-eyed hopeful person, all excited to finally be on the path of adulthood and financial freedom.
Now almost halfway through my third semester that hope is just continuously being battered and that freedom is still out of my sight. I thought having big eyes would help. I guess not.
What happened during those times? Well, let me tell you.
It's the first day of practicals. Previously we had worn our uniforms and toured our training kitchens, the food garden, and the pantry. After the teacher's demonstrations, the time to finally use our knives had come. And I am doing okay. Ha, I finally figured out how to tuck my fingers while chopping. Fantastic. I looked around. How the hell did they finish that already? I sped myself up, and I screwed up segmenting the orange. I slowed down again. And was the last student to finish the tasks.
When I finished the class, dread started filling me.
It was the first day, I thought. I should be okay. Especially since I didn't accidentally cut my hand like one of my classmates, so, there's still plenty of chance to improve.
It was the first assessment; testing our knife skills and basic cooking methods. When I was doing some of the dishes, I had a feeling that they would not get the best marks. But being the big-eyed person I was, I still hoped by some miracle that I might be lucky enough to get As.
YOU ARE READING
Figuring Out Life*
RomanceThings have not been going well for Shreya since she started going to culinary school on another continent. Kitchen screw-ups, barely passing grades, and un-replied job applications. This semester she did well, thanks partly to one annoying, needles...