About three months ago, I left a stable, full-time job to pursue a lifelong goal of mine. I was absolutely miserable working in technical support and those close to me can attest to my foul mood and creeping anxiety about simply having to show up at work. I finally took the plunge and decided to sign up for culinary classes. I put in my two weeks notice the same day I let management know that I had gotten another job that was better suited for my future goals. A job that I didn't even plan on applying for and did so on a whim. It's almost as if everything lined up for me at the perfect time when I decided to fully accept my passion for cooking and pursue it. The universe was like, "girl, I got you." And I'm still so grateful.

Today was my first day of class: stressed and anxious, I wanted to show up and be ready to go. Traffic was an absolute mess due to the influx of people visiting my town this weekend for the solar eclipse that happened yesterday (which was amazing, by the way). It took me about an hour to get to campus instead of a typical 25 minute drive. Thankfully, I left really early and made it just 4 minutes late to my first class.

I didn't have my uniform, textbook or even a damn notebook. I felt so stupid (here comes my perfect student anxiety creeping back around). Looks like my advisor forgot about sending me any information about what I needed for the start of the semester, including new student orientation which happened a week ago and that I missed. Perfect. Since it was the first day, my nerves settled down when I saw a few other classmates in my same predicament. After class, I dashed over to the bookstore to purchase my culinary uniform and textbook in between my classes. $200 later, I come back to the test kitchen for my second class of the day. Sweaty and even more annoyed.

What struck me the most about my rushed trip to the store is the simple fact that I couldn't afford my knife set because honestly, I didn't plan on it costing about $600. My jaw totally dropped when I saw it in the store and I proceeded to walk out and head back to class. Girl, bye. My instructor was super understanding and let me use his knives for class and assured me that I can use them as long as I need to until I get my own set. Praise.

Okay, so I can relax a bit more. Class was so great: we learned classical cuts and how to properly hold a knife. I felt so at ease in that kitchen and working with other people that feel as passionately about food as I do. My instructor actually took photos of my vegetables and knife work and then joked about me staying after class to brunoise more carrots. This is a brunoise; the tiniest of the tiny. And we actually used rulers to measure the cuts, y'all. If you know me, you know this is a big deal because I don't measure anything at all. Like, ever ever. Chef calling me out totally made my day and made my nerd heart happy.

Cleaning the kitchen signaled the end of the day for me. After starting out as a stressful day, I found that once I relaxed and realized that this is where I'm supposed to be, things went much more smoothly. Just taking it one day at a time. After class was over, I chatted with my instructor about the knife set and what I needed. He made it clear that he was going to try to get me a donated set from the school and simply stated: "what's the harm in asking? If they say no, we'll be right back where we started. No harm done, right?" I'm certain that I'll hear an answer soon, regardless of the outcome. So, I'm going to leave my culinary school wish list here and just put it out there. I'll let the universe take care of the rest.