Full circle, part 1

Today, I offer not instructions, for my repertoire is small in that department, but an anecdote about how I came to decide that writing was what I really wanted to do. Also, as a note, I realize this is quite long, despite being broken into parts, and I apologize, but hopefully it is interesting enough to warrant reading. I suppose this is technically a short story.

On December 2nd, I walked out of the pastry building at South Seattle Community College exhausted but triumphant. I had passed my practical test, the infamous and dreaded final exam of pastry school, and was free. I couldn't help but to feel an enormous wave of relief crash over me as I quickly made my way to the parking lot, eager as ever to be home. Yet, the entire day had been shadowed by a melancholy whisper; I had grown accustomed of the place over the two and a half years I rushed and sweated within its intestines. The pastry lab, and life as a pastry student, had become a comfortable part of me, including the frustration and anger I had grown accustomed to feeling with myself, school, and ultimately, life in general. As I left the pastry lab for what has, so far, been the last time, I felt overwhelmingly relieved, but just a little bit sad, as I knew I'd miss the routine and all the little things.

I opted to take my academic courses after the hands-on program. I did this mainly because I had the means to do so, and as a college student able to make decisions like this, you can bet I would sway things in favor of more time to myself. I spent a good two weeks laying around doing absolutely nothing after I finished pastry school, and then I decided that for the following quarter, I would register for online classes and eliminate the drive I'd dreaded waking up to every morning for the past two years. Again, I did this for less than admirable reasons. I had been driving out to SSCC five mornings a week for over two years, and I didn't want to anymore. It was also a way of easing myself back into academic classwork, as I hadn't done any since high school. It actually proved to be more beneficial than I could have ever imagined.

As I began my first online classes, I was intimidated and had no idea what to expect. I registered for four online classes that quarter, and quickly learned that such a thing was surprising to hear. Most people reacted to me as if I had told them I was also working fifty hours a week. The workload was heavy and I'll admit that I didn't always thoroughly read everything, but I did the work and managed. It was an incredibly stressful time for me, but among it I found renewed passion where I sincerely didn't think I would.