(no subject)
so i sit in what seems to be my condo, its a mess. moving is a process.
i love it down here, its different, you can walk out anytime of day and meet someone new, now two faces the same, people are friendly.
and on my way to school i get all the looks from those hot business interns.
life is sweet. the girls are nice.
and school is.
Amazing. we cook we eat, were a functioning class that has its highs and lows. you show up stoned and cook like a champ, it doesnt matter if your black white yellow or green, we have a common goal to achieve amongst us all. food.
its amazing standing next to someone and watching their moves, to move line to oven, toss of pan, simple knife work, how everyone sets themselves apart, but you all can come together to make all this wonderful fantastic food.
we are a unit.
we are marines.
we are
Family.
Thats how i feel about school, its another appendage on my body, its like its always been there just never used.
its amazing.
i cant wait to start working. and get back on track, the nightlife is my life, but its one hell of a life, your constantly drinking, and when your not drinking your on your way to get drinks.
inorder to cook, one must be
a raging alcoholic.
i understand why kitchens are filled with cocaine, and herorin, pot out of every corner, the amount of stress, the heat, the fucking necktie cutting off circulation upwards of your neck, aswell as it gives you that fucking rash. but you dont stop, cant stop, gotta cook, gotta finish. grades are everything, so you cant fail, come too far, everything is competition, strive and achieve. until.
its over.
chef looks at you and smiles and says you did good kid. that was 50 covers at once almost. next up we got a 12 top and a square of 8, so dont quit on me now.
not to mention everyother buisnessman and woman looking to dine on a dime.
the plates go out perfect, nothing but the best.
he looks at you again, and knows that your kicking ass and taking names, you start the calls, bellow to your troops, orders up that little dinging bell, your ready to hammer that little ball bearing till it dings no more.
you look at the clock its almost 4, you started at 8am.
not bad for a day of free work and some good grades, the chef turns to you and says " Alright mate no worries, next week these are your men and women and you lead them through the shit just like this week, next week is beef, so were going to have alot more covers, so pull your trousers high and step up your game."
its over, your ready to go
then he hands you the scrub brush, and says.
" Next weeks like a day off for you, so get ahead now"
what a class.
i love it down here, its different, you can walk out anytime of day and meet someone new, now two faces the same, people are friendly.
and on my way to school i get all the looks from those hot business interns.
life is sweet. the girls are nice.
and school is.
Amazing. we cook we eat, were a functioning class that has its highs and lows. you show up stoned and cook like a champ, it doesnt matter if your black white yellow or green, we have a common goal to achieve amongst us all. food.
its amazing standing next to someone and watching their moves, to move line to oven, toss of pan, simple knife work, how everyone sets themselves apart, but you all can come together to make all this wonderful fantastic food.
we are a unit.
we are marines.
we are
Family.
Thats how i feel about school, its another appendage on my body, its like its always been there just never used.
its amazing.
i cant wait to start working. and get back on track, the nightlife is my life, but its one hell of a life, your constantly drinking, and when your not drinking your on your way to get drinks.
inorder to cook, one must be
a raging alcoholic.
i understand why kitchens are filled with cocaine, and herorin, pot out of every corner, the amount of stress, the heat, the fucking necktie cutting off circulation upwards of your neck, aswell as it gives you that fucking rash. but you dont stop, cant stop, gotta cook, gotta finish. grades are everything, so you cant fail, come too far, everything is competition, strive and achieve. until.
its over.
chef looks at you and smiles and says you did good kid. that was 50 covers at once almost. next up we got a 12 top and a square of 8, so dont quit on me now.
not to mention everyother buisnessman and woman looking to dine on a dime.
the plates go out perfect, nothing but the best.
he looks at you again, and knows that your kicking ass and taking names, you start the calls, bellow to your troops, orders up that little dinging bell, your ready to hammer that little ball bearing till it dings no more.
you look at the clock its almost 4, you started at 8am.
not bad for a day of free work and some good grades, the chef turns to you and says " Alright mate no worries, next week these are your men and women and you lead them through the shit just like this week, next week is beef, so were going to have alot more covers, so pull your trousers high and step up your game."
its over, your ready to go
then he hands you the scrub brush, and says.
" Next weeks like a day off for you, so get ahead now"
what a class.