The Belated Day Five.

"I never work just to work. It's some combination of laziness and self-respect."
~ Harold Ramis

Twas a bout of cold and laziness that fought me away from yesterday's posting. In some form or another, I honestly realize that skipping a day of this whole journal business only means having to work twice as hard the next day. I just don't care. With the last leg of my autobiography looming over my head, having to write two posts in one day (or simply just staying a day behind) just doesn't seem all that bad to me. Perhaps this is the issue with writing and I. I can honestly picture myself as some sort of professional wordslinger and literally doing nothing with my time until the very last day or two before my deadline. And y'know what? That thought doesn't hurt my sense of being in the slightest. Anyone that has ever worked with me in a kitchen will probably tell you that during the downtime before and after each rush, I'm a slow-moving, pain in the ass. These same people will tell you that when the tickets come flying in, that there is no one on this planet that they would rather have helping them. I seem to "work" well under pressure. I say that because whenever in any sort of professional environment, I can get the job done when it needs to be done. I'm one of those lame assholes that is only magnificent when the chips are down. At any other point in time, I'm practically useless. Imagine how bright my core will shine when zombies take over the planet. I'll be radiating awesomeness 24-7. 

Yesterday was my first day back to class since the break. Man, was it something of a let down. After all of this writing, thinking about writing, focusing on writing, reading writing and discussion of writing, I was not shocked at all to realize - as I sat there taking in the second semester of the finer points of the culinary arts - that I would much rather be writing. Now, I love me some food. I love reading about it, I love cooking it, I love being the smug, arrogant and knowledgeable jackass after the endless praise of people eating my food. I just don't love it as much as I love being free to create whatever it is that pops in my head, no matter the ingredients that are lying around. Here, I create the ingredients. I am restricted in no conceivable way. As far as the page is concerned, I am God and it is a lifeless void without me to breathe life into it. So that's what I was thinking about yesterday while I was supposed to be listening to Chef Boyardee as the course description was laid out before me. And here I was thinking that my days of daydreaming during class were long behind me. Actually, y'know what? I like writing classes because I'm supposed to daydream while I'm in class. So today, I actually said those words out loud. And I didn't get scoffed at. I looked at Erica and said, quite simply, "I think I'm going to finish out this culinary thing and then focus all of my attentions on writing." So suck it, culinary profession! You are too uptight and I hate your damned uniform. 

Other than that....Yesterday was just one of those days. Aside from pestering various agencies to give me money, not a whole went down. It's good to have a schedule again, but I have a feeling that things will just keep changing.

And that doesn't shock or bother me one bit.