Choklit Blog #84: Happy Post-Black Friday!

I'm a day late on my annual day-after-Thanksgiving-because-I-was-too-busy-eating-on-Thanksgiving blog because I was too busy yesterday buying CDs and celebrating my brother's birthday. Anyway, I'm not feeling super creative or ambitious today, so I won't try to top last year with a list of 500 things I'm thankful for or anything crazy like that. Also, my fingers are too tired to type that much. I do like to top all of my previous accomplishments, though, so I decided to go with 101 things this year.

1. Owl City
2. Mat Kearney
3. Petit fours
4. Chocolate and chili ice cream
5. Curtis Stone
6. Netflix
7. Nail polish remover
8. Stain remover
9. Washing machines
10. People who can effectively wash dishes
11. Liquid pectin
12. Apple pear jam
13. Gloves
14. Good friends
15. Suede boots
16. Money
17. 11x14-inch, 4-ply matting board
18. Twitter
19. Coupons
20. Non-Black Friday traffic
21. Criticizing the show Parenthood
22. Socks
23. Marshmallows
24. Chocolate
25. Gorgonzola
26. Bagels
27. Paper cutters
28. Photo paper
29. B&H
30. My SLR
31. Amazon
32. 35mm black and white film
33. Photo chemicals
34. Grain focusers
35. Movies that aren't boring
36. Knives
37. Financiers
38. The Backstreet Boys
39. Sleep
40. Pandora
41. Ted Dekker
42. Pie
43. Ovens that actually work
44. Orange marmalade
45. Bacon
46. Trains
47. Pillows
48. Life
49. Driving
50. Digital cameras
51. Sunsets
52. Clouds
53. Stars
54. Mascara
55. Eyeliner
56. Tarts (they're different than pies, trust me)
57. Pizza
58. Roti
59. Hot water
60. Ross
61. Picture frames
62. Graphite
63. Charcoal
64. Ink
65. College
66. Graduating from college
67. IHOP
68. Thousand Foot Krutch
69. Holidays
70. Turkey hearts
71. The internet
72. Goat cheese
73. Glue
74. Labels
75. Not being sick
76. My job
77. Cute animals
78. The ocean
79. Falling Up
80. Grass
81. Root beer
82. Root beer ice cream
83. Fake leather jackets
84. CDs
85. iCal
86. 90s pop
87. Glasses
88. Not living in E City anymore
89. Avon Lipstick
90. Concerts
91. Random band merchandise
92. Free coffee from Dunkin' Donuts
93. Mint
94. Arby's
95. Cows
96. My church
97. The decreasing popularity of various annoying games and/or apps on Facebook
98. Bluetooth
99. Dwight K. Schrute
100. The Bible
101. God

Choklit Blog #83: Judgement

The whole "Don't judge me, God will do that, and He'll send you to hell for judging me!" movement is kind of getting old. Seriously, guys.

For one thing, it doesn't even make logical sense:

"Hey, you're stealing something. The Bible says that's a sin. You're sinning."
"Well the Bible also says not to judge, so you're sinning by judging me!"

If the first person was sinning by telling you you're doing something wrong, then aren't you sinning just as much by telling them they are doing something wrong?

Second, telling someone they're doing something wrong isn't judgement. If your friend is driving you somewhere and he's doing 75 in a 35, you might say, "Hey, you're speeding." If your friend responded, "Don't judge me, heathen!" wouldn't you find that a bit... completely and totally ridiculous and senseless?

If your friend gets pulled over, gets a ticket, and has to go to court, then he'll be judged. The judge will determine his punishment, because that's what judges do. They look at what you've done and determine your punishment. A friend saying, "Hey, you're speeding," is by no means a judge.

With that being said, "All scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work," (2 Timothy 3:16-17). Yes, the Bible does say not to judge others, but it also says to teach, rebuke, correct, and train in righteousness using the scriptures.

Sentencing someone to punishment is judgement. Reminding them to apply the law to their life in order to avoid otherwise inevitable punishment is not.

--V

Choklit Blog #82: The Difference

       I’m a huge fan of music. I listen to a LOT of music. I grew up with music playing in my house basically all the time, I learned to play like five different instruments (which I then forgot how to play), and as a kid, I wanted to be a singer when I grew up. I really really like music.

       When I was about 13, I started buying CDs all the time. I probably spent most of my time and money on music. Every time a band I liked released a new album, I had to have it that day. I also had to buy all of their older albums, which sometimes meant ordering online and paying extra. I didn’t care, though, as long as I got every CD by every band I liked.

       Of course, I never got EVERY CD I wanted, but I ended up buying about 50 CDs over the next three or four years. Somewhere around 2010, I realized that I was slowly but surely falling away from my love of music and becoming a fangirl. I was buying CDs I didn’t even like that much just because I liked the band that made them.

       Once I realized this, I started thinking about the time I bought Thousand Foot Krutch’s “The Flame In All Of Us” and Hawk Nelson’s “Smile, It’s The End of The World.” I listened to those albums constantly for months, and I loved them. But no matter how hard I tried, I could no longer find a CD that I still completely loved three months after I bought it. Then I discovered the band Anthem Lights.

       My friend Joy texted me one day and mentioned them. I had never heard of them, so I immediately looked them up. They seemed like nice people and some of their songs were catchy, but I thought their music wasn’t really my style and I would never be a huge fan. They would be releasing their debut album in a few months (they had released an indie album under the name Yellow Cavalier, but I didn’t know that at the time), and they had a few songs on their website. I kind of liked them, so I was interested to see if the album would be any good.

       I ended up buying the album a few days after it came out, but I knew it would be another mediocre attempt at making something “popular.” I was so, so wrong. I liked the album. I listened to it again, and I liked it even more. It didn’t take me long to realize that there was something different about these guys. They didn’t just copy the typical “Christian band with four guys” sound- they have their own style and some seriously crazy talent. On top of that, they have passion that’s so obvious, and you won’t find any shallow lyrics on their record. I can’t even explain it, but it’s one of those albums that you listen to, and it just feels good.

       Simply put, I’m a fan of Anthem Lights, not because they’re like all the other bands, but because they’re different.

       Too often in “Christian society,” we say that we have to be more like people who aren’t Christians, because then they’ll realize that we’re all super cool and they’ll want to be just like us. We become God’s little fangirls and fanboys, walking around saying, “Hey, I’m a Christian and it’s really fun! You should be a Christian, too, and you can keep doing all the stuff you’re already doing!” We think people will be more likely to accept Jesus if we tell them they won’t have to give up anything.

       In that case, we’re trying to sell people a fancy title, not showing them actual salvation. In fact, we’re cheating ourselves out of God’s plans for us. It’s like listening to your favorite band’s terrible new album and telling everyone else to do the same when you could be falling in love with something completely new and different, and a million times better. People aren't looking for more of the same. They want something different- something better.

       God can use us to reach people, but we have to be willing to follow Him instead of trying to be as much like the world as possible. “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2, NIV). FYI: You can’t change anyone’s heart. Only God can.

       If you try to be just like everyone else, then you’ll end up being like everyone else. If you want to reach the lost, then let them see the difference.

Choklit Blog #81: Social Sins

       During my life as a Christian, I’ve found out that sometimes when Christians don’t like something, they call it a sin. I’m sure everyone has heard that Christians don’t drink, because consuming alcohol is a sin. Well, the Bible definitely doesn’t condone getting drunk: “... nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God.” (1 Corinthians 6:10, NKJV.) However, in some cases, alcohol is not a horrible thing that will send you straight to hell: “No longer drink only water, but use a little wine for your stomach’s sake and your frequent infirmities.” (1 Timothy 5:23, NKJV.) Not only is it not a sin to consume alcohol, but Paul actually told Timothy to drink it for health purposes. It becomes sin when you become a drunk.

       Christians will also tell you that cussing is a sin. They’ll most likely reference Colossians 3:8, “But now you yourselves are to put off all these: anger, wrath, malice, blasphemy, filthy language out of your mouth.” (NKJV.) If those same people read the King James Version of the Bible, they’ll find seventy-six verses containing the word “ass,” not including those that contain the plural form of the word. 

       Just like the drinking issue, I’m not saying it’s ok to go curse out everyone you know... I’m saying that “filthy language” doesn’t necessarily mean “the top 10 cuss words,” some of which have legitimate, non-filthy meanings and are used in the Bible. It could mean making a dirty joke, or saying something hateful about someone. I mean, what do you think sounds more “filthy”? “Thou shalt not plow with an ox and an ass together,” (Deuteronomy 22:10, KJV) or, “I hate you and wish you would die a slow and painful death!” Again, I’m not saying you should go swear now- “cuss words” usually aren’t used constructively or in the correct context, and they usually offend people. But you don’t have to think it’s a sin to say words like “damn” or “hell” in the proper context.

       Things like drinking and cussing are what I like to call “social sins.” They’re socially unacceptable in most Christian environments, so they’re labelled as “sins.” People become so afraid of alcohol that they won’t even drink it for health purposes. People become so afraid of saying a “cuss word” that they feel bad for reading aloud from the King James Bible, or they abruptly pause before awkwardly saying, “um... uh... donkey.”

       Unfortunately, there’s another type of “social sins.” These are things that the Bible says not to do, but many Christians do them anyway because they’re socially acceptable.

       I think the best example of this can be found in Exodus 20:7, “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain.” According to the dictionary on my computer (I don’t feel like getting out my “real” dictionary, sorry), to take someone’s name in vain means to use that name in a way that shows a lack of respect; irreverently, casually, disrespectfully, or flippantly. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that using God’s name as an interjection would definitely qualify as irreverent or casual. Yet, even at church, where you can’t say “cuss words,” I hear people say, “Oh my G*d!” like it’s nothing. FYI: That’s actually a sin. It’s one of the ten commandments.

       Do yourself a favor and don’t get caught up in the rules of “social sins.” Follow the example of the Bereans: “These were more fair-minded than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all readiness, and searched the Scriptures daily to find out whether these things were so.” (Acts 17:11, NKJV.) If you want the truth, read the Bible- it’s all in there.

Choklit Blog #80: Hell

       I’m sure you hear the word everyday, tossed around nonchalantly in conversations about anything, everything, and nothing. You probably don’t think about it much- it’s just another word your mom told you not to say when you were growing up.

       Maybe some of you do think about it a little more than that. Maybe you believe it’s a place where some people go when they die. Maybe you’re not planning on going there yourself, so it doesn’t bother you too much. Or maybe you think it’s just a myth.

       But does anyone ever really stop and think about it?

       If someone walked up to you and said, “Hey, one day you’re gonna die, and then you’re gonna burn in hell for all of eternity,” you would probably respond in one of four ways:

1. “I don’t believe in hell.”
2. “Yeah, I can’t wait! All my friends will be there!”
3. “I don’t think I’ll go there because I’m a good person.”
4. “I’m not going there because I’ve repented of my sins and accepted God's forgiveness.”

       In fact, as soon as you read that statement, you probably thought of one of those four responses or something similar.

       If you responded that you don’t believe in hell, then you’ve probably stopped reading by now, but I’ll talk to you anyway. What if I said, “I don’t believe that staring at the sun will make me go blind,” or, “I don’t believe that inhaling water will make me drown”? If I then proceeded to stare at the sun while sucking gallons of water into my lungs, what would happen? I would simultaneously die and go blind. Does the fact that I didn’t believe it change the fact that it’s true? No.

       So what happens when you say, “I don’t believe in hell,” and then you die? One of two things could happen: 1) You die and go to hell, or 2) You die and don’t go to hell.

       Now let’s look at it the other way. Let’s say I believe that eating a green potato chip will kill me (yes, I got that from the show Arthur). I never eat a green potato chip for my entire life, and I live a long and happy life. My avoidance of green potato chips has no real negative effect on me, except for maybe making me look ridiculous to a few people.

       So then what if I say, “I believe that if I don’t accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior and live my life for Him, then when I die, I’ll go to hell”? Well, I would be right, but for your sake, let’s say I die and it turns out there’s no such thing as hell (which would never happen, because hell is a very real place.) What damage would I have done by accepting Jesus and living my life for Him? I may have looked ridiculous to a few people, but I also would have done my best to live according to a set of rules that promote love to everyone. My life would then be over, with no lasting consequence.

       Now, in which case was the consequence of being wrong worse? The first case, where I didn’t believe in hell, it was real, and I was tormented for all of eternity; or the second case, where I did believe in hell, it wasn’t real, nothing happened after I died, and a few people thought I was silly during my life where I did my best to show love to everyone? If I’m right and hell does exist, you’ll die and go to hell where you’ll be tormented for all of eternity. If you’re right and hell doesn’t exist, I’ll look stupid to a few people and then I’ll die and nothing will happen. (But of course, I believe 100% that hell exists and I don’t believe there’s any chance that it doesn’t.)

       If you had the second response, you may have also stopped reading, but anyway... if you can’t wait to get to hell and party with your friends, then you believe it exists, right? And if you believe you’ll be partying with your friends, then you believe the Bible’s description of hell is inaccurate, right? (Mark 9:43 says “It is better for you to enter into life maimed, rather than having two hands, to go to hell, into the fire that shall never be quenched.”)

       According to that logic, then you believe part of the Bible is true- the part that says hell exists. Also according to that logic, you believe part of the Bible is false- the part that says hell is a place of torment. Those are both facts that come from the Bible. If you say you don’t believe in the Bible, then how can you say you believe either of those facts? If you say you do believe in the Bible, then how can you not believe either of those facts?

       The only logical option is to say you believe part of the Bible. Now I have to ask another question- how do you know that one part is true, and another isn’t? Who told you which you parts are true? Who even has that authority?

       Either you believe that hell is a place of torment, or you don’t believe in hell at all. Nothing else would make sense.

       If you picked option number three, you’re the most likely to still be reading (besides those who picked option four). You don’t think you’ll go to hell because you’re a good person. Again, if you believe that hell exists, then you must believe the Bible. The Bible also says that, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” (Romans 3:23) and that, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,” (1 John 1:9). In other words, you can’t go to heaven just because you’re a “good person.” You can’t take sin into heaven, and everyone has sinned. You need God’s forgiveness to get into heaven, and there’s no other way to avoid hell.

       One more time: If you believe in hell, you have to believe the whole Bible, because it doesn’t make sense otherwise. If you don’t believe in the Bible, you can’t believe in heaven or hell, and you’ll have to come up with some other idea of what happens when people die. Of course, if it’s an idea you just came up with right now in 2011, chances are it’s not true. People have been dying for thousands of years, and something has been happening to them all. You can’t just make this stuff up.

       If you picked option four, congratulations! You’re right!

Choklit Blog #79: Don't Be Gay

       Whether or not it’s “good” or “right” to be gay is a topic that has probably been debated by everyone in America over the age of thirteen at some point in their life.  Christians, like myself, are always quick to say, “No, it’s not right, it’s very wrong, gay marriage shouldn’t be legalized, people shouldn’t be gay, end of story.” Everyone else is usually quick to say, “That’s hateful! You hate gay people!”

       Well, I could easily pull out a few Bible verses about homosexuality and say, “See, it’s wrong!” (If you don’t believe me, read Romans 1.) But most people who support gay rights don’t even believe in the Bible, so what good would that do? Instead, I’m just going to use simple logic and reasoning.

       According to gay rights “logic,” gay people can’t help the fact that they’re attracted to the same sex, and therefore should be allowed to be in a relationship or marriage with someone of the same sex and no one should have a problem with it. Let’s apply this “logic” to some other situations.

       How many of you have ever seen a married man or woman who you thought was attractive? We probably all have. Should it be acceptable and encouraged to pursue relationships with people who are already married, just because they’re attractive? And should we be allowed to marry them? I mean, polygamy is totally acceptable, right? According to gay rights “logic,” yes. According to truth and common sense, no.

       What about pedophiles? Should we accept and defend their lifestyle, too? Should adults be allowed to marry children because some adults are attracted to children? Those people probably don’t wake up in the morning and choose to be pedophiles, so should we all jump in and support that lifestyle? Gay rights “logic” says yes. I bet everyone else says no.

       Some people enjoy torturing and killing other people. They can’t help the fact that they’re attracted to that. Should we accept sadism as a social norm and allow people to beat and kill their wives, husbands, friends, and random strangers because that’s what they’re into? Gay rights “logic” says if that’s what they’re into, they can’t help it, and they should be free to do whatever makes them happy.

       Now you might be saying, “That’s stupid! Torture and murder is sick and disgusting, and people who enjoy it are sick and disgusting!” Well, homosexuality wasn’t always accepted by society. This video from the 1950s describes homosexuality as a sickness of the mind: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q723nhwu4C4. If society can go from, “Homosexuality is a dangerous disease,” to, “Homosexuality is normal and good,” then how is that different from eventually accepting sadism as a normal lifestyle that should be accepted and even defended?

       The reason so many people have fallen into the lie that homosexuality is good is because 1) Most of America no longer understands discipline... they only understand “I want this, so I’m going to have it”; 2) A large part of America wants so badly to be “new” and “exciting” and “smarter than the last generation” by going against “boring” and “stuffy” and “closed-mined” traditional values like the ones their parents failed to teach them and the ones found in the Bible; 3) Over the years, people have stopped reading the Bible, praying, or even believing in God because they think they’re good enough and don’t need Him, therefore following in the footsteps of Lucifer, AKA Satan, and unknowingly opening their hearts and minds to whatever lies he decides to put in there. And who knows? Maybe his next move will be to convince his followers that sadism is cool. Watch out, America.

Choklit Blog #78: I'm Graduating, Part 4

       One of the hardest but most important lessons I’ve learned in the last two years is the inevitability of failure. I’ve always been the straight-A student who pretty much doesn’t even know what the letter “F” looks like. (Just kidding, I do enough writing to have a basic idea of how that letter is supposed to look). But my second semester at CIC, I experienced the most tragic school-related event... ever.

       It started my first semester. One Monday after HOS 101, I happened to walk by the bakeshop. I didn’t even have to ask what class was in there. It was Laminated Doughs. I didn’t even know what laminated dough was, but I knew it sounded awesome, and I knew everything in that class looked awesome and delicious. I decided that even though I was in culinary, I would take that class no matter what. In fact, it was part of the reason I switched to baking and pastry. But that’s a different story.

       It came time to register for spring classes, and of course, I registered for Laminated Doughs. I was beyond excited. I can’t say it turned out to be my favorite class, but I liked it and I learned a lot. The final rolled around and I was so ready for it. Actually, I didn’t feel prepared at all.

       We all made our dough a week in advance and froze it until the day of the final. When I came into class that morning, the first thing I heard was, “Violet, our dough is missing!” from my partner Marilyn. What a wonderful way to start the day.

       We searched the whole freezer, top to bottom, but we couldn’t find our dough, so we had to start over. Luckily for us, we forgot to put salt in our new batch dough, so it proofed in no time and we were ready to go. We never told Chef Jeff because we thought we might lose points for leaving out the salt.

       Once we got that out of the way, we got to work and we pretty much caught up with everyone else. The whole day went pretty smoothly and I was feeling good when I slid my danishes into the oven. Then about five minutes later I was feeling terrible.

       I could tell before they even came out of the oven that something was wrong with my danishes. I glazed them and turned them in anyway (and got a pretty nasty burn in the process... thanks, Ashlee!) because I really had no other option. When it came time for Chef Jeff to tell me how I did, he confirmed that I had somehow destroyed the lamination in my danishes and had basically made very over-proofed brioche.

       As long as I live, I will NEVER forget him looking at me and saying, “I’m gonna give you a 61, okay?”

       I said “Okay...” thinking that was just one part of my grade or something. Then when he told me that it would probably drop my average to a B, I realized that I had just failed the final exam in a class that I had been told was an easy A.

       I was beyond distraught. This was supposed to be the best class ever, and it was supposed to be easy! And besides, I didn’t get F’s, especially not on finals! But, of course, the worst part was that it had dropped my class average to a B. I walked out of the kitchen, sat on a bench and cried my eyes out.

       A few days later, Chef Jeff walked into one of my other classes and told me that I could still get an A in Laminated Doughs if I got a 93 on the written part of the final exam. I knew I could do that pretty easily.

       But of course, I didn’t. I got a 90.

       It was the most disappointing day of my entire life, and it was pretty much my biggest failure ever. But my favorite part of the story is what happened next.

       I woke up the next morning and went through my day like a normal person. I mean, I was in a little bit depressed, but other than that it was normal. The next day I did the same. And the next day, and the next, and I’m still waking up every morning and surviving the entire day. Every day. My life went on, and it was perfectly okay. This was the first time I had really tried at something and really failed at it, and I always thought that if that day ever came, it would be the end of life as I knew it. But it wasn’t; in fact, it taught me that in life, failure is inevitable no matter who you are, but it doesn’t have to destroy you.

Part of my midterm in Laminated Doughs - one of my more successful days.

       I had to remember that the next year when I was in Wedding Cakes. Basically all of my cakes except the final were disasters, and Chef Jeff had to ice probably half of my cakes for me because I couldn’t do it right. But by the end of the class, I had learned a lot of things I shouldn’t do when making a wedding cake.

My one successful cake in Wedding Cakes.

       I have one more story that I have to tell because it was requested by my friend Jamie. I know all my stories so far have been from my culinary classes and I had planned on keeping it that way, but I guess one story from Leadership class won’t kill me.

       In Leadership class, we did everything in groups. We had assignments to turn in about every week and a half, we had in-class exercises, and we had a final project. All of those things were done in groups. I had a terrible group. I ended up doing about 80% of the work, one guy did about 15%, and the rest of the group combined either dropped the class or did a very mediocre job doing the other 5%.

       One of the 5% guys was named Eric. Eric was nice enough, I suppose, but he rarely did his work. On the occasion that he did it, he would wait so long to do it that I assumed he wasn’t going to and did it myself to save my grade and the grades of the other group members.

       Our final project happened in two parts: the first was a research paper. I wrote the whole paper and did quite a bit of the research, even though the rest of the group was supposed to do the research. Then they were supposed to answer questions that would be different segments of the paper, and I was supposed to edit what they gave me and put it all together. They didn’t give me anywhere close to enough stuff. Anyway, back to Eric.

       The other part was a presentation. My group was doing a presentation on Hitler- it was a debate between him and Sam Walton, obviously about his leadership techniques since it was a leadership class.

       Eric volunteered to play Hitler, and we all thought he could be kind of funny and earn us extra creativity points, so we agreed. We told him the questions we would be asking and how long we needed him to talk about each one. He assured us that he could do it.

       On presentation day, we were all supposed to show up 30 minutes early to practice a little bit and make sure we knew what to do and say. Eric didn’t show up early. In fact, he didn’t even show up on time (which wasn’t surprising, because on the occasion that he came to class, he was late.) Both of the other groups did their presentations (about 15-20 minutes each), and then the teacher gave us 5 minutes to wait for Eric. Just when we were about to call him and yell at him, the door opened, and in walked Eric.

       I gave him my meanest glare and said something along the lines of “WHERE have you been?!” He laughed carelessly and said that his car had broken down as if it was funny that he was having car trouble and that he was late for his final presentation. We took a few minutes to discuss our presentation, then we got in our places and started.

       By the way, he didn’t even wear a costume. The guy playing Sam Walton showed up dressed like Sam Walton.

       We started the debate, and all Eric could talk about was “Well, if I was starting Wal-Mart, I would have guns everywhere.” “If I had to do this all over again, I think I would use more guns.” And he only talked for like 30 seconds about each question! The guy playing Sam Walton talked about leadership and had obviously done some research, but the guy playing Hitler, the main character, didn’t even know what he was talking about! The whole point of the project was to talk about Hitler’s leadership style!

       Afterwards, when I asked him why he hadn’t done any research, he said it was because I didn’t give him back the pages he had printed off the internet when he was giving me his research for the paper. That would have been a great excuse, except THAT SAME EXACT INFORMATION IS ALL ON THE INTERNET. IT CAME FROM THE INTERNET TO START WITH. And it's not like he had ever asked me to give that stuff back, anyway.

       I didn’t know what to do or say at that point, so I did nothing and said nothing. There was no way I could fix my grade, and there was nothing I could do to make Eric try a little harder. It was the last day of class anyway, so I just left. Then I found my friends Joy and Stephanie and we went to building 800 and danced.

       That’s it for the stories, but before I go, I want to thank a few people who might read this and then a few people who most likely won’t, because I never would have graduated from college if I had been the only person on earth.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for making me be alive and everything and for letting me skip grades and for feeding me and all that cool stuff.

Mike, thanks for scaring off that weird guy who kept coming out of class to talk to me while I was waiting for precal to start and for driving me to school a lot and singing with me. DUUUUUMB PEOPLE... DRIVING ON THE ROAD.

Brent, thanks for driving me to school way more than Mike did and for giving me that really expensive public speaking book.

Joy and Stephanie, thanks for dancing with me.

Laura, AKA my “school mom”, thanks for figuratively holding my hand and walking me through college. We had at least one class together every semester, and you were always the first person I went to for help.

Marilyn, thanks for being my partner and helping me out so much in Advanced Cakes. I felt like I was in way over my head, but I always felt better knowing I had a friend right beside me.

Darius, thanks for telling me not to drop Wedding Cakes every week when I said I was going to, even though I yelled at you and argued with you a lot.

Michelle, thanks for always making me laugh with your wonderfully refreshing sarcasm. 

Katie, thanks for always being super sweet and funny, and for just being a good friend... and a professional.

Ashlee, thanks for always being really excited to see me, for following me on Twitter, for having an awesome sense of humor, and for giving me countless opportunities to practice my cornet-making skills.

Mr. Wallace and my drawing buddies from the slow table (Jenna, Nikki, and Rebecca), thanks for teaching me how to draw and helping me find out that I’m not too terrible at it.

Chef Fritz, thanks for getting me interested in baking and pastry in the first place, for letting me work for you over the summer when no one would hire me, for teaching me way too many things to possibly list here, for being my other mom, and for the awesome snail bobblehead and plastic deer.

Chef Jeff, thank you for giving me worse grades than anyone else ever has... it just shows that you taught me more and pushed me harder than everyone else. Thanks for making me talk more even though I’m sure you regret it now and for not giving up on me when I was ready to give up. Oh, and thanks for the orange knives.

Chef Gronert, thank you for teaching me the importance of a good comeback by making fun of me and teasing me relentlessly for the last year. And thanks for not underestimating me anymore even though I’m still really short.

God, thank you for creating me and all these other wonderful people and for not letting me just give up every time I was ready to drop out of school. I could never have made it here without You... I wouldn’t exist, so...

Thanks to all my other family, friends, classmates, teachers, and random acquaintances, and congratulations to the Class of 2011.

I couldn't keep the gown on because I didn't want to die of a heatstroke so soon after graduating.

Choklit Blog #77: I'm Graduating, Part 3

       Retail was definitely one of my favorite classes. One reason I loved it so much was because I got to make a lot of bagels in that class. I’ll probably never forget the first time I made bagels there. The first week that my group was making bread, Chef Vagasky asked us if we could make Chef Jeff’s bagel recipe from Artisan Breads. I was the only one in my group who had taken Artisan Breads, but I brought the bagel recipe to class and said we would make them.

       Everything was going great until I suddenly couldn’t remember what we were supposed to do next. I thought Chef Vagasky might know since he had been in Artisan Breads with me, but he couldn’t remember either. He said he could call Chef Jeff and ask him, but I told him it was okay and he didn’t need to do that. He said he would anyway, but then something else came up that he had to do (I don’t remember what it was, but it’s not important to the story). So Amy, Sonia, and I weren’t really sure what to do. 

       We just sort of stood around waiting and thinking for a few minutes, but then we decided that we would never figure it out by ourselves. Amy finally said “Hey Chef, what did Chef Jeff say?” He pulled out his phone to call him, and I all I could think was “Please don’t say my name... please don’t say my name... please don’t say my name...” The last thing I wanted was to look like the slacker who didn’t pay attention in class.

       Luckily for me, he just said he had some students who were making bagels. He told me everything Chef Jeff was telling him, and the whole time I was trying not to slap myself and yell, “How could you not remember that, idiot?! If you had just kept working, you would have remembered!” As I was reprimanding myself, I heard “This is Miss Violet we’re talking about.” Great. Then he laughed and said “Yeah, little miss sunshine.” I think I saw a little bit of sarcasm drip off his phone.

       When I talked to Chef Jeff the next week, he told me he hadn’t been very happy about it, and he had gotten even more mad when Chef Vagasky said it was me.

       These people love me. They really do. 

       Anyway, my group ended up getting so good at making those bagels that one day I told them, “We probably make Chef Jeff’s recipe better than he does. And you can tell him I said that.” Amy did, so he challenged us to a bagel throwdown (yes, we actually called it that) and he just barely beat us. Then he admitted that he hadn’t expected our bagels to be very good. Thanks for having faith in us, Chef.

       My next story is completely unrelated. Just throwing that out there.

       When I try to think of memorable experiences, one thing I try to think of is inside jokes. Inside jokes are always super memorable, and there’s one inside joke I know I’ll never be able to forget even if I want to because it’s written on my jacket. My friend Katie, who I first met in Intro to Cakes, wrote “Violet, you are a PROFESSIONAL” on my jacket when she signed it, and ever since then, it’s made me sad to think about how many people have probably read that, didn’t know it was an inside joke, and thought that Katie was a boring person who would write something totally serious. For the sake of Katie and all those people, I’ll explain the whole “professional” thing.

       One day in Advanced Bakeshop, we were making joconde that was decorated with decor paste. For those of you who don’t know how to use decor paste, you spread it on a silpat, make some sort of design in it, and then pour the cake batter on top. One of the people in my group was having a hard time spreading out the decor paste to the right thickness and making it even everywhere. I offered to help and show them how to do it since I had done it several times during my summer as an intern at Baked. I told them I was a professional decor-paste-spreader since, even though I didn’t get paid for it, I had done it in a “professional environment.” I may as well be a professional. They were both pretty impressed with my mad decor paste skills, and by the end of class that day, they were spreading decor paste like professionals, too. And it just sort of caught on. If Katie came into class late, I would be sure to tell her that that wasn’t very professional. If I made a really ugly cake, Katie would be sure to tell me that it didn’t look very professional. And of course if one of us did something that was super awesome, like selling out at the bake sale in Retail, then we would be sure to congratulate each other on doing whatever it was “like a professional.” By the way, Katie is so professional.

       I have one more unrelated story, and then I’ll leave you all alone until tomorrow. In Intro to Bakeshop (we haven’t talked about that class in a while, I know), I had a partner for a few weeks named Eli. Eli is one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet, but he made me very mad one day. We were making apple pie (or “apply pie,” according to the recipe), and we had a big bowl full of sliced apples that were going into the pies. We were supposed to put lemon juice on the apples so they wouldn’t turn brown and look disgusting, so Eli squeezed a few lemons over the apples, then tossed them a few times until they were all completely coated with the juice.

       It would have worked out great if we were making apple and lemon seed pie. But it was okay after we checked each apple slice individually for lemon seeds and moved them to a clean bowl.

Me, Sonia, and Amy with our last bagel in Retail. We were sad.

Choklit Blog #76: I'm Graduating, Part 2

       It was the first day of HOS 121: Decorating and Finishing Techniques. It was also my first day as a baking and pastry student, and my first dreaded class with Chef Gronert. I had heard bad things about him.

       I walked into class and sat down, wondering how terrible this class could possibly be. After I had spent a minute or two convincing myself that it very well may turn out to be pure torture, Chef Gronert looked down at his class roster, then looked up and said, “Who is... Violet?” I wasn’t sure why he wanted to know, but I raised my hand and said, “That’s me.” He looked at me like he was both confused and annoyed and said, “What are you doing here?”

       That was definitely not the best way this class could have possibly started. I wasn’t even sure how to respond. I had never had a teacher ask me what I was doing in their class, I assumed because most of them were aware that college students generally enrolled in and attended classes. I went through a few possible responses in my head like, “Well, I thought that maybe since I want to get a degree, I should try going to college and taking all the required classes,” or, “Oh, I’m just here for fun. Isn’t that why people go to college?” or maybe even, “What are you doing here?”

       My actual response ended up being more of a blank stare and a shrug. He explained to me that I was supposed to take this class after Intro to Cakes, which I was also taking that semester. That’s why he already knew everyone in the class except me. I also found out that the class used to be called Advanced Cakes, but I suppose the smart thing to do was to change that. Anyway, he told me a few times that I could drop the class until next semester and I was pretty sure he was recommending that, but I kind of wanted the challenge, so I decided not to.

       I almost regretted that decision when I realized that he was going to pick on me three days a week all semester. In fact, just later that day when I was having a hard time cutting blocks of butter into small cubes, he decided to walk up behind me and squeeze my arm until I thought it could snap in half at any moment. Then he kindly informed me that I had no muscle in my arm. Thanks for that.

       I liked Intro to Cakes way more than I liked Advanced Cakes because it was easier and the people in Intro were more fun. One time in class, we didn’t really have anything to do for a few hours. Laura and Michelle, who sat at the table in front of me and are pretty awesome, decided to see if they could make tiny cornets (piping bags). Michelle made one about the size of her finger tip, and when she set it on the tip of her finger, it looked like a hat. Since we were all obviously mature adults, we decided to make finger puppets, so she got out a pen and drew a face on her finger. Then Laura decided to make him a wife. Chef Gronert was talking to people about their ideas for their practical finals, and we were making finger puppets while laughing hysterically and taking pictures. That was definitely one of my favorite days in any of my classes.

       Another one of my favorite school days happened in Purchasing class. I hated that class with a passion because it was way too advanced for a first-semester student, and I took it my first semester. We would have about an hour-long lecture, and then we would split into groups and go work on our assignments in a kitchen or the storeroom or wherever we needed to go.

       On this particular day, my group was working in the bakeshop. We basically had to write down how many of each necessary item we had on the shelf. We had one person find everything and one person type while everyone else just sort of sat around waiting. We talked about taking a carrot cake out of the cooler and splitting it between the six of us, but we weren’t sure if we would be able to finish it. Then one of the guys in the group said he thought he was the youngest because he was eighteen. Everyone looked at me and asked me how old I was, so I told them, but they didn’t believe me until I showed them my driver’s permit. Then we hung out and looked at pictures of cakes until it was time for class to end.

       Another time, when everyone went to do their lab work, a classmate and I stayed in the classroom and looked at stuff on FAIL Blog. After an hour or so, we decided to go look for the rest of our group, but we couldn’t find them, so we just went home. Then there was the time that Chef Morgan was taking roll, and when he got to my name he said, “Miss Beasley, are you here?” I thought it was a dumb question since, if I answered, I was obviously there. So I decided to say no. I’m pretty sure he actually marked me absent that day. As much as I despised that class, it was fun sometimes and I got an A.

These are the awesome finger puppets that Laura and Michelle made.

Choklit Blog #75: I'm Graduating, Part 1

     In my two years as a culinary student at Trident Tech, I’ve made plenty of good memories and plenty of bad memories. I’ve met some awesome people, some stupid people, some creepy people, and even a few average people. Over the next three days until graduation, I want to recap a few of my favorite and least favorite moments for the three people who loyally follow my blog. It’s hard to decide which stories are worth telling and which ones would bore you all to tears, but there’s one that I know without a doubt I have to share. I’m sure some of you will know what I’m talking about if I just say the word “spatula.” For those of you that don’t, here’s what happened...

     It was one of my last days in Intro to Bakeshop. We were decorating a strawberry whipped cream cake, which we had to score into sixteen slices. I pulled out a knife I had never used before that resembled the one Chef Fritz had used in her demo. It basically looked like one of those straight pallet knives (which is a spatula, not an actual knife, for those of you who don’t speak that language), except it was really long and sharp. I was told it was a meat slicer, but I wouldn’t know. Anyway, I pulled it out and started scoring my cake.

     Just a few minutes earlier, when I had iced the cake, I was using a pallet knife. I guess I forgot that I had switched tools or else I was just really stupid, but I somehow got it in my head that I was scoring my cake with a pallet knife. Because I thought it was a pallet knife, I also thought it would be safe to wipe the whipped cream off the edge of the “pallet knife” with my fingers each time I marked the cake. I did this a few times before I felt a sharp pain shoot through my finger as I slid it over the cold metal. I looked at my hand, confused, and said aloud “Did I just cut myself with a spatula?”

     At this point, of course, I remembered that I was using a very sharp knife. Unfortunately, my partner heard my spatula comment, and I made myself look like even more of an idiot than I had already done by cutting myself twice in Intro to Bakeshop. We hardly even use knives in that class!

     Chef Fritz offered to call public safety, but I managed to choke out, “No, it’s just a tiny cut,” without crying. I slapped a band-aid and a rubber glove on it and went back to work, this time keeping my fingers off the blade- or so I thought. I somehow ended up slicing through both the glove and the band-aid within about 5 minutes. I felt super smart that day.

     Since I’m already talking about injuries, I might as well go ahead and tell my favorite injury story from CIC. The reason it’s my favorite is because it’s pretty much the only one that wasn’t my fault.

     It was practical final day in HOS 101 my first semester at CIC. We made cream of broccoli soup and hollandaise and did some vegetable cuts. I didn’t get hurt at all during the exam, but then it was time to clean up, which can be very dangerous in a kitchen full of first-semester culinary students. I decided to pile all of my dirty dishes onto a cutting board and carry them to the dish room where I would set them next to the sprayer and then wash everything. It seemed like an easy enough plan.

     When I walked into the dish room with my hands completely full, there was a pot sitting next to the sprayer right where I had planned to set all my dishes. Well that wasn’t too bad because, since I’m not a midget, I could just reach over the pot and set all my stuff behind it. That’s exactly what I did. About two seconds later, I was plunging my right forearm into the depths of the not-quite-icy-but-cold-enough sanitizing sink.

     Apparently some idiot and/or jerk had taken a pot straight off the open flame and tossed it in the dish room without thinking enough to at least put it in water! (Just kidding, I know who did it. I don’t think he’s an idiot or a jerk.) When I had reached behind the pot, my arm had pressed against its top edge, and it left a nice little red line on my skin. I assumed it wasn’t a very bad burn since it didn’t immediately blister and turn black, but I spent the rest of the class with a cold, wet towel pressed against my wound and had to bandage it up as soon as I got home. That was the end of my first semester- November 2009. It’s now May 2011 and I still have a mark from that burn. I’ve forgiven the guy, though, because he wrote a nice apology on one of my jackets.

     I wish I had the time to tell detailed stories of all my wonderful injuries since the first thing I want to do is relive all those painful moments, but I don’t have the time or a reason to do so. I’ll always cherish the memories of getting boiling glaze brushed onto my finger and not putting it under cold water, cutting myself on a loaf of bread, shredding my hands with aluminum foil while sculpting a bear, burning myself on a speed rack that tried to attack me, and accidentally running my hand into the blade of a knife that was lying on a table, but all those stories are just too boring to tell.

This is the day I cut myself with that "spatula." Chef Fritz was laughing because she knew what was about to happen.