Upon completing my local community college’s two-year culinary program last fall, I’d figured out two things: 1.) I was not cut out for the hot, noisy, high-volume kitchens of fine dining restaurants and 2.) I could not have chosen a worse time to abandon the cushy, care-free life of a student. I was leaving a world where my personal failures elicited little more than a gentle slap on the wrist, and entering a world where the same mistakes could easily seal my fate as one of the millions of Americans who would remain nervously unemployed as one of the worst economic recessions in U.S. history blew over. For those of us who put in our time in educational institutions, it was like being promised the protection of a nuclear-ready storm cellar, only to find ourselves in the middle of a monsoon…followed by a tornado…hurling softball-sized hailstones at seventy miles an hour. A natural disaster not even those state-of-the-art cellar doors from the Ivy League where ready for.
The months of unemployment that followed “graduation” were devastating. Each day spent with my eyes suction-cupped to a computer screen, pouring over what seemed like the same 250 job postings on craigslist for hours on end. It robbed me of emotional and psychological energy; utterly destroying whatever last shred of dignity still clung to the deep reaches of my broken chi like burnt cheese that still persistently hangs from the ashen grates of a dirty toaster oven. It rendered me gravely dysfunctional as a human being, and made me completely useless as a friend and confidant to those whom had been there for me in the past. To be frank, I was lucky to come out of it alive.
So here I am. Sitting in Gaylord’s on Piedmont Avenue in Oakland, across a tiny, water ring-stained table from Isaura, ex-girlfriend-turned-best-
In a nutshell, this blog is my humble attempt to make sense of this f---ed up world our generation has fallen into, one meal, one album, one bad episode of reality television at a time.
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