All through my summer, I never felt at peace unless I was wrist-deep in dough. My worries would disappear when I closed the oven door and soon enough my motto became “stressed backwards is desserts.” For a while, I genuinely thought that I had a baking addiction. Ratios in recipes and conversions from cups to deciliters were ingrained into my head like my own name. That is until, one day, I bit into a vanilla and coffee cupcake and tasted only unexpected discontent. I couldn’t understand it. I had sighed deeply at the sound of the beeping timer, alerting me that the tangible perfectly-puffed proof of my labor was finally done. And yet, for some reason, I felt no usual bliss; I felt no usual relief. “What’s wrong with them?” My mother asked
…show more content…
I hadn’t let myself be held down by my inexperience and the ever-present probability of burning my house down. If I actually had the power to overcome my limitations, why should flying too close to the sun even be worthy of fear? The reason for my stagnancy became so clear when I heard his gasp of surprise. Your move, Icarus’ dad.
So I came home with a fresh bag of flour. The familiar surge of relief rushed through me as I added some cinnamon to my batter. What about nutmeg? A pinch later, I thought I couldn’t go wrong with some cardamom. I even left out an egg, and the structure and order it added to the pastry. Even when my mother raised an eyebrow at the taste, I still felt euphoria. Did you even attempt to scale the wall of mediocrity?
Formulaic thinking kept me safe on the ground. But when I broke free from the limitations I set on myself, I could see a glimpse of what was on the other side. With every inch of freedom I gave myself, I was able to climb higher and rid my tongue of the putrid aftertaste of complacency (reminiscent of vanilla and coffee). I want more from the world than what is within norms, rules, and my grasp. I decided that I would do everything, not only everything I could, but more, to free myself of recipes. As long as I had that mentality, any failure, whether it be a boring cupcake or a bad grade, was one that showed me the most valuable lesson: I will keep climbing until I can see the other side of this
I hadn’t let myself be held down by my inexperience and the ever-present probability of burning my house down. If I actually had the power to overcome my limitations, why should flying too close to the sun even be worthy of fear? The reason for my stagnancy became so clear when I heard his gasp of surprise. Your move, Icarus’ dad.
So I came home with a fresh bag of flour. The familiar surge of relief rushed through me as I added some cinnamon to my batter. What about nutmeg? A pinch later, I thought I couldn’t go wrong with some cardamom. I even left out an egg, and the structure and order it added to the pastry. Even when my mother raised an eyebrow at the taste, I still felt euphoria. Did you even attempt to scale the wall of mediocrity?
Formulaic thinking kept me safe on the ground. But when I broke free from the limitations I set on myself, I could see a glimpse of what was on the other side. With every inch of freedom I gave myself, I was able to climb higher and rid my tongue of the putrid aftertaste of complacency (reminiscent of vanilla and coffee). I want more from the world than what is within norms, rules, and my grasp. I decided that I would do everything, not only everything I could, but more, to free myself of recipes. As long as I had that mentality, any failure, whether it be a boring cupcake or a bad grade, was one that showed me the most valuable lesson: I will keep climbing until I can see the other side of this