Another Beginning Come and Gone...

     There are few things that one may encounter on a daily basis that can incite more uncertainty and trepidation than beginnings.  The first time, starting something, kicking things off, taking the first step, making the first move… call it what you will, but nothing puckers the asshole in anxiety quite like a new beginning.  For me, it's a matter of perfectionism... and an almost crippling fear that I won't meet the nigh-impossible standards I set for myself.   This fear is not completely unfounded, mind you, as I will inevitably fall short of my own lofty expectations, and my initial fear will then be replaced by some degree of disappointment and self loathing.  Every.  Single.  Time.

Well, we all have our little quirks.

     See, this is the problem for me:  the foundation of each of these new beginnings is the culmination of every achievement that has made them possible.  Every goal I reach, every high bar I set and somehow manage to claw my way over, the absolute pinnacle of my every effort and accomplishment suddenly becomes the baseline starting point for this new beginning.   And frankly, it scares the shit out of me.  Granted, just how much shit is scared out of me is dependent upon what the new beginning is, but never the less- whether I’m facing a grand, life-changing beginning or a virtually insignificant one, the bowel-voiding terror, to some degree or another, remains a constant. 

     I only raise this topic, and my less-than-admirable issues with it, because my career has been replete with firsts.  First days at countless new jobs, or new positions; decorating my first wedding cake; catering my first party; hiring my first person; firing my first person…. more firsts and beginnings and new experiences than I can ever hope to remember, each with its own unique brand of debilitating anxiety .  However, each and every one has also been overcome.   I’ll admit, it wasn’t always pretty, but one way or another I always managed to push forward.

     This latest endeavor to chronicle my time as a baker- a time that spans the better majority of my life- represents another in a long list of beginnings.   As such, to say that I’m hesitant to make my first post would be a gross understatement.  Fortunately, this is not my first beginning, and over the years I’ve picked up a trick or two to help me work through them.  The most effective of which, or at least the one I have decided to go with for this particular venture, is pretty simple:  acknowledge my anxiety, admit to and accept my fear of failure… then say screw it all and plow forward at full speed.  If I make a complete mess of things to begin with, I can always go back and clean it up later~

~Z the Baker

Introducing: Z

First and foremost, welcome to the world of Z the Baker.  What follows is the mental drippings of Z, a baker and pastry chef who, to the very core of his being, is tired. Tired of the industry to which he has dedicated so much of his life.  Tired of the delusions of grandeur, the egos, and the arrogance of his colleagues.  Tired of the politics of the business. Tired of the deceit. However, despite his bone-weary disposition toward the industry, his passion for the craft itself remains.  Z's love for the art of baking lives on- as the smoldering coals of what was once a radiant conflagration of hope and idealism- but it burns on none the less. 

Now, I can guess your foremost thoughts at this moment:  "That's all well and good," you're likely thinking, "but just who in the hell is Z, anyway?" Well...

Z is, essentially, me. He represents all that I have done, and all that I hoped to achieve.  He shares my memories, and has lived my dreams. Z embodies everything that I aspired to be, everything I wish I did, and everything that I feared I would become- he is every iteration of my life as a baker and pastry chef... past, present and future.  That being said, what follows is my own mental drippings, musings, and memories, as seen through the eyes of Z.