Why I Bake

So a few people have asked me why I bake. It’s simple–baking is something I can DO. It’s input to output ratio is generally equal, and you get a tangible result within a few hours usually. 


That’s not true for most things in life. 


Teach for America? As a high school teacher, I take the wins I can get. Student X showed up to class on time? WIN. Student Z turned in his homework? WIN. Student D brought in a pencil and didn’t pull out their cell phone? WIN. Heck, Student A stayed awake during class? WIN. 




Medical School Application? As an applicant, I take what I can get, and refresh my inbox like a rabid chipmunk hoping desperately for an interview, or some smidgen of hope that I’m not totally lost in the pile applicants the admissions committee must read. Hours of heart, sweat, and ME that goes into the essays, the personal statements, the descriptions, everything. 


Baking? Mix together flour, sugar, and butter? Shortbread cookies to feed 30! Mix together apples, oats, brown sugar, flour, and butter? Crisp for plenty! Mix together hazelnuts, chocolate, flour, sugar, and vanilla? The most tasty “nutella” cookies you’ll find. 


You see the difference? 


I was wait-listed today at a school I interviewed at in September. It’s odd. I was rejected from Stanford, Vanderbuilt, and Davis, without any real emotional fall out–was I sad? Sure. But was I hurt? Was I mad? No. I thought–huh, this is what rejection feels like? Not so bad. WRONG. I just didn’t see myself there. 


I was mad when I got the e-mail today. I was hurt when I got the e-mail today. I was frustrated when I got the e-mail today. I’m not cocky enough to say that I thought I would get in right away, I just didn’t think of how it would suck to not know. Just something I didn’t think of. 


So I baked. Because it works. I think about just the baking, I don’t focus on how frustrated I am, I just think–how lovely these cookies will be when I take them out of the oven! And it makes me happy.


So there, when you’re frustrated, when you’re irritated, when you’re blergle, or whatever–bake, and bake these cookies, because they’re tasty. 

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