Perturbed

Spending a lot of the time on the Internet, as I and many others do, will expose you to every manner of lowlife available. MRAs, racists, misogynists, all manner of political and religious zealots, and anti-vaxxers are just a few that get on my tits. Whoever you're thinking of, they're out there too. Cyberspace contains every walk of life imaginable, from the best of us to the very worst, but the worst of us tend to speak the most obnoxiously, the most loudly, and the most frequently. For the most part, these terrible people are not people you'll encounter in real life all that much, partially because they tend to be a lot less brave and open about their horribleness out in the world than they are in cyberspace and also because most people try to stick to social environments free of such demonstrably despicable dipshits. Until yesterday, I could say I've met everyone on my list in real life except for anti-vaxxers.

While I've had friends who are/were anti-vaxxers before, it was never when our interactions were in person or they knew not to mention it around me. Online, it is easy to ignore, block, or whatever, but one cannot do that so easily in real life. So I learned when a man walked into the pipe and cigar shop frequent attired in biker gear. At first, the conversation proceeded respectfully and pleasantly enough. Something brought up disciplining children and he began to vehemently defend spanking, which he used as a bridge to talk about his Christian fundamentalism. When prodded, I revealed I was an atheist and answered that my autism is why I first became one, refusing to believe in a kind and loving God who would make me this way. That was when he told me that God did not make me autistic, vaccinations did. The words hit me like cannon fire and, with that, I saw before me the monster I had mistaken for a man.

Autistics learn to be proficient at emotional repression because our emotions nearly always serve us poorly. As tests go, you'd have to kill a friend or family member in front of me to give me a harder one. After his initial statement, he went on and on while I said nothing. Nothing could come out because I was focusing all my will into repressing my rage. Mercifully, it was time for a new cigar, so I rose and went to light it. My whole body was shaking, my fists clenched tightly, and my face hot, as I walked out of earshot to a friendly shopkeep to explain the situation. If, I explained, he ever wanted to see self-control, he should watch me now, because I was going to stand there and make myself calm down. I was going to go back over there and be friendly to that man, as I had before he told me vaccinations gave me autism, for two reasons. First, I was in a private business and had a responsibility to keep control. Second, because, I will argue with religious types, ghost hunters, and others full of nonsense, I will not argue with anti-vaxxers because they are impervious to reason. Ironically, I have been praised for being respectful and polite. On the contrary, I am disgusted and contemptful of this man on a level surpassed only by murderers and sexual predators.

-Frank

Paths

People in my family wonder why my educational ambitions are in the direction of The Culinary Institute Od America instead of the sort of academic work I've pursued in the past. After all, I went straight on through from the undergraduate work I did in writing to the graduate work I did in communication, spending seven total years at Drury University completing it all. That's not even where I stopped, taking social studies classes at University Of Arkansas for a year in preparation for a Master Of Arts In Teaching, although I declined to attend that program after the head of it indicated that, although he would allow me into the program, he really didn't want me there. In fact, that's probably the heart of why I don't want to go back to traditional academia. They never really approved of my participation in that area. Sure, Drury was a warm cocoon with Hogwarts like sense of home and I sincerely enjoyed my time there. However, there was something about the classroom environment at the graduate level that caused me to get on everyone's bad side. While this happened sometimes at the undergraduate level, it was every damned class at the graduate one. Combine this with the head of the education department at University Of Arkansas saying he flat-out didn't want me, and it clinched the idea that academia doesn't want me.

Some of the more observant of you might note that my culinary classmates didn't like me at NWACC either and that I am also worried about that circumstance repeating itself at CIA. How, then, is academia any different? Encouragement from faculty and staff is how culinary is different from academia. Even my worst relationship with a chef instructor at NWACC was better than most of my relationships with faculty and staff in academia. There was no bullshit, you see. That's always been the thing that made me think food service would be a good environment for me in the first place. Beyond having a passion for it, I appreciate that food service people will call a spade a spade. Nobody's gonna coddle you. Anybody, classmate or chef instructor alike, who had a problem with me made it very clear to me where I stood them very early on with as little subtlety as possible. If I did something wrong in my food service jobs, I would be confronted about it immediately and harshly rebuffed. That beats my various regular jobs, including academic ones, where doing something wrong would get you complained about to the boss while you continued to labor in blissful ignorance of the axe about to fall on your head. Here's another thing to remember. I have never been fired from any of my food service jobs and am considered rehireable at all of them, while I can't say the same for any other job.

As you can tell, I've grown cold on academia, and really all white collar work environments, because they have grown cold on me. You can't really expect the passion necessary to make it through any kind of graduate program to remain sufficiently hot with that much chill in the room. My culinary passion, on the other hand, has never wavered. Even after a culinary school experience full of assholes, injuries and scars, a failed company, and no small amount of discouragement, I continue to ride along unbroken however battered I might get. Say I did go off to SIU Carbondale, a school that has actually accepted me into various PhD programs in the past, for a few years and came back home to Springfield to attempt to ply my trade at the various local universities and colleges. Would there be any reason to think I'd get a job teaching? There's no reason in the world to think that. First of all, my likely areas, like English, Communication, and History, are positively bursting with PhDs in the market for those kinds of jobs to the point where there are simply more of them than there are jobs. Hard sciences, sure, in demand, but humanities professors are a dime a dozen. If I went through the truly hard work I know that involves, I'd be serving a very frosty master for reward that is unlikely to materialize. CIA may not end in a job either, but the passion is there and I'll take that over frosty academia any day.

-Frank

Pain

To quote Dr. Smith from the old Lost In Space series, "Oh, the pain. Oh, the pain of it all." In the latest of what is a disconcertingly large number of ill developments in my health, I have somehow injured my knee. Of course, the first question this raises is how I acquired this unfortunate malady. Having seen my primary doctor's physician's assistant and been referred to a sports medicine specialist by said physician's assistant after an X-Ray, I am not entirely bereft of clues at this point. Since I weight train six days a week, it was natural to suspect that I had acquired the injury during said training, but a physical examination revealed the pain to be on both the front and back of the left side of the right knee, making it an unlikely training injury. Another early theory was that it was that it was a microfracture that had healed into a cyst similar to the one I sustained in my right ankle during a 2003 car accident and also acquired during said accident, only now developing after 12 years. When the X-Ray ruled that out, I was referred to the earlier mentioned specialist, whom I will see this coming Tuesday. A fall on the ice I had last week is now the most likely culprit, although I won't know much until the specialist performs a CAT Scan, MRI, or both.

If my fall on the ice while walking back to my car is, in fact, the culprit, then the injury took a few days to show itself. When I went down, I had a bag in my right hand and shot my left out to catch myself. While my left hand hurt a bit for a few days, I thought I had escaped injury-free. Squatting at the gym revealed the injury, as I suddenly felt pain and weakness in my knee and had to complete the exercise on other machines. From there, the knee started popping every time I'd move it, although there wasn't any pain that day. Every day since, the problem has been worsening and speeding. At first, the knee only hurt if I did a deep bend, then only if I moved it, and finally it hurt no matter what I did. When I began having to shift so much of my weight onto my left leg, my left ankle began to hurt. Then, for some reason, my right ankle began to hurt, which it always does a little since the wreck, but the pain has become increasingly acute. Nobody noticed my gait changing much at first. It began as a fairly inconspicuous limp, but, in the span of a few days, it's become something people at Just For Him who don't even know me have felt the need to comment upon. Running has become impossible and things like stairs and shoe tying are trials.

Out of all the medical specialities I ever imagined I might need, sports medicine was way down the list with gynecologists and neurosurgeon. However, as my personal trainer pointed out to me, I am training with a frequency and progression similar to an athlete, albeit with the goals, potential, or, you know, athletic ability. Anyway, I suppose the best case scenario would be something along the lines like a strain or a deep bruise that'll just heal with time, rest, and (hopefully given the whole, "Ow, it hurts," thing) powerful prescription painkillers. About the worst case scenario, beyond bone cancer or something randomly horrible like that showing up on scan, would be something requiring surgery. Another upcoming medical appointment deals with diagnosing the possible carpal-tunnel in my right arm, which, if confirmed, would involve surgery. So the last thing I need is more surgery to pile up upon even more surgery. As with all my medical problems, I'll do my best to keep a good sense of humor and positive attitude about all this. Fortunately, I am not claustrophobic and do not think electromagnetic fields will give me brain cancer, so I'm not afraid of any sort of scan they'll need to do. Growing up with a radiologist, I know the machines are pretty cool, especially when they tell you you'll be okay.

-Frank

Problems

As I contemplate an education at The Culinary Institute Of America, I think a great deal about what kinds of problems autism could cause me there. Undoubtedly, there will be challenges for me beyond what a neurotypical student starting with similar skill level and experience. Knowing that going in, it is my intent to conquer said challenges however I must. Alton Brown is fond of saying that categorization will set you free, so I have broken the problems my autism causes me into three different categories. None of these are clinically recognized, insofar as I know. Rather, they are just my best attempt to organize the problems into a easily understood list. That list consists of social problems, physical problems, and mental problems. Social problems have traditionally been the most challenging for me, particularly in the workplace, so they are my greatest concern. Physical problems have also been challenging for me, although I've made progress overcoming them with my person trainer, so they are of moderate concern. Mental problems were once challenging for me, but they haven't been much of an issue for since Paxil, so they are of minor concern.

Social problems are, in some ways, the most concerning problem because of their unpredictable nature. What will be required of me physically is easy to research and prepare for and what will be required of me mentally is unlikely to be greater than the pressure I faced at my company because there will not be the agonizing concern of making a business cash-flow. As for who I'll be facing when I walk through those kitchen doors though, there's no way to know. My concern about the chef instructors is relatively minor because I'm prepared to handle a few bad eggs if most of them are reasonably friendly, just as I once had to at my prior culinary school. However, the inverse was true when it came to my classmates there. There were one or two, maybe, who were kind to me, but nobody else liked me much. Mental problems have been solved by prescription medication, physical problems have been partially solved by personal training, but what shall I do to make progress in my social problems? Oh, I suppose I'm not completely bereft of ideas for how to socially improve, but what unnerves me about such ideas is that they are unproven and experimental in nature.

My therapist will be who I ask to take point on preparing me for the social experience of once again being a culinary student. There are some things that I should not do that I know from experience. For instance, I should not speak to my classmates about any of my culinary adventures, unless asked. Nor should I comment on any of their food, unless asked. Basically, I suppose I'm advocating a, "Don't speak unless spoken to," kind of arrangement. This may seem odd to them, as neurotypicals do not typically need to put up those sorts of walls, but I absolutely have seen what happened before when I let them come down in a kitchen. These boot camps on pastry, baking, and dessert, respectively, I'll be attending in the coming months should be good testing ground for those sorts of walls. Without the pressure of knowing I will need to work with and beside these people in a long-term fashion with one of the most prestigious degrees in the world on the line, I can see how well I can keep those walls up in a low-consequence environment. Friendliness is actually the scariest thing I could have in a classmate because it tends to brings walls down and when walls come down, there's problems.

-Frank

Provisions

One of the things many people assume about The Culinary Institute Of America is that one gains weight while studying there, especial in my case because my area will be baking and pastry arts. Sure enough, many do during baking class, but usually these are the general culinary students who are unused to consuming such calorie-rich food on a regular basis. Pastry students know to keep on top of their classroom consumption because they're quite familiar with what happens if that isn't controlled. They also know that hitting the gym is not optional when your entire class schedule revolves around dessert. Additionally, they know that bakeshop class cuisine, while delicious, does not constitute a meal, which means that they're not going to fill up on the stuff. Instead, they will favor the diverse culinary offerings available at CIA for their three squares.

The thing about student dining at CIA is that it's kind of self-perpetuating. First semester students always fill the kitchens of the various levels of Skills classes. Skills students are constantly preparing mother sauces, performing basic knife cuts, and generally fabricating various basic ingredients and bases that will be used by more advanced classes to make actual meals. Baking classes bake all manner of artisanal bread, which will be sent off for other students as ingredients, as well as for all dining on campus. In fact, everything a student produces at CIA that isn't tasted or consumed in class goes to feed either the students or the paying public. This gives a sense of pride and unity to the students, as well as an enhanced sense of the importance of safety and sanitation, because the last thing any students wants to do is make classmates sick.

Although I cannot claim every meal offered at CIA is healthy, what with the inevitable French influence in classical cuisine and the requisite utilization of butter, I can fairly claim that it is likely more nutritionally balanced than whatever one is eating at home. Vegetables play a much larger role in dishes served at CIA than they do in the average American meal. Part of this, again, because of the French influence, which is largely based upon a combination of two parts onion, one part celery, and one part carrot called a mirepoix. Another part of it is simply the encouragement of as diverse a palate as possible. Vegetables that aren't seen much on the American plate, like okra, turnip, radish, various leafy greens, parsnips, and more are frequently utilized. So we see that CIA, while putting you amongst rich food, also encourages you to not spoil your dinner and eat your vegetables, just as mom told you.

-Frank

Preliminaries

Many interesting twists and turns dot my journey to The Culinary Institute Of America. Today's particular surprise was the suggestion that I go take CIA Boot Camp. If you're unfamiliar, these are accelerated courses that focus on a particular area. They last about a week and are rather intensive. Three of them, in baking, pastry, and dessert, respectively, are the ones with which I have been presented. Rather than to CIA proper for an actual degree, these Boot Camps have been presented as an alternative for a hobby baker to simply become a lot more skilled. Well, I'm perfectly happy going to these Boot Camps, but, as you might imagine, I view them rather differently. What an opportunity to spend three weeks, two of them consecutive, on that campus. That is a lot of time to get to know chef instructors, learn my way around the campus, and learn my way around San Antonio, not to mention learning firsthand about the pace and quality expected at CIA.

Unlike the trip I'm taking in March or the drive down I am ultimately going to need to make, I will be flying down for the Boot Camps. My policy is that I will always take a car for a trip unless someone else is paying the tab. In this case, my mother is paying for the whole trip, and she insists I fly. So I'll be enduring the damned shoe removal at airport security and hating it as much as the next fat guy. Being there will also be a little different than actual school. Instead of staying at the school-affiliated Tobin Lofts, I'll be staying in a hotel. Rather than my grades mattering, the Boot Camps do not count for credit. Only one's integrity and drive to improve one's culinary skills matters in this context. Group, or at least team, work will likely be involved as part of the Boot Camp. Whether it's things like techniques where I need improvement of social interactions where I must improve, the boot camps, far from scaring me with the brutality that implies, seem to have only an upside to them.

More than anything else, I think what the Boot Camps will give me is some good preliminary training that I was previously intending to conduct on my own. Rather than apply pressure, as one might think the prospect of taking on intensive programs like these would, I find that the Boot Camps are effectively taking such pressure off of me by making it so I know I'll be tested for readiness before I even set foot in a CIA kitchen as a full-time student. Lest I describe them as mere culinary endurance trials, let me just say that I fully expect to learn a great deal at these things as well. Perhaps they will teach me how to solve problems, like how to ensure the custard sets on a lemon merengue pie, that I'd previously considered nigh insoluble. Best of all, they may give me some new recipes and techniques with which I could abscond home and impress my supporters and detractors alike, albeit for different reasons. After all, I'm in it all the amazement others have when I make it right.

-Frank

Potential

A lot of the negative feedback I've gotten over my plans to attend The Culinary Institute Of America are regarding my ability to succeed. This entails every aspect of those plans, from my ability to come up with the money, to my ability to get in, to my ability to live up to the rigor and standards of the acclaimed program, to my ability to get a job in the industry at which I will last at least a year. Admittedly, I would've agreed with some of these objections, and fairly recently at that. Building enough self confidence to put aside these concerns and forge ahead has been a complex and multifaceted process. Perhaps some of it is just that a sufficient amount of time has passed since the failure of my company that I've been able to sufficiently mentally recover. Mostly, I think I've had experiences in both the distant and recent past that have convinced me I have at least sufficient reason to suspect that I can overcome those obstacles. For months after my company failed, I had no hope within me that I could succeed at any endeavor significant merit. Attending CIA represents the first truly significant thing for which I've dared hope in six months. Despite the complete lack of potential my biological and stepparents see in this endeavor, I see it as something that, while certainly difficult, is worth doing.

On the question of whether I'll be able to get in, I'll admit that that hasn't been definitively answered yet. What I have going for me is my three years of experience owning a specialized unique dessert company through which I gained a fairly rare expertise on the subject of gelato and that I can articulate my passion for food so well because of my writing talent. CIA sees me as someone with something unique to bring to the program and they appreciate that I'm not like most of their applicants who write that they expect to become celebrity chefs and authors of bestselling cookbooks. Raising the money to pay for tuition is another question that has not yet been definitively answered and I covered the particulars in an earlier article titled Payment. What I can tell you is that my fundraising campaign at http://www.gofundme.com/n91zus has raised 100 in less than 48 hours, which is a nice confidence boost. Concerns over my ability to work at the pace and quality demanded at CIA are valid and I've thought about it a lot. Helpfully, I remember how I had to adjust to the pace and quality standards in Classical Desserts And Pastries class at NWACC and how I managed to improve enough that the chef instructor personally congratulated me on how much I'd grown. Besides, I will be rigorously training myself through the very textbook I'll have at CIA, just as I did with the candy making book.

Perhaps the most open question on offer is whether I'll be able to get a job afterwards. Although my plan is to become a paid consultant for my former company, for which I currently consult, it's always good to consider all my options. Say that consulting job doesn't work out for whatever reason. Could I get up early in the morning, make dozens of pastries, and do so at a quality level and pace sufficient to satisfy a professional dessert business? Well, I don't know if that's true or not at the moment, but I couldn't successfully make a basic birthday cake that looked professional before I took the cake decorating class either. While I can't make the complex decorated cake that professional bakeshops can, yet, I feel that is mostly because I have not been trained to do it or even really tried to do it. It's worth it to stop saying I can't do things because of autism. For years, I've been saying that and I'm tired of it. Can't sweep, can't mop, can't move faster, can't make a lemon meringue pie, can't, can't, can't, can't, can't. Isn't it time to say that, no, I haven't turned over every stone, haven't tried as hard as I can every which way I can, haven't gotten the best training I can, haven't pushed my body and mind as hard as I can, and haven't believed in myself the way all my friends can? No more can't. Let's see if I can.

-Frank