no camera, just FIRE

So I'm 24. I moved south, a little. Spent 6 months in Canada. Man, that was fucking nuts. Snow, bitches, pastry school... I felt like I lived in Soviet Russia. Lost my best friend. Lost my lover. Shit happens. I haven't gotten over getting my camera gear stolen and therefore, my posts here won't be as visual. I got a diploma in french classic baking + patisserie. Now I am halfway done with my french classic culinary diploma. Food is my life. My life is love? Love of food? I am the only girl in my kitchen. I feel like apologizing for not having a penis, most days. It just doesn't make sense. I am my own worst critic- and hearing that from my chefs. It makes me feel better. No one is meaner. Just..me. My arms move like a robotoic mechanical system. My burns heal. My cuts bleed. Sometimes, that pain gets me through service. Sometimes, it gets me through LIFE. but, it hurts. With gloves on, one hand behind my back I peer into my 7 pots and pans fires blazing flavors reducing my burns burning the clock ticking hot plates, perfect cuts steam, garlic, red wine LOVE? I must be crazy. "Photo journalist" "EMT" "Editor" "Dog handler" "Baker" "Grill/Ice cream bitch" "Stylist" "Pastry chef" "Chef" ... STUDENT. I am not a master of my craft, but I am close. I don't give a fuckkkk.