Tired

I don't know how many times I've written that I'm tired. But today after coming home, I've done nothing at all. Absolutely nothing. I'm dragging my feet to get anything done. I've got exams coming up and carrots to tourne but I have no mood at all. Living alone with no social life. There's nothing to look forward to besides the next day. And now, the next day doesn't seem very exciting to me any longer. This fatigue goes beyond physical. This feeling stretches beyond skin deep. I don't think I can manage to shelve it for much longer. I think I'll take the time today to waste away.

After 9 hours of lessons today I'm totally spent. I don't get good sleep any longer. I wake up in the mornings lethargic. My eye lids are led heavy and dry. Blinking is painful, my lids scrape my pupils.

Today's cakes are such ironies to what represents my day. The Russe, the Progrés, the Succés. Progress and success. Today's the worst day I've had so far in school.

For starters, in practical, I spilt at least 40g of flour when I was dusting my sheet pan. Then my dacqouise came out too hard. I forgot to take them off the pan after cooling slightly. These things are enough to spoilt my already spoilt day further. When I piped those letters 'Succés' this afternoon, I scoffed, several times. Each time for every practice piping I did before doing the real thing.

Succés, that's laughable... Hard dry dacquoise, schocolate piping too thick. That's far from a success. What a sour feeling.

More lessons to go. Sugar has already rotted my soul. I was hungry for some Chinese food. After blogging yesterday, I can't stop thinking about chicken rice and bah chor mee... I want Johnson Duck... I want Popo's cooking... I ate Chef's miroir cassis cake with lesser enthusiasm this evening. Don't get me wrong, it was amazing, but my heart's just not excited. Home sickness and other feelings are just so thick right now.

When I saw the Charlotte, I suddenly got all artsy and poetic. It's a beautiful cake. So much effort was put into constructing it. Making ladyfingers, lining the mould with enough biscuits so that they are tight, making crème anglaise with gelatine, including the sugared pears, whipping the cream, making the chantilly, piping the chantilly, freezing it to keep it in shape. Just like our life. We put in so much work, so much detail went in into making our lives seem great.

Imagine try to draw parallels to life. When you look at it from afar, you don't see the imperfections like the uneven ladyfinger biscuits that were used, the leaked bavarian that seeped through the cracks in between the imperfect structure. Then we cover up our blemishes with sugared cream that we work to hard to whip up.

This is where I really start to get unreasonably philosophical. It's only when we're cut down by stress from life's circumstances, do we show what we're made of. Even though we sometimes bleed, I just hope that we come out of it with a sweet after taste just like Charlotte.

If I were to describe my dinner plate now, I'm having a generous serving of lemons. Some fresh ones, some old ones. And every course on the menu serves the same thing, even desserts. And I'm only done with the appetisers.