Thank God I'm not Italian then, but only pretending to be. Last Saturday night I had the plan to make homemade pasta. Had never tried it before, so of course I was pretty determined to nail my first ever batch of tortellini. Gotta say: homemade pasta, pumpkin/sage/parmesan filling on fleek. And then it hit me.
I guess there are people that just know what to do, when to do it and how. And I guess I'm just not one of them. I'm kinda stuck at this one point in my life, where I don't know what to do, let alone know how to write about. I'm basically feeling clueless and unfortunately not as fabulous as in the movie.
However, maybe the pasta was a first step to getting back on track. There's these two things I've had on my mind for the last couple of weeks: A. it's all freaking relative and B. perception is everything. And pasta made me feel as if there's a C.: whatever you do, do it with passion.
Whenever I'm feeling blugh - which mostly happens in job related situations - I always have this voice in the back of my mind going 'food food food'. Not only does stress make me eat more, it also makes me think of what I really want in life. And maybe the answer is food.
I was making pasta at 1 AM on Sunday morning and all I could think of wasn't even how to keep going. No, the only thing on my mind was: I wanna make each and every single one of the mother"#*$ers look freaking perfect. And taste perfect. And more importantly: I wanna feel as freaking passionate about whatever I do in life, as I feel about these eggs and flour.
So maybe you shouldn't trust me cause I'm no real Italian chef. Maybe you shouldn't trust me cause I have no idea what I'm doing. Hell, I don't even trust myself cause honestly, why should I? But for all I know at least I'm trying. And in the end that's probably all that matters.
Love,
Julie
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