Crying in public is as weird as it sounds.

I cried today while making "Pros and Cons" lists, one for staying in university, and one for jumping ship and heading to pastry school. I was sitting in the park near my flat, under a tree, writing them, listening to "Make the Money" by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and I just. started. crying.

In the fucking park.

I realized that no matter what choice I make, it's not going to be an easy one. That staying in Montreal could now just be as difficult as leaving it. This fork in the road of my life is so distinct that it feels like ONE or the OTHER right now. And I know no matter what I do, I'll walk down the path and look back over my shoulder every step of the way, wondering about my choices.What's worse? If I stay here, I'll wonder if I stayed because it was the easier option. If I go, I'll wonder if I bailed out of fear.

I've been talking to everyone. And I mean everyone. I'm one 'elderly-wise-black-lady-on-a-bench-at-a-bus-stop' short from collecting the opinions of the entire world on the matter. Not usually something I do, because I'm easily swayed by people and I want to have a clear head. But this is different, everyone has starkly different beliefs on the matter.

When I finally told my parents I was thinking about culinary school, I was expecting some sort of reasonable response from the two of them. "A degree is important in today's world" or "Think about the money." My dad has always said he could see me as a professor, so I thought at least he would disapprove of the notion of it. And my mom-- always supportive, but usually supplying caution-- you know what my mom said? She picked this moment in life to turn into a sparkly fairy mom mother and whipped out the Disney classic: "follow your heart. Do what makes you happy."

Writing and baking both make me happy. I am never going to lose my taste for literature or fresh baked anything, let's be honest. On Skype with Jill the other day, she said I've been writing longer than I've been baking, but  thinking back, I've been doing BOTH to express myself since I was pretty damn young.

I remember when I was a kid-- god knows how old-- I had a major crush on my neighbor, Rob. He was older and super cute and really nice to me, when the other kids picked on me for being roly poly. But I would have rather smothered to death in a vat of buttercream than admit it out loud. Hell, I didn't even admit it to myself at the time, because that's how stupid I felt it was. What did I do? I baked that boy a fucking cake from scratch on his birthday. To my memory, my first EVER cake from scratch. A two layer vanilla cake in heart shaped pans with vanilla frosting and green lettering on top because that shit was Rob's favourite colour. 

The only reason I never thought of baking as a career option before was because I thought I wasn't good enough at it. I thought writing was the only skill I had in my toolbox worthy of being turned into a job. The only way I could ever succeed was by forming words into sentences into paragraphs into thoughts.

And I was okay with that, because I loved writing. I still love writing. Writing is my everyday. I love poetry and blogs and articles, and I love taking a confused mess and editing it to be clean and concise, while keeping someone's voice fully intact. What my clumsy mouth fails to say, my words express with pitch perfect clarity on paper. I love reading. I love learning hidden meanings and history. Suddenly though, I have another road. I have another choice that I never saw before and I have no clear way to turn. All I want is to make the right choice. But there are no wrong answers here, so how do you pick?

Follow your heart. Do what makes you happy?

I am not happy right now. Indecision sucks.