I’ve always wanted to be a veterinarian. I’ve always wanted to help animals. People. Things. When someone with an armful of groceries drops their car keys on the ground, I pick them up. When a stray cat is wandering around in the rain, I feed her and plug in a heater for her in my garage. When my stuffed animal falls off my bed, I put it back up because, really, they have feelings too.

It seems natural, then, that I would go into a profession in the healthcare field. To put it simply, all living things are happiest when they’re healthy. I’d like to keep them healthy. And I love animals (probably the most over-used three words in veterinary school application history, but that doesn’t make it any less true). I want to be a Veterinarian Without Borders and go to third-world countries and provide free medical care for otherwise neglected animals.

But I’ve been cooking and baking a lot recently and I’ve come to realize that I love food, too. Reading food blogs and watching Ace of Cakes has lit a little flame inside me saying HAY, MAYBE YOU WANT TO BE A PASTRY CHEF WHEN YOU GROWS UP. I’m a third-year biology student at MIT following the dream she’s had since she was a kid. What the hell am I doing having dreams of cookies and bread and three-tiered wedding cakes? Delusions of grandeur, for sure.

And yet.

My internship this summer at the NEA is only three days a week. For the other four days, I was originally planning on volunteering at the MSPCA and continuing my UROP in the Ploegh Lab. Maybe…maybe I’ll try to get a part-time cashier job at Flour Bakery or something for two of those days. After all, there will still be a need for pastries when I retire.

(By the way, check out Flour’s head chef’s bio on the website.)

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