When I was growing up, I changed my mind every other week when it came to deciding what I wanted to be when I grew up. Possible contenders were a teacher, marine biologist, radiologist, and even just a stay-at-home mom. Interior design was never an option. I enjoyed rearranging my room often, and changing out pillows and what-not. I enjoyed reading Veranda magazines and watching HGTV. It never crossed my mind that you could get paid to do a hobby.
When I first decided to go to school, I thought I’d be learning color strategies and how to mix patterns. Boy, was I wrong. Not only was I completely not doing that, I was drawing floorplans by hand! As I pressed further, I began learning about space planning and the different between an elevation and a section. I was brought into the world of ADA and Green design things I never knew existed. There were times when I thought, “This isn’t what I want to do! I want to decorate!” I stuck with it and proved myself wrong – a time or two – and I realized that this wasn’t a career, this was a passion. When you are passionate about what you are doing, it doesn’t feel like work. I loved it all – the drawing, the rendering, the furniture and finish selections, even drawing ceiling sections (blah). I was not becoming a decorator; I was becoming a designer.
Three years later, I look back on everything and realize that it was only the beginning of a career to come, one that looked so bright and exciting. After I presented my final portfolio, I sat down and literally felt a 10 ton weight fly off my shoulders. Alas, I am done.
I’m feeling a little bit of everything – scared, anxious, adventurous, and joyful. I’m eager to see what’s in store for all of my classmates and where they will end up. The design community is so tight knit, so I know I’ll be seeing them around.
“Its a big world out there,” I’ve always been told and I am excited to jump in it.
Oh the places I’ll go.
Thirty-Seventh Avenue 