{ starting somewhere }

You know that feeling when you know something has to be done? And maybe you should've done it years ago, but for a myriad of reasons you still haven't started yet. You think about starting. You've googled how to start. You know everything about how to start, but yet somehow it's always on the back side of that sticky note you wrote your to-do list on, so naturally you avoid it??                                                                                 (please tell me I'm not alone in avoiding awkward beginnings)

Either way. That's me with...everything and more specifically it has been the relationship I've maintained with this blog. Because, if I'm going to be honest with you, which seems like an appropriate way to begin this, when I think 'bloggers' I think perfect women. I mean, the straight up goddess types. The ones that design, parent, run a business, write,  AND have time to actually put on makeup all before the sun even thinks about rising. (shoutout to the EmHenderson types)

And here I am, 22 years of age, still in college, without cute kids to draw you in, or a portfolio of years worth of awesome clients who have let me play with their homes. 

I'm still very much in the learning phase, my last few years at this place called college have been spent learning how to rearrange spaces or build them out of thin air as well as learning the new age art of luring readers to click on articles only to find that they aren't as interesting as the link advertised (aka journalism...it isn't a secret that i'm quite a bit more mentally invested in the design half of my double major, but have decided to continue down the road of journalistic splendor because #yolo)

Just because I mentioned that I am one half journalism major, does not mean the words you read will all come out correctly, or that my commas will be in the right place, much less that anything you read will be intentionally in AP style. You see, one of my favorite hobbies aside from flea market-ing of course (see, i make up verbs) is creating run-on-poorly-punctuated-sentences. (also i hate capitalization and wish it was an extinct practice)
And in that, I have no shame.
I write as I think, and maybe that would send shivers down the spine of my 7th grade grammar teacher, but to me it makes sense.
i'll grant you a break from my ramblings for now.
until next time.

// c //


hesitantly following my dreams

{ a re-post circa sophomore year to explain a little about me & how this all came to be }

           Recently I've been at a bit of a standstill when it comes to choosing the direction my life should follow. I thought I had it all figured out (doesn't every 20 year old) until I realized I didn't. My classes were in place, I had been taking notes for two weeks now. Books purchased, binders broken in, roll sheet signed but the opportunity for change lingered over me. Watching me and haunting me all the while. Add drop day is terrible. It has made me change my major 4 times. Just when I think I am satisfied with my current situation, it enables me to have another week or two to change my mind. Much can happen in a week. This particular week, I was weak. Weak at the heart for advice from those I love. I was extremely volatile for change, it was certainly and unnecessarily on the horizon.
My classes were wonderful. Interpersonal Relationships. Abnormal Psychology. Infant and Young Child Development. Mechanics of Writing. Design Application and Statistical Practices. That is me in a nutshell. But... I tend to wake sleeping babies, alter perfect recipes, rewrite the A papers and change my major when all is finally going well.

       23 hours before the decision opportunity closed I called my favorite go-to mom. Being the supportive and agreeable woman she is, she listened to my reasoning (sound or not) and told me to do what I felt most comfortable with. You see during that weak week of mine I had several encounters which I assumed were signs from God (seriously). The first occurred when I was sitting in one of my classes and our teacher took it upon himself to give us a love-it-or-leave-it inspirational speech that day. Long story made short, his message was WHY ARE YOU HERE? He asked that several times giving answers that were incorrect. He advised us to get out now if we only thought about that subject in class or while slaving over it's required assignments. He (or God) said do what you do when no one's looking. Not the integrity speech, but asking us what we spend OUR time on. 
For me that is drawing houses, putting furniture in rooms, moving it every other week, scouring antique stores and flea markets, and (my latest attempt) sewing draperies and bedding. I've always halfway considered interior design, but now he (or God) was practically shining rays of light on it. 

        This only continued to resonate with me when skyping a friend later that night. We were discussing school and I asked what he was majoring in these days, he answered with my all-too-familiar "I'm still undecided." I offered consolation and when the question was returned at me I stiffly gave off my newly formulated schpeele "Journalism and Psychology with a minor in Human Development & Family Studies." To which he innocently and genuinely asked, "But don't you want to design houses or something when you grow up?" It hit me. The second lightening bolt, God personified in yet another human (...maybe). 

       Yes I do want to design houses when I grow up.  BUT am I sure that my obsessions with wallpaper and furniture will actually provide me with a family sized income one day? Not exactly.  Am I sure that this will satisfy my nosey curiosity about the inner workings of politics, community development, and just plain truth-telling like journalism would? Not from the looks of it. Am I sure that it would provide me with the education necessary to fulfill my weird desire to be a Montessori teacher/and or raise really cool-smart kids? Definitely not....But the signs... They meant something right? Am I losing it, or is this how life works? Is this the exemplary "There's a turn around every corner"kind of situation older people always tell you about? I haven't a clue.

       But I did it. Semi-regrettfully, my schedule now consists of 15 credit hours of interior design courses (with a side of journalism for safe-keepings). People who know me best seem to be very and almost too supportive of this change, they unintentionally kind of insult what I thought my life would consist of by saying, "You could've gone to school for whatever you wanted, but I knew you'd always end up back at design." That's lovely, it really is. I'm glad people like the style they think I have, and I'm honored to hold the design knowledge that people pin me with, but in actuality, I'm lost here!! I'm a lost puppy in my technical drawing classes, using my scale rule and straight edge (that sucks for left-handers). Come next august I may be revisiting my former schpeele, who knows. No matter what route I pick, one thing is for certain, and that is that I will be at this lovely University forever. A dream come true.