A dream realized.

I never wanted to be that person wandering and not knowing what their calling, or purpose in life was. 

Just last month I sat alone staring at the ceiling. Seemed like all of my friends had their life in order running around focusing on their passions while I stood off to the side standing still and looking well... lost. What was I passionate about? What did I love doing so much that nothing else mattered? I scoffed. I'm in my JUNIOR year of College, I should not be having this conversation with myself now. Not now while I'm about to be thrown on my behind out into the vicious cold real world. I glanced down at my sheets and made a mental note to myself that I needed to get another comforter and start looking for new furniture. My mom would have a hissy fit, but she'd get over it. I was always buying things to organize and decorate my condo. Seemed like a never ending saga. 

And then I knew.

I wanted to be an Interior Designer.

Wait a minute. I can't draw. I have NO formal art training. What the flip am I doing. So I did what I always do when I have no clue what I'm doing. Research.