Ever since I was a little girl I had always wanted to be a designer.
My Grandmother (who we refer to as "Gussie") is the one I owe it all too.
Creativity runs in my blood from both sides, and the interior designer gene definitely did not skip a generation.
Gussie has been an interior designer all her life and I wanted to be just like her growing up.
Watching her decorate and transform an empty, barebones house on the water into a home she calls her own was always so fun to me.
Her house was always filled with pretty treasures, beautiful artwork and sofas chairs that us kids were always so scared to sit or lay a finger on because they were made out of fine fabric imported from places I couldn't pronounce.
Growing up and visiting her many homes around the country I was always so intrigued by her classic, yet timeless way she designed her spaces.
When I was probably 13 or 14 years old, I remember flying out to her house in Annapolis, MD for the sole purpose to re-organize and cleaning her studio in her basement.
My jobs ranged from organizing fabric swatches, carpet tiles, and all kinds arts and crafts.
Anything- you name it. I organized it.
My eyes turned into stars whenever I walked into any kind of furniture or home decorating store with her, or anyone for that matter.
I was always rearranging my house and bedroom furniture and designing rooms online.
I would print out bedding pattern swatches and design chairs and search for wall coverings and rugs to match. I would create floor plan after floor plan for my so called "Dream Home".
I remember during 5th grade free time I would steal blank paper from the printer in my classroom and draw out floor plans and have each room cater to every one of my hobbies. At the time, stuffed animals were apparently one of my hobbies because I remember having a "fluffy room" filled with stuffed animals complete with furry walls and ceiling.
It was always a dream of mine.
When I started looking at colleges I wanted to attend, it wasn't too long before I had come to my decision.
Now, I will say this:
My whole life I had planned on going to BYU. I had been going to football games ever since I could remember. My entire extended family went there. My brother is currently attending there. My grandfather is on the board of the school. My parents met there, etc. It was just kind of just expected for me to go there. However, they did not offer Interior Design as a major.
Ok, this is a huge problem.
I knew this was what I was meant to do, and if that meant sacrificing what I thought I wanted (attending BYU) in hopes of finding a place that was a better fit for me- I was all over it.
Once I broadened my horizons and saw what other schools offered, I had decided that I wanted to attend Utah State.
Not only because I love my Aggie's (plug in) and small town Logan up in the cold, cold mountains, but because of the people and the small town feel of the campus. My first visit there felt like home. Everyone was so friendly and outgoing and it just felt right. I know- super cliche.
Moving on.
The interior design program at USU is extremely competitive.
It was ranked #5 best ID program in a public university.
Now, that's impressive.
Just sayin'.
That being said, not any hobo off the street can get in.
It is required to take a number of pre-requisist in order to even be eligible for the program.
My classes included, Design Theory (my favorite), Rapid Visualization, Professional Seminar, Design in Everyday Living, History of Furnishings, and History of Architecture.
All of my classes were unreal. I actually wanted to go to class. I wanted to do homework and stay up all night finishing a project so I would finally be able to see the finished product. I loved going on Old Main Hill with my pencil and sketchbook to sketch tables and chairs I was studying in history class. I lived for those moments when your teacher pulls you aside after class gets out to tell you that they were so impressed with your presentation and design that day.
I was soaking it all up for sure.
Taking it day by day and not rushing through anything.
Meanwhile, in the back of my head, I could only imagine what my life would be like if didn't get into the program. I wouldn't know what to do with my life.
I had said to my family and close friends that if I didn't get in, I would really consider going on a full time mission for my church, but that I would make that decision if I came to it.
So this entry project to get into the program was ridiculous.
When I say ridiculous, I mean freaking ridiculous.
It was everything we had learned about in class the past 2 semesters smashed into one big fat project.
The assignment was the create a light fixture out of cardboard.
We were given 10 very, VERY descriptive words from which we had to draw what we called "abstractions" which are basically something that can look like a simple logo of some sort. It could be 3-D or 2-D, but since it was a light fixture that I was creating, the majority of the drawings had to be 3-D. Out of those 10 abstractions that I drew, I was to pick my top 5 strongest designs and make paper mini models from which I would chose my number one design and drew a three dimensional rendering and built a life-size prototype model made completely out of cardboard.
The judging panel (all the professors) was going to lay out all of my drawings and models and insert a hanging lightbulb. It was completely blind so no student was in more favor than another.
I took me a whole month to do my "First Year Review" project. I planned ahead so I was right on track when it came to the week of. (Which is so unlike me because I am the worlds biggest procrastinator there is) When the day came when it was finally due I had it all boxed up and ready to go.
I was so proud of my work.
I grabbed that box and walked it over to the drop off room in the Family LIfe building with a big grin on my face.
I said a little prayer in my heart, kissed the box, and walked away.
My destiny was determined inside that dumb cardboard moving box.
Well the days became weeks, and the weeks became months.
I went on my Interior Design New York trip with the school and it was all the buzz.
Everyone was talking about it.
Saying who they thought would make it and who wouldn't.
38 people applied, and they were saying they were only talking in 15-20 new students.
So, you could imagine, my stress level had then skyrocket-ed through the dang roof.
Constant prayer and thinking went on during that 2 months of waiting.
I went on family vacation to the beach the week when the names were supposedly going to be announced. Every day I was texting all my friends who had applied to see if they had heard anything and that whole week there was nothing.
Friday hit, and Facebook and Twitter was blowing up with things like "I'M IN!" or "ID Class of 2016!" I about died.
Here I was 8 hours away at the beach, knowing my letter had arrived as well.
It killed me.
The next day we get in the car and raced home to where I thought I would find the letter sitting in my mailbox.
But no.
Since I lived across the country from everyone who had received their letter, mine wasn't there.
The next day was Sunday, so obviosly- no letter.
But then.
Monday was here.
Finally.
The day came.
I was home alone and I walked outside to check the mailbox at the exact moment that the mailman was delivering the mail.
He drives away and I SPRINT the mailbox and there was was.
Shinning in all its heavy glory.
I was shaking, of course.
I wanted to open it right then, but then I didn't.
My mom wanted to hear the news the second I opened it whether it was good or bad.
But she was in a meeting. Out of all the days she had to have a meeting (which was rare), it had to be today, at this very hour.
Ugh.
So I went to my room. Started crying, shaking, screaming - the whole shebang.
(I hadn't opened it yet)
My Dad is telling me that he wanted me to be on the phone with him as I was tearing open the seal, but I decided that I wanted to do it alone.
So my Mom gives the the que to open it.
I put down my phone, said a really realllyyyyyy sincere prayer.
Slowly tore the seal.
Took out the trifled papers that were inside.
Flipped open the top lid.
Saw "Congratulations"
and the tears started flowin'.
Like they never had flowed before.
I was in.
and it was the best day
of
my
entire
life.
So, looks like I'm not going on a mission, folks.
Moral of the story.
Just kidding.
xoxodesignersunite
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