Ready. Not ready.

Long, deep breaths.

The air smelled (and tasted) like spray mount and I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. Fitting because I also couldn’t figure out how I felt about graduating from design school.

Ready.
Not ready.

My shoes stuck to the studio floor as I took one last walk around. For busy students, “a well ventilated area” never happens to be convenient and the overspray was slowing me down.

Ready.
Not ready.

Not knowing where I was going to live or work was terrifying and liberating, awful and exciting, and every other combination of opposing feelings.

Ready.
Not ready.

I didn’t expect it to be easy, and it wasn’t, but each day I got up and tried. I researched companies, refreshed job boards and sent emails like it was my full-time job to get a full-time job.

Because sometimes you’re not ready but you do it anyways.

Photo from my design school senior show, 2007.