The Anti-How-To Article

I applied to the University of Tennessee during my senior year in high school, on a lunch break. Although I am sure this is not fully accurate, I do not recall getting any help from an adult. I don’t remember who put a stamp on the envelope. I do remember my guidance counselor telling me that she didn’t think my grades were good enough to get into UT’s School of Architecture, which houses its Interior Design Department. I checked the box anyway, and months later, I received an acceptance letter to the University. When I got home from school, my mom read it to me. She was excited, not in an obvious way, always. But I could tell. Deflecting as usual, I recall replying something like “whatever, I don’t think it’s very hard to get into UT.” It was the only college I applied to, but I had known since I was six years old that it was the only college I wanted to attend. I am an extremely decisive person. As my mom read the acceptance letter aloud, she did note with a bit of hesitation in her voice, “You do not seem to have gotten into the School of Architecture…I didn’t know you wanted to be an architect?” “Whatever, I don’t,” I replied. Seventeen-year-old me was going to go to college, and she would just figure it out when she got there. I’m a planner, but I am also a person who has shown up at the airport without a ticket. I have dreams, but I have never really gotten too wrapped up in the details, and for whatever reason, my way has pretty much worked out so far.