Certain people in my life keep reminding me that the next semester is bearing down on me like a tornado. I wonder… when will I stop counting out my life in semesters? Right now my future looks exactly like this: semester, summer work, semester, winter work, semester, summer work, semester, winter work, semester. After that fateful last semester, all is question marks and hope and dreams. I get a kick out of people who ask me what I’m going to do with my studio art major, because I don’t know either. All I know is that God wants me to be an artist. I also know that He has my life all mapped out, down to the last destination. No worries.