"Who thinks of themselves as a designer? Raise your hand."

As the question echoed in my head, my right hand was hesitant and I come to the conclusion that im not sure what im doing, but might be in a good place to find that out.My right hand has commanded me throughout my life.  Determined what I put on paper, determined my handwriting, my signature... My hand that cleans, holds my mug, that draws...my right hand that is sore from writing this.

My right hand inherited my mom’s messy traces and my dad’s planned marks.  Above all the inherited cocktail resulted in characteristics applicable to what some might consider a “designer”.

Not knowing what my project was to be on this MA, I was sure it would be a personal change, where in the end I might decide to raise my hand, or not.  The doubts I had were natural of a freshly-picked designer, with little experience of what some might call “the real world”. I had been seduced by the creativeness provided by the world of branding, advertising and packaging... and here my right hand never let me down.  During 5  years it connected a mouse to an apple, hoping for an outcome that would be “sell-a-ble” and “original”.  It was the purpose of this outcome that I found myself questioning.  Was it possible for my hand to be more productive than this? At this point the nails of this right hand were bitten off. We are surrounded by stuff.  Do I want to add to this equation? Do I want to subtract from it? Divide it? Multiply it?  My right hand was never good at math.  At this best, it made use of its fingers for counting. So I decided it would be best to just re-evaluate this “stuff”.  How can surrounding ourselves with stuff contribute to better our lives? And happiness ever after? My hand was to become that of an archaeologist’s, digging up all the contemporary “stuffness” and as you – does this really make you happy? Raise your hand.