I'll begin at the beginning... It was a clear spring night my freshman year at UF in Gainesville. I had just stepped out of a calculus test in Carlton Auditorium. It was the last test before the drop period ended. I hadn't done well. I knew it. I was majoring in Computer Engineering. My first year of high school I had gotten a 486 SX 25 and hadn't done much besides sit in front of it for the next couple years. I thought computers were fascinating and so the Computer Engineering major seemed like a fit. Calculus was the problem. I had busted my butt studding for this test. I had really put in 100%. Later I found out that (Calculus I) was one of the most difficult classes on campus and that they made the course much more difficult to get to their drop quota. So there I was, deflated and feeling pretty lost. When I looked up and saw the glow of desk lamps in the fourth floor of the Architecture building across the street. I thought how wonderful it would be to an architectural major and how fun and fulfilling it would be to spend all day designing and creating. And then suddenly it all came back to me. You see, my grandmother is a professional calligrapher in Miami. She has a small studio in her little farm house which has slowly, over the years, been engulfed by sprawl on all sides. It was in this studio at a very young age she would set me down to draw. My first word was draw. I started out simple, then began to hone my skill. Eventually I was drawing dream cityscapes in two point perspective and laying out my dream house. I loved it. It was like play to me. But somewhere down the road all that had been forgotten and suddenly it all rushed back at once into the closest thing to an epiphany I have ever experienced. The next morning, I marched myself straight to the architecture building, switched my major, and never looked back. Not only do I count myself lucky to be an architect, but more so, I count myself lucky to be doing something I absolutely love to do day after day.