If you've read How I Use AI as a Design Tool, you already know where I stand on AI in the design industry — and I have a lot more to say on the economic side of things in an upcoming post. But "it's just a tool" isn't specific enough to be useful — because what that tool does for you depends entirely on where you are in your career. A hammer means something different in the hands of someone framing a house for the first time and someone who's been building for twenty years. Same tool, completely different relationship.

I was somewhere between my third and fourth cider when I found her. Purple. 1971. Sitting on Facebook Marketplace like she'd been waiting for me specifically.

One year ago today, I was laid off from Vernier Science Education. I've thought about how to write that sentence for a while. Whether to soften it, contextualize it, lead with something else. But it's the fact at the center of this post, and it deserves to just be said.

I applied for a job on Friday, May 25th. Not a design job.

After months of sending applications into what feels like a void — portfolios reviewed, maybe a screening call here and there, but rarely anything that turns into a real conversation — I made a decision.

My case studies were good. They were detailed, well-structured, and told the story of each project clearly. The problem was they didn't talk to each other — and nobody could see the thread connecting them.

Most designers today learned on a screen. They've built beautiful things — websites, apps, interfaces — and never once held a physical proof in their hands. That's not a criticism. It's just the shape of the industry over the last decade.

Most designers treat the 404 page like a utility closet — functional, forgettable, and definitely not worth decorating. I used to agree. Then I met Dr. Pete, and everything changed.

The conversation around AI in design tends to collapse into one of two extremes: it's either going to replace us all, or it's a gimmick not worth your time. I've landed somewhere in the middle — which is where most useful tools actually live.

Tuesday morning I had a job interview that went well. By noon, my iMac was dead. By evening, I had configured a Mac Studio M4 Max. That's a lot of emotional range for one Tuesday.

There's a pattern I've noticed over the years: I'll walk into a workout with a design problem rattling around in my head, and somewhere between the warm-up and the cooldown, something clicks. A name. A direction. A solution I'd been circling for days.

If you read the tribute post I wrote for Vinz Clortho, you already know the shape of the last two years. A loss, then another, then another. The first domino, and everything that followed. What I didn't fully explore there — because that post belonged to him, not to the work — is what grief actually does to a creative person. Not metaphorically. Biologically. And why, eventually, it makes the work better.

His name was Vinz Clortho. Named after the demon dog from Ghostbusters, which felt appropriately dramatic for a cat I didn't yet know would become the great love of my life.

Somewhere in my attic storage, in a plastic storage box, in jewel cases, were a stack of 100mb and 250mb Zip discs I burned in the late 1990s. And in a separate wooden box, some CD-Rs also burned in the 1990s. I knew they existed. I just hadn't thought about what was actually on them — until now.

Some projects find you. Others you find yourself coming back to — not because you have to, but because the work mattered enough the first time that walking away from the second chapter wasn't really an option.

For years, my portfolio homepage was a clean grid of client logos. No context. No story. Just names — and the assumption that visitors would connect the dots between a recognizable brand and what I actually did for them.

This past week has been interesting. Not really because I changed my routine or landed a new client or anything really exciting, but I had trouble adhering to my day to day routine.

I felt unmotivated and while I did a little bit of work, it was nice to feel like I could step away from my desk if I wasn't feeling creative.

While working within FloCo's website (which is still in progress), one of my primary contacts lamented about not finding any worthy interns for another project. Learning how to speak up for myself, I quickly said, I'm on the hunt for an internship that is required for my degree at PCC.

I'm still doing design work for PDXWIT, but things have changed for the better.

How, you may ask... well.

ANOTHER VOLUNTEER GIG!

Recently, I responded to a post in a FaceBook group I belong to. Within this post, there was a call to action and I immediately responded for multiple reasons (which I will illustrate later.) The call to action was to create a brand guide for PDX Women In Tech.

Fonts.

In relation to Brand Identity.

They can make you squeamish, the perfect typography can make or break a brand + identity system.