Photography Journey: Part 3.

My second semester was an improvement over the first, mostly because I was more in-depth in my photography classes, surrounded by other photographer-wanna-bes, and finally feeling like I was being initiated into that club I so wanted to be a part of. That second semester, I made friends, slowly and quietly found myself entering a small group within the photography classes where inside jokes were born and where we all worked hard alongside each other, the competition absent and instead a sense of encouragement for one another and acceptance. We didn't see each other as "the competition"...we were in it together, we were friends. It made school so much more bearable.

The classes weren't easier or the work load smaller, but working with others made it easier in a way.
And I threw myself into my photography classes. They only reassured me that I was where I was supposed to be. I loved every part of it (except perhaps those damn tool caddy assignments!).
The more I learned, the more I became part of that club. My first class in-studio was
extremely intimidating. The more advanced students knew wherever went, and how to set everything up, while I stood to the side, helpless and feeling very much the part of a newbie. But I also remember the semester where I, too, walked into that studio, the pro. As my friend Kate stated, "For once we're the pros and not the newbies..." Such a good feeling, let me tell you!

2012: we weren't competitors. We were friends.

School still wasn't without its share of tears. The studying was a killer. Late nights...the night I sat up until 3am, bawling over math because I had a test the next day...the headaches, migraines over studying....the notes galore, the photos I snapped...it all went into the days of school.

Along came my required Business class. I went into it still determined to have my own photography business one day. Then the class came and smacked me across the face. Who knew that to run one's own business, one has to devote 99% of her time to business and only 1% to photography in order to be successful? While some can be passionate about both photography and business and easily combine them, I just cannot. Business is NOT a passion and I decided there was no way I could start my own business. Perfect. I knew I loved photography but now I had no idea what I wanted to do, outside of perhaps work in a studio. The class made me question my priorities...did I love photography enough? I did, it turned out.

I entered 2 photographs into the Spring Exhibit at my school and one of my photos was chosen to hang in the exhibit. I was *thrilled*. Imagine my nervousness as I sat in the school cafeteria for the honor's night. One photo from the exhibit would be chosen as Best of Category. Would mine make 2nd place? I sat, surrounded by my family, barely noticing all the other awards being handed out for all the graphic design categories. Finally it was time. I heard my name. I heard the applause. I saw the blur of people and the floor and the walls as I got up and walked to the front. My photography teacher stood there, his hand outstretched and a grin on his face as he shook my hand and handed me the certificate.

For the first time in my life, I was proud of me. 

For my last semester, instead of taking just my last, four, required classes I decided to add a fifth class: photojournalism. Just as my first semester was hell, so was my last one in a way. Between the mixture of tough classes, confusing teachers, and mix-ups involving my classes and graduation, I found myself feeling very discouraged. On top of that, all the friends I'd made had graduated with their certificates in Photography the prior semester. I told a friend, "School can't let me leave without a fight." This past fall was difficult. I studied my butt off, feeling like it was never enough. Still feeling like a failure even though I hadn't acquired a grade lower than an A- in the past. My GPA was high, and yet I still felt like I had to fight to accomplish anything. The last 6 weeks of classes felt like they dragged on forever. And then finals came. And then. They were over. Time has sped by since then. And then, the other day the mailman dropped a white, thick envelope in the mail. I ripped it open and pulled out that little black book with the tiny piece of paper inside.

I did it. Two and half years of tears, fears, heartaches, headaches, constant tiredness, struggling, fighting, killing myself, feeling like a failure...and a tiny piece of paper saying it was all worth it. I'm not a failure. I accomplished something. I did this. I DID this. In spite of everything, in spite of the times where I felt like I couldn't, the times where I felt worthless and felt like giving up...there's a tiny piece of paper saying that I made it and that I did well. A friend asked me, "How do you feel to be DONE?" It feels...weird. It feels...great. But on one hand, it feels like...it's not done...it feels like just one step up a staircase. It just means I'm facing the next step. But I'm not worrying about that now. I'm taking delight in the fact that I'm done! I'm graduated! I've finished this chapter!

I did it.