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.

Photography Journey: Part 2

2011: Boston. Shadows were intriguing!

I was very lazy and had no idea what a photography business entailed when I so proudly (and stupidly) announced I was going to run my own photography business. Sure, I had some photo shoots...a couple of them even paid! But they weren't polished, they were for "fun" and I made no effort to build my business. I never networked, I never bought studio equipment or went out looking for work...I just assumed it'd come to me. And the more I waited, doing nothing, the more nothing happened. I fooled myself thinking that shooting my friends was "building up my porfolio" and would help bring in business. I think if I could go back, I'd pat myself on the head.

It was a friend of mine who changed my mind. He was always talking to me about school, pushing and encouraging me to go. And in the end, I did decide to go, all because of the advice of this friend. Through his eyes, I realized that I wasn't getting anywhere and school would help me get somewhere. Even if it didn't help me with the photography, it'd be something to do while waiting for my business to get up and running. Plus, if I wanted my own business, I should probably know a little more about the business side of things.

I remember the day I told my parents I was going...and I remember asking my dad, "What do you think about me going?" I can't remember his exact reply but he told me I had his support but that he and mom were worried that school would change me. I assured him quite confidently that it wouldn't. What is it about being 20 and being so sure of the world?

2011: Oh selfies. And oh, what lighting. 

That same morning, as I was talking of school plans, my friend...the same one who encouraged me to go to school...died. I've talked about my friend's death on here before, hinting at the depression that I struggled with. And I only bring it up again because of the impact it had when I began school and because it was partially because of this friend that I am where I am today, that I am who I am today. 

2011: "Twins" assignment for class. 

The day I went into school to meet with an adviser and set up classes is very memorable for me. After a little mix-up about who was supposed to sit down with me, I finally got a meeting with the man who would become my photography professor. I'd already decided that if I were going to school then I wouldn't leave without a degree, even if that meant I had to major in Business since there was no degree in Photography. After discussing things, however, I discovered that the school was just beginning to offer a photography program where one could earn an Associates degree in photography, rather than just a certificate. Eagerly, I signed up for the first 5 classes listed. "Intro to Mass Media", "English 101", Math, Intro to Photography, and "Designing Business Graphics".

It was a hell of a semester. I had no idea what I was getting into. 5 classes was overwhelming and a heavy load on top of everything in my life. I came home from my first day of classes, called up a friend and burst into tears, bawling that I just couldn't do it. It was the attitude I had all semester long, under the pressure, I was just a basket case. Half-way through the semester, I remember feeling like I was a complete failure and always tired...school, depression...it was hard. My parents suggested perhaps I should drop out and go back to school at a later time. I refused, unable to bear the idea of going back to school and going through it all again. I plugged on and felt relief when the semester was over. In a way, my first semester was the most difficult but I survived.

I just didn't realize how long and hard the rest of school would be, as well as fun and memorable.