9-5 jobs. They have never been my love. They aren’t my passion. I don’t think even for my dream job would I want to be a 9-5er. Or as it is in DC an 8:30-6er.
But, as it is with jobs…they are necessary when you carry some student debt and want to be able to pay your bills (which is well, not as fun). Plus, when you’re the “intellectual” child in your family, you are supposed to go off and do those crazy careers that steal your life and time(medicine, law, government lobbying, etc). All things I was prepared for…until about a few months ago.
That was a whirlwind of a moment.
A pause. A whisper. Silence. A never-ending, excruciatingly-loud silence.
And so the process begins to figure out the mysterious beyond. As I wait for grad school responses, I also begin my first class. A graduate level photography class.
First assignment: pick the best photograph I’ve ever taken. I’ve narrowed it down to 4. I have no idea how to pick the “best/favorite/one that screams me.”
And so it begins…