Get back up again.

So ends another day. I spent most of my time at Brooks going through edits of pictures from different events. Two weeks left, yet it feels like tomorrow's our last day for this session. Every late night departure from campus makes it feel like we're preparing for the end.

Evenso, it's just the beginning. I had a deep conversation with someone this evening. We've spoken in person only once before, but his character and life intrigued me. He became my first pick for my picture story assignment. Our first conversation took place at the Farmer's market in Oxnard, the second took place in his house. As we shared a beer and he smoked his cigarette, I found out this man had much more of a story than I expected. His past was rough...very rough. Middle-aged now he's struggling to get back on his feet, and my heart reached out to him. He spoke of God as if He didn't care for him, and concluded that he doesn't need to care about God. It made me shift where I sat, more for the fact that he was so bitter about life without realizing it than the fact that he insulted and blasphemed my LORD and Savior.

I will keep in touch with this man and be involved in his life. It's not for my assignment anymore, but maybe -- in a small or large way -- I can impact his life in a Christian manner. Perhaps God can show him Life through me, and make him understand that our existence has more meaning than making friends or hustling the streets or getting our big break in the business. It seems like we both need this friendship for business, school, and life. Like I said, it's just the beginning.

Later that night me and my friends briefly discussed why we were at Brooks. Thirty-three thousand dollars a year to pay for an education in a field that can be successfully explored and sought after on your own is hardly practical. The thought haunts us every night. It even made me think about how well I was doing in classes. My pictures seem mediocre at best, and that's disturbingly frightening. Yet one of us brought up that we, as students, can obtain the same access as professional photojournalists can. We may not be treated with the same respect -- probably with no respect at all -- but we experience the same situations at ages 18 - 22 that other photojournalists do when they are 30 - 40. It was a comforting to reassure ourselves that we found our calling much earlier than a large amount of people do. It keeps me at Brooks, and helps me to press that shutter button.