my definition of “passion”


6am.  The fire engines sound like they’re inside my house.  I opened my eyes to see the house across the street from me billowing with smoke, firemen running around with ladders and hoses.   My first thought?  ‘A fire!  I must get down there now.’  I grabbed my camera, took a few shots from my window, put on shoes, grabbed keys, and ran out the house.  I shot for a little over a half an hour, until all the smoke was gone and the firemen were packing up their belongings.  The EMS guy gave me a report on the residents – they’re okay, thank goodness.  I made my way back to my house to get ready for work.  Before I even got in the shower, I emailed three papers – two local and the Arlington section of the Post – to let them know I had photos and a possible follow-up story.  8am, I’m off to my day job.

as written tonight to try and find a better way to explain my “passion and enthusiasm” about photojournalism to a Washington Post staffer.  hey, everyone uses those terms.  if she can think of less cliché terms, i’ll take ’em!  and really, if she’s writing a recommendation letter for me for this workshop, i’d think the more insight into how i feel about photography the better.


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