So my most recent photojournalism assignment was to take a photo that will make someone laugh, a photo that shows how great Bloomington is, and a photo that shows how bad Bloomington is. Not so bad, eh? But for some reason, I ended up putting it off until this morning with it being due at 1:00pm sharp... mistake #1.
The plan was to wake up at 7:00am, shoot for a couple hours, edit, then turn them in with plenty of time to spare... riiiiight.
I knew I was doomed when I woke up and saw how bright my room was already. I rolled over, and saw my faulty alarm clock mock me with the numbers 9:49. crap.
I frantically rushed around my room, throwing on a plaid button-up wadded up on the floor.
"Jeans... jeans..." I scanned the mosaic of Salvation Army clothing than has become my floor. "These will do, standard black... not too dirty," I thought.
After packing my lunch, I jumped in Rory the Danger Ranger (my truck, obviously) and searched Bloomington for anything that would remotely fulfill my assignment requirements. Honestly, I knew the photos I was taking were shoddy, but there was no time to worry now. When it's a race against the clock, you take what you get.
I finished shooting by 11:30 and made my way to the Pourhouse to edit.
"Plenty of time. Nothing to worry about," I reassured myself.
My computer had other plans, though.
Old MacDonald (my computer, an Apple) decided that he has had enough and no longer has room for another photo on his start-up disk.
"How have I managed to fill up all 11.47 GB of memory?" my mind baffled.
It was not the time to worry about that.
I then went through the excruciating process of choosing which of my 4000 photos to delete to make just enough room for the new ones to be uploaded and processed.
12:30 and, I still did not have my final photos uploaded and selected. doomed.
In a swirl of typing, praying and nail-biting, I finally had the three final photos and captions submitted online, but I still had to somehow make it to the Journalism School by 1:00 to turn in a flash drive of my next best 20 photos to my teacher. It was 12:53.
"Impossible!" my brain taunted me. "You'll never make it!"
But I knew I had to try.
And that's when all pride and self-preservation went out the window.
With 5 minutes, a camera bag, hobo-hipster wardrobe and a 500 pound backpack (completely unzipped I later found out), I ran. I ran like a rodeo clown caught off guard by a rabid bull; like Forest Gump seeing Jenny across the Lincoln Memorial refection pool; like a gazelle... wounded and struggling for it's pathetic, meaningless life, fated to end up in the jaws of a lion.
I ran down Kirkwood. I ran through the Sample Gates. I ran through a giant mud puddle outside Franklin Hall.
I think it was about this point when I heard a passerby say to her companion, "Oh, God bless her..."
Remember what I said about pride? Yeah, completely gone.
By some act of God, though, I made it to my classroom right before my teacher closed the door and stopped accepting flash drives.
Who says running track in high school has no practical life application?! That's what I thought!
I collapsed in my chair and tried to slow my breathing.
"Play it cool. play it cool."
But, inside I was ready to die.
I couldn't tell you what my teacher said during the next hour and fifteen minutes of class, but I don't care. I got my assignment turned in and learned some valuable lessons in the process.
Valuable Lesson #1:
No matter how many alarms you set (in my case 4), sometimes you're just gonna get screwed anyway.
Valuable Lesson #2:
Dressing like a hipster will not make you any better at photography.
Valuable Lesson #3:
It is possible to make it from the Pourhouse to the Journalism School in 5 minutes if you are willing to sacrifice all attempts to preserve your image.
Valuable Lesson #4:
If you want random strangers on the street to bless you, do the following:
procrastinate, wake up late, look a fool, scramble around town in search of random, pointless oddities, curse at your computer and run, run like the wind, Bullseye.