Disappointment, fear and frustration

We had our last critique in Portfolio II yesterday.  I went into it with almost 30 images and I thought that I could simply eliminate all but 20 and be about done with the project.  No. When I looked at my images with the other students’ and teacher’s perceived eyes I saw mostly crap and what little input most of them gave made matters worst.  Listening to the instructor talk about the evaluation process that we were going to go through and how most of us would not get “As” and that we should not be upset about that and tear down the school I got scared.  Then thinking about what am I going to do when I graduate got me even more scared.  I told Wally this morning that I’d probably end up working at Walmart or McDonald’s. What a bloody waste of two years of hard work.

I did another revision on my artist statement and realized that is not where it needs to be either.  The images and the statement do not jive and the images are not where they need to be. I do not have enough people in them.  They look like snapshots.  My processing is crappy on many of them. April 30 is going to be here before I know it. Here’s a contact sheet of the images and to make matters worst, I realized during the critique I was missing a few from the collection. I have taken so many images they are everywhere and no where.

UntitledIn looking at the images all in a bunch I can see my errors in post-processing. Too many portraits of sheep and goats and not enough variety. It sucks. I care too much!

Last night was hot — over 80 degrees.  That’s crazy given just last week we had a morning below in the high 20’s.  My body simply does not adapt to such extreme changes in temperature. The supper I cooked did not taste good. It was all bad last night.

Today, to add insult to injury, I have to get all dressed up to go to a mock interview at school.  Just what I want to do. The woman has already torn up my resume.

As part of business class, we had to do a “blogging” project.  I’ve been journaling before “blogging” became a term.  Of course, no one has commented on my journal.  I made a point to look at each and every one of them and commented.  Not that it matters …

Why can I not find my niche in life? Why do I have to struggle for everything? Why can I not fit in somewhere?

Until later …