Gaming has been a huge part of my life—almost too huge, honestly. Before I found photography, growing up gaming was the only hobby I had, and it meant everything to me. I loved it, sure, and it shaped me in ways I still appreciate today. But looking back, I can see how limiting it was, too. The idea of a “release day” being the high point in your week or even month—it’s both exciting and kind of sad.
But even back then, I had a creative side. I wasn’t allowed to play games all day, so I spent a lot of time drawing—mostly characters from Dragon Ball Z and other random stuff. I was okay at it, but I was one of those kids who needed a strong reference to produce anything decent. Whatever it takes to be naturally gifted at drawing, I didn’t have it, and despite all the hours I put into it, I could never give it my full focus.
Thinking about it now, I wish I’d gotten into photography sooner. I had so many chances, but I didn’t even realize it at the time. My first digital camera was this Sony Cybershot, a 5-megapixel model with a built-in zoom. The memory card held about 24 MB—enough for around 20 photos, which, interestingly enough, is about the length of a roll of film. I was young, not particularly tech-savvy, and it didn’t even occur to me to transfer the photos to a computer. So, I’d just look at them on the camera screen, thinking that was all there was to it. I’d delete photos to make room for new ones, which now seems almost tragic. I lost all those early images because I didn’t realize I could save them.
Eventually, I lost that camera and got another one during my time in the Air Force. But gaming still had such a grip on me that I didn’t give photography the attention it deserved.
The funny thing is, photography was always there, waiting to be discovered. But it took the long, roundabout path of video games to finally lead me to it. I’d been writing guides for League of Legends on Solomid.net, and someone suggested I make a video to go along with them. I knew just enough about Windows Movie Maker to give it a try. That experience opened something up in me. For the first time, I saw what it was like to create something that mirrored all the films and shows I’d loved growing up.
I made a YouTube channel and posted around ten videos before the burnout hit. This was before monetization made YouTube viable as a career, so the payoff didn’t seem worth the effort. Still, it showed me that I wanted to understand video editing better. I used my Post-9/11 GI Bill to go to school for graphic design, which also included some video production. Ironically, I took a photography class there, too, and while I took some decent shots, photography still didn’t click for me yet. But that class was my first real experience with a DSLR.
When I finished my degree, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about going into the workforce with what I’d learned, so I enrolled in a master’s program in film. That’s when I learned how massive, complex, and demanding actual film production is. I quickly realized it wasn’t for me—the coordination, the technical challenges, working with a crew of people. But I still enjoyed making short films on my own terms. During my master’s, I bought a Canon T3i. To me, it was incredible. A camera that could give me a 1080p image, with my imagination as my only limit. I made videos of my girlfriend, artsy projects for class, and I took that camera with me to Minnesota, where I captured my first photos that actually felt meaningful. Those images felt like a milestone, something I could hold onto.
Still, it wasn’t until I was 28 or 29 that photography truly clicked for me. I think about all the people I could’ve photographed, all the landscapes I missed. I used to live in Wyoming, just hours from the Rockies, surrounded by fascinating wildlife. Instead, my head was buried in video games that I barely care about now, save for a handful of classics.
Photography had always been within reach, but it took me a long journey to finally see it. There’s some regret there—everyone has those “if only I’d known” thoughts. If I could go back and tell my younger self one thing, it’d be to pick up a camera. I’d tell myself about how much joy and fulfillment it would bring, how it would change the way I see the world. Maybe I would’ve chosen photography instead of the Air Force. Maybe it would’ve been my thing all through high school and beyond.
But maybe everything happens for a reason. The experiences that led me here, to a place where I truly appreciate the craft of photography, might only have been possible this way. Some people don’t discover photography until they’re well into their 50s, or later. I suppose, in that sense, I’m lucky. It reminds me that it’s never too late to try something new. I think most people would find joy in things they never expected if they gave themselves the chance.
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