The Lens Beckoned

Gaming was a huge part of my life, almost too huge, honestly. Before I discovered photography, it was my only real hobby. It meant everything to me, shaping me in ways I still appreciate. But looking back, I can see how limiting it was. The idea of a "release day" being the highlight of your week or month is both exciting and a little sad.

Even then, a creative side simmered within me. Since all-day gaming wasn't an option, I spent a lot of time drawing, mostly Dragon Ball Z characters and other random sketches. I was decent, but I needed strong references to create anything worthwhile. Whatever natural talent drawing requires, I didn't have it. Despite the hours I put in, I could never fully focus on it.

Missed Opportunities and Lost Memories

Now, I wish I'd gotten into photography sooner. So many chances slipped by, unnoticed at the time. My first digital camera was a Sony Cybershot, a 5-megapixel model with a built-in zoom. Its memory card held about 24 MB, enough for roughly 20 photos, surprisingly similar to a roll of film. Young and not very tech-savvy, I never thought to transfer the pictures to a computer. I'd just view them on the camera screen, thinking that was their sole purpose. I’d delete old photos to make space for new ones, which now feels quite tragic. All those early images are gone because I didn't realize I could save them.

Eventually, I lost that camera and got another during my time in the Air Force. But gaming still held such a strong grip that photography didn't receive the attention it deserved.

A Detour Through Video

Funnily enough, photography was always there, waiting to be found. But it took the long, winding path of video games to lead me to it. I was writing guides for League of Legends on Solomid when someone suggested I make a video to accompany them. Knowing just enough about Windows Movie Maker, I gave it a shot. That experience sparked something in me. For the first time, I felt what it was like to create something that echoed the films and shows I’d loved growing up.

I launched a YouTube channel and uploaded about ten videos before burnout hit. This was before YouTube monetization made it a viable career, so the effort didn't seem to justify the payoff. Still, it made me want to understand video editing better. I used my Post-9/11 GI Bill to attend graphic design school, which included some video production. Ironically, I took a photography class there too. While I captured some decent shots, photography still hadn't fully clicked for me. However, that class was my first real experience with a DSLR.

After earning my degree, I wasn't excited about entering the workforce with what I’d learned, so I enrolled in a master’s program for film. That's when I discovered how massive, complex, and demanding actual film production is. I quickly realized it wasn't for me; the sheer coordination, the technical hurdles, working with a large crew. Yet, I still enjoyed making short films on my own. During my master's, I bought a Canon T3i. To me, it was incredible. A camera that could deliver 1080p images, limited only by my imagination. I filmed videos of my girlfriend, produced artsy projects for class, and took that camera with me to Minnesota, where I captured my first truly meaningful photos. Those images felt like a milestone, something tangible to hold onto.

Still, it wasn't until I was 28 or 29 that photography genuinely clicked. I think about all the people I could have 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 I barely care about now, save for a handful of classics.

A Journey Worth Taking

Photography was always within reach, but it took me a long journey to finally see it. There's some regret, of course. 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 the joy and fulfillment it would bring, how it would change my perspective of the world. Maybe I would've chosen photography instead of the Air Force. Maybe it would've been my passion throughout high school and beyond.

But perhaps 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 in their 50s or even later. In that sense, I suppose I'm lucky. It reminds me that it's never too late to try something new. I believe most people would find joy in unexpected things if they just gave themselves the chance.