When I started this program on May 15, I had no idea that a booby-trapped course lay ahead of me.
Countless times throughout the semester I looked at my camera equipment with disdain. Why did I decide to do this? Why was I trying to learn something new? Why didn’t I just focus on writing? Why? Why? Why?
I had reasons for my retrospective inquisitions—three classes, a brand new all-powerful/all-responsible role as the editor-in-chief of a gigantic MSU publication, and a body and mind that longed for more rest than the 1-2 hours I was giving them most nights.
But I also have reasons to back up my choice to stick with my TV experiment.
I’m not an expert by any stretch of the term’s definition, but I can now compose a good-looking shot if I take my time; I know the basics of maneuvering a studio camera; I notice when the audio of a show is bad, and I know a few ways to correct it. I’ve even got a handle on the under-over method of wrapping up cords (finally!).
I’ve learned things.
I remember writing my first blog post. My words about learning the broadcast lingo were sincere, my expectations naïve and overly rosy.
The workload soon clouded my glasses. I struggled to fulfill all of my responsibilities while still remaining true to the standards of work that I’ve set for myself, always attempting to satisfy the hunger of my inner perfectionist.
I fell short of perfection many, many times.
But I achieved in other ways—acquiring a new set of skills, sharing long nights and tough days with a crew of people working toward success just as I am, and learning that life goes on even if you’re not the best at everything.
In the end, the worth of an experience is determined by how it affected you. If it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you.
I was challenged. I have changed. Consider your work a success, HOMTV.