I still remember the first day of my first photojournalist gig. It was almost my last. I showed up with a gigantic flash mounted atop a cheap Pentax K-1000 camera, and once the other photographers began snickering at me, I wanted more than anything to just subtly sneak out, never to show my face or my crappy gear ever again. It was in my top 10 most embarrassing moments. It was then that I realized that photography was not an acceptable hobby for poor white trash. Ditto for journalism of any kind.
As bad as it was, however, this day
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