Of killings and cupcakes

It is a weird life being a photojournalist.  Your life has a tendency to go from bored silly to heart pounding as I race to a crime scene at a moment’s notice.

It’s all about shifting gears.  One moment I am watching a water polo game hoping for some action and the next I am standing on Sixth Street watching police officers investigate a car where a man was fatally shot.  Crime scene tape is stretched around the car illuminated by the police car strobe lights.  My very next assignment was in the cozy confines of a Mountain House kitchen for a story about a woman who started a business selling cupcakes.  I go from sports mode to murder mode to warm and fuzzy with just the click of a switch.  It’s kind of like turning the dial on top of the camera to pick which exposure mode to shoot with-sports-mayhem-feature.

I am sure it is part being an adrenalin junkie.  Take it from a guy who turns the police scanner on at night just to have some background noise. 

It is definitely a strange way to live at work.  No two days ever seem the same and who knows what the scanner will bring next.