When I first started seriously making photos a few years ago, finding an interesting angle was everything to me. I’d spastically scuttle around whatever scene I was working in search of holes or interesting frames to shoot through. Potentially informational elements were often reduced to OOF (out of focus) blobs since I’d just discovered the joys of shooting wide open.

One of the greatest challenges of community photojournalism is seeing events in different ways year after year. Even during my brief time in the Tri-Cities, I’ve had to cover the same event two or three times. This, of course, pales in comparison to the veterans on staff, who will probably look toward my direction when they read this and shake their heads.

When we last left off, I had made a picture of a guy in front of a wall. Granted, it wasn’t just any old wall, but a wall that had been the object of my desire for nearly two years. That wall probably thought it was pretty special, but this town is full of attractive walls. Little did it know that its yellow and purple color scheme also reminded me of the Lakers — a team I would root against in a matchup versus a prison squad of convicted rapists.

I often write about emotional or ethical difficulties I encounter on the job because those are the problems that most people don’t realize even exist. Sometimes, though, the biggest hurdle on a particular assignment is simply technical.

People at emergency scenes are like women. The more experience I have with them, the less I’m able to predict their next move.

I’m a big baby about heights, so when I was assigned to cover The Great Prosser Balloon Rally last Friday, I had mixed emotions.

The turning points in great football games earn simple monikers that solidify their legendary status. San Francisco fans have "The Catch" from Joe Montana to Dwight Clark in the 1982 NFC Championship Game, Bronco fans have "The Drive" by John Elway and Oregon Ducks fans are still fired up before each home game at Autzen Stadium with footage of "The Pick" by Kenny Wheaton.

The local baseball season has ended and as we move onto football and volleyball, I can’t help but look back at the spring and summer of baseball. By virtue of scheduling, I ended up shooting a lot more baseball than I ever had before in my short career. I’ve never been shy about my aversion to covering baseball, a point I wrote about earlier this year, but as I said before, just because I don’t like shooting something doesn’t mean I’m satisfied with making boring photos. My quest for improving my baseball portfolio fell short of a triumph this year, but I’m not too disappointed either.

If you're like me and detached yourself from just about everything this past Labor Day weekend, you might have missed the controversial publication of a photo of Marine Lance Cpl. Joshua M. Bernard, 21, of New Portland, Maine, right after being mortally wounded by a rocket propelled grenade in Afghanistan. The photo shows Cpl. Bernard bloody and wounded, with his legs apparently missing, as fellow Marines try to help him. The Associated Press released the photo over the objections of Bernard's family, and even Defense Secretary Robert Gates was moved to try to prevent distribution of the photo.

More often than not with this blog, I try to keep in perspective that though it's great to make a living behind a camera, it's still a job and it's not always fun.

David Webster has been in the news since 2002 when he was arrested for and ultimately sentenced to 26 years in prison for assault and murder-for-hire after biting a woman’s eyebrow off and trying to hire an undercover police officer to kill her.

The Tri-Cities market is small enough that we seldom experience media swarms. And though there is competition between the Herald, three TV stations, Northwest Public Radio and KONA radio at the stories we all cover, for the most part, it’s respectful. There’s no blatant attempts to ruin other people’s shots or interrupt interviews, and rarely is there a subject juicy enough to whip the media into a piranha-like frenzy.

It's been one year since I posted my first photo blog, and to be quite honest, I'm surprised that I was able to maintain my self-imposed weekly deadline, even future publishing items for when I'm gone on vacation.

I wrote back in January that if I didn’t get better at covering tragedy anytime soon, I’d be OK with that. Luckily, I haven’t had to cover anything terribly tragic since then, but that changed in a big way on Monday, Aug. 3, when Carlos Rivera, 16, of Pasco, drowned at Schlagel Park while swimming with friends.

The Tri-Cities’ biggest event of the year has come and gone. And while the extent of our visual coverage has changed drastically in the three years I’ve been covering it, my weekend tasks have not. Since summer 2007, when I was an intern and my hair only reached my lower back, I’ve covered Art in the Park and hunted for features up and down the Pasco and Kennewick riverbanks.

Back in May, we ran a story about how ethnic minorities make up the majority of the populations in Franklin and Adams counties.

Sunday shifts seem to be drought or monsoon. Often, Sunday serves as a day to make up for any overages accrued on the much busier Saturday shift.

Hot-button topics earn their apt moniker from the hard metaphorical line they draw in the proverbial sand. The debate surrounding these issues can drag on for decades, neither side willing to yield an inch.

Summer. To some, it means barbecues, bikinis and boating, but for us, it means Cool Desert Nights, construction, brush fires, boat races, baseball, the faire and the fair. It's almost too bad there's so much going on this time of year because summertime is stocked with features, ripe for the hunt.

A certain amount of luck is needed when cruising for feature photos. The trifecta of light, moment and composition is necessary for a great photo, though sometimes we have to settle for as few as one component.

Last week, education reporter Sara Schilling talked to some Chief Joseph Middle School eighth-graders for a story about their last day of school and what they’ve learned during the past three years. Of the last day activities we could photograph, kids throwing pies at faculty faces for fundraising fortune was the clear choice.

Tri-Cities rolled out a fresh batch of graduates last weekend, but the mutual feeling on the photo staff opposed the impending pomp and circumstance in the days leading up to commencement ceremonies — none more so than I, who had to head back from Boston the day before my kid sister’s college graduation to help cover our local high schoolers' milestone.

Stamps may be worth 44 cents now, but seeing our photos run at that size seems pretty worthless. True, the two column width size, which is about as small as photos are published in the Herald, is about 3 1/2 inches wide, making it bigger than the average stamp. However, a wide-angle shot is just as unreadable at the two-column size as it would be if it had been slighted even further.

I'm new enough at my job to still have aspirations of greatness. It remains to be seen if I actually have the talent and persistence to make an indelible impression in photojournalists' lore, and though self-doubt and cynicism slowly seep into me, I haven't given up yet.

A few weeks ago we ran our weekend package on what the Hanford stimulus money means for the Tri-Cities. Different articles examined the money's impact on the Tri-Cities' population, housing, crime and schools. When the package started taking shape the photo department received an email with a list of photos needed to accompany the stories.

When crime reporter Paula Horton asked me if I was free to go along on a potential kitten rescue operation, I had to feign hesitation. Granted, I hadn't had a lunch break yet and was right in the middle of working on a photo gallery for the Salmon Summit, so it was easy to act disinterested.

On Monday, I had the opportunity to photograph Jodi DeCola and her daughters Cassidy and Reagan Grace.

When I heard the Tri-Cities would play host to one of the nationwide Taxed Enough Already (TEA) parties a couple weeks ago, I knew I wanted to cover it — not because I agree or disagree to any fanatical degree, but because I lived in Eugene for six years while Bush was president. As I started honing my craft at the Oregon Daily Emerald, I covered my fair share of left-wing rallies protesting everything from the war to the suspension of habeas corpus. Aside from some small counter-demonstrators, I hadn’t covered any large right-wing rallies during the last eight years.

The crack of the bat punctuates a warm day in cliché Americana. And while Cracker Jacks have waned in popularity, for some, "I don't care if I never get back" still rings as true as it did when baseball was the undisputed American pastime.

You know your product has arrived when its brand name becomes a verb, and Photoshop has held that distinction for quite a while now. But while the worst that has come to brandverbs such as Google and Xerox is brand-name association when being incorrectly used with an inferior product (I'm talking about you, Ask Jeeves), Photoshopping has had an ugly history in modern-day photo manipulation.

Access is a funny thing.

I have a job that many people envy. Photo enthusiasts often gush about the fancy cameras I'm shooting with, or how great it must be to make pictures for a living. They lament about not being able to attend a sporting event for work or how they spend their paid hours under fluorescent lights, staring at a desktop picture of Maui as they daydream of fresh air.

More often than not in this job, five minutes early is right on time. Show up early and you can scout a portrait location or chat up your subjects and build rapport. Sometimes, you can elicit secret information from the people in charge of the event, such as who the special award winner will be, who's important and who is likely to erupt into a Springer-esque brawl.

What I used to love about shooting basketball has turned into what I loathe about it.

As I mentioned before in the classic BtF post, "Cheese," avoiding camera awareness is a constant struggle.

During the winter storm, snow features dominated our weekdays. Tired of scraping ice and plodding along unplowed streets, I performed snow-melting dances every day, anxious for when the streets would be clear and dry again.

U.S. Defense Secretary Robert Gates announced Thursday that some media would be allowed to photograph flag-draped coffins returning to U.S. soil at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, if families agree.

Readers are a fickle bunch.

The most ubiquitous type of photo published in community papers has got to be the crowd-pleasing kid photo.

Forget Holmes.

A television reporter once asked me if I ever felt like a vulture. It was shortly after the fatal accident at the go-kart track last April and he seemed troubled by the effect media coverage may have had on the grieving family.

Environmental portraits are one of the most common photo assignments — often our only option when there’s no action to document. Sometimes the verb of the story is either past or future, and sometimes it's a glorified way to put a face to the quoted.

One year-end recap is definitely not enough for someone as self-absorbed as I am, so here are my off-field favorites from football season.

A photojournalist's actions sometimes seem to conflict with reason. When there's a big fire, we run toward it.

What a year.

You may have been expecting something Christmas-related or perhaps a column about all that snow we're having.

"Good things come in small packages. Just ask my wife. She’ll tell ya," Herald sports editor Jeff Morrow proudly proclaimed recently, referring to his wife's petite frame.

Access is a funny thing.

Sometimes you get what you wish for.

One of the biggest stories of the year has been the chronicling of Chocolate's progress.

I've always been pretty good at entertaining myself.

The only thing more scarce than golden hour are my chances to work in the ideal lighting conditions.

As a photojournalist, I'm often at the front line of newsworthy events in this community.

People often ask me how many photos I'm taking while on assignment. Usually it seems to be out of genuine curiosity, but sometimes the inquiry comes off as combative. Maybe the person is annoyed by the number of pictures I'm taking because he or she is trying to keep up appearances while the newspaper guy is there, in which case the excessive snaps are an attempt to wear down the subject until he or she presents a real moment.

If power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, then what about minuscule amounts of power?

I don't get too many reader responses, so I'm always surprised when I do.

I wish I was invisible.

When I came into the office in March, my boss asked me what I should always answer in a photo caption.

As far as PR stunts go, this one was pretty fun.

As far as cliché descriptions go, the photojournalist's attempt at being a "fly on the wall," is pretty apt. You're never really entirely invisible, but you stay out of the way and generally speaking, people don’t really want you there.

Although I love shooting basketball, I always look forward to the season’s sunset when games really matter because that opens up the possibility of publishing jubes and dejection.

Reporters sometimes lay awake at night, worrying whether they got all the facts right in their stories. They tear at their hair in anxious anticipation as an internal debate boils over calling the late editors to check for the fourth time that they found every mistake they had made by spelling "Johnston" as "Johnson." They pace around on the bare concrete in their hovels until the bottoms of their feet blister, waiting for the paper to be delivered so that they may catch a couple fleeting hours of rest before doing it all again.

Sometimes a touching story comes along.

The litmus test for whether a graphic photo can run is often called the "Cheerios test" or "breakfast test."

Inexpensive digital cameras have made photography increasingly accessible and prevalent. You probably know a couple photographers or at least some snapshooters.

"You just take pictures?"

There are few things I enjoy as much as successfully capturing an interesting moment in time when not a single subject cares or is even aware of me.

A college instructor once told my class that being five minutes early was right on time.