I'm done. Today I finished my senior thesis. The prints have been made; the frames have been ordered; the artist statement has been written and rewritten and revised. For the past four years in college I have worked toward today. I should feel this huge sense of accomplishment, as if some weight has been lifted — this was what I was expecting to feel anyhow after eight months of work on one project.

But today I feel sad.

Rather than a sense of accomplishment, I have an overwhelming sense of loss. The show doesn't go up in the Snite until April but my work is done. I have made my last image; for now anyway.

Being one of only four photography majors in the class of 2001 I have received an education much different than most people at Notre Dame. Sitting though five three-hour classes twice a week each is common practice; an hour and 15 minute class would be a holiday. Late nights are given a new meaning in Riley Hall (that's the big building next to Nieuwland).

There have been many days when I've shown up to class in the same clothes as the night before simply because I spent the night in the darkroom. My hands are always dirty. Getting dressed up for class means wearing clean jeans. I got to take a four-week class in Taos, N.M. photographing the landscape of the West; I get to take field trips to Chicago to spend hours in the Art Institute (Ferris Bueller style).

In order to get my degree I've taken everything from sculpture to graphic design back to photography. There are 22 required classes to get a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree (as compared to eight for history or 10 for English), and yet, I've rarely ever had a Friday class.

The faculty to student ratio is 2:1, that is two professors for the four of us lucky photographers. I've had an amazing education, maybe not conventional, but still amazing. Riley has been my home away from home; my roommates always know where to find me.

So now that I'm done with my thesis, I guess I don't know what to do with myself. It's all too final. This means I really have to grow up. I have to get a job just like the rest of the graduating seniors not continuing on to an even higher education. I have to find a new place in the world that likes my art. Funny — I just got comfortable in this place.

I took too much of it for granted; I can look back and say that without a doubt. Every time I think about how I complained about the long hours and late nights or the amount of class work or the money I spent just to get one perfect image, I think about how silly I must have sounded. All that time I was doing exactly what I loved.

I got credit to do what I love to do. How many people can say that after four years of college? And now I am done. I am getting a diploma for following my heart and a degree in my passion in life.

• Art appreciation