Confession: I read a lot of photo blogs. I spend about an hour a day just pouring over them because I love photos and stories.
Interestingly enough, many of the photographers whose blogs I read compulsively are strongly religious. They talk about having a 'calling' to photography and I am beginning to understand. At this instant, all I want to do is go shooting. I want to photograph someone, anyone, and just give them photos so they can see how amazing they are. My last post talked about the magic of my f/1.8 lens but honestly, photography in general has always seemed magical to me.
I'm sitting at my desk in my dorm room, wondering how I can take this love of mine and make it my career. I have fears about my anxiety preventing my from being able to do my job. I worry about not being able to run a business or pay my bills (ok, our bills and I know Doug is going to understand completely). I genuinely worry that if I become a photographer by trade, it will lose some of the magic and will just be a job, not my love and my life.
But then I remember one of the defining phrases of my identity: my camera is the love of my life.
More specifically, my cameras are the love of my life. I have 10 cameras within easy reach at the moment. Marjorie gets the most use because she's digital and I can afford to go crazy with her. But I also have various film cameras ranging in complexity from a 1953 Kodak Signet (Ida) to a mid-80s Minolta Maxxum SLR (Batman). I don't know that I would feel right if I didn't have such an intimate relationship with my cameras.
I miss you. I wish I knew for sure that I can do this but the only way to find out is to try. I'm going exploring to see what I can shoot today. I'll try not to get eaten by a kraken until after I become a household name.
PS: In honor of both mushiness and April Fools' Day, I present my periscope! Er... my flash.