Today I bought a new camera. A beautiful, vintage-inspired mirrorless Fujifilm that I will have to teach myself to learn. It was very expensive and I had a mini panic attack when clicking the 'confirm purchase' button, but it was necessary, because I have issues with comfort.
I hate change. I hate learning new things that require effort, because I'm afraid of failure. I hesitate on nearly anything and everything and constantly question myself, my motives, my decisions.
So today, I made myself buy this camera. I have wanted to learn photography since I was a little girl. I have always had a gift of being able to discern emotions from faceless photographs. I would walk outside as a child and listen to the birds chirp, run my small fingers over a pine cone, noticing every detail. I would pick up a seashell and wonder about the ridges. I have always had an eye for texture and an appreciation for the tiniest features around me, especially in nature. I can pick up sensations and energies and truthfulness at just one glance, and I've always wanted to convey those thoughts in the purest form. I don't want to take photos for a living, but I'll be damned if I go through life without learning an art that I have always felt an enormous admiration for.
I bought a starter Nikon DSLR a few years ago and with the help of Matt (and YouTube), have soaked up as much knowledge as I could about it. Learning the camera wasn't too hard, but figuring out editing styles and such has proven to be my downfall. I have an idea of how I want an image to look and with the help of my extreme perfectionism, I can never recreate the photograph I have in my head. But I keep on trying.
So today, I made myself cannonball into the deep end. I killed a roach with my favorite leather boot and picked it up instead of waiting for Matt to take care of it. I spent hours editing unusable photos in Lightroom because I wanted to make myself learn the program. I wore my thick-framed glasses and makeup-less face in front a business professional because I'm sick of putting weight into how I look while preaching that inner beauty is most important. I moved a heavy wooden table out of the bus and into the house by myself without damaging anything. I ate chocolate cake for breakfast without worries of my digestive disorder...
And damnit, I bought the freaking camera.
How will you ever learn to put trust in yourself if you keep tiptoeing across the bottom, with water rimming your face and exhaustion creeping in? You can't appreciate the depth of life if you confine yourself to swimming only in the shallows.
Just my thoughts.