On photography

I have sorely missed photography. The feeling of anticipation, the pay-off of pictures like this. So, maybe I missed the chance to touch David Cook's shirt Friday night; I got a picture of all the girls around me doing it, and I remember the energy, their ecstasy in that moment.

For a long time, I haven't been taking pictures. I've been making excuses.

My camera frustrates me, it's a piece of shit, I made a bad choice.
Everyone's always told me I need to live my moments, rather than photograph them; they've never been convinced that taking pictures gives me such joy. It must be false, they've said, I need to stop.

I stopped. And a piece of me fell asleep in the snow and was frozen and buried.

But I think I'm going to reclaim that. That dormant feeling is stirring a little in me; I find myself reaching for my camera more often, wondering if I should bring it with me when I leave the room. An opportunity may present itself, one a cell phone camera just wouldn't do justice to.

I'm remembering how happy this used to make me. I want it again.