Rebirth
I haven’t posted anything on the blog for a long, long time. It’s been over a year since I posted my last guitar-related post, and much longer for anything photography related. At this point, I want to remedy this and write piles and piles of everything. However, no one really has that kind of time.
A lot of my hiatus was due to something that I will probably write about, later, and that’s depression. As the world slowly figures out just to what extent depression can affect every aspect of every second of every day, its greatest weapon is removing the joy from things you love. That’s where I ended up for what feels like eons, but in reality, has only been about 3 years. Only…
So, this isn’t a treatise on emerging from the husk of depression. It is more along the lines of rediscovering the pieces of you that have been missing and, for me, photography and everything around it had been missing.
Molehill Mountaining
While I hate “verbing” with a burning passion, the phrase “molehill mountaining” is something that people who live with depression know all too well. It’s the tendency to catastrophize pretty much any and everything. It also is how a small impediment can turn into the mightiest of roadblocks. Why am I going on about depression when I have said I wouldn’t? It’s relevant because of how it plays into the excuses I told myself to justify not doing something I loved because of really thin and suspect logic.
What was my particular molehill? Technology and, in particular, the age of my cameras was the excuse I chose. I’ve used old camera gear for about as long as I’ve not had the money to keep up with the latest and greatest. The last new camera I purchased was the Nikon D70. For those keeping track, the D70, though announced in 2003, was released in 2004. After it died a sudden and emphatic death at around 57,000 shutter releases, I was without a good DSLR for a bit, at which point I purchased a used Nikon D100 for somewhere around $225. This was in 2011 or so, I believe. In early 2015, I purchased a used D200 for somewhere right around that same $225 price point. So, that means for the past 8 or so years, I have used cameras released in 2002 and 2005, respectively.
So, obviously, they’re old cameras, but that doesn’t mean they’re not good cameras. That was really the giant molehill: remembering that it’s the photographer and not the camera. I have good lenses, but two have dust inside the top element. Should that be a show stopper? Of course, not, but when you’re in catastrophization mode, this can feel insurmountable even though it really only translates to a few extra minutes in Photoshop with the healing brush tool. Likewise, I believe it’s the D100 that has managed to get sensor dust that I haven’t managed to get cleaned. Again, not insurmountable, but in the given mindset it’s still daunting enough to bring logic to a screeching halt.
Leaping to the Past Future
Trust me, it makes sense if you work through it. Allow me to explain. I found a D300 — circa 2007 — with only ~14,000 shutter releases for under $200. Said D300 has since been purchased and delivered. I am a very happy man. So, now you should understand the past future-ness. It’s not the newest, shiniest camera available, but it is light years ahead of the D100 in most respects. My biggest challenge? With the D200 being purchased without a CF card cover, it took me more time than I would like to admit to figure out how to open the CF card slot.
It’s interesting, though, how even with a new toy, as it were, I’ve yet to take it out for a test drive and it’s been almost a full week. As anyone who knows me, or who enjoys photography, would tell you…that’s not normal. So, it seems that even overcoming a large chunk of depressional inertia — a body at rest tends to stay at rest — there is still work to be done. No worries, though — I foresee some photographic excursions shortly.
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