For a while I was convinced there was something wrong with me, and I simply couldn’t use it. For a while after that, I was convinced there was something wrong with it. It just wouldn’t take photos. Like, it had a lens and a shutter and a button to push for the actual picture-taking process, but for some reason I’d never manage to make it work. Then I thought it was actually, actually broken. So I let it sit on a shelf.
Guess what? Just took it to get repaired. There’s a hair on the lens I can pay $60 to have removed, but that’s it.
The real problem, it seems, is that I’m afraid of taking pictures. Because I’m not Ansel Adams. Silly, right? Only Ansel Adams was Ansel Adams … and by the way, he was really good friends with my great-grandfather. True story. More on my claims to fame later.
The point here is this: Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. It’s one of my favorite sayings by Gretchen Rubin over at The Happiness Project. And she is so right. So I broke out the camera today. Took some winter shots. And I’m not sorry.