On Saturday my mom came home. She'd been gone for a week, helping her friend's family with the funeral. We missed her. Saturday was full of hugs and long talks.
Sunday was gorgeous, nearly in the 70s which is pretty unheard for the Northeast US in November. So I took a walk. I took a lot of pictures, with just my regular lens and my polarizer. I've decided that I need a buttload of practice shooting outside. I need a buttload of practice shooting at all. Perhaps a photography class is in order. Next semester...what do you say?
I wish I was more confident. That I didn't feel the need to hide my camera from people...or hide myself from people. It's confusing, this artist life. Constant critiqueing from myself and from other. And the back-of-my-mind doubt-ishness...am I doing the right thing? Am I wasting my time?
I love to create. I have since I was a child. I just want to know if it's worth it. Should it be a hobby that I only break out on occasion like one of my artist aunts? If I'm good enough to keep going. The ideas don't stop, though. I'm always examining things to see how they're made, imagining reconstructings. It's a passion. I just want to have more faith in myself.