This is my favorite part of the movie

the inflection point of the story, the false high before it truly bottoms out

the narrow depth of field, the tight framing, the backlighting, the music

it makes me want to get serious about photography again, to be creative about how I record things, and to have something, somebody to record.

A year ago, deeply unsettled by both my personal and professional lives, I promised myself I’d buy a new camera if I got the job at the Field Museum.

A year ago, I accepted their offer.

A year ago, I put buying the camera off until I felt more settled in my situation(s).

A year later, I still don’t feel settled, but since that doesn’t seem like it’s going to change anytime soon, I figured what the hell, now’s a good a time as any to finally pull the trigger. It arrives Friday.

I admit, this all started over a year ago, all because of a girl.

It quickly became something of a personal quest, a desire to improve my skills, to push my limits, to prove something to myself.

That point made, I sought to prove something to others, to do something for the community.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to win the praise of others, to see my pictures on Facebook profiles and to be accosted by strangers praising my work, and the friendships I made during that time I owe all to the camera: my reason for being there, meeting them, getting to be around them.

When I started becoming a fixture, an expected and desired presence at nearly all events, it was an incredibly satisfying validation, to have won the respect and admiration of the community at large.

After a certain point, it wasn’t even a question whether I’d be at a tournament or not—I went tremendously out of my way, renting better and better equipment, booking flights out of my own pocket and driving all over the tri-state area to follow teams around.

Even after the season ended, I was confident this was only the beginning, that I had more to prove, to a different audience this time, and flirted with loftier goals for my hobby and the community I served.

When I started back up again, though, my zeal came not from needing to prove anything to anybody anymore, but mostly out of a desire to maintain my status and keep a streak alive.

At some point, I realized that I was doing this almost completely for other people, and not for me, that I was no longer driven so intensely, and that it had become a job or a duty.

There is a certain sense of symmetry, I admit, that when it stopped mattering to me, it was also because of a girl: one who made me want to put down the camera—my ticket, my excuse, my shield—and simply watch and admire for no other reason other than I wanted to.

8000 images and 40GB later, I don’t know what it means to me anymore. As I said before, I’m still looking for better reasons.

Guess we’ll find out in the spring.

Because of how SLR cameras operate, the instant I press the shutter button, the mirror flips and for a split second, all I see through the viewfinder is black. So, in effect, every good action shot I take is a moment I didn’t actually witness, except for afterwards, on the LCD of my camera.