My birthday was a week and a half ago and I was all prepared to have a reflection on what it will hopefully be like in the last year of my twenties. Instead, I find myself having anxiety dreams and random stress skin breakouts. Why am I freaking? Why?
Because on the 31st, I have the task of trying to photograph my very best friend's wedding. And who was the fool that committed to this epic undertaking? That's right, me. In a moment of foolishness I volunteered myself knowing that she would in all likelihood accept my offer, and as we near the big day, I'm panicking.
Now, yes the logical side of my brain is telling me that it would take a very large series of ridiculously unfortunate events to really botch things up, but self-doubt is a beast. Photography is not my strongest skill and yet I persist. And even though self-doubt tells me to FAIL, sometimes I have to admit that I can take some pretty okay pictures. Amanda can rest assured that I will be putting forth my very best effort.
But what if the battery pukes?
Or the memory card blips out?
Or I can't handle my new flash and every photo is blurry and over/under exposed?
Or an avalanche comes spilling down the mountain taking the whole wedding party, guests, and my camera along with it?! These are the worries that weigh heavily on me.
The only bit of comfort I can give myself is this: You have an insanely huge memory card, 2 in fact. Shoot ’til they're full, baby! Odds are, at least one of them will turn out just right. Should the world end right as I'm taking my last shot, well, at least there will be wedding cake. Phew!