One photo and a personal truth.

So I went to the Adventuredome with some friends of mine recently. (For non-Vegas-natives that's a huge indoor amusement park inside a giant pink dome. That's right, it's so hot here, we put or amusement park inside a giant dome, then made sure it was pink.) But as I've been spending a lot of time out recently, which is not my usual, I've had to make some choices about camera vs. no camera. I'm usually the person with a DSLR strapped to him at all times. But as of late I've noticed that the camera has formed a defensive barrier between me and interacting with those around me. I'm going to tangent off for a minute, but I'll be right back.

I have used the camera to document tragedies. Many of them. I've taken photos at memorials and funerals. Dog searches for missing girls, and press conferences about shut down campuses. I've used my camera to document aids victims, and terrorists. Friends losing elections, and so much more pain and sorrow than I care to recount here today. I have of course used it for more positive emotions. Like a trip[ to build homes for less fortunate souls, a camp for children with disabilities, and so much more. But the point is the camera helps me remove myself from these situations so I don't get involved. As a journalist this is a truly amazing skill to posses.

However. In recent days my camera and the mindset I associate it with has hindered me in some situations. I love taking photos. But I take few of them in social situations because I slip into an observing role, quiet and waiting, calculating, far too easily. I've recently had a breakthrough however. I took a point and shoot to the Adventuredome. And I was able to use a camera (not yet the one I used to cover the tragedies, but a step is a step) and not become removed from the situation. I'm close to being able to use a camera without disappearing emotionally. And here's a photo I really really liked from the Adventuredome.