I recently went away to Canada and it was as much as a travelling extravaganza adventure as it was a time to reflect upon myself and the things that are truly worth the wait.
We all know I did this.
What you might not know is that during my time (and you can scroll back and check this on the posts from Canada) I messed up the sensor on my camera. This is evidenced by the huge smudge present in almost every picture I took on the trip.
It got v dirty, and being the person I am I attempted to clean it. I used actual cleaning equipment but I have to admit I was less than careful during the process because I’m an adventurer. I’m not the dust police (or so I figured).
Camera connoisseurs of the world are currently wincing at the thought of me sat in the wilds of Canada cleaning my camera with my sleeve… I mean, cleaning equipment… *wink* Let me just reassure you that the man in the camera shop pulled a very similar face, hissed through his teeth, and then grimaced when he inspected the camera sensor too. I tried to recite the whole “I’m not the dust police” speech I’d practiced in my head, wanting to throw in something about savouring the finer moments in life and not stopping because of a tiny smudge, but all that really came out was “I think it’s dirty?”
Probably not the best thing in the world to say to in a camera shop; probably why he made me inspect the damage to my sensor through his magnifying lens before we continued.
I don’t know whether it was because, as a writer, I feel like I’m presented with challenges (often of my own creation) that seem unsolvable all the time or it was my cavalier attitude that made me shrug when he whispered that he thought the sensor might be scratched. I remember thinking that if it was scratched, the smudge had an awfully magnificent memory attached to it at least. I remember thinking that the smudge had, in some ways, made me a better photographer. Gone were the days or random shots of feet and not thinking about sight lines. With that smudge in place (but invisible on the viewfinder) I had to line up shots to obscure it with things like people, or trees, or moose. Most of all I remember thinking it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
A million forms, one robbery*, and several frantic google searches later, I returned to find a clean camera with no scratches. The worry was unnecessary, the damage not present.
I still think either way it was okay, though.
I still think there’s no challenge you can’t think you’re way around if you try. Like the smudge, plot holes and endings can be mildly irritating sometimes. They can pose an invisible challenge but they can also result in the most unusual moments and unique outcomes. I think challenges are the spice of life and I hope I always welcome them with the calmness I did that little old smudge on my camera.
How do you approach the distresses and challenges of life?
*this is definitely a story for another day because robbery! what excitement! I live on the edge!
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