So, I pulled the trigger and bought my new Canon 6D. I've hemmed and hawed over it for the past month or so, and I finally decided that it's worth the money (it's very moderately priced, for a full frame camera with such good reviews). I do enough photography work, and I do it enough as a hobby, that plunking down eight grand for a new kit isn't really a lavish expense. It's almost necessary.
It's quite possible I'll have a new wedding client in the next couple of days/weeks. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I mean, I like getting paid thousands of dollars to do something I love. I just seem to have anxiety attacks when I shoot weddings. I'm so afraid I'll fuck up. I only have one shot at it. It's not like family photos, where I can pose people, or put them in better light, or a more flattering position. I get one fucking shot.
Speaking of which, I put the money down for my wedding photographer today. He's going to make twice what I normally make for a job, but he's fifty times as good, so I'm fairly sure I win this round. Sometime this weekend or next weekend, I have to go pay for the wedding place thing, and that's going to make me sad, because it's so fucking expensive and I wish I didn't have to part with that money. I mean, I DON'T have to part with it, but a girl only gets married two or three times, if she's lucky. I want at least one of my future marriages to be outrageous and glamorous and over the top. Might as well start off with a bang. My next few husbands can deal with the courthouse, or Vegas. Or a Vegas courthouse. Then, there's the shit for the honeymoon, which is ALSO expensive, but I think I may have talked my dad into paying for that.
Anyway, nobody cares about my wedding. It's silly for me to talk about it.
I finished my homework for the day, and I need to go out, run a couple of errands (which means going to Walmart, because it's open, and Target is not. I fucking hate Walmart with something really, really fierce), and then I'm hoping to come home, take a shower, read a chapter, blow dry my hair, take a quiz, and go to bed. I have to work tomorrow, and then I have to come home and finish up the house for the housewarming party that's tomorrow afternoon/evening. I haven't straightened up nearly enough, but I'm sure the forty or so people coming will understand. And if they don't, they can get the fuck out, and leave the booze and food they're bringing with them. It's going to be like the fucking sixties up in this piece tomorrow. Everybody bringing food and booze, and milling about my house. That's not really secular to the sixties. Not sure where I was going with that. Tupperware parties, maybe? Who knows.
I had homework for abnormal psychology today, and my paper (sixteen fucking papers in this class. Can we discuss this? I hate it) was on the ethical issues with diagnostic labeling. It made me sad to write it.
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