Choices and Guilt, as in, Guilty Pleasure

A beautiful moment; my daughter is painting. The light is just right. I dash into the bedroom for the camera. Which which which? I have a choice, the Nikon V1, Nikon V2, Fuji X100, or the Leica T. I have not gone on a date with the V2 for a while, so I take it and went back to record the moment. I drift into that mode, in which the world is purely what I can see through the viewfinder. I check the shutter speed, the ISO, the aperture. I trust the V2's auto focus. At first, I use the single shot mode. And then, I change to the multi-shot. The camera is busy now. Clickclickclickclickclick. So fast that I am excited, seriously. I am excited because my engineer brain thinks, "I LOVE this machine and I LOVE the engineer who made this."

Then, a second thought, the inevitable thought, it always comes: "I can't possibly sell this camera. It is so... capable..." (And yet, I do remove them from my life.) I tell Irina about this second thought, and she laughs, "Why do you even need to sell your cameras? I mean, you have three by the bed right now." "Guilt," I said. "You feel guilty of having so much?"

I do feel guilty, of being able to have so much in my life, so much fun, enjoyment...

I mean, this fetish, to love gear, it is ridiculously pleasurable, and... perhaps it's ok that I have so much.

The V2 and I on a date, to Dupont Circle's open market.