Lately I have been crawling out of my skin at work.Last weekend I shot my first wedding as a photographer and I have to say - it was great.
I had my camera around my neck and I knew what to do with it. I took pictures. I made shots. I framed the action. I noticed interestingness. With each click of the button I put another possibility for greatness in my file. I used my brain - the creative side of it. I thought about what to do next, how to arrange the next picture. I stood, looked, and shot.
I enjoyed it.
I enjoyed it a lot.
Sitting here at the office, with a desk full of construction related paperwork, I feel like I am watching a movie about a guy that does a boring job. I come in at 8:00am, briefcase in hand, grab a cup of coffee, walk to my office, turn on the lights, stand in the center of the room, looking straight ahead, at the wall, holding my briefcase in one hand, coffee mug in the other, all day long, non-stop, until 5:00pm, when I set down by coffee mug, turn of my lights, walk calmly out of my office, out the front door of the building, and get in my car to go home with a robotic smile on my face.
But my heart still beats within.
I feel like Elliot in E.T. when the astronauts come to his house and encase everything in plastic and in a fit of rage, he flips out and rips all the cords and suction cups off his chest and tears through the plastic sheeting and then him and the rest of the boys fight off all the cops and TV people and run through the plastic tunnel down the driveway and into the back of the van, bikes inside, and peel out with the tunnel trailing behind and the the astronaut guy hanging on for dear life.
That's what I feel like.
Right now I am in the middle of the tunnel, and getting closer to the van every minute.
Before long I will be there - high fiving my buddies - pulling the pins out that connect the plastic tunnel to the back of the van.
Glory, glory. Freedom awaits me.