Photo Envy (or Stuffed Animal Hoarder)

I got a new camera.  Yeah, I know I already talked about this, but you know, it's kind of a big deal for me to spend half of my monthly take-home wages on what is, essentially, a toy.

New camera sitting next to the pancake lens.  TWO lenses.  TWO.  (Photo taken with the old camera.  Talk about adding insult to injury.)

When I was a little kid I was obsessed with toys.  Mostly, it was stuffed animals, but there were quite a few dolls thrown in as well.  It wasn't that I was greedy, exactly, but I would rate my desire to rescue every single toy I ever came in contact with against my ability to acquire it, and how likely it would be able to follow me home if I abandoned it.

I didn't love them.

I pitied them.

And that pity was mixed with fear.

I looked around for some of my old toys, and was surprised to find them.  They were hidden in corners and stuffed in closets at random.  This is Kanga, with Roo in her belly pocket.  I think this belonged to my older brother originally.

I'm not sure when or how it happened, but at some point in my childhood, I stopped being worried that one of my stuffed animals would be sad if I left them off the bed at night, and more worried about the resentment they would feel for being slighted.

And what they would do with that resentment.

OK, this is a new one.  It belongs to the dog.  And it hates me for giving it to her.

I could not show favoritism, even if I had a favorite.  If I did, the toy would get revenge. Even if that meant I'd smother under 50lbs of plush dread, I could not leave anyone on the floor.  The one I left out of my protective circle on the bed would end up being the one that snapped.

If I woke up in the morning and had accidentally kicked my stuffed hippopotamus on to the floor while I slept, I would live in terror of closing my eyes the next night, because it might decide it had had enough, and eat me in my sleep.

I mostly blame my older brother, who would wake me up in the middle of the night when we were small and tell me about how the toys were moving my themselves, and how he saw a shadow of a girl jumping rope (just the shadow, no girl) in the hall so we couldn't get Mom and Dad.  We were trapped.  And then he would tell me about how the ghosts would torment the toys all night when I was asleep.

Coupled my own imagination, and I did not hesitate to continue down the path of insane dread of inanimate objects that he had started, I lived in a wonderland of terror (this may be why I still need a night light to sleep).

I created a complicated rotation of toys at some point, telling them to look out for each other and fight off the ghosts.  I was hesitant with this one, but I really couldn't fit any more stuffed animals on my bed

I created a complicated rotation of toys at some point, telling them to look out for each other and fight off the ghosts.  I was hesitant with this one, but I really couldn't fit any more stuffed animals on my bed

Anyway.

New camera.  Gets lots of attention.

I think my old Canon is getting jealous.

It was a good little camera.  And while I hesitate to say it was not good enough, I did want more.  It's trustworthy.  I know where it is good at it's job, and I know where it fails.  And now I just abandon it?  To something sleeker and younger?

The Nex is pretty sexy, though...

The Canon and I had some good times.  It's not my fault that technology changed, and it was showing its age.  I'm not an ogre.  We can still hang out sometimes, if it wants.  If I have time.  But mostly it's time to move on.