Over the past 2 years I have lived in Cincinnati, I have gone through 3 different cameras. And today, I have absolutely nothing to show for it.

Waiting until my first job to make decent money, I bought a fabulous camera that I brought with me everywhere. It was stolen on the eve of my birthday. I waited four months to purchase another one. I bought the replica, with a few upgrades. A second chance at first love. In Hawaii, the lens cap broke and I brought it back to Best Buy, and two hours later, with security nearly ready to throw me out, I argued my way into them giving me a brand new camera, another upgrade, and a $60 gift certificate. That camera, which also served as a modern day trophy of my assertiveness and persuasion skills, was stolen in Nicaragua.

Now, that is three cameras gone in two years. I’m not even going to talk about my laptop that was stolen in Logan airport when I lived in Boston. Am I a fucking moron? Do I have a sign that reads, “I’m carrying expensive things that I work really hard for, but you can have them if you want!” sign on my back? I am not the vulnerable type.

So, yesterday, I took the deepest plunge and bought my next investment: a camera and lens that cost more than almost four months rent. I barely spoke when I was in Ritz Camera, I just wanted to buy it, rush home, lock it in my closet, and brace my body against the door to protect it. The camera I finally decided upon is a Nikon D80. I bought a 18-200 mm DX VR lens (which should come in before Christmas). In photography world, that’s a pretty decent purchase for an amateur. For the rest of us, that translates into: I’m going to be taking some kick ass pictures.

My graduate assistant gave me a tip: If you are brave enough to buy that camera, you have to learn how to protect it. You protect it with your body. It never leaves your body.

I nodded, eyes wide, and not blinking. This thing, I vowed, I am a going to guard like a small child. It shall not be stolen while there is breath in my lungs.