I used to love taking photos of all the places I went and all the people I met. But for some reason, I don't take as many pics as I used to, I have to remind myself to do it.

Now I'm not terribly interested in photography, to be quite honest. I know a bit about composition and lighting. I think I am pretty good at taking good looking photos of the things in my life, but I think it's important to note that I am a far cry from a professional and haven't ever attempted to become so.

I got my first camera right before leaving Santa Cruz for Arizona. My brother gave me his old digital camera which I guess is from somewhere around the turn of the century; a little old but still relatively cutting edge at the time.

I didn't really know what do with it for a while. Most of my first pics came out rather blurry. But once I had moved away from California, my visits back with my friends became increasingly sparse. By my last visit, I was taking pictures of everything I could.

When I was growing up, my family didn't take many pictures. Every couple years my Dad would drag us down to the mall photographer and have a family portrait done. It was always boring and was one of the times that my Dad's temper seemed to be on edge.

I just thought my Mom and Dad didn't like taking pictures. But that isn't true, my parents had lots of pictures of their adventures before I was born, with lots of shots of my brother and my cousins in Korea.

In fact, there are a lot of pictures of me, specifically when I was very young. And yet, for most of my childhood, I have barely any pics at all.

My Dad encouraged me at some point after I got the camera to take lots of photographs, especially with myself and people I cared about. I definitely took his advice to heart but I wondered why he didn't seem to.

I grew into the habit of taking photos a lot once I was in college. I especially grew adept at good looking group selfies once I was able to find my people. Someone in undergrad even tried to designate me the friendgroup's photographer and she would always tell me to get candid shots of everyone during events oftentimes attempting to direct me. Yes, she is a blonde white woman.

So anyway, taking photos is a thing that people noted I liked to do. But not too many people noted that I stopped.

I used the excuse of the pandemic, how we were all indoors doing nothing for so long that we have to remember how we all did it before. Some posit that we're in a culture-wide centipede's dilemma about how to live.

But the truth is, I didn't like the way I looked after I gained a lot of weight. At first it was from the depression of my Dad getting sick and eventually passing away, but eventually the rampant drinking problem I'd developed had taken that even farther. People assured me I looked fine, but I really didn't like the disjointed feeling I got when I looked into the mirror and saw how strung out I always looked.

I gotta be honest with you, I was pretty surprised when I started looking like I used to again. Between all the therapy and trying to live healthier, I kinda accepted I would no longer possess the power and beauty of my youth (just like in that sunscreen song), and I was trying to come to terms with it.

Y'know, people started smiling at me more again. Strangers offering me favors and cutting me slack that I hadn't experienced for a while. That made me even more bitter, like the world wasn't as friendly as it seemed. Yeah, it's human nature to be nicer to people who more closely fit some beauty standard but I hate the shallowness of it all regardless. I hate that I prefer it this way for myself.

I was two weeks sober and one of my best friends, Kuranda, takes a pic of me at a street festival we went to one day. I remember feeling like it was the first time in years that I was happy to see myself in a photo.

Seeing myself make an earnest smile for the first time I could remember in a long time healed me in ways I would have some difficulty in explaining.

It was around this time that I realized why my parents didn't take pics while I was a kid. In the year 1989 a large earthquake in California destroyed my family's house and ended up throwing us into dire socioeconomic waters. One can argue that it still affects my entire family to this day. I look back now, my Dad's tears at the empty plot where our house used to be, my Mom's rage at how expensive rent was always getting. I see now that those days were dark days for my folks, even as they were my earliest and brightest. I could understand my parents not wanting to remember those days and wanting to get away from them as soon as we could. But I think we missed a lot.

I have no pictures of any of my childhood cats. Barely any pictures of any of the houses we lived in. No pics of friends (not that I had any) or fun places we went (except Disneyland). It reminds me that the lack of all that is exactly why I took so many photos in the first place.

I'm still out of practice in taking pictures. I went to this lovely claw machine arcade at the mall and I won some prizes and it didn't occur to me at all to take victory selfies like I normally would have enthusiastically. It is occuring to me right now that I was at a bonfire on saturday with some of my dearest friends and forgot to get pics.

But I am taking them more often for sure. Def trying to preserve those memories with people in moments that won't find me again. Especially now that I am returning to my extroverted social butterfly attitude and meeting a lot of new people.

Living in the moment is hard for me, I often don't get to experience the moment until some time after it. That'd probably be a whole other post from me though. I think we should remember to take pics though, to be able to preserve a moment in some way.

It's a privilege our ancestors lacked. Even within the lifetime of most of my peers the privilege has grown exponentially.

And so I think as we move into an uncertain future, we should try our best to hold onto the moments of kindness, safety, and love that we have now.

Who knows when the next sunny day will come?