THIS PICTURE IS ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE

In the process of trying to "figure out" Facebook, my mother recently uploaded this little gem. And, like the tightly-wounded ball of emotion I am, it had me oohing and awwing from nostalgia.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my youngest brother, Lewis, from years and years ago. Adorable, yes? He's thirteen now. A far cry from this teary-eyed little toddler who obviously did something bad enough to harbor a punishment from our parents (i.e. roam free and be happy like the child he was). And like the assholes we were (are), my other brother Lawrence and I cackled and snorted as we grabbed the household camera and a Valentine's Day Winnie the Pooh doll to amuse ourselves for what seemed like forever. Probably a couple of minutes or so.

To everyone else, this picture is that of a sad baby. To me, it's the tough sibling love that my other brother and I took advantage of because we were horrible children with a sense of humor. It's a reminder that Lewis wore hand-me-downs, hence the gender-neutral cardigan he is seen wearing here. It tells me that we were still living down Hayes Circle, in neighborhood with streets named after the past Presidents of the United States. Someone had given me that Winnie the Pooh doll one year in junior high. I held onto it that whole day because almost everyone else got flowers and balloons on Valentine's, so I had to keep my hands and self-esteem preoccupied.

I can only smile wistfully at original and candid Kodak moments like these. How times have changed, with our generation growing up and making a transition into a digital era. And here we are, taking endless snapshots of ourselves, our friends, the skies looking on like a Christian music CD commercial, our meals-turned-artwork, random and serendipitous acts of nature (or of God, for some). Here we are, deleting pictures because we are able to get a second chance of taking a noteworthy photo.

I find that the nostalgic value of a picture is directly correlated with the amount of time that passes. A picture taken now only serves as a reminder, not a memory. Only when I pull up a ridiculous image of me reading a Canon camera manual to my stuffed guinea pig do I recognize this as a mark in progress and compare it to the person I have become. Of course, this is all common knowledge. These news don't break grounds. I'm not teaching; I'm only thinking out loud.

The beauty I find in picture taking is that no one has to be a photographer to get the world to see what they see, in the light, angle, or moment that they see it in. This is one reason why I usually opt out of asking everyone to group together, while the boys straighten their faces and the girls break their backs to feign the appearance of aesthetic appeal. I like catching people in the middle of a good moment, naturally lost in whatever they are doing, saying, or feeling. And I have absolutely no experience in photography. I just know when I want to visually bookmark a point of time in my life.

Say cheese, everyone.