This weekend when I was visiting my mom and stepdad, I got a chance to have a ‘photo shoot’ like in the good old times, when I was living with them. Back in those days, I kept thinking how the location outside of their house was too boring and the photos were not coming out that well.
Now I live in New York, the city seemingly full of picturesque venues for taking photographs. Surprisingly though, the pictures I take here turn out to be worse. It's hard to find someone to take pictures of you in those picturesque venues; therefore, my pictures here are usually taken in my apartment or from the bathroom of my work office (yep, that’s where those are from). Due to that fact, all of a sudden the location by my parents’ house does not seem that bad anymore. In fact, there is something about it that brings up beautiful memories of the times when I was so passionate about running my blog.
As with all the other things in life, I go through ups and downs with my writing. A few times I tried to quit my blog entirely, just because “my photos were horrible” or “no one read it, so why bother.” But one day, I started looking through my older posts, and I realized that all those “horrible” photos do not seem that bad a few months or even a couple of years later. I was enjoying seeing how I looked and what I wore back in those times, and it did not matter whether the picture was taken at a beautiful venue or inside my poorly-lit apartment. I also realized that it does not matter if anyone reads my blog. I write it for myself; this is my diary, my collection of thoughts and opinions, and it is this realization that keeps me going.