Mirror, mirror on the wall

Dear Image in the Mirror,

How I hate you so. You who lack substance, and of little consequence. You who frolic about in your two-dimension-light-dependent world. You know not the suffering of the corporeal world, to you everything is just a mirage. You could look like crap and not feel any worse for wear because of it; whereas I... I would feel the blunt of it. Every morning, I have to get up and look at you... and golly gee I wish there is someone else more beautiful, more wholesome to look at than you. What good are you? A mime, a doppelganger, a charlatan. You are more worthless than my shadow, at least that follows me around wherever I go.

Ah, but perhaps I am being too harsh. Perhaps there is use for you yet. Perhaps you can smile at me more often, perhaps you can remind me of my existence. Perhaps you can stare deep within me, and allow me to see through your eyes. Show me my many faces, let me know of my masks; which ones to keep, which ones to toss. I can add dimension to your perception.

Make a funny face, make me laugh. Mimic my every expression, my every move, so that I know at least someone thinks me worthy a role model to follow. Show me what is ugly about me, show me what is nice, show me how to control my features, show me how to master you. Show me that when I cry, I cry not alone, for my tears are on my face as they are on yours. At the end of the day, help me to be a better person, for if you can be what I pretend to be, than I too can perfect my act, and grow into my many roles.

A note to a dear friend after he suffered the lost of his beloved pet

My heart goes to you. I know I am far from you at the moment, and perhaps my lack of experience in this life does not allow me to provide you with the solace you so richly deserve. Still I want you to know that how ever little I can carry, I carry with you.

Initially I had hope to ask Him to grant you a certain degree of numbness to help you get by. Yet, as I think about it more, it would have been an insult to you to ask G-d to provide you a cowardly way out. I don't know how to put this right, and you may perhaps heard this before... but I would be damned if I don't confess that it is apparent G-d has more faith in you than I do. For while I most surely would have begged Him to take this cup away from you, myself and all those whom I hold dear... you have shown yourself time and time again worthy of His love and His challenges.

Most importantly, despite all that you have been through you still care so damn much... and while it hurts like hell each and every time, the very fact that you feel it still with such breadth and depth, as if a wound anew.... that speaks highly of who you are, and I only hope that I will be the same, never losing my sincerity, and my ability to feel each cut as deeply as you do now.

I can not explain, justify nor reason why it must happen this way. It further pains me to know that regardless of what other may try to say and comfort you, the reality for you at the moment remains that it was unnecessary, that Sammie deserves better. I am incline to agree with you wholeheartedly... but this I will contend, in the short years I have walked upon this transitory earth, I am thoroughly convinced that no death is untimely. Regardless of the manner, Death is perhaps the one thing that is on time. It is tragic that Sammie has to endure such a passing, I too would have loved to see him grow old and die in comfort having given his life, adoration and dedication to you for some more years. But it is just that... regardless of how short his life span was, how painfully and tragically it end for him, he has not failed in giving you his all... and while we mourn for the passing of a loved one... we must stop and ask ourselves, if we truly believe in what we believe in as Christian, then can we truly mourn? For to be who we are, then should we not rejoice in knowing that those who pass on is in a better place? Yes, it is incredibly tragic that no longer shall we feel the brush of their being upon our senses, nor shall they benefit from the riches of this earth. But here is the kicker... it is our lost not theirs that we mourn for... I know not exactly where I am going with this.

But this I will admit, I hope that each and everyone of us can live so that we will be as sorely missed as Sammie, as Roxy and the many who have come before. And that each grief I feel will be as deep and hurtful as that you feel for it only means after all this time we still care, and that speaks of human triumphs that few have the courage or capacity to claim.

I applaud you, and I wish to stand by you in these times of trouble. I don't know if I have succeed even in a little bit to comfort you. I strive to speak from my heart in hopes that it will connect with yours. Should I failed, then I beg for your forgiveness. Know that you are not alone.

Dominus tecum.

Smile! You are on Andy Camera!

To say I am a photographer would be an insult to the profession, for I have nowhere near the dedication nor discipline to master the art and science of photography. What I am is someone who loves to take pictures of random things; a nostalgic nut who loves to capture 3D experiences in a 2D medium. It doesn't always turn out the way I envisioned it, after all there is a huge disparity between the stoic mechanics of the objective lens, and the idyllic musing of a subjective mind. In addition, I am not as quick as I thought, so those fleeting moments that I attempt to capture remains so ever elusive. Still, there I am, clicking away like your stereotypical Japanese tourist (only I am Chinese); trying so very hard to document each moment as I see them.

I know at times, such behavior is disturbing, especially when I am taking picture of something seemingly insignificant. Yet, I cannot explain to you the compulsion... maybe it stems from the deep realization and fear that the one thing that I truly own and afraid to lose are my memories. I have moved around so much, that I never felt I could hold onto anything corporeal, even the act of owning furniture feels foreign to me. Whatever earthly possession I have, there is an unspoken understanding that they do not belong to me. I will be moving on, leaving things behind. The one constant in my life is perhaps the knowledge that nothing is certain.

Therefore, to me, my dream isn't owning some grandiose house, earning some glorious title. No, my dream is simple, that some day I shall have scrapbook upon scrapbooks that document the adventures within my life, of people I have met, of experiences shared, of common anecdotes to be regaled with gusto in years to come. My dream is someday to be able to go through those albums and rejoice because even though I may be physically absent from a majority of those photos, I know I have been a chief architect behind the smiles, a blessed witness to the beauty of the moment that I attempt to capture.

I hope that someday you and I will sit together, to point and laugh at the photos of our relative youth spent together at one point or another. I pray that even if I should develop amnesia, that should I be mentally lost to you most of the time, somewhere deep in the recess of my mind lies the spark of recognition that triggers a smile, and you will know I recall. It would be like finding a hidden treasure in the attic, behind the cobwebs... and perhaps then you will smile with me.

For now, I shall go about, doing the best I can to bring about, and/ or capture memorable moments. Be goofy with me, humor me, for when I am in the room, you are no longer the strangest person there, so get weird and we will make wonderful memories together, you, me and everyone we know.