Picture Perfect

 

Over the past few weeks, I've been going through photos, art, and memorobilia that I want to put on my walls. Most everything is up, but there are a few things that are pending framing. I've always wished I was a more natural artist. I'd love to become a better oil or watercolor painter. But that would take some definite practice. And I have a hard time focusing my energy, even when it's something I'd really like to learn to do. Therefore, I collect art done by my friends. I'm proud of my live-in gallery. Ever piece has significant meaning attached.

Then there are the photographs, most of which I've taken. They're always me and a friend or group of friends. At a concert, school function, road trip. There's always a story around them.

And I have my scrapbooks. Three large 3" binders (so far) filled with plastic sheet protectors holding everything from receipts to bulletins to gum wrappers. Flat media that are proof of presence at movies, musicals, or restaurant.

These three things are my physical memories. Because sometimes I feel like the woman in The Notebook—the past is already fading. And I need a way to remember. This is also why I have kept my planners from the past six years, buy and write in my books instead of checking them out at the library, and never delete or trash anything I've written, finished or not.

Recently I bought a camera. It's a very small Canon Elph 300 HS. It's not as easy to get the shots I get with my Nikon D40. But it's smaller than my iPhone. And I don't like lugging an SLR around. I've already missed way too many important moments because of that. And I'm kicking myself for not doing it early.

Nevertheless, my photo collection is extremely large. And as I browsed looking for ones to print out, I was smiling the whole time. Even at the photos of a friend and I whom I had just been on the phone with, prematurely ending because of annoyance on both our ends at each other.

Few of the photos had something negative attached. You don't usually snap a lens to commemorate a fight, disappointment, defeat. Instead, you aim to capture joy, friendship, life.

I wish we had more photographs. And I wish we could always be as happy as we look in them.

In the same breath, easy friendships are great. That is the aim, right? But just because you have to fight to keep something good doesn't mean that thing is bad. Friendships, even good ones, aren't always picture perfect. I've learned that several times.

We've made it through much worse places. I expect little things like this to come up.

I just wonder.

If this will always be us. If one of us will break first. If it's still worth what it does to you and me.