Please Remember to Take Pictures of the Boring Things
The details make up who we are
During the past couple years, I’ve made a project out of trying to capture defining moments throughout the year and then print out every picture on vintage-y 4x4 photo paper. The plan is to eventually put them all into an album representing each year.
Initially, my end-of-year photo stacks were filled with vacation destinations, graduations, more trips, the yearly church outing, a special visit from a relative. These were all certainly things I wanted to remember, but it suddenly struck me that they weren’t capturing very much of my life. They were only windows into special occasions, not what things were like on a regular basis.
I realized that I wanted to be true to an even more accurate, raw portrayal of my life, and not only document the unique moments.
A lot of our time is spent doing rather forgettable things.
At least, forgettable in comparison to the rest of our lives. We have our typical routines that take up most of our time: getting ready in the morning, eating, commuting and/or working, and sleeping. Not often do we think these activities could be anything special.
But yet, all of this is relative in the grand scheme of things. These are characteristics of us. They don’t define us per se, but these habits repeated over time tell something about who we are and the environment we occupy. It’s that neighborhood we frequent every day without a thought, or that go-to comfy outfit we wear too many times.
That fried egg over pepper jack cheese on sourdough toast I have almost every morning? I shouldn’t always take it for granted — one day I could look back on this as one of the most cherished rituals from this chapter in my life.
Another sacred ritual I didn’t realize I had until later: early morning summer drives to Grandma’s house. The same route, usually with my dad driving, every weekday during summers off between school. I know every single bend in the road, every bush and tree on that stretch of highway. Such routine was the most comforting thing I now remember about those drives.
And how about our homes? It’s where we spend a large percentage of our time. Yet, we often don’t think of intentionally capturing that space in our memory banks. A lot of us don’t have the most magazine-ready interior designs, but so what? Snap away. We will most likely look back on memories of our surroundings fondly, especially if they were places of security and comfort.
Keep the bloopers (at least some of them).
You don’t have to keep every single photo of every single slightly different angle of your friends’ concert group photo. Although if combined, those photos would make a great GIF. I just mean those accidental, too-quick snaps that turn out to be abstract masterpieces or perfect reflections of a moment in time.
And even vacations, while being totally unique periods in life that may not reflect our status quo, can still be filled with little joyous moments that otherwise may have gone unremembered.
Case in point: After an impromptu train trip across the country to Memphis, Tennessee, I accidentally snapped a photo of myself on the front camera instead of taking a picture of the band performing.
Looking back at it later, I decided to keep it instead of deleting. I liked the otherworldly red neon light and the brick beneath. It was the perfect reflection of how I felt that night: hazy, wonderful reckless abandon, a true adventure of my lifetime.
Not everybody has to understand
Oftentimes we take pictures to share our experiences with others in a way that is immediately understood and relatable.
But sometimes there are things that only we relate to as individuals, or just us and a select few others — i.e., those inside jokes or treasured IYKYK moments.
For me, it’s the wallpaper right in front of the toilet in the downstairs bathroom at my grandma’s house. Weird, I know.
But my grandma essentially raised me, and I spent near every spare day of the first eighteen years of my life with her. When she passed, this view I used to see so often was a fond little reminder to myself of her sprawling house I spent so much time in.
People may also wonder why I took a picture of random vegetables arranged on my countertop, ones I didn’t even grow. If they ever see this one in my photo album, I’ll tell them this was one of the first times I’d went exploring on my own after moving to the city and out of my parents’ house. I’d visited the farmer’s market and later made a delicious meal from the spring onions and green beans I’d picked up.
To me, this was a precious recollection of that first taste (literally) of independence.
And again, vacation memories don’t always have to be the perfectly composed photos of some stunning land or cityscape, although those are lovely, too. For me, it’s also those little yes! moments, such as when I tried In-N-Out burger for the first time in San Francisco.
You see, as a Midwesterner growing-up-country girl, In-N-Out was always romanticized in my head as the symbol of trendy, West coast influencer/Hollywood California and all its trappings.
Yes, a heavy burden In-N-Out bore to represent all of that. But nevertheless, it was a fond memory for me, and I’ve got the big bright sign and cute orange stairs in the background to show for it.
I could go on and on, but there would be too many pictures to share here, and I won’t subject you to that. Maybe another time.
But all of this is to say, simply, remember the immemorable. Our lives are often found in the seemingly mundane. So, if you’re a picture person, please remember to take pictures of the “boring” things — they may turn out to be the most memorable of all.
