Friday, February 17, 2012

Self Safari

Today I took a stroll along the streets of Long Beach, camera in hand. I went out looking high and low for the little quirks in the city.

The city may not always be beautiful. In fact at first some parts of it seem downright ugly with its occasional lack of greenery or over-population of cars clunky, old, and new lining its stretch-marked streets in need of repaving. The unkempt yards—or rather, housing in general—add to the eye-sore and create a definite harshness to certain areas yet simultaneously it is a more endearing metropolis when looked at as the sort of patch-work quilt that it is.

Now, I don’t venture into the ghetto. I only balance on the thread that is between the truly rough and textured patches and the guaranteed silky smooth safe zones of Long Beach. This line I call the edge of nice or, a new term I recently coined over drinks with friends—“demi-ghetto.” None-the-less there is a definite quilting to the city’s ‘hoods.

One square block has been picked up, and cute, charming little places on quiet streets say “this could be home.” You go up and over a block and you have where I reside, an older condo building whose trash can is busily “tagged” in its placement nestled between a printing factory and an apartment building always teeming with screaming unhappy children and overflowing with the scent of some sort of beans and rice dish. Just a few blocks away are what I now would consider mansions, but once would have considered only to be very large houses.

And this, First street, is where I had my little epiphany; this little recognition of perhaps an area in life I could work on. Along first street the homes are mostly beautiful. The streets are lined with big, old, knowingtrees and grassy, sometimes even ivy-filled patches between the street and the sidewalk. Signs ordering cars not to “cruise” stand tall and boast neighborhood watch programs just beneath them as an ornate street lamp stands behind like celebrities behind body-guards. So many older folk promenade along this hushed street, that it is almost startling to find what I did today and be greeted by ten year old girls awkwardly trampling about on roller-skates.

Admiring these beautiful homes, I found myself nit-picking. “This house is nice but could use more windows,” I thought. Or, “that house has a beautiful yard, but the whole look would be more beautiful with shutters. I wonder why the owner hasn’t purchased any yet.” That’s when I realized that I tend to see the beauty in things, and I appreciate it. But often times, I also note too clearly what could improve it, and see it so clearly in my mind that I lose sight of what is actually there and no longer, then, focus on an actual thing, but an imaginary one. It takes away from the enjoyment to whatever degree. Metaphorically, I realized this said a lot about me and the way I live my life.

Oddly, it is at about that moment that I veered away from these perfectly imperfect homes and ventured back towards the mostly flawed areas that I could photograph and appreciate for all their quirks and roughness. I suppose that means that I am, in some manner, in search of appreciation and acceptance of those things in life which I consider flaws.

A little alone time for this reflection with my camera was just the medicine that I needed for the day. Then again, I always find a new reflection of myself through the lens.

I’m glad to discover who is coming about through it right now.

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