Who is that Girl?

Who is that Girl? You may wonder.


Is she my daughter? Is she my niece? Nope to both, even though I don't mind having such a cute little doll in my household. (Note: The word "doll" here has no affiliation with sexism.)

She is me! Yes, she is me! I mean, in some essential ways, she is me!

When I was a little girl in the kindergarten, I didn't need designer shoes or nail polish to feel happy. If you give me a few sheets of blank paper and oil pastels, I could spend hours and hours by myself. I couldn't tell you how very content I felt. Psychologists call it intrinsic motivation, which I later found out in college. It is one of the greatest ideas scientists find out about human nature. (What is so fascinating is that if you reward children to paint, they lose their interests, intrinsic motivation.)


Yet, later I don't think my story has developed much differently from yours or hers. For some reason, I started to believe that happiness doesn't lie within me.

Uh, what can that reason be?

I heard it is called social conditioning. It is so powerful that I thought I needed to look like those artificial-looking magazine models, wear expensive outfits or go to elite school to feel worthwhile. It is as depressing as it sounds, but fortunately I found my way time-traveling back to my past, when I was mostly intrinsically happy.

I started to "click."

Yes, "click," "click" and "click."

I capture everything around me between classes, on the way back home, during my vacation in the countryside, at farmer's market, or just in my own little apartment. I indulge myself in the magic of changing exposure, ISO and F-stops.

Time seems infinite when I try to capture the most profound beauty in the ordinary things.

No, I am not a photo journalist. I am not intended to be one. And, I don't need to be a photo journalist to embrace the art of photography. Well, maybe, I was born one, but I just don't need to be paid to keep going.