Still Here, Still Trying.

Today, Facebook reminded me of a post from a student’s commencement speech back in 2014.

It came a few years after a heartbreak caused by family circumstances, which also led me to withdraw from an international workshop I was supposed to attend in Cambodia. The post went like this:

“Find something to be obsessed with, and then obsess over it. Don't compete; find what's uniquely yours. Do your pictures—don’t try and do somebody else’s pictures. Don’t get lost inside your head, and don’t worry what camera you’re using.”

I reposted it at the time as a reminder that even though I didn’t get to go or learn there, I could still learn from anywhere. But it seems that heartbreak lingered longer than I thought. I ended up moving back to the capital, working a 9-to-5 job, and gradually, that obsession started to fade—buried under daily routines and the weight of unresolved grief.

So, where am I now? Well… pretty much still here. My days are filled with mundane tasks working to fund my life and my art. But even now, that art still carries the hashtag #on_going_project. It’s been 11 years.

Sometimes, I feel like taking photos just isn't the same anymore. The spark I used to feel when capturing a moment—it’s gone. I feel like I’ve lost my mojo. The way I see the world has shifted, too. I used to notice all the tiny details around me; now, my awareness is focused on my child—and all the little dangers that might come her way.

I'm wondering…Will that passion, that fire, that energy I once poured into my photography ever come back? I'm trying. And I’m hoping that desire and drive will find their way back to me.

Spring - Summer 2025

Wow, it’s already 2025. So many things have happened over the past year and into this one. Our family has moved (again!). The house I’m living in now is officially the 20th home I’ve lived in throughout my life.

city of Nabari, 2023.

There’s a feeling of joy—being able to “wander,” experiencing new things with every move. But there’s also a deep longing to root down and settle. Still, it’s like my feet start itching to move again after a few years in one place. It’s a strange feeling, kind of hard to explain. I thought it would stop once I hit 35. But apparently, it hasn’t. Still, I hope that one day our family will root somewhere—a place close to our loved ones, a place where my daughter can live safely and comfortably.

My daughter is now 8 years old. It’s been 8 years of us being parents to a child with special needs. It’s been incredible—and incredibly tough, haha. I just hope to always be given the strength, patience, and good health to keep walking this journey with her.

relearning photography with dispocam, 2023. 

somewhere in Shinjuku, 2024.

Just this morning, I read something that said as mothers, we often “get lost” in our daily routines, playing the roles that have been assigned to us. Sometimes, it makes us forget who we are and the dreams we once had as individuals. It reminded me of a thought that weighed on me last year. And so, this year, I’ve decided to return to photography, to create again—not necessarily doing something grand or important, just something that keeps my inner self alive, I guess.

And I think maybe writing on this blog again might help? We’ll see!