But then I came across this picture in my iPhoto on the computer, and I decided to use this one. After all, this is a memory I really enjoy!
I really like photography. I like to take pictures of people, among lots of other things. Most of the time, I prefer it if people in photos look natural; and the best way to do that is to take it without them noticing. I've gotten to be good at it, at times. :3
So here I was, out shopping with some friends, and these two guys are just sitting outside, inhaling and then exhaling thin, grey wisps of smoke from their cancer sticks. Their style caught my attention. I really liked it! But I knew that it was a good idea in this case to ask first before taking a picture. They looked a little tough, and I didn't feel like coming home with bruises and a story about taking a picture of someone and them getting the wrong idea.
So my friend and I approach them, and I begin our short conversation with, "Excuse me..."
"Yes?" Was his reply, I think.
"May I take your picture?"
At this he looks at me strangely, and says, "Uuh, why?"
I think I said something like, "Just because." or "You look cool."
Well, whatever I said didn't really matter, because his reply was, "Uuh, sure."
I smiled a little, and said, "Great! Thanks!"
Then I tried to grab my small, battered, point-and-shoot camera, which I couldn't seem to find. That's when the "awkward silence" seeped in a little bit. I decided to try and fill the quiet air, not with cigarette smoke, but empty questions.
"Where are you from?" I ask. This is my default question when I talk to Orientals. Normally I can start a conversation about something if I know where their roots are.
"Oh you are from Japan? I am studying Japanese!" "Oh, really? All my best friends are Chinese..." "You're from Korea? I love MBLAQ!" That sort of thing.
But no, he was from one country in the Orient I knew barely anything about. I mean, all I could have talked about was politics and religion, and those are subjects I just don't like to bring up.
"Uh, Tibet."
"Oh, that's cool."
Once again, we remained in a situation I couldn't seem to loosen up. I kept the slight smile on my face, and he chuckled a bit with his friend.
When I finally pulled out my camera and turned it on, that's when he asked, "Um, what should I do?"
I smiled. "Just be you."
"Yeah, man! Just be you." His friend joked. We all had a little laugh, and this was how the picture turned out.
Okay, now fast forward a few months. It was partway through the summer. I needed a haircut, and jokingly said to my mother, "Maybe if my hairstylist was Asian, they'd do a really good job." (I don't stay with one hair stylist for very long.) So she booked an appointment at a hair salon with a Korean boy. Hoon was his name. I could tell immediately, he was Korean. I'm good at that sort of thing.
'Alright! I'm getting my haircut with by an Asian boy! I bet he'll do a good job! Should I ask to make it look Visual Kei? Or K-Pop? What does that even mean? "K-Pop hair"? What the hell? Wait! What if he's really good-looking? Korean boys are generally the best looking boys ever, so then what if I get super shy and say nothing? What then? Will my hair look terrible in the end? Maybe he won't even be a good stylist, and then I'd have to find another new hair stylist. Ugh. Just be you, right? Just be you.'
It turned out he wasn't my type, looks or personality wise, but he was really kind-hearted and we discussed music and how he really didn't like scary movies and I really did. He did a great job on my hair, too, after he lectured me for asking for it to be straightened ("You should love your hair for what it is!!").
Anyways, guess who also worked at the hair salon, too! Yeah, that's right!! My Tibetan buddy. My jaw dropped!! But he didn't seem to recognize me, until I told Hoon about how I met him; the picture I took, and the reason why. And Hoon asked him if he recognized me.
I formed a small grin and said, "I took your picture once."
"Oh yeah..." he shifted his glance from me to Hoon, "She did." He also wore a small grin; different from mine, a little more shy.
But, oh man. That was funny.
I mean, of all the places to just happen to see him again, never mind the fact that I never thought I'd see him again, it just happened to be in his workplace; a hair salon.
It makes sense, though. I mean, his hair is always so cool. I'm a little jealous of how cool it always is.
Every time I look at this picture, I will always remember the chain of memories that go along with it, and smile at how wonderful they were for me.
A picture is worth a thousand words...
