The Things I Never Asked For
And the ones I always did.
Some people dream about designer handbags.
Others save for luxury watches, fine jewelry, or the latest status symbol.
Me?
I've spent most of my life wanting cameras.
When I was younger, I wasn't asking my parents for Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Cartier, or the latest designer bag.
I wanted a better digital camera.
Then I wanted a DSLR.
Then I wanted a better laptop.
Then a better phone.
Then an iPod.
Then another camera.
And honestly, not much has changed.
Even today, if you gave me a choice between a luxury bracelet and a camera, I'd choose the camera without hesitation.
Every single time.
The Things I Never Asked For
It's not that I dislike nice things.
I don't.
I appreciate quality.
In fact, most of the branded items I own came from my mom.
Dior bags.
Coach bags.
Perfumes.
Branded clothes from overseas.
I've had those things.
But I never really asked for them.
I never spent months researching which handbag I wanted next.
I never stayed awake comparing designer brands.
I never built Pinterest boards around luxury collections.
They were nice to have, but they were never the thing.
At the same time, I'm not someone who buys the cheapest option either.
I'm not particularly fond of ukay-ukay shopping just because something is inexpensive.
When I buy clothes, it's usually because I need them.
And when I do, I'd rather buy one well-made piece that lasts than several cheap pieces that don't.
Quality matters to me.
Comfort matters to me.
Longevity matters to me.
Status doesn't.
That's the difference.
The Things I Always Asked For
Now cameras?
That's a completely different story.
Cameras. Lenses. Laptops. Phones. Technology.
That's where I become unreasonable.
I research for months.
I compare specifications.
I watch reviews.
I read forums.
I convince myself I don't need it.
Then I continue researching anyway.
I upgrade.
I always have.
I probably always will.
The excitement I feel over a new camera is probably the same excitement some people feel when they finally buy a luxury handbag.
The difference is that when I look at a camera, I don't see an object.
I see possibility.
I see future memories.
I see stories waiting to happen.
The Camera Was Always There
When I think about my life, cameras have always been part of the story.
They were there when I studied Multimedia Arts.
They were there during my first jobs.
They were there during travels.
They were there during milestones.
They were there when I moved countries.
For as long as I can remember, I always had a camera with me.
Not because I was a professional photographer.
Not because I wanted people to think I was one.
It simply felt natural.
Like carrying a wallet.
Like carrying a phone.
Like carrying a notebook.
The camera wasn't something I packed for special occasions.
It was something that followed me everywhere.
Or maybe I was the one following it.
Either way, it was always there.
Attached to my hip.
Ready for whatever happened next.
Losing a Gadget Hurts More Than Losing a Bag
One of the things I remember most vividly growing up was owning a limited-edition U2 iPod Video.
I loved that thing.
And then it got stolen.
Years later, I still remember losing it.
Which is funny when you think about it.
I don't remember every bag I've ever owned.
I don't remember every piece of clothing I've purchased.
I don't remember every pair of shoes.
But I remember that iPod.
I remember how it looked.
I remember how much I loved it.
I remember losing it.
Because the attachment wasn't to the object itself.
It was to what it represented.
My music.
My memories.
My little world at the time.
That's why losing a gadget hurts me more than losing a bag.
A bag can be replaced.
A camera contains memories.
A laptop contains years of work.
A phone contains pieces of your life.
The emotional attachment isn't to the hardware.
It's to everything stored inside it.
My Version of Luxury
I've realized over the years that my version of luxury looks different from other people's.
Luxury isn't a closet filled with designer labels.
Luxury is freedom.
Luxury is having a passport filled with stamps.
Luxury is being able to travel somewhere you've never been before.
Luxury is staying in a beautiful hotel after a long day of exploring.
Luxury is eating incredible food.
Luxury is having the right gear to document the experience.
I don't want to choose between comfort and adventure.
I want both.
I don't want to stay in a terrible hotel just to save money.
I don't want to rush through a destination just to say I've been there.
I want the experience.
The good food.
The beautiful room.
The long walks.
The photographs.
The memories.
The whole thing.
Some Things Never Change
The funny thing is, even after writing all of this, I'm still exactly the same.
Earlier this year, I bought a new Insta360 go ultra.
You'd think that would be enough to satisfy me for a while.
Apparently not.
Because now I'm obsessing over a Fujifilm X-M5.
And a new MacBook pro max M5 for remote work.
Every time I catch myself watching another camera review or comparing specs for the hundredth time, I end up asking the same question:
Why am I like this?
Then I remember I've been doing this my entire life.
I've always wanted cameras.
I've always wanted better tools.
I've always wanted the things that help me create, document, build, and tell stories.
Maybe that's why I became a designer.
Maybe that's why I studied Multimedia Arts.
Maybe that's why I still carry a camera everywhere I go.
Maybe it's because some people collect handbags.
Some people collect jewelry.
And some people collect ways of seeing the world.
I just happen to be one of those people.
The Things Worth Carrying
Maybe that's why I've always carried a camera.
Not because I love gadgets.
Not because I care about having the latest gear.
And definitely not because I need another reason to spend hours watching camera reviews on YouTube.
I've carried cameras because they've helped me pay attention.
To places. To people.
To ordinary moments that would have otherwise slipped away unnoticed.
Years from now, I probably won't remember what bag I carried on a trip.
I probably won't remember what brand of shoes I wore.
But I'll remember the quiet train ride through the countryside.
The tiny café I stumbled into by accident.
The sunset that lasted only a few minutes.
The city I fell in love with.
The photo I almost didn't take.
Maybe that's why I'll always choose the camera.
Not because it captures the world.
But because it helps me hold on to the parts of life I never want to forget.