> for graB

> cameRa addicTs

I get incredibly addicted to anything that’s new, and has a microchip in it. Especially if it has a lens as well… Besides, sitting at home with a cold, there ain’t much better to do than posting pictures taken almost everywhere [as evident of course on this blog site]…
To simply put it: this innovation has allowed us to capture the “best of things,” “the worst of things,” and “everything.”
Like any other technology, camera phones can be abused. But its power to capture fleeting moments is undeniable. At the same time, it is also the meanest invention that can break people’s hearts since it can easily invade privacy.
Video clips captured by today’s camera phone-toting crowd have varied from the mundane to the extraordinary. I remember one of my supervisors before capturing her bed moves [*hehehe] which made it’s way to almost everyones cellphone.
Remember how the video clip of Saddam Hussein’s hanging taken by one of the witnesses using his camera phone sparked controversy worldwide? The camera phone and the power it wields reminds me of the lesson Peter Parker learns as Spider-Man: “With great power comes great responsibility.”
But for us? With great pose comes great pictu-bility.


> phoTos : what’s with the cLicks?

It is not too often but I do tend to pause every now and then when taking someone else’s picture. I have never given photography that much thought before. The process that goes on behind it. Much of which occurs only within the confines of the photographer’s mind. Nowhere else.
Now, every moment is captured even through my cellphone’s camera lenses. It might not be that superb but the thought or memories that goes with it matters much.
Like any other medium of art, it has its own unique qualities. And unless you treat them with the respect that they truly deserve, no matter how good an illustrator you are, or writer, or actor, or dancer, you will never be able to come up with engaging photos much like the works of art you are used to creating in your other — perhaps chosen — artistic endeavors.
And then there is the beautiful notion that by taking a photo, one is not merely putting in to print the external features of another human being. One is actually capturing that other person’s wide range of emotions, and even state of mind, at that exact moment before one hears the “click.”
There is a sense of power in there. and of this feeling of being privileged.

So I have here some of vacation photos with my friends. I’ll try to collect some others so I’ll be editing this once in a while. I’m just missing the feeling. I miss you guys.

> i Love yOu pekYaw!

Earlier today, I went to Quiapo to have some of my phone pictures be printed. Bakettt walang trapikkk?? [*traffic jam] Nagulat talaga ako. Then I realized, botohan nga pala. Okay, sana lagi nalang botohan.

Did I ever mention that I love Manny Pacquiao? Oh yeah, like every other living and breathing Filipino. However, I love him for a totally non-romantic reason [*oh please Jinky, get real!]. I love Manny Pacquiao because he is the only person who can achieve what the MMDA has failed in. He can make all traffic jams disappear!
You see, I get to visit St. Joseph,Pasig everynow and then because my boy friend – Ryan Feliciano [yes! kami na ulit!] lives there. And even though if it’s a Sunday, the traffic is horrendous. And I am sure you have heard of this phenomenon called “traffic in Ortigas ext”. I have lived in Sta. Mesa area for quite sometime and I consider traffic jams normal but ‘yong sa kanila? astig! walang makakatalo! Wala ‘yong sa Lolo mo!

But on the day when millions awaited the result of the Pacquiao vs. Barrera boxing match, the whole country stood still. There were very few cars on the streets. There was little to none jeepneys cutting across the thoroughfares. No one waited under the pink MMDA waiting sheds. The usual 30 minutes it takes for me to drive home to boy friend’s house turned into 15 minutes. And my driver [*taxi] wasn’t even driving that fast.
I can only wish that Manny has a match every day. It might just solve the county’s traffic problems.
I love you Manny Pacquiao!! I love you Ryan!! [*wahahahaha]

> whaT’s the trutH?

I was watching the late night news when one of the old stories they flashed was when our soldiers had an encounter with the rebels down south. I’ve always been fascinated of hearing stories like these. I don’t really know why. Maybe because my Dad was once a victim of NPA kidnappings. I don’t know, I really don’t know.

It’s quite often we get to hear news reports of encounters between AFP forces and NPA or MILF rebels, or Abu Sayyaf terrorists. Most of the time, there’s the body count of how many soldiers are killed and/or wounded. The military always claim that the other side also had casualties. Usually, more than what the government suffered. Or so they say.

But as is often the case, no bodies are shown to the press, to prove their claims. Their almost-automatic excuse is that the rebels or bandits were seen to have dragged the bodies of their fallen comrades.

I just find that hard to believe.

If I were a rebel. And I know that forces are coming after me, chasing me. Would I take the time to carry the body of a dead brother-in-arms? All that weight slowing me down; and exposing me to greater risk of capture, or even death? Where is the logic in that?

Or is the military just embarassed to admit that while they suffered some casualties, there is actually no proof that they inflicted similar injuries against their opponents?

To vent their anger, the turn against the civilian populace — the villagers. They accuse these people of supporting and harboring the rebels. Then, they resort to intimidation, harassment, and even murder.

It’s sad.

Such intricate web of lies to mask an ugly truth.

Now I’m wondering, ano ang totoo sa Glorietta 2 tragedy?

> waKing up anD beinG in Love

I woke up this evening to the sound of Briney Spear’s “Gimme More.”

Turning over, I let my left hand reach out for my mobile.

My phone’s waking my senses like crazy. I usually set it on a 7:30pm alarm because my work starts around 9pm. It’s become a habit of late out of fear of not being able to wake up early.

I can’t have that right now, of course. Not when for the next couple of weeks, I’ll be on a training mode at work. During this times, I will have to contend with rising up to meet the moon god that’s come to fetch and bring me to terms with a path I was very reluctant to take in the first place.

Talk about talking about irony in a most inappropriate setting.

My fingers gently graze across the sheets, clawing at every possible obstacle it would come upon. Each one turning out to be every printed training mateials I could have possibly slept with, except for the phone I’m trying to find.

A highlighter which, fortunately for me this time, I remembered to put the cap on before dozing off. Hooray for the sheets, I say. They live for another day. This one, at least.

My sunglasses, which has developed a knack for surviving tremendous pressure under the weight of a big fat slob of a lazy person like me was the next thing I laid my hand on. It’s a survivor. That’s all I can say about it.

Finally, I get to it. I find it lying on the floor, but still within reach of my arm that’s actually begun to tire.

A few seconds was all it took to exhaust all the energy of one lazy arm attached to one lazy body. The same one where you find two lazy eyes too lazy to open up to have made the recently-ended search that much quicker to accomplish.

It’s 31 past 7.

It’s “Gimme MOre” once more. I must have my phone’s alarm on “mangulit” mode.

There’s still time to waste so I shifted to dreaming.

We’re already friends but can you please give me more? Gimme more, gimme more. I just don’t want plain friendship. Gimme more please.

Hah! crazy me. Crazy love.

For indeed, I would give you my time, the world won’t matter.

To this fellow. Not just yet.

I’m falling for you my “Lord”.

Haayyy… hirap ma-in love.

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