10 04 2008

Here I am after a 36-hour faculty/employee outing, sunburned to a crisp (due to excessive swimming at the wrong time), a sore lower back (due to excessive rowing at the right time), and the memory of one of the most amazing breakfasts I’ve ever had.

It just struck me over our 36-hour stay how many shutterbugs we have among the faculty: Cameras of every size and shape were being whipped-out at lightning speeds to take all sorts of photos, from the profound to the hopelessly silly and mundane. In equal measure to the number of shutterbugs were the number of people who would drop everything just to make it into a group photo before the flash went off.

I believe it was over lunch (which was at an artificial waterfall – you ate with your feet submerged in running water) when it dawned on me how little I like having my photo taken. I like taking pictures, but not posing for them. I wonder why.

Maybe it’s because I’m not really interested in pictures of people (unless there’s a really compelling story behind the picture). Perhaps it’s also because I myself have no camera other than what’s in my cellphone, and it’s not powerful enough to capture the photos I can envision in my head. But if I dig deeper than what I confess to be comfortable, I find that maybe it’s because I loathe the way I look in photographs – I’m not complaining, mind you – it could have been worse – but I have no illusions regarding the fact that one of my eyes is slightly larger than the other, or that my nose is slightly off-center, or that I still have a lot of work to do before I can take-off my shirt without any feelings of embarrassment. Suffice it to say that I have yet to see a camera that captures my good points.

If you’re one of those people whom the camera just adores, I would like to congratulate you; You probably look amazing. If, on the other hand, you’re like me, and the camera tries its best to politely ignore you, allow me to share with you something I realized while whining in the shower: God made you just as he intended you to be, and if you’re not photogenic, there’s probably a good reason for it. I comfort myself with the thought that if my looks translated well onto film, my ego would probably be too-big to fit into the school gym – cameras would be stuck in my face at the strangest times – and I’d attract the attention of the wrong type of girls (you can laugh out loud now).

Then again, I do have a pretty good memory, and so if I need a camera to remember something or somebody, maybe it’s not worth remembering.




One response

29 04 2008

“if I need a camera to remember something or somebody, maybe it’s not worth remembering.”

good point. 🙂

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