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Posts Tagged ‘Personal’

2012 Round-up Post

I CANNOT find a better way to end this year than a round-up post, even though I have written less than twenty entries this year. It’s just that I have been busy with college; my priorities have been shifting now and then. Then there’s a problem of internet access. Not to mention the impending doomsday. (Okay, that may not be a valid argument.) I can’t also write about every film I have seen or books I have read. I realize it’s impractical, unless of course if I have a job like Roger Ebert where I get paid writing about films. It’s not as if I have readers on a daily basis, so no worries. Needless to say, twenty twelve (2012) has been a year of new discoveries, lessons relearned and tug-of- war between self-actualization and debasement.

I hope this post will make up for the posts I should have posted months ago.

600D

Getting a Canon EOS 600D

The whole escapade started when I got my first DSLR camera, a Canon EOS 600D. Although I desired to venture out in audio video production, I didn’t expect that I would have a DSLR. I was rooting for a Sony Camcorder, because I was under the impression that they are way better in video. DSLRs are made primarily for shooting stills, not video. For instance, DSLR can’t record longer than 2 hours of footage, unless of course you have an extra battery or an extra memory card, but even then DSLRs have tendency to overheat. (more…)

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Today is Easter, as you all know. In the past few days, I have been at the church to attend a mass. I was not keen to go because I prefer sitting in my wooden chair and facing my computer head on. This is my 17th Easter and I know nothing about it.

I felt good whenever the mass is over but most of the time I feel sleepy during the mass. When somebody is speaking, I can’t really concentrate in listening. I have been told that it is effective to focus on the speaker’s face but not to me. My vision goes blurry and it hurts if I force it. I reckon this is due to my abuse.

I tried to shut my vision and just listen but after a while something kept cramming in my head. They came because part of me wants them. The idea of what will I do after this mass, what page am I in the book, what will I write. I’m guilty of thinking selfish things in times of mass. But mostly I’m guilty because I know it’s wrong and I kept doing it.

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One night I and my brother couldn’t sleep. It was already late at night but our eyes were wide open. We already tried different sleeping positions but still we ended up awake. Actually more awake. By the time the clock hit twelve, our stomach was already grumbling. We decided to eat but we considered two things. First our parents would be mad if they hear us lurking early at night and second our door creaks so loud that not only our parents could hear it but also our neighbours. If there was a candidate for best noise pollution, our door would win. It was a dead-end plan. Its either we could eat food and feel guilty that we did what we know was wrong, and that includes a series of scolding. Or we can have all consequences and can’t have a food at all.

I thought hard. Really hard. By the time the clock hits one, I had my decision. I will pretend to have a sickness and cough so hard. To be able for it to be realistic, I will open the door immediately and rush to the kitchen fast. My little brother will then follow me pretending he is concern. My parents may punish us but we have a perfect excuse. Perfect indeed.

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NBA: NOV 16 Pistons v Lakers

Anyone who knows me can claim that I’m not physically and mentally fit to play various sports. When I say I suck I am not being modest. However, my friends always called me whenever they had a game. I don’t know what they are up to. If they just want to increase my self-esteem or just want to see me ridiculously play. In any other intentions, I always end up submitting to their will. The games we played made me realized how I suck at sports.

I played basketball last year and it went bad. Whenever I got the ball I find myself trembling. I always passed it randomly. Whenever I hold the ball, it felt like a great responsibility like they expect me to shoot the ball or show some tricks. So I usually throw it away immediately to save myself from humiliation. One time when we were having a fast break, someone called out my name. Not knowing that was the signal for pass, I faced the voice’s direction and receiving the ball right on my forehead. I felt my head cracked open. Sometimes, I wanted to have a clear shot but the opportunity never seemed to present itself.

The other day, I and my father went to the park to play tennis. But when we arrived there are already others playing. So we can’t play together. I think I have already said Sorry for the hundredth time already. The tennis ball always hit the net. I knew my opponent was not having fun and neither do I. The same goes for Ping-Pong. I can barely catch tennis ball let alone the Ping-Pong ones. I once got hit by a paddle. It nearly broke the bridge of my nose. I had to cover it with a cloth due to its excessive bleeding.

soccer-foot-615

These days our country is getting interested in soccer. Almost all students in our town know how to play soccer even my little brother. I am glad it didn’t happen in my time. I surely don’t want to break my leg. When I was a child, I encouraged my classmates to play soccer. I actually enjoyed it until we had to stop because my classmate was hit directly unto his face. Well of course, they  put the blame on me.

When Manny Pacquiao’s glorious moments were rising, my dark days were looming. All towns took pride over his victories and ours was no different. We had daily sparring. My father encouraged me to fight. I had already received several blows before I gave my first. The match only ended because of the weather. Even though I hated rain because of the sickness it caused me, I started to like it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever enjoy sports. I tried finding my old friends but they are all busy. Even if I tried to join games, I doubted if anyone would admit me. There are now new generations that are playing. Besides who would like to play with a guy like me, I’m skinny, short and easily distracted. It will be a total disadvantage to their part.

But playing sports seems fun. I mean almost all people indulge in it. Almost all males are engage to sports. I am determined to sulk, but the truth is, I want to be part of the game.

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Please let me improve my writing. Comment to my grammar and composition.

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Every Saturday is market day and people are busy. As I was approaching, I saw many people in commotion. I figured they were in negotiation, they always were. But before that I saw a man, an old man. I used to know him back then in a tailoring shop. His figure hasn’t change, I whispered to myself. He still wears a plaster on his face. I once heard that his nose was wiped clean and so he had to cover it to prevent repugnance. His hands were gnarled. Even though I am at a distance, I clearly saw his wrinkled and loose skin. I can’t see his eyes I figured his eyelids were too heavy for him to lift. He had lesser hair than I last saw him. I guess he was going bald. He had no shoes but he wore socks. I guess it was better than nothing.

He was walking with the aid of metal for his support. I figured he was practicing. For every three step he took, he lifted the Zimmer frame and he stepped again for three times. As I look on his face, there was no smile. It only showed remorse. I paused and sat on my knees and said a short prayer.

I hope Lord that before the aged dies they may find contentment for their lives.

Then, I continued to walk. The people in the market were diminishing since it was already sunset. But still there were many people, as far as my fingers were concerned. There were fruits, vegetables and used clothes. After a bit of sightseeing, I was disappointed. I was hoping I could buy something to bring with me home. I decided to go home but taking a different route.

I was kicking rocks, slightly hoping I could get an award for doing it. But before I got the award, I saw a lady. She was in her forties. I remembered her back then because she sold different kinds of kakanin on our school when I was a little kid. She was wearing a long skirt and slightly tattered yellow kamiseta. She had her goods hanged in her right elbow while holding an umbrella. She laid the umbrella on her shoulder like a marching musketeer. Her left hand waved in the air, calling for costumers. I paused and stood on my ground. I bowed and prayed.

I hope Lord that you give success on the efforts of the people who have worked hard.

But this time, I didn’t just walked away. I ran towards her and decided to help her.

“Is there” I asked, panting, “any left?”

She smiled and answered, “Yes, there is”.

“How many,” I inquired while bending over my knees, catching my breath.

She opened the basket and mouthed numbers while counting. She finally said, “Three”

“I’ll take it.” I handed the money. As I received the goods, it felt good, like receiving an award, an outstanding award.

On the curb I saw some teenagers. They had grown up. Last time I saw them they were playing in dirt and chasing butterflies.  They were even taller than me now. I glanced on my left and I saw a boy. He was short haired, tanned brown and skinny. He had pimples. I remembered this boy. Then I said I prayer.

I hope Lord I’ll stay the same and if by chance I do change please make it for the better.

Then I walked home.

 

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