Polaroid 4: Mask again

Shadow Shot Sunday

Turning lemons into grapes--or something like that.

I had an appointment last Thursday at the Manila City Hall (No, I'm not in trouble, unfortunately. Shame, that  would be a more interesting blog post), but then someone screwed up and I was told I had to go back some other day (uhh, the usual).

Normally I would be pissed and this entry will be a really ugly hate post. But then I did something that very few disgruntled people at a government building would do: I looked up. Literally (this is not a Jesus post either).

And tadaaa, Eureka! My failed lakad turned into a full blown photo walk. Took almost a hundred photos of so many random things, I had so much fun.

Shadow Shot Sunday

More than a few people gave me the weird look. Others were simply too busy to notice (or they just chose to ignore me because I looked too lost). I gave the folks at the License Division a short break from their *really boring* office work. They had a few laughs when I stopped by to capture some unusual ornaments they have on display. They have a freakin' cannon and two life size moriones (or something)-- strangest office I've been to.

Does your office have a cannon? (not the printer, silly.) Or these, whatever these are:

 

Yes I know I screwed up the lighting and stuff. I was too busy being embarrassed to care.

The rest of the photos will be saved for other posts. lol. All photos were taken with my Samsung F400 camera phone (haha) and edited using the AMAZING Poladroid, except for one where I used picnik. I have no time for photoshop anymore. :(

Links:

Shadow shot sunday hosted by HeyHarriet

The Creative Exchange hosted by Lisa Gordon

Dammit.

Right now I want to rip off a neighbor's head for shouting on the mic. How loud and stupid can you get?

Calm me down, polaroid.

[polaroid04] Ho ho ho

X: Do you think I'm pretty?
Y: I like your smile.
X. Wrong answer.

Links
  

[polaroid03] three stars and a sun

There can be no tyrants where there are no slaves.- Dr. Jose Rizal. Genius, martyr, hero.

[polaroid02] Please don't barf.

This was taken after my friends and I watched a concert last February. We hanged around this rickety old spinning umbrella thing to recharge and (because I was with a bunch of guy friends) 'chick watch'.

Patrick: Who's going for a ride?
James: Me!
Me: As if four hours of standing in a tight crowd didn't tire them enough, they also want to get sick to their stomach. Can we please sit down, my feet are killing me.

*the ride starts to spin*

Jac: Finally, air!!

Jer: Yes, better that aircon.

Bernard: This is awesome. It's like we're inhaling all those people's body odor.
Jer: Or their farts.
Jac: At least it's cooler here.
Me: Oh god, if someone barfs- it will be all over us in a second.

[polaroid01] Ladida.

X: This is beautiful. Sad, but beautiful.

Y: Yep.

X: Sometimes, sad things are still beautiful. That's a little unfair.

X: Did you ever regret that it ended? Us, I mean?

Y: Yes, for a while. 

X: You should have told me that before.

Y: We wouldn't be here if I did. I think today is beautiful.

X: Hmm, yes it is. 

That giant pink ball of a dress

Now THIS is one fabulous stamp.

WHY WHY WHY can't Philippines have more gorgeous, more hip, and glamorously modern stamps like this? 

Ritva Liisa Pohjalaisen is a is a Finnish fashion designer... that's all I got...Aaargh! It's frustrating that I cannot find much info on her in english. I think, maybe, she's really good. (doh of course she is, she has her own stamp)

The stamp is part of a set made for International Women's Day (March 8) in 2010. See the rest here This was sent to me by the awesome Pirjo, a Postcrossing.com member. I badly want the rest of the designs!! Anybody?

Just a brief background: like many girls, I am FASCINATED by the *superficial* world of high fashion. If only I could afford any of it.*sulk* My sister and I are both junkies when it comes to fashion reality shows on TV (because it's free). America's Next Top Model, Project Runway, The Rachel Zoe Project,  Launch my Line and The Ultimate Collection-- these brighten our boring school nights (when we should have been studying).

Going back to the lovely stamp and the shocking hot pink creation-- I actually adore this type of silhouette  for a dress. I have seen two dresses similar to it. Yes,  I remember most of the dresses I saw on TV. Any dress with that shape--tight and simple on the top but scandalous in volume and texture from the waist down-- will definitely leave a mark.

The dress shown above was made by designer  Carol Hannah for the Finale Fashion show of Project Runway season 6. It's definitely a statement piece, unfortunately it did not go well with the rest of her collection. It's fantastic, though, how she played with volume and structure.  A similar dress was made by Ro (Rolando Tamez) in The Fashion Show-The Ultimate Collection, but I can't find a photo of it. sigh.

All dresses are pretty , but for me, Carol Hannah's is the prettiest. Ritva-Liisa's looks regal, fashion-forward and show-stopping, but I think it's the wrong length-- or maybe it's just shamelessly gorgeous that way.

What do you think?

P.S.

Anybody else noticed the stamp edge?

Also, I am joining Pink Saturday for the first time with this entry, YAy me! 

For more Pink invasion visit:

You're my wonderwall

Err, not really... but you have a really big, golden heart.

Get it? *hik* 'golden heart'. get it? Erhm, yeah, the rock above my sister's head-- it's a heart. You know what that means? It means...Guest Heart Thursday! *cue music* :)

This was during our family's annual Holy Week pilgrimage last April. The Church was built during the Spanish Colonial era, from 1830-1883. Yep, it took 53 years to finish it.

 

 

I'm not proud of the fact that we would rather grab the chance to have an interesting photo-op than meditate on our sins on Good Friday, but it was fun. har har.

This post is part of Guest Heart Thursday

Iniibig ko ang Pilipinas (Passionately in love with the Philippines :-))

Happy Independence Day!

Aling pag-ibig pa ang hihigit kaya

Sa pagkadalisay at pagkadakila

Gaya ng pag-ibig sa Tinubuang lupa?

Aling pag-ibig pa? Wala na nga, wala.

Pagpupuring lubos ang palaging hangad

Sa bayan ng taong may dangal na ingat,

Umawit, tumula, kumanta't sumulat,

Kalakhan din niya'y isinisiwalat.

Walang mahalagang hindi inihandog

Ng may pusong mahal sa Bayang nagkupkop,

Dugo, yaman, dunong, katiisa't pagod,

Buhay ma'y abuting magkalagut-lagot.

Bakit? Alin ito na sakdal ng laki,

Na hinahandugan ng buong pagkasi,

Na sa lalong mahal nakapangyayari,

At ginugulan ng buhay na iwi?

Excerpts from Andres Bonifacio's "Pagibig sa Tinubuang Lupa" - a lovely, fiery poem about the deep love a martyr has for his country. I hope we are all worth the lives that were lost fighting for this country's freedom

Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!

Lean

I freakin built two tables.

Well, sort of. I assembled it.
I deserve props for understanding the one-page instructions manual (with a couple MAJOR mistakes and some important stuff that they just FORGOT to say. >o<)

crayons and sausages and such

It was Friday night at six and the train station was full of people hurrying to wherever. Our train came. It was -- and I quote the bible -- filled to the brim. This is one of those moments I am thankful for the separate car for women. The two of us made our way into the sea of people and each found ourselves a square foot of air we could squeeze in (a square foot of air? oh well, you get what I mean). We were quiet until the train started moving and inertia and discomfort got the best of us.

Me: We are like clothes hung in a closet.

C: Specifically, we are inside Paris Hilton’s closet.

Me: In the words of Paris, 'that's hot.'

C. But wait, clothes in a closet only face one side. That’s not an accurate metaphor.

Me: OK, then we are crayons in some kid’s crayon case.

C: Oh right! I like that.

Me: If it were my crayon case you’ll be the blue.

C: Why blue?

Me: Because I like blue.

C: Aww, that’s sweet.


Me: No, I didn’t mean to be sweet. You’ll be blue because I probably would use blue a lot and thus it should be shorter that most of the crayons. *giggles*

C: Yeah right. Let’s get to the next metaphor.

*Arriving at Ortigas Station.*

C: We are like sausages in a can.


Me: No, that’s not a good description of this situation.

C: Why not?


Me: Obviously because sausages in cans come in uniform lengths.

C: Oh right…They also come in uniform diameters

We were trying so hard not to laugh for fear of having someone’s hair, elbow or ear come in contact with our open mouths.

Me: No straight guy will be unwilling to trade places with me right now, what with five different pairs of boobs pushing against my body

C: Oh God, you didn’t just say that out loud!

djmix

I sat next to a smoker at the jeepney this morning. The stale smell of his breath, his clothes, his sweat, mixed with the mint gum he’s chewing sent me to a distant place; some parallel world I once knew where there is no one else but me and one smoking jerk I once loved.  It felt poignant, really, to suddenly remember; to suddenly be enveloped by a familiar sensation of being with someone I’m so fond of in a place and time I have long forgotten. I wanted so much to go back; to be the rebel of a person that I was. Then again they’re all but memories and the only thing I could do was pray that the stranger sitting beside me will stay long enough for me to fully remember.

And so remember I did; the scent of his shirt, the soft touch of his hair, the rhythm of his breathing, -- how after every exhale, a faint breeze sends me the sweet-minty-smoky mix of icool and Marlboro. The memories were infectious, as if I could almost reach out to him, touch his ear and whisper something to make him look me in the eye, perhaps kiss me like he did long ago… long long ago, when our innocence kept us from looking past each other’s gaze. Long ago when we would spend entire days just laughing and having fun; all those money wasted away, texting or talking until dawn; all the plans and dreams we made together; all the promises of forever; all the petty fights that got people at school talking; all the tears I cried; all the stupid things we did for the sake of that thing called love…

Ah, the folly of high school, the unwariness of young love. You miss it sometimes, the craziness and the carefree feel of it all. Then again, you become content with being sane (or maybe not, but that’s another story), with pleasing parents and planning ahead, with being realistic and worrying about your future, with riding jeepneys and sitting next to smokers.

You grow up. And most of the times, you’re better off matured.