Bricks. N. Leaves. Anawangin, Baby!

Roughing it.

It’s a trend that’s catching fire. Nope, not roughing it, per se, but the wording, although roughing it is no slouch either, and what you’d find is that as more and more people rough it, you see an inordinate amount of leaf pictures, shots of bricks, etc. missile-locking their way into your consciousness.

And the social networks – what did we ever do before social networks – have a nice little feature that emails people and tells them, “hey, your social network male-buddy-sorority-sister-daughter-friend has posted nice little pictures of bricks ‘n leaves, (BNLs) wanna have a look-see?”

Of course, male-buddy-sorority-sister-daughter-friend knows that if he/she/it showed you BNLs in person, literally walked up to you and showed you the latest in cement-drying technology, you’d show him/her/it what it would feel like to have an artery removed.

But he/she/it is not showing you the items in person, and the BNLs are not the point. The point is that what’s taking photos of these BNLs are powerful devices, DSLRs, devices known to capture details as little as miniscule blood clots causing cerebral aneurisms that block logic functions, including those that tell people enough with the leaves already.

But, anyway, roughing it. Catching fire. Not the travel style. The wording. The staccato. On every. Freaking. Thing.

News articles. Blog entries. Micro-blogs. Micro-blog news articles. News blog entries. Random coughs.

The thing is, there used to be dignity in staccatos. And DSLRs. And bricks for that matter, but that was before people collectively figured they should point their cameras at them saying “look at me, looking at this.”

So for all of you posting more leaves and more bricks, let’s take a moment, and celebrate all your leaves, and all your bricks, and how the synergy of the forms encapsulate not just the considerable beauty of those items, but the perspective of the brilliant artist behind the lens that makes rendering that beauty possible. And let’s further rejoice at the defamiliarization that occurs with the otherwise ordinary object, now immortalized by your perspective, like it has undergone object apotheosis. Really, let’s celebrate it here. And then stop.

Because we’re happy that you captured the beauty of your 4,387th leaf, but like it’s been said by other bloggers, it just forces us to think about what you’re compensating for, and how small your penis must be. And we’d prefer not to think about your penis. Really, we’d rather not.

Anyway, with that out of the way, we went to Anawangin last week for beach-drinking, leaf-photographing action. Anawangin looks like one of those places you’d see in monster flicks – it’s an island with a forest right next to the beach, and at night it gets pretty dark, close to pitch black. There’s no electricity, and you can either sleep in the open or inside a tent. Think LOST, minus the polar bears and time travel.

Now, if you’re looking to go there, here’s the least you need to know:

They have a lighthouse, and most tours recommend it. Not. Worth. It. You can get the same experience as going there by running up and down your favourite stairs five hundred times, and then shooting some photos of bricks at Intramuros.

They have a separate beach, Camara, recommended if you want to swim. Not. Worth. It. The beach is rocky, and the view isn’t exceptional. You can get the same scrapes you’d get there by falling off a ditch. You can get the rock photos from Manila Bay.

They have a nice little camp where you can set up tents by the beach. Best. Drinking spot. Ever. Camp is like the environment equivalent of Quinito Henson – a string of really bad clichés. Think breeze blowing away the cares of the world, with the stars lining up to make the experience right, with the sand caressing your feet and blah, blah, blah. To get the same experience, at a minimum, I’m pretty sure you’d have to do several Vicodins.

Photos here.