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Get a Picture! (1 Viewer)

hamster892

Senior Member
This is my first attempt at a non-fiction persuasive piece.



I ducked out of the pouring rain into Shibuya-AX, a relatively small concert venue in Tokyo, eager to see Thirty Seconds to Mars live in such an intimate space. I was there with three or four of my close friends, and it was certainly a night I wanted to remember. In the minutes before the concert began, we had our smartphones out, taking pictures of anything and everything. As a high schooler, a member of a generation of many photos, I was familiar with the routine as a friend and I squished our faces together, held a camera at an arm’s length, focused on our unflattering mugs, made sure the locale was obvious in the background, and blurred the photo in the act of tapping the “take photo” button. Everyone else in the venue was engaged in a similar act. Everywhere I looked, people were immortalizing their evening with a selfie or a video.

The lights dropped and a cheer erupted. I dropped my phone into my pocket and fought for a spot as close to the stage as possible. Japanese people are typically short, so I was excited about my wonderful view of the stage. At least for a while. The moment the first band member appeared onstage, a dozen smartphones shot up like submarine periscopes directly in my field of vision. The most irritating of which was directly in front of me, a massive Samsung Galaxy Note with a screen larger than your average pancake. Luckily, the Galaxy Note sports a 1280 by 800 pixel High-Definition display, so I wasn’t wrong; I could see the band perfectly.

I was enraged that my view was blocked, to be sure, but was the music enthusiast in front of me really in the wrong? After all, taking a video of a concert is simply an extension of what I was doing a mere minute before: capturing a moment for the sake of looking back at it later.

Just today I had a similar, though much quieter experience. I was walking home through the park after a long day of schooling and walked by a low-hanging sakura branch in full bloom. The blossoms were exquisite. I stopped to examine and appreciate nature’s beauty. Dozens of other people were in the park for hanami, or cherry blossom viewing, with their expensive professional cameras. I considered taking a picture of the blossoms in front of me as well, but I stopped myself reaching for my phone. I had to ask myself, would I ever actually look at the photos? Even if I did, would my low-definition photo capture the majesty of an actual blossom? With the fancy cameras of the other park-goers, maybe. Maybe. But certainly not with the purveyor of selfies and ‘Dude, get a video of this’ moments in my pocket.

There is a time for taking photos, and there is a time for putting your phone away and being completely in the moment. Too many times have I seen a child performing some school play or taking part in some ceremony and looking to their parents for a smile of approval or pride, only to see their mother’s face has been replaced with the cold, metallic backside of an iPad. But they can always watch it again later. Brought to you by Apple.

I don’t take enough photos. I often let an entire day of wonderful experiences go by without setting aside six seconds to take a photo to memorialize the occasion. This is one of many things that make taking photos and videos valuable. But don’t let it detract from the moment itself. The video will never be as good. Take a picture of your child in the play, then put your iPad away and be there for them. Drink in the sight every cherry blossom you gaze on. The professional photographer on Google Images took better photos than you ever will, anyway. Take a selfie with the band in the background, then slip your phone in your pocket and enjoy the show. You also won’t lose your phone in the mosh pit.

Life goes by fast. In our efforts to hang on to as much of it as we can, we sometimes lose out in the end by concerning ourself too much with the memory instead of the moment. One photo is plenty enough to conjure fond nostalgia years down the road. So take that picture. I’ll probably get in there with you. But after we’re done looking at it and laughing at your red eyes, let’s put the phone away. We are here and now. Look at the world with your own eyes.
 

escorial

WF Veterans
liked the juxtaposition of two realities colliding in your head and very well expressed..enjoyed.
 

Pandora

Honoured/Sadly Missed
Amen to this hamster892! I don't rely on my phone for anything but a call or text or two. My eyes are heavy with drink :friendly_wink: and that is the best memory
to keep, those moments, the icing is the appreciation that comes with pleasing the eye not a camera.

I will have to say that at many a Pearl jam concert I was very glad the people in front of me had their phones out though, it was the only way to see the band.


I like your persuasive piece, great points made in a compromising way, good job!
 

dither

Member
WF Veterans
This is my first attempt at a non-fiction persuasive piece.



I ducked out of the pouring rain into Shibuya-AX, a relatively small concert venue in Tokyo, eager to see Thirty Seconds to Mars live in such an intimate space. I was there with three or four of my close friends, and it was certainly a night I wanted to remember. In the minutes before the concert began, we had our smartphones out, taking pictures of anything and everything. As a high schooler, a member of a generation of many photos, I was familiar with the routine as a friend and I squished our faces together, held a camera at an arm’s length, focused on our unflattering mugs, made sure the locale was obvious in the background, and blurred the photo in the act of tapping the “take photo” button. Everyone else in the venue was engaged in a similar act. Everywhere I looked, people were immortalizing their evening with a selfie or a video.

The lights dropped and a cheer erupted. I dropped my phone into my pocket and fought for a spot as close to the stage as possible. Japanese people are typically short, so I was excited about my wonderful view of the stage. At least for a while. The moment the first band member appeared onstage, a dozen smartphones shot up like submarine periscopes directly in my field of vision. The most irritating of which was directly in front of me, a massive Samsung Galaxy Note with a screen larger than your average pancake. Luckily, the Galaxy Note sports a 1280 by 800 pixel High-Definition display, so I wasn’t wrong; I could see the band perfectly.

I was enraged that my view was blocked, to be sure, but was the music enthusiast in front of me really in the wrong? After all, taking a video of a concert is simply an extension of what I was doing a mere minute before: capturing a moment for the sake of looking back at it later.

Just today I had a similar, though much quieter experience. I was walking home through the park after a long day of schooling and walked by a low-hanging sakura branch in full bloom. The blossoms were exquisite. I stopped to examine and appreciate nature’s beauty. Dozens of other people were in the park for hanami, or cherry blossom viewing, with their expensive professional cameras. I considered taking a picture of the blossoms in front of me as well, but I stopped myself reaching for my phone. I had to ask myself, would I ever actually look at the photos? Even if I did, would my low-definition photo capture the majesty of an actual blossom? With the fancy cameras of the other park-goers, maybe. Maybe. But certainly not with the purveyor of selfies and ‘Dude, get a video of this’ moments in my pocket.

There is a time for taking photos, and there is a time for putting your phone away and being completely in the moment. Too many times have I seen a child performing some school play or taking part in some ceremony and looking to their parents for a smile of approval or pride, only to see their mother’s face has been replaced with the cold, metallic backside of an iPad. But they can always watch it again later. Brought to you by Apple.

I don’t take enough photos. I often let an entire day of wonderful experiences go by without setting aside six seconds to take a photo to memorialize the occasion. This is one of many things that make taking photos and videos valuable. But don’t let it detract from the moment itself. The video will never be as good. Take a picture of your child in the play, then put your iPad away and be there for them. Drink in the sight every cherry blossom you gaze on. The professional photographer on Google Images took better photos than you ever will, anyway. Take a selfie with the band in the background, then slip your phone in your pocket and enjoy the show. You also won’t lose your phone in the mosh pit.

Life goes by fast. In our efforts to hang on to as much of it as we can, we sometimes lose out in the end by concerning ourself too much with the memory instead of the moment. One photo is plenty enough to conjure fond nostalgia years down the road. So take that picture. I’ll probably get in there with you. But after we’re done looking at it and laughing at your red eyes, let’s put the phone away. We are here and now. Look at the world with your own eyes.

Absolutely Hamster,
it's here and now.
Live it, breath it, and remember.
 
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