I cannot be considered a good photographer in any rational sense of the word. After much practice, I've learned to keep my thumb out of the family snapshots, but beyond that I am lost.

Some of my best photos were taken using a Kodak disc camera while at sea; small boats on large expanses of ocean. These photos featured a distinct lack of detail, no control over lighting, only my camera rising and falling with the waves. They have sentimental value, but they are rather crappy photos.

For years, the camera enthusiasts in my family offered advice. Initially they would take my feeble efforts as the products of inexperience. I could take photography classes or just keep shooting until "I got it." The classes never made a difference and my pictures never improved much. When it became obvious that this was the case, they suggested that I get a point-and-shoot camera.

Now, I like the idea of point-and-shoot. Taking the guesswork out of the process can produce good photos, especially if the photographer is not particularly skilled. The problem was that my photos now looked uniformly bad. As a result, both the pro cameras and the automated point-and-shoot cameras sat in my drawer. What good is having the smartest, most professional gear if it sits on your shelf?

I knew I took bad photos, and that knowledge may have made the difference. I sent my spent film canisters to be developed out of a sense of duty. Perhaps this roll of film would be different. I had an image of the guys working at the photo lab holding my photos up and saying, "Look at this joker, I wonder what else he got for Christmas."

When digital photography became affordable, my interest remerged. I knew how to work with digital images; maybe this new technology would give me enough control over the process. It was less costly, since there was no film development (which also spared me my paranoid fantasies). Early digital cameras were too pricey for me, so I decided to wait. The quality and features got much better as the prices plummeted. Yet I could never quite justify buying a serious digital camera.

Eventually, I bought a small camera for my Sony Ericsson T68i. The Communicam MCA 20 was a walnut-sized hunk of plastic containing a CCD camera. Taking pictures is at once marvelous and irritating. The camera plugs into the bottom of the phone. Using it requires a sort of periscope maneuver, turning the phone upside down and clicking the picture using the phone's keyboard. Anything beyond that requires returning the phone to its proper orientation. The on-screen controls are limited but functional.