sunken garden children

two children
in Sunken Garden
playing
by themselves
oblivious
to the girl with
the camera
exploiting
the scene

(photo taken at 5:21 pm yesterday. colors slightly manipulated in adobophotoshop)

Art Studies 141 Photo Exhibit

Samu’t-Saring Silip!
A Photo exhibit by Art Studies 141 (Photography as Art), Section TFW 1st Sem., A.Y. ‘06-’07
January 23-26, 2007
Galeria 1, Bulwagang Rizal, CAL, UP Diliman

Please drop by at the exhibit! Out of the three pictures I posted there, I have one which I’m very very proud of (it’s a portrait of my grandfather). ^_^

On a side note, I volunteered to make the poster and other handouts despite my crazy to-do list already. I ate something toxic that kept me bedridden at HOME for THREE days (and I’m sure as you’d college students know how deadly it is to lag behind three days for school..^^;). But I welcome any excuse to draw or design because it’s good art exercise for me.

As for being sick, I’m all bibo-kid and healthy again ^^. Please please come to the exhibit! We’re not great photographers but we’re students who genuinely had fun taking these photos.

The Lucky Granddaughter

I think it’s practically impossible to become sad over a person who looks like this all the time, when he finally leaves our family for heaven:

He’s my grandfather, Plaridel Cabales Roselo. He was supposed to turn 82 this January 22. After a stroke and being bed-ridden in comatose the entire December last year, God welcomed him to a new world this Janury 8.

That was photo I took from my grandparent’s wedding anniversary last October 2006.

My lolo was the person who introduced me to Divisoria, and Quiapo. In summers when I was in primary school, I always stayed over at their house. He brought me to my first trip to Divisoria–I was so scared because of the “chaos” of that place, but I always remembered that because I was with my lolo I was safe. In Divisoria, he would buy candies, tex cards, marbles, pog, and other stocks for their old sari-sari store, and if he had money left he would spend it all just to get me anything I wanted. ANYTHING.

I remembered once when we were on the way home, this eight-year-old me saw this electronic Tomy LCD Looney Tunes game. I thought it cost around P300 and I asked Lolo to please please buy it from me. “Di na po ako magpapabili ng kahit ano next time!”. He opened his very-used black leather wallet and I saw one P50 and P500 bills.

Ok, he said, we still have enough money. We entered that store, and when we were about to pay for the toy, the saleslady said it was actually P500.

I was horrified and very worried because we already opened the plastic seal to test its batteries. “Akala ko po P300 lang??” I asked.

I was trembling and almost crying when my grandfather nonchalantly paid for the toy I
already held in my hands. I thought then that I used up all of his money because it was the money I saw left in his wallet. I also thought that we might not be able to return home if he paid for it. But he paid for the toy anyway.

We were able to return home with the remaining P50, and I was quiet and guilt-ridden for the entire 45-minute jeepney ride.

Lolo did not look angry or anything. I was still ashamed of what I did. I kept on telling him, “I’ll pay, Lolo, I’ll pay for this with all my savings at home!” By “savings”, I meant coins from a half-full piggy bank the size of Campbell’s soup.

He always shook his head every time. “Sus, hinde na. Regalo ko na sa yo yan.” And that’s the end of it. No lectures, no fuss, no retelling the incident.

At home, he still gave me the freedom to choose and get all the tex cards and pogs and marbles and candies that I wanted from their store.

One day, I told him, “Lolo, hindi na po baka malugi naman kayo nyan.”

He always replied, “Hinde, ok lang yan! Ok lang yan!”

I always admired my Lolo for being simple, cool-headed, and cheery. In fact I do take after his outlook in life. Before that stroke in December, I enjoyed visiting them because that meant that I could bask in his grandfatherly-naiveté again.

I have more stories to tell about how lucky I am to be his granddaughter. So really, how can you mourn for him when all your memories are filled with these?