About a year ago, I went to The Spectrum Office and asked for a copy of the application form since I wanted to write for the Publication. I came by and knocked at the office's door, a rugged looking guy welcomed me and gave me what I came for. His aura was something I wanted to have as my own. Despite his rugged, rebellious appearance, he exuded authority and liberalism.
I got a glimpse of the office's interior, it wasn't the kind of office where everything was neat and organized. It was cold in there but it wasn't gloomy. If one should take a look at how it is inside, that person would most probably say that the office is a home of extremely busy people. I told myself, "I want to be in here,".
Weeks after, I took the test. It was.... dreadful.
I always thought that I could write, my teachers in High School also told me that I had a knack at it but while I was taking the test, I came into a conclusion that they were totally wrong to feed me with so much encouragement. Everything I knew in writing seemed to have drifted away, even my vocabulary ran out of words for me to use.
What I only seemed to have had in mind at that time was absolute nothing.
When I went out of the room where the applicants took the test, I didn't think that I'd pass but, I did. I was called for an interview and though I was sure that the editors were never impressed with the way I answered the questions they've thrown at me, I ended up getting hired.
I know I did apply as a feature writer and though they didn't hire me for the position I applied for, I was more than happy to have seen my name under the list of the Newspaper Writers hired by The Spectrum's Editorial Board that Monday following my interview.
The first task given to me was to write three news articles and one environmental story and submit them in a span of three days. I didn't have any background in writing a news story and so the editors had to scrub me a couple of times until I finally nailed them (if I even did nail them :] ).
I remember having to get out of the office several times just to sob and wipe the tears away because I felt so pressured and it seemed for a lot of times that I was about to lose my heartbeat at the thought of getting terminated.
My life went that way for several months, but the idea of quitting never crossed my mind.
I let my editors teach me, I listened to what they had to say, believed in them, dreamed and prayed that one day, I'd be better.
I was so contented at being a newspaper writer, I must say...
I fell in love with news writing.
When the biggest wave came to the existence of the Publication and swept our resources out in the middle of the Academic Year, one by one, the people I considered as the standing pillars of the organization tailed off. I cried myself into sleep every night wondering who would quit the next day. My dream of becoming better at writing lost its shimmer gradually. It may sound selfish but the first thing I worried about was, "Who would teach me?"
I went to the office almost every time I don't have class hoping that I'd hear some good news but there was just none.
For months, I went in and out of the office feeling helpless and a lot of times... Hopeless.
I was just grateful for those who did not leave until the end, for those who continued helping the Publication even after they were gone.
My fear of being terminated alleviated somehow. The fear was replaced with the urge to continue the struggle initiated by the editors I have always looked up to. I made it my task to become a better writer not only for myself but for the people I have considered as my brothers and sisters in the ministry that I have committed myself into, the Ministry of Journalism.
Gone were those days when I feared to hear of another editor leaving his/her post, gone were those nights when I felt bad towards those who left.
I forced myself to cease feeling helpless and to quit comparing myself to a plant who lost the gardener who should nurture it.
Maybe there is a reason why they had to go, and it's not like it was their wish to go anyway. There's such thing in life which we call CIRCUMSTANCE that leads all of us to various points in life.
Perhaps, the reason why the gardeners had to leave is for us to see how firmly we are rooted to the ground where they had planted us.
Soon, we'll grow just as sturdy as how the Publication has been for the past 53 years.
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For everything, I thank everyone...
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