So I Wasted My Time Writing This.

When I was in fifth grade, my English teacher thought I wrote well for someone my age, taught me the basics of news writing, asked me to read the newspaper as often as I could, and made me compete in the division level press conference, where I won and moved on to the regionals.

This was the start of a six-year relationship with the inverted pyramid, the staccato lead, current events, deadlines, radio scriptwriting, and the newspaper. This was how I eventually decided to forgo creative writing, and instead take up a degree in mass communication. This is how everything between me and journalism started.

I really thought I was meant to be a journalist. That if fate were a logical answer as to why things happen, then I was fated to be a seen on television in some proxy war in the East, or have my name appear in a national publication for everyone to read, or be heard debating on the radio as to why denim overalls is the new trend. My experience as a young journalist in elementary and high school was what pushed me to pursue journalism in college, thinking that what I had been through would be enough to prepare me for what lay ahead. To put it simply, I thought everything would be a piece of chocolate cake.

Oh boy. Was I so wrong.

Turns out that technical writing and note-taking were only fun if done occasionally, and not as part of your daily education. Add to that screaming deadlines, and I found myself in a not-so-happy fix. A year in college, and already I was about to give up. I was ready to chuck my dreams of becoming the next Ces Drilon (or Conrado de Quiros, for that matter) out the window and settle with being a Mark Twain wannabe instead.

I guess it was a stroke of luck that I got a scholarship that prevented me from shifting out, or I’d have left journalism the first chance I got. It was during the first semester of my second year that I got a wake up call - in the form of my Journalism 101 class.

The class was an avenue for students like me to actually experience and get a first-hand look on what it really is to be in journalism, and what it takes to become one. I was able to visit a real newsroom, be told confidential information, and got to meet and talk to real journalists.

One thing I learned in the class that I value most is that of passion. Everyone knows how much passion it takes for a journalist to see through a story until the end; one must stand by a story until it sees light, despite any hazards or obstacles one goes through. But not all journalists have that passion, and it was in this class that I met some of them. What they do, and the passion they have for it, has made an impact on me.

An introductory class in journalism would have sent me flying off the handle with how I was at that time. But instead, the class shed some new light on journalism, and made me stay, maybe for good this time around. I am thankful for that one semester that inspired me to not give up when I’ve lost all hope, but rather tread on and persevere.

Maybe there is such a thing as fate, maybe not. Either way, this semester has motivated me to be someone I want.

Fate or no fate, I will be a journalist someday.