BLP Day 1: When Tadhana Began

(edited: 04/26/15 07:12 PM - because I remembered a few stuff I left out)

Disclaimer: I don't think I wrote everything down. Unfortunately.

I remember pacing back and forth, debating whether I should open my hotel door or not. I was hearing voices outside, introducing themselves after getting their snacks from room 910 (the room beside mine) and I suddenly felt the pressure to socialize. You see, I already got my snacks and going out was entirely up to me. And since I wasn’t really feeling up to it at the time, the sight of my bed and the thought of being alone was really tempting.

Then, I got a buzz from Karla. She was inviting me to her room where the others were staying. With that came another dilemma. I suddenly forgot how to deal with people and I felt like I might mess it up. (The struggle is real.)

From the morning I woke up to my arrival at the hotel, I had been feeling the tension building up.

Before I got to the hotel, I was at school first. I met up with my friends as they enrolled for summer classes, and then, I fixed all the last minute to-do’s for school and for the publication before rushing to my mom and sister who had to doll me up in less than ten minutes before the school van picked me up. Because I barely had enough time to get my things in order, I got to the van later than scheduled.

Basically, I was rushing around and I was running out of time all the time.

During the ride to ACCM, my mind wandered. I thought about the ninjas, the academic workload that would have to make up for when I return, him, LMagazine and the fear of not knowing enough business stuff. I slept to shush my thoughts but once I reached Makati, my nerves wouldn’t let me rest.

We got to AIM after driving through McDo for lunch. Apparently, ACCM was on the other side of the road so we had to go around once again. I was actually thankful for being lost because it ate the time I was supposed to use to talk to people. But after another round of going around, we got to the hotel and I checked in about 30 minutes early.

Ms. Jen helped me settle in but after a few minutes of small talk, she left to go back to school. After seeing her off, I went back to my room, where I cherished my time alone. I bumped into Mo on the way though, and being able to hold a conversation with him to me was an achievement already.

Anyway, I was enjoying my time alone, lying on the bed, watching videos until I sensed people already arriving. People arriving meant having to introduce myself to them. Introducing myself to them meant no more me time. (I know I am beginning to sound really anti-social by now but yeah…)

That leads me back to the dilemma of going to Karla’s room. I knew I couldn’t just barge in on my own. I resorted to PM-ing Rhoni, a friend I knew from the final interview, to ask her if she got her snacks and if she would be heading to 913 (Karla’s room) to bond. I was instantly drawn to PM her since she and I were friends on FB even before BLP week and we've chatted for quite a while. She told me she would be going up in a while so I waited for her.

The noise outside my room grew louder. More people were getting their snacks. For a while, I debated on whether or not I should meet Rhoni in my room or in 910. I was literally pacing back and forth, in front of my door, touching the door knob from time to time but not opening it. It was so funny that I even vblogged about the moment, whispering to the camera about what was happening to me, whispering since I didn’t want the people outside to hear me talking.

Eventually, I decided to open the door and thank heavens, Rhoni was outside. I joined her to 910. There, we saw Ms. Chet and a guy sitting on the bed, talking in the phone. I don't know about Rhoni but I swear, I thought the guy was an organizer. Turns out, he was actually a fellow delegate! And that my friends, is how I met Marc. 

Anyway, having a handful of snacks on her hands, I offered to help Rhoni bring her food down to her room. (I think we had an almost awkward miscommunication moment here. Or that might just be on my part. Hahaha.)

In the end, I waited for her in my room again as she kept the snacks before heading to 913 with the rest of the delegates.

When we got to 913, I was temporarily overwhelmed by the number of people I had to meet. I recognized a few familiar faces, Jude, Monica, Mo and Jade since I met them already during the final interview. I’m not sure if LJ was already there.

Hmm. Actually, I’m not totally sure of who was present since all that’s registering to me at the time was that I had to be friendly and there were so many people. Hahaha!

Anyway, I stuck around to the side, by the table. By then, I was beside Jade who initiated small talk. We talked about a common friend from DLSL and that helped me release the tension. Maybe I wasn’t so bad at talking.

(A/N: Just one quick clarification. I’m not really extremely shy. I just panic sometimes. Usually, after getting over my fears, I actually to quite well with people, as proven later in my BLP experience.)

After hanging around for a few minutes, the group decided to watch a movie. The movie that was picked was “That Thing Called Tadhana.” I already watched the film but I didn’t mind watching again since it was a cute-sy movie anyway.

All-throughout the film, I was standing… for the following reasons: 1) Initially, I just really wanted to stand, 2) When I got to the point that I wanted to sit down, I didn’t want to force myself into a spot, 3) It would be a hassle to squeeze myself in, 4) The spots available were near guys and being in a female-dominated course for more than three years where guys are rare species, I wasn’t comfortable with being too close to guys, and 5) It boiled down to being on the matter of pride that since I started standing, I should finish standing too.

Standing wasn’t really that big of a deal though since it allowed me to observe the group well, to see how they reacted to the film, which was nice since that was one way of getting to know them.

At the time, these were my impressions of people: 1) Since Karla and Sarah were on the bed, sitting comfortably, I deduced that they owned the room and that kind of made me think that they have really strong personalities and are confident enough to open doors to people that are practically strangers until of course, BLP began; 2) Mo is really friendly since he keeps talking to people and even if I don’t remember his course at the time, he seemed really techy since he and Justin were the ones setting up the “movie theater”; 3) When Marc arrived, if I’m not mistaken, he sat on Karla’s bed, beside Karla, and that made me think that he might be a touchy feely person; 4) When I first met Jade during the interview, he was really silent so it was actually refreshing to hear him say side comments while watching the movie; 5) Jude and Monica sat beside each other so they looked like chummies and 6) When more people came, I really didn’t dwell on my thoughts that much anymore.

Anyway, standing also allowed me to be the one to open the door for those who came after us, and having something consistent to do actually made me feel like I already belonged in the group.

When the movie was nearing the end, I started feeling for my key card. I placed my hands in my pocket and I realized that I lost it. Thinking I was sure that I brought it, I looked down on the floor to see if I dropped it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it so I just tried to keep it cool in my head, pretending that I wasn’t going to begin searching again once the lights go back on.

The movie ended and the make-shift theater we made reverted back into a hotel room.

There were still people who came after the movie. They were the delegates from Mindanao.

I was secretly searching for my key card when I overheard one of them asking about a roommate from 909. With that, I joined the conversation and asked if one of them was Eileen Velasco (that was the name of my roommate that I read off the list when I checked in). One girl from the group said yes and told me about how she forgot her key card inside the room. Thinking that that’s what might have happened to me too, I told her how I think I did the same thing.

We decided to go back to the receptionist at the lobby to get another key card. Then, we went back to 909 where, ta-dah, I found my key card on the floor.

After settling the forgotten key cards, my roomie and I talked. She told me how she prefers to be called Florence and how she came from Cagayan and I sort of introduced myself too. Then we hit it off, talking about our shyness, our struggle as introverts, our love for books, how we value quality art, our schools, our courses, our hopes for the future and a whole ton of stuff. For hours, I think we were just talking. But there were also moments of silence. Perhaps they were resting periods or something. But to me, the silence was okay and I didn’t really feel the need to fill it up. We just talked and kept quiet when we wanted to and the friendship didn’t feel forced.

It actually blew my mind how it was so easy to click with her. We were similar in a lot of ways and I was really happy to be roomed with her. In my head, I wondered if AmCham had a psychologist or something check the compatibility of the delegates before they roomed them together. I swear, it boggled my mind that I would find a person like her existing.

Anyway, after a while, we decided to go down since we heard noises outside the door. It wasn’t 7 PM yet, the supposed call time for dinner, but Flo had a gut-feel that people were already going to the lobby. Turns out she was right. We just didn’t get the message or something.

Down at the lobby, it was the first time that all 31 of us gathered together. For a moment, I was temporarily star struck. I mean, with me are 30 amazing people and I would be meeting them all, officially that night.

We walked to AmCham and that was the first night I walked down the streets of Makati. In my head, I relished the sights as if it would be the only time I’d pass by them. I didn’t even bother memorizing the path we went by (not knowing that I would be going there over and over again for the week.)

We got to the AmCham office and we sat around the tables joined together. I sat beside Rhoni and Flo originally but we accommodated those who came in late to sit beside us.

Before dinner, people from AmCham oriented us and gave us guidelines. We met Sir David and Ms. Leslie. They gave us an overview on BLP and what they expect from us. We also had the chance to introduce ourselves. Then, we were given copies of the Malaya newspaper and our BLP bags with freebies and shirts. Afterwards, we had dinner and then we went back to the hotel. I remember being warned to sleep early for the days ahead and I think I didn’t follow that and regretted it the morning after. Hahaha.

(Actually, now that I think about it, I remember watching the movie "Perfume" in 913. It was a gore-y kind of film, the kind I would not pick deliberately. But since I wanted to bond with the others, even if I didn't really like small talks and all that, I sat through the film. To prevent me from getting too shocked, I already googled the plot and the book that it was adapted from. Of course, the book was waaaay better and a ton more gross. Anywaaaay, we finished the movie by 1 AM. I think. And that time, I already sat on the floor. And that time, more people were there and most of us was on the floor and I tried not to mind that I was around guys.)

I think I didn’t really try to take in much of the night partially because I was overwhelmed that I was actually in BLP. That night was the night that it began to feel real and I didn’t even understand what I was doing there. I was the only communication student. I didn’t think business. And I didn’t exactly know how to fit in.

All those worries swam in my head. I didn’t know how to survive for ten days dealing with all of those thoughts. But maybe it was destiny that brought me there. After all, the me-getting-to-BLP process was a miracle in itself. (That’s another story).

I held on tightly to the idea that God must’ve wanted me in BLP. I just didn’t understand why yet.

Batch Tadhana BLP: Goodbyes have to start somewhere.

I can't believe I'm even attempting to write this. Right now. After just three days.

How do you tell people that they've changed you? How do you thank them with all you are until your gratefulness resonates in their head, so much that their ears are ringing? How do you make them believe that you will never forget them? How do you send your love from miles away just so they would remember that at one point in your lives you all felt strongly attached to each other?

I have given myself some time to let everything sink in. It's over.

I would no longer wake up, knocking on their doors, calling their phones to ask them to hurry to SGV or to the lobby. I would no longer wander through the corridors of ACCM at three in the morning, business plan in mind. I would no longer be sitting in the bus, singing "Weak" beside Rhoni as we gushed about things I am not allowed to write about here.

It has been an amazing ten days of my life and it still is hard to let everything be in the past, especially since that people I've been with are amazing and I feel like accepting that everything is over also means, in some way, saying goodbye to them. I don't want to say goodbye to them. (Clingy, I know.)

For the past few days, I admit that a cloud has settled over me. It's as if I don't want to accept the reality that I am back in Lipa, doing school works. Instead, I have been daydreaming of working, going all over the Philippines, meeting them whenever I wanted to because I could. And with that, I felt how taxing the distance was, because when I got a glimpse of all the 30 diverse personalities in BLP, I wanted to get to know each one more than time permitted.

Now, the cloud is slowly dissolving. I am beginning to fall back into the routine I was used to before the program. I have to be present in my present or else I would lose the grip on things I have worked hard for. I know that.

But, my fondness for batch Tadhana will never go away. They have been with me as I blossomed and they have taught me things they never know they did.

Like I said during the last night we were all together, I never expected to be attached to them. I have had my fair share of conferences and events and each time, I would walk away as if nothing really happened. I would have memories and lessons to keep, yes, but then, I could easily move on and revert back to the Pollen that had never ending to-do lists for school. With them, that doesn't even seem possible.

These people, from different corners of the Philippines, were there when I started believing in myself.

They didn't know it but I was actually never accepted leadership easily. I have always felt like I needed to lead so rarely did I feel like serving came from my own will. I wasn't confident that I could lead, that I could make a difference because I know that I never really did anything of great caliber. I always just did what I could.

Batch Tadhana challenged me. And being in that kind of environment, speaking up became an achievement in itself. With that, I realized that perhaps even in unlikely situations, I have a purpose. Perhaps I could be worthy to serve.

Also, since we came from different parts of the country, they gave me a bigger perspective on what it means to be a Filipino. The places I've been reading about in books are homes of some. The cultures I used to just study are manifested in real life. They opened my eyes to different realities and just by interacting with them, I am able to fill my heart with stories I could tell in the future.

They also made me realize that it was so easy to make friends. I mean, I could go with anyone and be able to strike a conversation with them. I could ask them questions. They could tell jokes or play mind games. We could go from talking about societal issues to poetry to crushes to our deepest personal insecurities. It was the string of conversations and sometimes, even the comfortable silence that follows it that made me realize that I would be really happy to be friends with them for the longest time. And I would be so honored if I would be in a class with them because the exchange of ideas we'd have would be mind blowing.

They taught me that in ten days, the people I dreaded to socialize with would be the same people I would make a Skype account for. Heart.

I'm just really thankful to have met them. They have become an inspiration to me and to several other people they have touched.

I am yet to recount our ten days. I still have to prepare myself to write them in the past tense. For now, I keep them a secret in my heart.

Batch Tadhana | BLP 2015 | Andrew photography

To Flo, my ever awesome roommate, you have been my only roommate ever and you have raised the bar so high up. I don't think anyone will ever measure up to you. Thank you for the comedic moments especially the almost non-stop conversation we had immediately after we met. Also, I really appreciated that you and I both appreciated being silent. It's like we get how we don't always have to talk. And I feel like in the ten days we were together, our routines are actually in sync and that amazes me. I'm just really happy to have met you. And P.S. we have to meet again because of your necklace.

To Rhoni, nope. Still not giving you a message here. (I still can't say iiiiiiiit. Might get all emotional.)

To Team Kubolusyon, you guys are amazing. You are really talented individuals and it has been so easy to be working with you. And even outside work, it was fun to just bond with you guys and ask you all those cute-sy questions and tell you all those hugot lines. And you have been the people I am closest to in BLP. And I'm really thankful that you are all a part of my life. And I love you all.

To everyone that keeps sending a GM, please don't stop. Getting texts from you guys makes me smile during random times of the day. It warms my heart. I'm so glad I'm not the only one overwhelmed by this separation anxiety.

To all the Batch Tadhana people reading this, thank you for being a part of my life. I don't even think this post is enough to show you that.
Some of you have been waiting for the things I will write from day to day and if you would allow me to write at my own time, I promise that I will try to give justice to how you have made an impact to me. I love you all! Bakit pa kasi tayo naghiwalay?

My Sister and Her Not Exactly Twerking Habit

Dedicated to the one and only Kiwi that I can tolerate in my life...

Despite knowing my sister for fifteen years, I never fully understood why she wiggles her butt before sleeping. She would always lie face flat on the bed and shake her behind left to right and I would always tell her to stop because it's disturbing. She'd always reason out that that simple movement calmed her and would continue. Of course, I'd always concede to her point without further questioning (either because I didn't want to start a fight or because I'm too lazy to do any major reprimanding.) We're already very close and a little butt-wiggling couldn't and wouldn't change that.

My current relationship with my sister, Patricia was totally different from when we were kids. Unlike now that I was actually bother by her little quirks, I used to be never bothered by her existence at all. Then, she was just a figure in the house that I knew so little about.

Back in the day, she just struck me as a really energetic child that could never be tied to one place. She often stayed in the streets or at our neighbor's house to play with anyone or anything she could find.

Particia = energy + outside. End of story.

But as we grew up, I learned to understand the different facets of her energy. We became friends instead of just 'filially'-affiliated people and that allowed me to take a deeper look.

I saw that she spent most of her time making other people laugh. My sister would crack nonsense jokes and showcase weird facial expressions during any time of the day.She can be a book of sassy retorts in herself. For her, being funny isn't just something she does during her spare time. Being funny is being her person.

Also, she dedicates her qui to expressing emotions. Patricia wouldn't let her feelings stay contained. She doesn't realize it but she values exposing her vulnerability because, in a way, that allows her to share her true identity. She usually does that by writing, hugging or going to a corner to bawl her eyes out. For really intense situations, she would go from dancing to reciting a dramatic monologue.

Finally, as our relationship deepened, I saw a side of my sister that most people overlooked. Sure, she's very bubbly but that's all they could deduce from her aura. They don't realize that the warmth they feel around her is anchored in something greater.

My sister is very passionate. And I don't mean passionate as in OMG-I-love-One-Direction kind of passionate (though she is a fan of that band). She's passionate because she sincerely takes an extra mile to help other people.

There were several instances that she had to shoulder my responsibilities (embarrassing as it is to admit) and whenever I would tell her that I'd pay her back, she would decline. She'd tell me that she loves me and that she believes that loving someone isn't a business transaction. You don't have to pay for anything because in the first place, what you do and what they do for you isn't accounted for. I would still try to return the favor though because she taught me how to love selflessly.

It took me a while to decipher my sister's "hyper activeness" and it might take a while for me to understand her weird butt-shaking habit. Still, I won't get tired of trying. For now, I'll leave it as the last facet of her energy: the excess that she has to release before slipping away to a part of her that only she could know.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this as an assignment for one of my summer classes. We were tasked to write a feature article. Originally, I was going to go with PJ series but I didn't have any sleep before this and I needed a quick write. My sister was beside me so... yeah.

Fictional news story: "Frost: Man of the Decade"

Jack Frost won the Best Male Animated Character of the Decade award by the Fictional Academy at Yoodel Hotel, Arendelle, Sept 28.

The actor starred in the film "Rise of the Guardians" in 2012.

He also won the Crowd Favorite award under the same movie.

Frost, along with Flynn Rider and Dick Grayson were nominated through an online voting database.

When asked if he had preparations before acting, Frost said that he had none.

"I just go with the flow and enjoy my job," the actor said.

The Fictional Artist Academy is an awar-giving body dedicated to recognizing talents of all types of fictional characters (www.fca.com).

When my Prof asked me to share a significant writing experience...

As a young girl, I didn't speak a lot. I appreciated silence and I understood that there are things that shouldn't be said. I was also immersed in my world where I learned to handle my thoughts rather than to bother anyone else with them. Besides, I preferred listening.

To someone like me, it was hard to open up to those even closest to me about how I really felt. But when things got intense, I needed to get them out though I couldn't say it. I couldn't shout and I didn't want to hurt anyone.

So I wrote.

One day, when I was about eight, I left a letter for my Dad to find. There, I begged him to stop smoking. He wasn't getting any younger and I saw how easily exhausted he was. To little Pollen, the thought of losing a father hurt so much and writing that letter made her feel that it would change everything for him.

I didn't receive a reaction from him the next day but I knew that he read it since the letter disappeared from the table.

That evening, my mom approached me, telling me that dad showed her the letter. She told me how proud she was of me for writing it and how she'll keep the letter in her novena booklet.

Sure, my dad didn't stop then and there but I'd like to think my letter made a difference.
You see, writing literally is my voice. It was, then, the only way I could give anyone a peep of what's inside. And now, though I've learned to break out of my shell, the things I write still represent deeper truths about myself.

WFS Workshop Day 1: I'm a woman after all.

I never really felt sure of my gender until I had my first "meron". After all, people always associated being a woman with menstruation.

It was a "big deal" for me then because I actually doubted that I was even female! My classmates were already experiencing the change while I waited and got the weird thoughts in my head (like being born an alien). It even got to the point that when my first day finally came, my first thought was "YES! I'M A GIRL! BOOM BABY!" instead of a normal panicked reaction.

And for the several years that followed, that was enough for me. I didn't need any other assurance. I was a woman, biologically and I didn't feel the need to dwell on that matter any further.

But to be honest, I didn't really understand what it meant to be one until the Women's Feature Service Creative Non-Fiction Workshop last May 2 to 4.

I was given the opportunity to attend that workshop in Cavite and it was nothing like what I expected. I've only attended presscons when it came to writing-related events and I thought that it will be just like that (minus the competitions). I didn't think that it would change my life in an instant.

I arrived in school at around 7:00 AM to meet-up with Sir Bruce and Ate Karla (LVX-an). While sitting at the lobby, I read the essays in the e-kit  (because I failed to finish the last three articles that I was supposed to comment on.) As I read, Sir B and I waited for Ate Karla. When she finally arrived, we rode the van to Cavite.

For the two hour drive, I was mostly asleep and trying to move the air-con breeze away from the top of my head. When we arrived at the venue, my mind was still a mess. I wanted to sleep more.

But after a few eye blinks, I adjusted my view and saw how wonderful the wellness center we would be staying at was. Unlike a totally modern and sophisticated design that I anticipated, I was welcomed by a burst of nature... which was a relief on my part. I imagined spas, hot springs and exercise rooms full of yoga things to be a part of the workshop and I wasn't used to those elitist stuff. I'd probably wreck them or embarrass myself if I tried too hard using them. I was more at home with the trees, flowers and a breath of fresh air, really.

View from the entrance of the dining area

Our group arrived first so we had to lounge about at the dining area while we waited for the others. There, we had to learn about the slipper counter thing. We would pick a slipper with a number from the slipper shelf in exchange of our footwear. That would be the inside slippers that we'd use inside the facilities. It was tedious especially if one would do it repetitively but it made my memories at the center more special.

My slippers!

We met Nanay Nyebes (Tita Snow) who was a fellow Lipeno. By then, I was still getting a feel of the place and wanted to stay quiet. The whole place reminded me of a retreat center (that I think it really is) and it was one factor that made me keep the silence.

But instead of letting the awkward air hang and idleness sit in, Ate Karla and I opted to settle in our rooms. We were assigned to Room 12 and I took the bed on the left. Afterwards, we took a short tour around.

Some pictures I took

When we got back, people came pouring in the dining room door. It stunned me for a while when I noted how old they were. If not for two other fellows from St. Scho, Ate Karla and I would feel totally out of place.

Being overwhelmed, I wanted to just observe by the sidelines and not bother the facilitators until they talked to me. But Ate Karla had a different plan. She politely greeted everyone with a "good morning" and she was rewarded with smiles. I admired how she handled the situation then because she managed to reach out.

We ate morning snacks before the start of the workshop. Ate K and I sat in a table for five (?) with some of the facilitators. If I'm not mistaken, they were Ms. Dyosa, May-i and ____. I stayed silent and observed them along with the others.

Sir B went back to Lipa after eating and Ate Karla and I were left to survive.

After the snack break, we went up for the opening ceremony and lectures.

Ms. Marj, Sir B's former teacher, came up first, welcomed everyone and introduced the panelists and other guests. That was when I realized that I was graced with the presence of the best women writers in the Philippines. Published writers and journalists were there and, and... wow! I mean, come on. Ma. Ceres Doyo was just an item in our Prinmed test before and then she just pops into my life... a few meters away!

It was then that I realized how big of an opportunity I had in my hands. Sir B gave me a nudge in the right direction and if I don't mess it up, I could actually get a shot at my dreams.

Ms. Clark took the floor after her to present the objectives and mechanics of the event.

Ms. Clark, one of the activity coordinators

After that, Ms. Olive, the WFS chair, introduced us to their organization.

From left to right: Ms. Olive and Ms. Carrie

We finished early so we had a group discussion on women's issues before the break. That's when I heard most of them speak up, speak up in English. That was amazing for me because the way they spoke alone could bring tears to my eyes. Plus, we were all having intellectual conversations. It was just like a little girl time only I was facing really opinionated and smart girls. And I longed for those types of discussions because it fed my soul.

During the discussion, we came across the topic of a radical feminist and just feminism in general and that was when I questioned my presence in the activity. I mean, sure, I was a woman but I wasn't sure I would qualify as a feminist.

To me, a feminist was someone who fought for women's rights, for gender equality. And though I advocate both, I wasn't outspoken about it. I never felt the need to shout it out since I didn't see that the world is unfair to women. But that was me, in my tiny self-centered world.

Yet, after hearing the opinions of the other participants about that, I was able to give my own definition of the kind of feminist that I am. I'm the story-teller. I'm the feminist that will make sure that stories on women will not be misrepresented. I'll be the feminist that will make sure that there are stories on women and that their voices will be hear. In my silent protest, other women would find their voice. (A/N: Just had a deep moment.)

We went down for lunch after that and the staff served tons of vegetable dishes. I love vegetables so you can imagine what happened next. *wink* But after we filled our plates, we felt like high schoolers again -struggling to find our seats in the cafeteria. We decided to seat with the other two students and just wing it.

If I remember it correctly, Ms. Pinky sat with us too. She actually reminded me of someone close to me. *wink* With her, we talked more about feminism and religion. It was an engaging conversation and at the same time, a strive of de ja vu since even the topics that she talked about was similar to the interest of the person that she reminded me of.

After lunch, the lectures commenced. It started with Ms. Marj's discussion on Autobiography and Creative Non-fiction in general. That was followed by Ms. Grace's talk on Community Papers where she shared the story of the paper they started in their town. Then, Ms. Ceres gabbed about column writing and Ms. Padma about blogging.

To be honest, I didn't give the talks a 100% of my attention for the following reasons: 1) I had to document the events for my WriBrod project, 2) I was getting sleepy again and 3) I was on the mat and my numbing legs bothered me. But I did pick up some things which helped me develop as a writer.

My favorite lecture was that on blogging because I really related to that. Obviously. And it was given by Ms. Padma whom I really wanted to get to know the first time I heard her voice. 

Ms. Padma, probably thinking about something

It was also a way to give back to the speakers since that topic was an expertise of the x generation. That and I'm just really a passionate blogger.

Once the lectures were finished, we had another group discussion on the misrepresentation of women. Again, I was struck with how amazing they were. I was a bit hesitant to speak up (and make mistakes) but I could not not participate with the kind of energy they gave off.

When all the sessions were over, we ate dinner. We still sat with the St. Scho delegates but that time, Ms. Olive sat with us.

Sitting with her was an eye opener because she talked about her corporate life as a journalist and an advertising executive. And for incoming third year AB COMM students, we have to pick out an elective: JOURN or ADVERT. I'm all for journ, still but I think some of my friends would find the sharing of my experience helpful.

Ms. O started as a journalist for a newspaper company. She enjoyed her work and was passionate about it but when it came to payday, the articles that she worked for didn't cover the bills. So she quit and joined an advertising agency. Her job there was hectic and she mentioned squeezing her brain to come up with an original tagline. She stayed there until she was good to retire. But based on what I understood from her, she wouldn't want to come back to advertising again. Instead, she devotes the rest of her days in WFS to continue writing. In fact, she wants to write a book.

Hearing that there is no money in journ from people in school was different from hearing it from someone who experienced the field. I realized that I was too hopeful when it came to entering the writing world, only arming myself with passion against the reality that I need money (in many ways). I also kept saying that I'd enter the creative writing world anyway so I won't have to deal with those issues. But umm... just recently, I was considering entering newspapers too so that plan backfired.

On the other hand, there was advertising. In that career track, Ms. O proved that it's easier to earn there. But the way she described her experiences made me feel as if she wasn't completely happy with her choice. It was as if there's a bad memory related to it. I don't know. But she didn't exactly regret working with ads. She just said that she won't go back to it.

When it came to the end, she didn't pick any. At an old age, she picked writing and just writing. The truth is, you will write in both fields but you'll just use different methods of writing. Both will have perks and consequences and all you should pick is a choice that you won't regret.

I'm in love with journalism, still in love with it, despite all the "mistakes" that I might make and opportunities I might lose by choosing it. I'm in love with journalism, not just because it'll help me write better but also because it stands for honesty and the world might need just a bit of that.

Also, I can't live with myself knowing that I chose something that I'm not passionate for. I would blame myself everyday for that. For me, passion feeds the soul so I consider it more important than anything else. I'll wing it when billing dates come. As long as I strive to be better, I don't think our family would ever go hungry.

After picking an elective, I'll... (A/N I'll continue revealing my career plans in part 2)

Anyway, after dinner, Ate Karla and I bought natural bath products. It was one other rule of the center: using biodegradable products only. In all fairness, their papaya soap was amazing and the shampoo and conditioner smelled great.

Afterwards, we headed to the quarters and talked.

Ate Karla and I aren't really close inside the pub. We were friendly towards each other but we were comfortable with different sets of people. The workshop was the first time we had a one-on-one.

Ate Karla

Truth? I loved her company. We literally talked for hours and whenever the conversation would reach a dead end, she'd think of a new one to talk about.
I also admire how similar and different we were. We could talk about the same books and different sets of beliefs and still be okay about each other.
I was also comfortable around her. I could open up about my personal relations without thinking twice.
Moreover, she was really opinionated which made our conversations stimulating.

After so-so hours, we went down and joined the participants to hang out in a casual context. It was different from the lecture-feels so I didn't know what to do at first. But eventually, I got the hang of it. I didn't share my stories but I listened at them instead. The seniors were so lively as they caught up with each other's lives. They were a bit loud but still classy.

We retired after a few minutes but Ate Karla and I didn't immediately go to bed. We continued sharing stories. We talked about all sorts of books and series! But no matter how I enjoyed the topic, my body was too drowsy. I began zoning out until I fell asleep.

That was how my first day ended. My full realizations occurred on the second day.

Throwback poem: "You when you're not there"

WriPrin: Reboot

For six years, I have called myself a student journalist.

My "writing career" started in BAKAS, the elementary publication of De La Salle Lipa.
     I wasn't planning on joining the school paper and I haven't even developed my love for writing then. It was my English teacher that persuaded me to try the qualifying exams. I gave it a shot, not really knowing anything about news, feature and editorial writing and by some miracle, I got in. I was given the titles "news editor" and "feature editor" during my two years of stay and that was how I learned about the journalistic writing style.
     Back then, there was no pressure of publishing a paper on time because our advisers took care of it. They were the one that edited and gave topics too. Plus, a company was responsible for designing our pages. All I had to do was to write and enjoy the raw happiness I get by doing it.

When I got to high school, I experienced some sort of an identity crisis so I took two years off, trying to figure out what I really wanted to happen with my life. It was during my third year that I joined BULIK, DLSL's secondary level publication. 
     My friends wanted to try-out so I thought hey, why not? You did well in your English classes anyway. I got in with them as staff writers.
     This was the period of my life when I learned to be confident about the articles I wrote. Our advisers gave me constructive criticisms that encouraged me to improve. By this time, I also got a clearer background on what students do in a publication - interviewing, gathering news bits, editing and lay-outing.

BULIK staffers of SY 06-07

I continued writing in the school paper during my senior year as the feature editor. 

     I didn't know that being labelled as the "editor" meant being in-charge of a section so I struggled and there was no one I could turn to. I wasn't warm and cozy with my adviser then and my co-writers also didn't  have a clue. But that didn't stop me. I tried to become an active member, helping whenever I can. I even ended up doing tasks that didn't cover my expertise like lay-outing my pages and editing graphic illustrations.

   But I felt like my efforts didn't pay off. I was always exerting so much  into tasks but once someone who could do better comes along, I would be easily pushed aside. In a way, I was "traumatized" because I actually loved to write then and I was starting to fall in love with working for the paper too. But the "family experience" of being a part of the publication was missing. Whenever I revisit my memories of 4th year BULIK days, the word "toxic" pops up in my head. It was only work, work, work.

Despite my obvious hesitation to join the college publication, LAVOXA, a friend encouraged me to do so and I eventually applied. 

     It was difficult to adjust from being the scared and cautious writer I learned to become to a LAVOXA-n. You see, the environment there was different. Being a part of the organization meant interacting with the coolest of the weirdest people that existed in DLSL. It was great but intimidating at the same time. I was conflicted since I was given a chance to belong to another family but I was hesitant to join in because of my past experience. That's why, initially, being in LAVOXA was something I treated professionally only.

     Of course, I adjusted after a while and I opened up to the people there. Not only was I spreading my wings as a campus journalist but also, I was building friendships that would last beyond forever. 

    As far as my two-year stay, my writing style has changed dramatically and I've also understood the whole process of making the paper until the very last minute. It was life-changing since it was only now that I got the full cycle. Come to think of it, I spent four years in school publications not even understanding what was happening when I was there!

Top: Tabloid and Broadsheet editorial board SY13-14

Bottom: Tabloid and Broadsheet editorial board SY14-15

Now, why did I divide into my life as a journalist so far? Simple. Because I wanted to show you what being a "campus journalist" meant to me and how I defined being a writer then.

     I'll be honest. Back in high school and elementary, I wasn't concerned with what I could do for my readers. I was focused on what I could do for myself. I wrote to see my name on the paper so I could show it to my mom. I wrote to be a part of the editorial board that would look good next to my list of awards. I wrote to experience a lot of things like going to press conferences. I wrote just to finish the paper. I wrote to improve my writing skills and for the sole pleasure of being able to write. I didn't have a clue on how much power I had, power which could have done some good if I wrote the right things. I didn't fully understand my responsibilities and the importance of my job. 

     I wasn't much of a journalist at all.

     In college, I improved a bit, understanding that I had a purpose and envisioning the change that I could make. But I was still fooled by a common journalist error. Sure, I did my part as the editor and I selected topics that would be helpful to the students but I became a slave of the deadline. My intentions were good especially during the content selection of topics but there would come a time that I would be so bent on finishing on time that I just used any article available without considering their value. The quality definitely suffered... and I've never finished on time so my decisions were often useless. I was also a "slave" in the opposite way. Believing that the deadline is still far away, I would relax and eventually, put my whole section to sleep. That means, I let important stories pass by that could've informed a lot of people.

Its embarrassing  to say this, but I only realized the real essence of journalism a few days back.

     My professor in Writing for Print Media took us to AVR 2 to watch a film. I was expecting a boring documentary film on the life of a journalist but instead, I got "Kobe Shimbun No Nanonakakan."

     It was a Japanese film based on the experiences of Kobe Shimbun photojournalist, Mitsuyama and the publication he belonged in during an earthquake attack on January 17, 1995.

Movie poster from meiatrandom.blogspot.com

     It started with a quick tour of the publication office and introduction of characters plus Mitsuyama repeatedly saying that they didn't know that something would change their regular routines. After that, the big tragedy occurred and everybody was stricken. The rest of the film focused on the citizen's struggle to survive, the journalist's struggle between being sympathetic or doing their jobs and Kobe Shimbun's struggle to publish a paper despite the damages they've incurred.

Photo from: crunchyroll.com

     

If I would rate the movie according to scholarly standards, I wouldn't give it five stars though it is a good movie.

     The concept was a bit cliche; natural disasters were a thing of the past. I also found the acting a little exaggerated, though they were effective in stimulating emotions. On the positive side, the way it was shot, edited and colored were good and appropriate for the theme.

But as I watched the film, I didn't want to review it critically. I wanted to experience it.

     A few minutes into the film, I felt indifferent. I was just getting to know the characters and their Japanese names just blurred in my head. After a while, Mitsuyama's foreshadowing effect was growing old and (kind of) irritating. 

     But it changed when the earthquake occurred. I felt connected to the film. It wasn't only because I had a familiar experience but also because it brought my inner issues out especially those related to me being a "journalist".

Screen captures from: bloggang.com

Let me tell you this, I didn't expect to cry. But I did. 

     It started with the scenes where the EIC called another publication for help and Shito-kun burst in despite his injury. Those were powerful scenes for me because they portrayed the perfect publication spirit. They had a contagious drive that slowly consumed me as I watched. I saw how committed and passionate they were to their jobs and I wanted to feel that way. 

     They didn't have to work. They could've easily run away. But they came together as Kobe Shimbun because they had a duty to inform people of what happened.

    I felt that way only once and it was during my first meeting as the campus news editor. Then, I wanted my section to represent all the sectors of the student body. I wanted the paper to be useful to their college lives. But the feeling didn't last because in the first place, I didn't understand why I should have that drive and why it was important. Unintentionally, I placed my passion for journalism second to just finishing the paper.

     I want to feel like that again. I want to be so in love with my work that I'll be lost in it.

     I got more and more emotional especially during the "beating-the-deadline" scenes. I felt so guilty watching them running for their paper and begging for just a few minutes to make it while I thought of how I slacked off as a section editor. I wasted so many days that could've been allotted for editing articles and designing my pages. It was ironic, really. I had deadlines to beat and I always worry about them but I won't start working until the last minute. What kind of writer am I?

     Exactly! What kind of writer was I? I just realized how much I've taken for granted and how many mistakes I've made. I wasn't worthy to be called a journalist.

     And there I was, dumb-founded and looking for my identity as a journalist. Why was I writing? Who was I writing for? What does it mean to be a journalist?

     I felt just like Mitsuyama when he was unable to press the camera button.

     Mitsuyama and Yamane-san's conversation provided me a partial answer.

*Non-verbatim*
EIC: Mitsuyama, Have you been taking human pictures?
M: I can't. Do you know what's out there.
EIC: *says something encouraging*
M: Why do I have to take pictures?
EIC: To record them.

     To record them. To immortalize feelings and stories. How could I forget that?

     I was so caught up in other associated businesses and myself that I didn't see how simple it was. As a journalist, I should write the history of other people. How a bomb threatened their security once but got over it. How the administration promised to improve the turnstile that constantly bothered their morning routine. How they once stood on stage and received an award they didn't expect. How they partied during the college night and saw their favorite artists.

     Writing as a journalist isn't about winning at press conferences or just having printed copies to distribute. It meant writing stories, good and bad, because those stories built the community and represented it.

     When you are a journalist, you have a responsibility to play in the society and that's why you do it.

(A/N: Sorry this is taking so long. I'm not sure I'm making sense anymore. It's just emotion overflow, really.)

     That's why they did it. They faced a natural disaster and put aside their families and ethical standards for Kobe Shimbun. I get it now. It wasn't really about the earthquake. It was about the fight they put up no matter how confused they all were.

     Ha, thinking about this now, I realized that through the movie, I experienced an earthquake of my own... one that shook my principles. I couldn't get over the feels that easily so I delayed writing this. It was hard to think of the right conclusion days ago when I wasn't sure of myself. 

     But now that I've had some sort of epiphany and that I'm close to ending this, I feel lighter. Plus, I'm sure that I've learned a great deal. I made mistakes in the past but now, I can make up for them. And that's what's important, write? (Pun intended.)

     Six years. I've been labelled as campus journalist for six long years. But as far as I'm concerned, I rebooted the record two days ago.

     And I needed that. :)

    

Archenemies

Love is the most painful type of revenge.

So I will feature my second novel today-- Archenemies.

It's a novel where I wrote about a modified version of my 3rd and 4th year high school experiences. It started the day after a group meeting in Filipino where I was group mates with my crush at that time. At first, I was just planning to make it a short story... but then I got more and more readers (some are even my classmates) so I continued it. The characters are based on my friends and some of the scenes are based on my life.

"That guy, Vince hates me and I hate him too. Excluding the whole bullying and arguing thing, it is just a pretty simple deal. Hate here. Hate there. Pretty much, hate everywhere. I just deal with it. Besides, I have school works and awesome friends to think about. He doesn't fit into my tight schedule unless he squeezes himself in it. But I am wrong to underestimate his power for revenge. What I don't know is that love can hurt you more than hate can. And for that, I blame him." --Princess (Archenemies is a story of friendship, family, dreams, love and sacrifice.)

Link for edited version: http://www.wattpad.com/story/1277215-archenemies-improved

Link for old version: http://www.wattpad.com/story/112171-archenemies-ongoing-editing

Eleven Reasons Why

Eleven Reasons Why

The Hunt for True Love begins.

I'm currently trying to write my third novel while editing the first half of my second novel. Before I feature my other stories, I would like to showcase this one.

I was first inspired by the campnanowrimo contest. That's the reason why I decided to finish a novel for a month. My idea for this came from a recent joke with my 4th year high school friends. I was telling them that I might already find my true love. I might bump into him from somewhere. That's where the true love concept came from. The rest just popped out of my mind as I plotted the story.

Here is the wattpad link: http://www.wattpad.com/story/1478362-eleven-reasons-why


Amelia Guinevere Colette Hawthorne is not your typical 16 year old girl. Other than her name and ancestry, this filthy rich daughter of the “next big thing” specifically exists to be a unique creature. On her first day as a junior high student, she unleashes one of her “odd” traits: being a TRUE LOVE FREAK. She will do everything she can to finally fall in love and no one can stop her from finding The One. Yet, she finds herself confused and tangled in the middle of a big mess. There are three guys but only one of her. Will she pursue the hunt or will she wait for the right time to come?