Mood Swings

'Di ako sanay sa mga taong, isang minuto masaya, sa susunod, 'di na mawari. 'Yung kailangan pang basahin nang maigi bago sakyan? Siguro, 'di pa 'ko ganun kagaling makihalo o sadyang maarte lang ako sa loob... Ewan. 'Di naman kasalanang maging "moody". Hay...

2 Hours In A Press Room

This Thursday, after class, I, with my Special Topics in Journalism group went to fetch material for our report. We were to interview a certain Mr. Jim Gomez of the Associated Press news about peace communication. Honestly, journalism's image was then getting more uninteresting by the day. I had hopes that somehow, sometime after I graduate, I'd be able to travel the world to talk and write about things that spark interest in even the most unlikely of people. But from what I've seen us do in our course so far, that image was reduced to going into crime scenes, police stations and government agencies so we could report about crimes, misdeeds and sad affairs. I was expecting a thick-eyeglass-wearing, Peter Parker-ish sort of geek. One that pushes pens and is glad to do it: under pressure and underpaid. How wrong I was...

We alighted the train at Pedro Gil, a corner of Manila unknown to me. There were no tall buildings, no malls, no condos; all the place had were sidewalk vendors with their mats strung out, taking up almost half the walkable space. The underpaid geek image was getting stronger in my head. "Is this where I'm headed to?" I thought to myself.

We walked about a quarter of a mile, when alas, signs of civilization started to show. Skyscrapers, a high-end mall (one so hardcore it doesn't even have McDonald's or KFC in it), clubs and hotels abounded. So, yeah, the image began to fade a bit... as it did completely in the next 5 hours. Our subject sent us a message that he won't be around 'til 4 pm. But we were already there at 2, so we wasted a good couple of hours goofing off at a 7-Eleven. At 4 pm, we tried to reach our subject, but to no avail. So we tried going directly to his place of work... which is inside a four star hotel. It must've been 50 stories high. The attendants were in suits and long dresses, there was a squad dog outside with a handler, and there were foreigners going in and out the building... I was thinking, "What in the world? This guy works like the President!" Forget swag, his office is a fucking A+ in class, and by 'class', I didn't mean academics. Far as profession is concerned, this guy is living my dream life!

Around 20 minutes later, we were face to face with him inside the Associated Press' HQ. He was so down to earth, open and mellow. A little goofy, yet knowledgeable. He's got 16 years of broadsheet journalism behind him, but he talks like there's still so much for him to learn and do... Amazing. Just amazing. Shame though, his office was so cold, cozy and silent, I actually fell asleep for like 5 minutes while my friends were holding the interview. How irresponsible of me... Not much harm done though. He'll probably remember me for it but in a fun way. The guy has been deep in war zones and remote areas only a few dare go, so I don't think a sleepy interviewer would've offended him more than a rebel taking his wife's watch with a gun point-blank to his head. (Yeah, he's been there).

Oh, dear. It'll take so much practice and dedication to get where he is. Discipline, skills, drive... these put Mr. Jim Gomez in his lofty state. Essentially, there are only three paths in Journalism: Writing, radio and television. Writing is the most adventurous (and is also the riskiest and underrated) road, but after Thursday's episode, I'm starting to think it's where I want to be. How the hell am I going to even reach a fraction of what he achieved? My writing is primitive, my discipline is fucked at best, and drive? I'm not even sure why I get up in the morning.

Life is an unkind struggle. If 'mind over matter' is true, then mine has a lot of shit to clean up. It has to get it's act together. Who wants a fucking desk job 5 days a week? Who wants a nine to five trying not to drown in papers and stamps for the next 40 years? I certainly don't. So, let there be change, Dave. Let there be bloodshed. Today, you are pathetic. But I don't think anything's impossible. All men are created equal. If he can do it, why can't you?

The answer, I guess, would come to us in the next few years...

Out of The Wreckage

Since I was a kid, I was always told to have vast potential. My teachers, my mom, my dad, hell, even my ex-girlfriend was convinced of it. Now here I sit lost and wondering about what made them believe that. If it was true, I'd like to know how far down the drain my potential is and if there's any hope in salvaging it. To do so, I have to completely reset my routines; I have to change how I live from scratch.

This is Dave waging war on himself. No, he's not trying to be poetic. It really takes a fight to put his useless habits down. They've been with him so long... But it's about fucking time he grows up.

In Communication Research, an unannounced (yet graded) recitation flavored the day. Way to start a week, huh? But again, like a kid lost in a mall, he let his insecurities hang loose, cheating his way through it. But now, come to think of it, he could've brushed it off  his shoulder! It was so easy, a high school student can ace it! Man. Today, July 16, 2012, is the last day he will ever attempt to cheat academics. Period.

Dave has been a constant late-comer since elementary. Procrastination is a deep-seated problem of his, a habit since time immemorial. He's now in college and nothing has matured. Well, this week, his classmates are to see the last of it or the last of him. Dave, I don't care if you don't sleep at night. Sleep is for the weak, right? Then stay awake with all your friends over the phone until you all fucking die. Better late than never? It's because the time wasted wasn't yours. Stop being a pest. Commitments are commitments. After this week, you will never be willfully late again or you will resign from whatever it is you are late for. Period.

There were times when Dave could swear he'd sell his soul for a day away from his family. Little does he know, they're all he has. So, enough thinking of rebellion, enough adventuring, enough childishness. David! You are 18 fucking years old! I think they put up with enough of you but still, they take you in. This week is the last of you being a black sheep. Period.

This is not for my benefit, Dave, but yours. You won't be any good at work when you cheated to pass college. You won't be any good in the world if you don't value time. You won't be any good with anybody if you're an outcast from your own kind. Enough confining yourself in your own world. All that did was destroy you. It's time to head out of the wreckage and into the clearing. When the fog of war subsides, you'll see a better man standing.

It's Just You and Me Now

Welcome to my private space on the net where I could err grammatically all day and no one would judge.

The blog you are reading is an echo of the voice inside my head. The one you don't have to hear, but here you are. I see the world through a child's eyes, bright and optimistic yet lacking in depth. Being conscious of that, I created this to let out one of the most poisonous substances in humans: bias. I'm a journalist in the making, with a philosophy that accords sensationalism as a spirit that puts 'right' in the wrong places. I'll use my friend Harold for an example. His views on Christianity and religion are so radical, they are starting to affect his friends on the social media. He claims to have studied the Bible and religion, but it's obvious he only did so to prove them wrong. So, his views and thoughts are as biased as they are useless.

This blog is my head's trash bin.

It is also me in my most less altered state. See, I lead multiple lives. One that caters to the upright perspective of the people who reared me, different ones to my different pools of friends, classmates and relationships, a different one for my church mates, the list goes on... it's like I'm liquid, simply forming myself to the shape of the environment I'm in. In this madness, even I find it hard to tell who I am. It's a stranger looking back in the mirror...

It's just you and me now. Pretenses are foolish. After all, everyone has something to say about everyone else. I'm Dave. Welcome to the dysfunctional world under my skin.