All I was sure of before I entered junior year of high school was that I wanted to be used in the media. Nothing specific; the call was that I am to “revive the passion of youth for Christ through media”.
I signed up for a writing job in our high school newspaper because I figured that at the moment, all I can do that was media-related was writing. I blog, you see, and excessively at that. I blog about everything–mostly the mundane, sometimes your usual teenage angst–and I blog without regrets. I’m not sure if blogs were as popular back then as they are now, but my history with blogging takes me to as early as second year high school, if I remember right.
I was blessed because getting into that student publication was actually two-edged: on one hand, it was my first time writing formally, and on the other hand, it was a confirmation that my future would cause me to do more writing. It was God taking out the uncertainty and giving me a place in society where I will fit best. I shall be a writer, and not just any writer, but a journalist.
While I was signing up for colleges, I was sure I wanted to be in a journalism course, by hook or by crook. Ateneo was only second best; I wanted to be in UP, so bad I cried when I knew I did not get in. But it was once again God directing my path, aligning my will to His.
College brought me closer to my dream, but it also killed a little of my enthusiasm here, and some self-esteem there. I am still taking this painful road to my goal, and the enemy is still working so hard to bring me down.
And I have ceased to become relevant.
I remember brushing off ideas of blogging about issues that made noise in the past. I couldn’t care less about Erap ranking at the top, side-by-side with Noynoy and Villar (or Gibo?) during the elections. I was too disappointed to talk about the Hong Kong hostage taking crisis.
And I am not sure if I have a writer’s voice.
Having a unique voice is a writer’s trademark other than the byline. To be honest, I am not really concerned about finding a voice, because this may sound too cliché, but I just want to write. Maybe this is why I don’t mind seeing red marks on my papers. I don’t mind correction, so long as I did my best.
But I have to bring this passion of mine to a higher level. I need to have a voice, and I need to be relevant.
They say third year in Ateneo is the year where many contemplate about their life, their love, their future. Graduation is just an arms reach. I did not believe it was so, because I’d like to believe I think about my life as often as I blog.
But I confess: with this post, you can say I’m contemplating about my life, my love, my future. I’m not lost, because I think I will still find my way. I have God, anyway.