Last weekend, I turned a weekend more chaotic and restless than what was supposed to be an opportunity to bed rot and read another chapter of my book. Or let me say, a chance to fill my body with enough fuel for the battle I didn't sign up for.
Before the clock hit 1:00 P.M. last Saturday, I saw myself scribbling all facial ingredients I have for my face, and most importantly, how each strand of my hair creates the best makeup for a man getting ready for an important event. I headed to school as soon as I put on my signature black shoes that shine whenever a light hits them. That's why I call it my signature shoe—for it stayed beside me in all seasons but never gave up. Ridiculously.
It was a memorable event for all of the faculties, students, and teachers residing in the business and management department in my school, since it would serve as the starting remarks of big changes they would unveil for the future years. In context, an esteemed woman, named Atty. Nadia Catarata Jurani, and also an alumna of the school, wholeheartedly donated millions of pesos for the development and as an aid for tuition crises for students unable to pay their tuition. In return, the school held the event to show gratitude, and this is what led us to the four-corner venue on a Saturday afternoon.
My team already commenced the event by preparing all camera equipment and some of the writers prepared the draft of the articles. It was already 3:00 P.M. when the first word of the speaker shattered the conversation across the tables of the guests. Finally, the event started before everyone talked about something poop-related.
It took a lengthy program flow to make the tribute meaningful and worthy. A serenade of the guests and sponsors made the crowd cheer and clap, and a procession followed. Scholars also showed their gratitude through a waltz dance presentation, and then the girl group dancer, named BOYLEP, reverberated the ground floor with their fiery dance moves.
Yes, it's a girl group despite being named BOYLEP.
We ended the event with an interview of the sponsor and took our early dinner. I documented a lot of photos during that time that it took almost three hours editing and uploading the news article to our media page. For most journalists, uploading content weighs more difficult than the actual event. But one thing is for sure, it is worth the struggle.
I immediately went home that night, checked my socials, did what I needed to finish and slept—although sleeping is a hard task when the body is overly tired. Still, I fell asleep.
However, it didn't end there. It was the other half of my weekend.
Later in the morning, with a total of four hours of sleep, I trembled in the cold morning of Sunday afternoon as I got my early shower. Same routine, I scribbled and doodled what I needed to doodle on my face, and headed to the venue. The last event I documented was the NROTC Graduation Rites of ROTC students for this year. And to be honest, it was the most silent event I have documented in my whole journey as a student journalist.
It took me a while to familiarize myself with their formalities, including their actions and body rules—which I had to do in order to keep the documentation as smooth as the flow of the event.
It was also a lengthy event, same as yesterday. I witnessed the entry of colors, declaration of graduates, and a slow moment where the graduates would fill the air with their dignified hats as if nothing mattered more than the fact they already graduated. I remember students repeatedly shouting, with grace, that they didn't need to wake up early forever to have the ROTC formation while some celebrated their success with their families through photo opportunities and giving of gifts.
That Sunday speaks so dearly in my heart, for it represents the nation's initiative for improvement and nation-building, declaring younger generations as the mind and heart of future years. And as usual, we ended the event by editing and uploading our news coverage in the media.
It was 4:00 o'clock in the afternoon when I arrived home, with no breakfast and lunch filled in my tummy, but the satisfaction and passion were there—burning like the ROTC students and glorious like the Nadia Catarata event. It was a restless weekend for me, but all of it was worthy to be done, for my commitment and love of journalism and my beloved The New Clarion team. As what I have said in my introduction, I can sacrifice my coursework for the work I have in journalism. And the funny thing is, whenever both stress me, I am willing to sacrifice myself. Because at times, rarely, love finds those who love the work.
I may not understand, always, why I always put myself into frenzies like this kind of weekend, juggling my ticking time and to-dos and sacrificing my opportunity to rest for restlessness at the end of the week. Maybe, I am just someone seeking new things and I am in it with all my heart—not just as a student journalist, but someone craving for growth and change I can see in this beautiful world.
If there is one thing that this weekend reminded me, it's that my passion is just not about what is convenient for me but a burning light that I would protect from flickering, and it's not always about rest but a worthy aching body that plead to sleep. And with this signature shiny shoe and a camera equipped with a lens that views life as meaningful, choosing this life is what I want do again and again.