It's not that I'm bored or anything, it's just that I'm not as inspired as I was before. I turn in assignments and papers without much gusto, hoping that "good enough" would get me a passing grade.
Stress, stress, and more stress. About the only thing keeping me sane was my frequent "tambay" at AstroSoc. "A laugh a day keeps the stress away", to paraphrase an old cliche.
But only barely.
Computer games only keep me away from the stress for as long as I have the mouse in my hand - not a good thing when you have to pass papers every few days.
I needed to break my humdrum routine. I had to breathe some fresh air.
Today I did.
Of course it's not as clear-cut as it sounds. Just yesterday I was having a very bad case of the jitters. The mere thought of going out and getting interviews by myself turned my stomach.
For our report in Journalism 102, we had to go out and interview reporters about the PNP and AFP beats. Read that? ReporterS. And get a feel for the beats as well.
The problem with the assignment was that the "we" part meant "me". One of my groupmates was AWOL and the other had a prior engagement.
So there I was at Camp Crame. Alone.
The policeman at the front gate was helpful enough to tell me how to get to the press office. I found the press office soon enough and got an interview with one of the reporters there.
All of a sudden it was just like that one moment a few months ago. There I was, talking to a person who really loved what he was doing. The feeling was infectious.
While the questions l was asking this time were about the place and the news from the place, I got to feel what it was like to be a journalist once again.
I was so scared of going out by myself that morning that I was practically paralyzed. The fear and paralysis disappeared the moment l went inside the press office. Maybe it was the friendly reporter who gave me the interview. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the room; everyone was accommodating and helpful. Most probably it was because I was reminded of what I was preparing to become.
I was again given a glimpse of what could very well be my future. And I loved it.
I wanted it.
The interview went smoothly. My next stop was Camp Aguinaldo, which was quite literally just across the street from Camp Crame.
While Crame was warm and accommodating, Againaldo was cold and distant. The soldier at the gate told me to go to the public Information office. However, he neglected to tell me where that was.
I almost got lost inside the sprawling base if not for a signpost which pointed me to the right direction. The press office was easy enough to find, though my timing could not have been worse.
As I approached everyone inside came out and left. Apparently there was a press conference. I spent an hour doing nothing as I waited for their return. They came back, but I was told that no one would be available for an interview until late in the afternoon.
One score and one bust.
Success at Crame made up for the failure at Aguinaldo. But even though I did not get that second interview I still felt good. I got to go out in the field. I got to stretch my legs and once again get a feel for what my future job would be like. I got to go to the headquarters of the PNP and the AFP. It was all I needed to get back in the groove.
I love my life.
Stress, stress, and more stress. About the only thing keeping me sane was my frequent "tambay" at AstroSoc. "A laugh a day keeps the stress away", to paraphrase an old cliche.
But only barely.
Computer games only keep me away from the stress for as long as I have the mouse in my hand - not a good thing when you have to pass papers every few days.
I needed to break my humdrum routine. I had to breathe some fresh air.
Today I did.
Of course it's not as clear-cut as it sounds. Just yesterday I was having a very bad case of the jitters. The mere thought of going out and getting interviews by myself turned my stomach.
For our report in Journalism 102, we had to go out and interview reporters about the PNP and AFP beats. Read that? ReporterS. And get a feel for the beats as well.
The problem with the assignment was that the "we" part meant "me". One of my groupmates was AWOL and the other had a prior engagement.
So there I was at Camp Crame. Alone.
The policeman at the front gate was helpful enough to tell me how to get to the press office. I found the press office soon enough and got an interview with one of the reporters there.
All of a sudden it was just like that one moment a few months ago. There I was, talking to a person who really loved what he was doing. The feeling was infectious.
While the questions l was asking this time were about the place and the news from the place, I got to feel what it was like to be a journalist once again.
I was so scared of going out by myself that morning that I was practically paralyzed. The fear and paralysis disappeared the moment l went inside the press office. Maybe it was the friendly reporter who gave me the interview. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the room; everyone was accommodating and helpful. Most probably it was because I was reminded of what I was preparing to become.
I was again given a glimpse of what could very well be my future. And I loved it.
I wanted it.
The interview went smoothly. My next stop was Camp Aguinaldo, which was quite literally just across the street from Camp Crame.
While Crame was warm and accommodating, Againaldo was cold and distant. The soldier at the gate told me to go to the public Information office. However, he neglected to tell me where that was.
I almost got lost inside the sprawling base if not for a signpost which pointed me to the right direction. The press office was easy enough to find, though my timing could not have been worse.
As I approached everyone inside came out and left. Apparently there was a press conference. I spent an hour doing nothing as I waited for their return. They came back, but I was told that no one would be available for an interview until late in the afternoon.
One score and one bust.
Success at Crame made up for the failure at Aguinaldo. But even though I did not get that second interview I still felt good. I got to go out in the field. I got to stretch my legs and once again get a feel for what my future job would be like. I got to go to the headquarters of the PNP and the AFP. It was all I needed to get back in the groove.
I love my life.
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