The word “inevitability” hides behind the painful lyrics of Kamikazee’s “Huling Sayaw” (Last Dance), as the song declares, “May dulo pala ang langit” (Heaven has an end). The inevitable arrives with the speed of lightning, leaving little time for reflection.
It feels like only yesterday that I appeared before the Selection Committee via Zoom to apply as a Special Reports (SR) writer for the Varsitarian (“V”). Nestor Cuartero, a former Circle editor who made his name chronicling entertainment and celebrity stories, left me with cold, sweaty hands after an intense, hour-long grilling on campus and sociopolitical issues. Days earlier, I had read an SR piece lamenting the sorry state of campus politics at UST; that preparation saved me.
For the next three years, my “V” journey was a whirlwind of daily convulsions and over-the-top jokes. The balancing act of scaling mountains of work while wading through waves of laughter made time slip by unnoticed. In what felt like a blink, one publication year transitioned into the next.
No one cared much about the calendar until the day of the Baccalaureate Mass arrived, bringing our daily routines to a screeching halt. With only two months left to recruit new staff and orient the team, I realized that everything was about to end.
The real deal
Automobile tycoon Henry Ford once said, “One of the greatest discoveries a man makes, one of his great surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he couldn’t do.”
Fear struck me on my first assignment when a marine biology professor didn’t reply to my messages. I needed his quotes because he’d recently been elected vice president of a maritime sciences federation. Out of desperation, I messaged his colleagues on Facebook. The next day, someone must have tipped him off about the persistent campus journalist, because he responded with his answers while on a flight, just in time to meet my deadline.
That experience was a glimpse of how the “V” pushed me to achieve more than I thought possible. The unwavering trust of my editors and advisers taught me how journalism operates in the social media age, amid political upheavals, and in the face of irate deans and administrators.
In 2022, the “V” sprang its biggest surprise on me: an editorial board position. Despite having sworn off leadership roles after four years as president of my high school’s Central Student Council, I found myself accepting the role of acting managing editor—a job I hadn’t sought. Before accepting, I gave myself a 10-minute pep talk in front of the bathroom mirror.
This surprise led me into the heart of UST’s bureaucracy. Submitting documents to various offices across our 21-hectare campus was a mind-boggling ordeal. Thanks to the help of our diligent editorial assistant, Alexander Cardenas, we navigated this intricate network of accommodating, professional, and sometimes frustrating support staff.
Guardians
My journey at the “V” was rewarding thanks to the dedication of my advisers and colleagues, who poured their energy and sacrificed time to produce news reports and photo essays daily.
Sir Lito Zulueta’s long comments, Sir Felipe Salvosa’s abrupt calls, and Sir Christian Esguerra’s incisive critiques taught me the nuts and bolts of journalism in ways that often surpassed classroom lessons (apologies to my professors).
My colleagues on the editorial board were steadfast sources of support, helping me become a better person (and a better joker). John Ezekiel Hirro, our editor in chief for the past four years, writes with unparalleled skill. Jacqueline Martinez, who served as associate editor during my first year as managing editor, combined intelligence and tenacity before bringing those qualities to law school. Her successor, Logan Zapanta, has shown remarkable diligence and initiative, marking him as Hirro’s natural heir.
Dozens of staff members have supported me with frank feedback, timely help, and genuine friendship. This column isn’t long enough to name them all, but their names are etched in my heart.
The “V” remains one of the most influential campus publications in the Philippines because of people like them. Being guided by such mentors and peers is a blessing.
Front-row seat
I joined the “V” during the Covid-19 pandemic, missing out on in-person mentorship, campus life, and the energy of extra-editorial activities. Still, being part of a campus publication meant having a front-row seat to history.
During the anxiety-ridden May 2022 elections, I covered the manual counting of the Parish Pastoral Council for Responsible Voting inside the Quadricentennial Pavilion. With Witness editor Mariel Serquiña, I watched in horror as Ferdinand Marcos Jr. and Sara Duterte-Carpio swept the presidential and vice-presidential races.
A month later, I was tasked with covering the long-delayed Baccalaureate Mass for Batches 2020 and 2021. Although I was only an observer frustrated by patchy internet, it was magical to witness the festivities in person.
Chronicles of unfolding history are gifts few receive. The gratifying thrill of covering University and national events never faded. Whether live-tweeting a conference, recording a keynote speech, or photographing a sports tournament, campus journalists preserve UST’s story—not just for current students but for future Thomasians.
The place to be
For students seeking an organization to call home, campus journalism is an opportunity to find sharp, funny, and courageous colleagues, friends, and mentors. Whether it’s the Accountancy Journal (AMV), The Flame (Arts and Letters), Education Courier (Education), Thomasian Engineer (Engineering), Purple Gazette (Pharmacy), The Owl (Philosophy), Transcend Daily (Tourism), The Aquinian (Junior High School), or La Stampa (Senior High School), every publication offers a unique experience.
But, with bias admitted, there’s no place like the “V.” Though intimidating at first, once inside, all fear dissolves. Only a profound love remains—a love for journalism, photojournalism, and being in each other’s company.
As I face the inevitable end of this journey, I carry with me the lessons, challenges, and memories from my time at the “V.”
Thank you, “V,” for giving me the best job in the world.
