Endings often cause contradictory feelings of anxiety and rage, and closures beget some stubborn sense of expectation.
The Biblical compilation begins and unfolds with the creation story that culminates into a bifold of a terrible death upon a cross and the silent, triumphant witness of an empty tomb. For his Apocalyptic bookend part, St. John — amid the widespread apathy and persecution of his day and despite a literary imagery that rings strange in our AI-generated age — writes a coded message of hope, encouragement, and anticipation to those who choose to persist in the truth and concludingly pleads, “Come, Lord Jesus.” The story always is bigger than the pages that end it.
As I conclude my tenure as editor in chief of The Varsitarian (“V”), there is something stubbornly, quietly, and persistently present in these final moments, albeit of a much lesser consequence than the beloved Revelator’s. No matter how much I try to close the book on my time here, it can’t really be over — even as the paper’s mission to document, reflect, challenge, and inform will keep moving forward, with or without me. Endings are much like the beginnings they arise from.
I have written over a million words for dear Varsi but never a love letter to her. So, here.
Time it was, and what a time it was!
Inside the 21.5-hectare expanse of the University of Santo Tomas, nothing has ever felt more like home to me than Rm. 105 at the Tan Yan Kee Student Center. The Varsi office has been a workshop for growth, learning, and discovered purposes.
Since joining it in 2018, the “V” became more than just a student publication to me. It was a shaping force in my life. Here, I learned how to see the world more clearly and how to understand myself better. I was fortunate enough to cross paths with literary giants, meet sports legends, converse with religious leaders, connect with journalists from across the globe, and establish lifelong friendships. Writing, they say, allows you to capture a dream world. But with the “V,” it became a reality. Every page I wrote was a new layer added to the dream — one where I could create, challenge, and reflect the world I was living in.
I began my journey at the “V” as a sportswriter. At the time, I was a freshman in Information Technology. My first coverage feels like it was a lifetime ago, when Imee Hernandez (now a volleyball pro) and Detdet Pepito (now a multi-time UAAP Best Libero at the college level) were still in high school. I was lucky enough to witness the Tigers’ last trip to the UAAP men’s basketball finals in 2019, watching a team of underdogs surprise the league every game, despite falling short in the end.
In my second year, I was tasked with editing the News section and overseeing the publication’s online presence. While I loved the work, the series of changes in my life led me to pause my studies. After a semester of introspection, I made the decision to pursue AB Journalism. And during my first year in the program, I was appointed editor in chief of the “V.”
One of the defining moments of my tenure was launching our inaugural Paskuhan issue. At the “V,” we take great pride in our Christmas editions, even though they often end up being used as makeshift seat covers during Paskuhan festivities (seriously, please read our issues instead of treating them as seating arrangements, and for the love of all things sacred, don’t leave them on the field!). My first issue as editor in chief was exclusively digital and published on Issuu. My team and I sacrificed precious noche buena preparation hours to uphold the tradition of creating special Paskuhan editions. Featuring beautiful artwork inspired by Pope Francis’ message that “No pandemic can turn off the light of Christmas,” the cover art depicting Jesus in the manger became one of my favorites.
The pandemic lingered until the next Paskuhan, during which our second issue focused on the Pope’s Christmas 2021 message about being “evangelized by the humility of Christmas.”
By 2022, the world began to return to some semblance of normalcy. UST celebrated significant back-to-back Baccalaureate Masses honoring those from pandemic-affected batches, along with the first in-person Paskuhan that year. That year, we released my favorite Paskuhan issue, titled “Welcome Back to Paskuhan,” marking the paper’s return to campus newsstands and Paskuhan concert venues. That issue won a Student Quill award.
A month later, “V” hosted the “Valik-Varsi” alumni homecoming in celebration of its 95th anniversary. For a relatively younger staff, this event served as a bridge connecting both old and new staffers to reignite their passion for the publication. As the “V” adjusted to the graduation of staff members who had last experienced full face-to-face operations, it was a crucial reminder of the significance of our responsibilities as student journalists.
In 2023, we published a special Paskuhan issue honoring 800 years of the Belen, blending its design with elements inspired by the campus celebration’s Super Mario theme.
Throughout the years, I witnessed both endings and new beginnings. Activities that had been shifted online or entirely paused during the pandemic began to return to campus. One key lesson was witnessing how the publication adapted. Our annual flagship journalism fellowship, Inkblots, transitioned to a webinar format during the pandemic before successfully returning in January of this year, addressing essential discussions surrounding artificial intelligence. Gawad Ustetika, our publication’s literary derby, and the UST Campus Journalism Awards kept the spirit alive for writers even during the toughest times. Pautakan, the intellectual competition, evolved into an online format before returning to its in-person roots in May. Throughout it all, the dedication of “V” staffers ensured that our traditions persisted and that we honored those who paved the way for us.
Although I am not Catholic — as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (often referred to as “Mormon”) — my time with the publication allowed me to explore my faith more deeply. Covering Catholic Church events through the Witness section enriched my faith, and the inspiring words of Catholic saints and Dominican priests provided hope, especially during the pandemic.
The “V” more than just helped me discover my purpose. St. Francis de Sales, the patron saint of journalists, once said, “Do not wish to be anything but what you are, and try to be that perfectly.” Through “V”, I went from being a lost student, unsure of where I was headed, to someone who learned to embrace my true self.
But this journey wasn’t without its challenges. The same saint also said, “So many have come to me that I might serve them, leaving me no time to think of myself.” There were moments when it felt overwhelming, when the responsibilities and pressures weighed me down. Yet, as he continued, “However, I assure you that I do feel deep down within me, God be praised.” Even in the toughest moments, I found peace and fulfillment, knowing that what I was doing mattered and that I was growing through it all.
And so, I close with nothing but gratitude.
To the editors who have guided me throughout the years: Kuya Deips, Ate Ria, Ate Julia, and Bro. Aboy — thank you!
To the editorial board members I was lucky to work alongside and learn from: Ate Kat, Laurd, Miguel, Jacq, Edj, and Logan — thank you!
To those who became friends during my record-breaking six-year stay at the “V,” you are too many to count, but special mention to Faith, Med, Bea, Klyra, Enjo, Mariel, VA, Malic, Terra, Jayce, Marvin, Jan, Karis, Jana, Chals, Peter, Josh, Chan, NA, Sam, Melo, and Bjorn — thank you!
To the countless friends I’ve made along the way, from my short-lived IICS years to my delightful AB days — thank you!
To Ma’am Padua, who helped redirect me from IICS to AB — thank you!
To Father Rector Ang, Father Chubi, Father Dex, Father Jay, and Father Rodel — thank you!
To my journalism professors from whom I have learned so much: Sir Ace, Sir Nate, Sir Pats, Sir Joma, Sir Jack, Sir Jere, Sir Leo, Sir Alwyn, Sir Alec, Ma’am Ash, Ma’am Jannis, Ma’am Cai, and Ma’am Karol — thank you!
And to the publications advisers of the “V” who have shaped me into the confident writer I’ve become: Sir Lito, Sir Ipe, and Sir Ian — thank you!
Students are often left to condense their entire college experience into social media posts, usually with their graduation photos. I wasn’t the type of student who’d give a graduation speech either. But after six years at college, I’m fortunate enough to have the chance to write about how I’m wrapping up my time with UST — and with “V” — in this final issue, where I get to grace its pages one last time.
As John proclaimed in his final words of Revelation, so do I offer this call: journalism may not reveal the fullness of truth, yet it grants us a glimpse thereof. For journalism is not wrought for mere speculation or for the exercise of thought alone; it is given that it might stir the hearts of many unto action. May we ever seek the truth earnestly, that it may transform us, renew our minds, and guide our steps.
Thank you, “V”! Time it was, and what a time it was. Like Christ on the Cross and the Thomasian national hero Jose Rizal, this is a Hirro saying goodbye: Consummatum Est!
