THE WIND BLOWS through, revealing pages and pointing arrows. Gather ye scoundrels and peaceniks, in a place domestic. I exist in the distance, pointing out their arguments and painting their resolutions. R.I.P. Emily Dickinson; you would’ve loved me.
A year ago, I was among the enthusiastic freshmen, hoping to be accepted as a writer for The Bedan, yearning to change the world and make a mark. Upon filling up their forms and learning about their application process, I was intimidated to say, nonetheless. “Exam? An interview?”, I thought to myself as I frowned on the screen. Intimidation and doubts aside, I was set upon being accepted. I have always found myself woven into the fabrics of journalism since highschool, and have been a creative writer before and since then. Ironically enough, with the limitations of my school when it came to the budget for releasing newspapers, I never got to write articles on a regular basis, leading me to identify myself as a solitary poet, before a journalist.
“As I bear witness to legacies-in-the-making of the most outstanding students I have ever met while I only ever try to survive, the haunting yet ensuring whispers, saying ‘This is me, trying’ come in an echo.”
“You’d fit right in with Features, Cultures, and Reviews (FCR)”, The Bedan Volume 81’s FCR Editor, Daphne Zenarosa, told me, with other members of the Editorial Staff agreeing. I nod and smile, with the thoughts, “What is FCR?” lingering around my head. With frivolous scanning through the publication’s website and page, I was able to get the gist of what it was, but not quite the hang of it. Not until I had a year’s worth of experience.
As I navigate the unfamiliar terrain from being a freshman to growing into a sophomore is daunting to say the least. The once-ambitious, “I can change the world”-mindset I had in setting foot at the university have changed drastically upon actually entering the classroom.
These whispers came back stronger upon my appointment as an Officer-in-Charge (OIC) FCR Editor, as I’m among those with the least experience.
When I joined The Bedan, not only did I have the desire to write, but also the desire to find a place to belong and excel in. Above all, planted in my heart was the desire to be of service to the people, through the skills I have to offer. Amidst the avalanches, I was able to morph the pressure into this profound sense of responsibility. Every now and then, self-doubt creeps in like a breeze during a storm, questioning whether my voice was as loud as the others, only to realize that it only needs to be strong enough to resonate with them. As I continue to delve into my role during the precipice of my sophomore year, I’ve taken the time to reflect on the legacy I wish to paint, starting with the colors I wish to paint with.
Each article I wrote became more than just words on a page; they formed to become a bridge to the stories of the people in the community, the pulse of the university, and a reflection of the diversity that surrounded me. For what it’s worth, it is only through embracing both my ambition and doubts would I truly prove my commitment to the community. While the future is yet to unfold, what’s certain is that I will remain here, trying, along with each word I write, carving out a space where both I, my fellow scoundrels, and peaceniks can belong. Long live, Emily Dickinson; you would’ve loved being a spectator to this journey, just as I love the inked words of my own making.