to my editor

After a burst of tears, a word from God, further realizations along with moments that urge honesty last Sunday, I am ready to be terminated from work.

I am no egotistic person not to recognize how incompetent I had been in work. Working in the beat for almost a month now, I was only able to publish two stories on paper, and around six more on the net. With a quota of two stories a day, six days of work a week, this is a really low average.

I have had good coverage, but if someone else had been sent there, my editors would have gotten a better output compared to all the crappy articles I have done.

I'm no good writer, I always knew that. It's the love of writing that makes me stay in this field of arts but even before I graduated from college, I knew I will never be one of the best writers in my batch.

I have been a waste. The money paid for my salary has not gotten its worth.

Sunday work dreads me. In fact, I hate it. I feel I'd rather live with exact means in a ministry, than to be journalist.

Although to defend myself, my beat had never been easy. With officials who hate interviews, a bureaucratic agency and kill-the-young principle of certain reporters, I live with the story fed to me. I have learned to ignore or minimally use press releases. Very few press officers remember me. And I still have to admit, despite the stress and shame I feel every time I see my editor, I'm still happy I am in this paper. I am very blessed to have a very patient editor, and a newspaper who is teaching me of journalism standards I have not seen in any newspaper in this country.

The only reason why I have not resigned is because I know it is God who has given me this job. It has been difficult but He has shown His providence as well. I know for myself I will not be the one giving up on what God has given me.

Then again, I have never been great in this field, and my rational mind tells me I doubt I will ever be. If it God's plan to have me terminated, I am ready to accept that. If my editor tells me that there is nothing for me in this field, I am ready to accept. And by the time he tells me this, I have a lot of thanksgiving to tell him, not to make him retract but to recognize the good things this job has brought me.

If it is God's will, I am ready to accept my termination from this job. It is never mine to take.

something on obama

My editor asked me to attend an event at the US embassy. The embassy invited a professor of journalism to talk about the significance of the Internet at the 2008 US Elections.

As expected, I was late for the 8:30 in the morning affair. I came in the event a few minutes after the open forum had started. The topic was really interesting and I've learned new things about political campaign strategies. But then, since there wasn't any local peg, my editor didn't ask me to write any story at all.

Anyway, I was reading the portfolio of the candidates that were given to us during the event. As I am fascinated with Barack Obama's candidacy, I opened the magazine and read his biography first.

I must admit, I've heard a lot of stories about him, as he was featured in Time magazine, coverages from New York Times, and a few more stories from missionaries and friends who are going to vote.

One of the main contentions my friends have is that he makes it appear that he is a Christian when in turn, he is actually a Muslim. Now I don't know how true this allegation could be, but the mere idea that they wouldn't vote for him because he is a Muslim already raises an eyebrow.

Maybe I'm just liberated, as one of them would often refer me, or maybe I'm just being nice, but I really don't like the idea of discrimination because of religion. Religion, I think, should not be the measure for a person to be deserving in a position, especially with regard to the Muslim religion.

I'd like to quote what United Nations Secretary-General Bak Ki Moon said in his message for the Asian Conference on Religions for Peace. He said, "It is man who created war in the name of religion."

Because of this war against terrorism, people have started looking down on the Islam religion, that terrorism is a product of extremist religion, that it is the Islam religion that cultivates this extreme methods. However, they do not recognize the idea of ideology, that terrorism in its sense is actually a protest against the world power.

Now, on this point, Obama says the US should keep it's stand in the global power seat and yet he advocates for the end of the war in Middle East and resort to diplomatic settlements.

At one point, it seems quite ironic, to keep power and yet settle with those that are against you're being there. Then again, no one could very well achieve it unless he would actually know why there are these protests, make them feel that you understand them, and convince them to meet at a certain level, exactly the same element of synthesis Karl Marx discussed in his conflict theory.

My parents would have killed me by now if they would hear I have to say about this election such that they are being fed by the allegations against Obama. Quite honestly, I have much more to say but just to clarify, I'm not exactly pro-Obama. I'd like to think, thank God I'm not an American to be thinking who to vote. But yes, this elections is still quite interesting.

journalism lectures

Since last week, I have received quite a number of lectures from my editors. Although of course, one almost killed me, but it was actually the first time I felt they started caring about what I've been writing and how I'm going to write it.

Now I have to be honest, much of the lessons they've given me are obvious notes on journalism but when you're in the field, everything seems so different. Theories have separated from practice, and the initial reaction of a new reporter in a beat is to actually go with the flow and join the bandwagon.

Lesson 1. Call.
It amazes me how my reporter-friends can survive through phone calls when I had to always at some sort of event to get a story. But seeing her makes me realize it is possible. I just have to have the guts to call.
Lesson 2. What's in it for the Philippines?
As a foreign affairs writer, not everything they say matters. It may be newsworthy for them, but for us Filipinos, we might not care a big. When doing a story, this is always the first question I need to ask myself.
Lesson 3. Treat each day as if there's no press conference.
Of course. I can never be dependent of coverages and press releases. I should also learn how to look for a story. I really have to make phone calls.
Lesson 4. Always call the agencies involved for reactions.
Lesson 5. Just call. Don't be apprehensive.
Yeah, keep telling me that.
Lesson 6. Take advantage of your femininity.
It's actually quite funny to notice how some melt at the sight of young ladies. This is probably because a lot are older than 30 (or at least look like it). There seems to be some sort of kindness towards us younger ones. It funny but it works.

surviving

After exactly two weeks in the beat, like a fish taken out of the water, I am trying to get all the necessary air I can get to live as long as possible.

I have been bombarded with press conferences last week that I am usually assured of at least one story everyday. And how I wish it would go on until I decide to resign from work but then, it's just a wish.

I am starting my week with nothing, a blank paper. I checked out the newspaper where my friend is working, only to find out she does have stories to pass and they do actually get published. And I will not withhold from her the credit she deserves. She is excelling in the beat.

I'd like to think life is unfair, that she gets stories and I don't. But then, I'm just entering my third week on the beat. Aside from her, I've only had two friends in the beat, one would be my newspaper's photographer.

I opened all my electronic inbox in hopes to find a press release to start off the day. If I could get a lead of something, I might actually have something good to write on for the afternoon. But no, all I get are messages telling me of blog entries.

I checked on the embassy websites in hopes to find something new. Aside from the transcripts of interviews one of my editors had with the Australian Trade Minister, I didn't find anything else.

I went back to my mother, feeling depressed. And when I found myself alone, I broke into tears. I didn't really understand why but now, I am admitting that this job is killing me.

But then, life goes on. I am no quitter. I do not see myself backing out in the middle of any battle. I left and headed for the beat office.

Sure, I had some ideas on what to work on but never got the courage to do it. A few minutes after two in the afternoon, the beat spokesperson texted, informing the release of Filipino seamen in Nigeria.

I was happy enough to realize that I have a story for the day. But thinking that I had started passing two stories last week, I simply do not want to slow down the momentum.

I found a press release from the vice. Although I tried making it not a press release, circumstances drove me to passing it without getting an expert's opinion.

It's still depressing to find myself passing crappy articles. Then again, I shouldn't be complaining at this stage. I was able to pass two articles. That's what's important. Getting it published will come eventually.

I will get there someday.

just got killed

I would very much admit now that though I was not able to pass an article daily last week, if the managing editor had been there, I would have resigned or received a memo for my incompetency even before the week ends.

It had been frustrating then, but it would been even more if the managing editor had not been in Europe last week.

By the time he got back to work, I was filled with events and big time press conferences that I had been able to pass at least one every day.

Of course, much of what I had planned still were flushed in the toilet for either lack of newsworthiness, lack of facts, or simply never followed up.

Given that Friday was supposedly the lightest day of the week, I was truly thankful enough that I still had an event to cover, which meant a sure-ball article and I will still have enough time to follow up on stories I've been thinking to do.

Then again, everything just seemed to fade away so sudden.

Who would have thought that I could never get anything from an ASEAN event? I have been into the health beat for the week and I'm pretty sure I have enough knowledge to go about the press conference. I called up my editor to slug in my story, only to find out it was not worth the internet space.

Allow me to insert this here. This was the only time my editor really talked to me about my beat. Much of the phone call we had for the past few days were "this is my story" and "ok". But this time, he was telling what I should always be looking for in my beat, which is basically, "What will the Philippines get in this?"

With our phone conversation this afternoon, I was able to realize how vague and superficial ASEAN statements could get such that I couldn't really find anything concrete for the Philippines. I'm sure there are, but with less than an hour of open forum to a secretary who never really gave in to interviews, there wasn't enough opportunity to probe in these questions. And so, my story was scraped but he also gave me the feeling that it's ok since I'm just starting to get in the beat.

By the time my friend and I were in a taxi to get to a netshop, the desk texted me, telling me that my managing editor was looking for my stories, and should I further emphasize this, STORIES.

I was obviously obliged to call him and when I did, I realized I was talking to him without any story in my mind.

As expected, he was frustrated and started questioning me on what I had been doing the whole day. I had to explain the delay of schedule for the press conference and my attempts to look for a story even during the morning.

He wasn't that mad, but I remembered from him is that I should be treating my day as if no events were to happen and therefore I should be striving hard to get a story. The good part here though, is that he said since this was the first time, he's going to let it pass and instructed me to call him if I was able to come up with a story (which is an hour before the deadline).

I was scared really. I knew he was right and I needed to hear that. My editor and the managing editor has some sort of balance that both made me start moving on and try to do better. Moreover, I saw the blessing that has hidden from me last week, that if he had been there, I would have been dead by now.

I was killed today, yes, but it put a lot of pressure on me and I was still able to pass two stories for the day (although one of it is 30mins late). Welcome to the journ life of the business paper.

being a reporter

Being a journalist is not a far-fetched idea for friends who've known me and have been with me since time and memorial. Studying the craft for five years makes people think that I have been equipped with the necessary principles and skills to become a true journalist.

Yeah, right. Who ever said it was going this hard?

But then, to give credit to all my professors in college, journalism was never easy. Doing an article daily and living each day at a time may be stressing but students could really get use to it. They did not lack in reminding us of the perils of the system, not just the political but the media itself. With the communication theories, ethical principles and journalism artciles we've done in the past, how can the work field be so different?

Haha. It is. And my stress level had never got up this high, with my appetite shifting and my mind rejecting food as it is filled with plans and ideas for stories instead. (And by the way, I am a stress eater)

From the very moment I wake up, my mind worries of the stories I need to do, much of them I don't know where to get, where to look for. As I worry, I start praying hard, telling God to just grant me with stories that will get me through the day.

Around eight in the morning, I venture the computer shop in hopes to find a press release in my inbox. If not, I'd really be hoping that the beat spokesperson would suddenly text for updates on overseas Filipino workers stories.

If I had not been successful to look for a story by 10, I start getting depressed with no ice cream to compensate for what I feel.

I tried coming by the office during those times, but with my computer located right behind the line of editors, the more I feel tensed. And by feeling tensed, I literally mean shaking. If I would want to get out the office, it would be very hard because I had to pass by my editor's table and he would usually look at me every time I walk there.

If by 0ne in the afternoon, I still have no story (which by the way usually happens), I feel like I want to hide. It's a feeling of shame, embarassment of admition of incompetency that I just want to fade away.

Getting out of the office is not that different actually. Being assigned in a beat where most reporters are rather old, new reporters are not really easily welcomed. The press office is fantastic. Computers are available. Newspapers are on the desk. A television (and I think cables for PSP) is ready to use. Phone lines are everywhere, and the best part, the room is air-conditioned. But then, no one usually comes there, unless something important is going to happen or somebody wants to sleep during office hours.

Courtesy calls for the big people in the beat are simple fantasies for new reporters. The only event that I was able to see any official at the building is when the secretary was about to leave the building. I had tried asking permission to even at least, meet the spokesperson but no one ever allowed me. In activist terms, the agency is very bureaucratic and the media is expected to be simply an information dissemination agent. Probing is, I guess, discouraged.

So how had I been amidst the pressure and the beat, I'm trying to survive. Ergo, I must survive. I know very well that God had given me this job and to give up so easily is by far giving up on what God wants for me. Anyway, I'm just on my first week. Who ever said the first week was going to be easy? In fact, it might take me a month or so for just adjusting. Then again, being a christian journalist is never easy. I am obliged to live each day at a time with stress but still and always in faith.

I will survive, sing it with me :D