Prospect of life

Having just finished my final article for the school news paper, I can't wait to see that baby hit the newsstands, and by newsstands I mean the cafeteria tables of the HUB campuses.

For the first issue I've written two movie reviews, three book reviews, a lifestyle piece about the vanity and cosmetic-surgery oriented world of today as well as two articles about school campagnes. Hopefully the first issue will please hordes of students so that I can continue writing next year. I don't think I can wish for a better catalyst to set my future journalism career in motion. And just think about the abundant bylines this will give me!

To think that years ago, I saw myself becoming a psychiatrist or a social worker seems almost too hard to believe right now. Never had I thought that this urge, this need to write would prevail over my lifelong desire of studying psychology. I never saw myself as a writer. First off, it didn't seem to be quite lucrative and secondly, since I've never been able to see a story through, I was surprised to find that each time I woke up I began to think about writing. It's strange to think how far it has brought me.

I mean, here I am, writing my twenty-faux blog or something, one having more consistency or literary value than the other, but nonetheless there they are, plain for all to see. My writing. My words. My world. Sometimes I wonder how many people have read my words and if they liked them. I occasionally scroll down to the bottom of the blog to see if anyone checked interesting, cool or funny.

But the truth is, I don't care how many people read my words. I know that this blog is just a grain of sand in this massive desert of words and pictures. I'm not as presumptuous as to think that my blog would stir up something in the minds of my readers, something so profound that they'd never be the same again.

Later on, I would love to write something that could change someone's world. If I can reach out to just one person and make that person's life better or give him/her some kind of purpose, I would know that I did something right. It would give my work, the work that I love to do, meaning and that is one of the most precious feelings in the world. To know that what you do, actually means something.

So for all those journalists out there, remember that your work means something and that it can really touch someone. One day I hope to join your ranks. And for all those editors out there, reading this small and insignificant blog, who are touched by my work, please consider these writings as my resume and if you have any openings available, please be so kind as to think of me when you're reviewing possible candidates.