Frustrated Attempts

How many times? I ran out of fingers to count the attempts. Name it: yesterday, today, and maybe forever. I told myself to quit but there is something within that tells me to pursue it.

2006 when I crafted my first long short story. I had it passed as a project to my Values Education teacher to comply the subject. Raw--never been edited, not even reread. Aye, appreciated. I was in seventh heaven. Then on, I keep writing, inspired by the first attempt's appreciation. I was in my sophomore year in high school that time and was already a contributor writer of the school organ since freshman.

I am never assigned to write in prose or poetry or any of literary genre. Most often, in news and editorials. Nevertheless, that made me an opinionated one.

Later on, I was moved to my junior year and finally, made it to the editorial board--as a copyreader-encoder/lay-out worker. From there, I understand, real writers and journalists know what it takes to be a writer/journalist. Not just mere gathering of facts and make opinions, write features and so on, but it is about the dedication to work and heed on. I tried to be contented with the position I held, yet it's not I longed to have. Keep on, I was a dreamer.

In the School-based Campus Journalism Seminar and Workshop for that year, I happen to win three spots: News Writing, Copyreading and Headline Writing, and Editorial Writing. But when DSPC came, I was placed on Editorial Writing and sadly, I lost. Of the many reasons why I lost it, I am certain, it was because I am not a good one. I call a loser's move.

My last year in high school is another heartbreaking year. I was just placed on the third higher position and no paper was published. I don't know where our funds went but I'm certain, our adviser became tired of writing and editing. But before that, I made it again to DSPC 'cause I still won the same three spots. At the press conference, all of us won and two were not able to make it to RSPC and I'm one of the two. I was sad again because I am placed to the same frustrating slot: Editorial Writing.

In college, I've waited for two years before I was able to make it to the school publication. I ain't good in writing but I call it perseverance and determination. Nothing beats the optimism in me. I auditioned  with my classmate and together, we've made it. An most of all, in my first year at the pub, I right away seized an editorial position. I was glad but along it is the great fear I cannot fathom. So, I heed on, chin up, armed with prior knowledge in journalism and the course I took up, I survived.

Now, it's my final year in tertiary (and in the pub) and still, I haven't written a remarkable piece. It's alarming for me because that made me feel inferior and worthless. When I had written my first news article, there was a flop. I spent a week of mourning over the mistake I've made. I blame myself for being careless. But that was the past and all I hope was I hope people reading it will not see the mistake. Blinded, in other words.

The dream I dreamed has came true. I have now the position I wished to have since I was in elementary. (Got it? I have it in my dreams, even in my nightmares.) I cannot help the 'buts', but I have a very deep fear of something I don't understand.

Three months had passed and I still did not able to finish the story I've been writing. My writing muse keep eluding-visiting-eluding me. To add, this emptiness I have within gives more reasons for my muse to ran away.

I am frustrated of what happened: I expect too much from the people around me, but then they fail me. Whatever their reasons, my mind's still working on it. I cannot deal easily with people who less cooperate and is indolent. Yet, I have to work on my own, balancing academics and pub works. The above mentioned must have add up to the sorts of reasons why I cannot finish that shunned story.

I tried to finish everything (the news articles, the lay-out plan, the resos, activity designs, and all related stuffs) before this month ends. But how will I do it when I wasn't making my way, I already surrender? Pray, I'll make it.