Sunday, at home, 11 p.m.
Ah, it's been almost eight years since I walked into the Manila Times building that memorable September of 1999. Today, under a new masthead, I'm still in this crazy world of Philippine journalism, enjoying the roller-coaster ride.
But don't get me wrong. I'm not counting. Only those who do not love what they're doing closely watch the time. Today, I'm just waxing sentimental because it's my anniversary as a journalist.
Yes, crazy me, I celebrate my entry into journalism, that one true thing I will always want to do.
This year, the earth beneath me moved many times over and swept me off my feet.
It was a BIG year of changes, of hellos and goodbyes, of greener pastures and memorable trips, of new journeys, of more bylines and of many, many mannas from the heavens.
There's so much to be thankful for but there's also a lot to think about.
I still don't know how to help make this country a better place. It won't take a genius to realize that it's only getting worse. I don't know if any of the articles I churn out everyday make any sense to the world or at least to my country and I don't know if any of my stories have made the universe a better place.
I'd be lucky if I've been able to improve even just the life of one person. Just one. But even that would be wishful thinking.
Really, I have no messianic delusions. I just find comfort in the thought that writing or rewriting history in a hurry, as what journalism is about -- will someday mean something.
In the meantime, these sentimental thoughts stop here. I've devoured the pasta and the green salad we prepared for this special day (it's also the sixth month birthday of dear Miss I).
It's back to work again. Tomorrow, there are numbers to look at, a budget deficit to monitor, sources to interview and a merciless deadline to meet.