The present

Netnet Camomot

IF yesterday morning were in the year, say, 1900, I won’t be able to submit this column on time. There was a blackout again right before I began writing this but thanks to other gadgets, the writing moved forward easily, otherwise, this had to be hand- or typewritten and sent via a human messenger to Editor-in-Chief Herbie Gomez.

News travels fast nowadays, as long as there’s electricity and a WiFi connection. Documentation is also faster now, thanks to computers. But writers—or wannabe writers like me—are known to surrender to distractions and you may find them playing Homescapes, Gardenscapes, and Candy Crush Soda Saga an hour before a column’s deadline. Work also manages to insert itself, to distract pa more the wannabe writer.

This month, I’m celebrating seven years of writing for Mindanao Gold Star Daily, with much thanks to Sir Toto Chu, Bebotte Chu, and, of course, Herbie.

The columnizing began in 2003 with another local daily. That was on the front page, below the fold, with the rest of the piece in the inside pages, and it evolved to a daily column from Monday to Friday. Veteran journalist Butch Enerio is probably my ninong in the media industry—I asked him to invite me to write for the paper he was with then. He eventually became EIC of that paper, with Bong Fabe also becoming one but I don’t remember now if it was before or after Butch’s EIC stint.

Mornings were spent tinkering with the desktop’s keyboard. I don’t remember how I dealt with blackouts sans the availability of other gadgets, a power bank, and mobile data, but I usually met the Cebu-based editor’s deadlines. I also covered events for that paper, mostly for its lifestyle section, which meant writing for most of the week.

My colleagues then would tease me about the way I took notes during press conferences—which could be every word that the press con subject was blurting out. Being new in the media industry, and with college focused on producing a certified public accountant out of my minute brain, what did I know about journalism? So, I had on-the-job training, and I had to learn fast. I also took photos for the lifestyle pieces I wrote, and there were times when I did think, Oh my gas, who would have thought?

The only thing I knew was, at least I could tell the difference between there and their, it’s and its, your and you’re. Good enough, eh?

I studied Accounting in a university known for its Journalism course, in a college building that also housed its Journalism students. All I had to do was transfer to the lower floors. But I did not. Because I had no idea. Or I was convinced I was meant to be a CPA, a dream that I wrote on elementary and high school autograph books. Ambition: To be an accountant.

My mom was an accountant. I watched her while she filled up accounting journals and general ledgers for the family business. I asked her what she was doing. When she replied, Accounting, I had this thought bubble hovering overhead that this must be the best job in the world because Mama seemed to savor it, with her eyes always focused on documents, and the journals and ledgers.

It was only in high school that I learned about the certified part when Mama told me to fix my handwriting so I could pass the board exams. This prompted a change in my autograph reply. Ambition: To be a certified public accountant.

And I did become one.

Autograph books were no longer the “in” thing for our generation after college. But the ambition continued to evolve. Ambition: To become a millionaire before the age of 30.

A million by then was no big deal anymore for any business owner. It was only a figure, it didn’t reveal all the sacrifices that it required.

I have this habit of assessing my life every ten years. Or life forces me to reassess my life every ten years, right before the 20th, 30th, and so on and so forth birthdays. I don’t even notice it until it begins to unfold. Lately, though, the ten-year period extended to 11 years when a Realization 101 hit me with a mind-boggling incident that had me staring into space in Christmas 2015, during those two weeks before Dec. 25 and until Jan. 1.

My brother had to remind me then, Net, sakto na. Stop staring into space.

I now stare at the trees outside from the room with a view. Birds would perch on the window, chirping, wagging their tails, as if to assure me everything is fine and will be fine.

Life has been a test of loyalty since December 2015. I do ask if I wasted all those decades reassessing life in the career department when I should have focused, too, on more important matters.

It’s never too late, though, for me and for the laptop and gadgets to restart. Columnizing is my yoga session, meditation, and retreat. This helps me breathe.

Things happen for a reason but we notice the reason only after. It’s a belated aha moment. Others call it a blessing in disguise. Most of the time, it’s drowned by the disguise, and you have to dig deep to discover it.

I always hesitate in saying I’m blessed. Because there are people who are not feeling blessed, and by saying we are blessed, that’s rubbing it in.

But we now travel light in this world, assured of the loyalty of family and friends who have chosen us.

If the thoughts here sound familiar, it’s because I always write about my columnizing history whenever my MGSD annual anniversary comes around. But the blackout had inspired reassessing life from the ’80s till the present. And here’s a quote that may help you, too, in your reassessment as this year ends: “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.”