Tuition payment extended ‘til end of sem — Page 3 Philippine Collegian Opisyal na lingguhang pahayagan ng mga mag-aaral ng Unibersidad ng Pilipinas - Diliman 15 Setyembre 2011 Taon 89, Blg. 13
GRIM BILL OF HEALTH The deteriorating state of public hospitals Features
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Dibuho ni Ysa Calinawan
Sa iyo na kinatatakutan ng pangulo Kolum Page 10
Walang pasok Editoryal Page 2
Put on your best smile and say cheese Kultura Page 6-7
The point, however Terminal Cases Delfin Mercado Sometimes, I feel that my struggle to write this column is pointless. Each week, I bust my brains trying to fill this column with around 500 words. I wrack my head in my efforts to meet the demands of my editors: a coherent story please, an interesting anecdote, a piece that will generate some buzz. Not a tall order, some of you might say. Well, there is context in column-writing, you know. And by context, I mean the things that happen as I sew together sentences to tell my angst-ridden, existential stories. This month was certified hell—a prolonged version of the proverbial hell week that gets us lowly creatures down on our knees. I haven’t been sleeping well, with voices buzzing in my head and reminding me of each task that I had to accomplish by the end of some god-forsaken deadline. One of the voices lulling me to an unsatisfactory sleep would be that of my editor, begging me for that draft that she asked for the last x times. The process of writing is exhausting. And the output? A column people will barely read. A column you may not even notice, despite all my efforts to make sure my first sentence catches your eye (my editor’s prescription, not mine). Yet I struggle. And one night, I was reminded why. A couple of nights ago, when I found myself trapped in the office, I insisted on catching a bite at Katipunan Avenue. It was late, there were no jeeps, we had no cars. There was only one way to get where we wanted to be: taxi. We rode a taxi at the Magsaysay Gate and grabbed a quick snack at a nearby 24/7 café. The food lightened up my mood a bit, and soon I was talking animatedly. We hailed a cab back to the office. “UP po,” I said. He was one of those congenial taxi drivers who would talk to you while driving. “Totoo ba ‘yung nasa balita na magiging private na daw ang UP?” the cab driver asked nonchalantly. Me and my fellow writer were taken aback. Somehow, I answered. Private corporations were already renting our land, my companion said. “Natin. Lupa natin,” the taxi driver corrected him. As we navigated through C.P. Garcia Avenue, the driver went on to tell his life story – he was a graduate of Agriculture in Bicol University and had served for over two decades as assistant manager in a commercial farm in Bulacan. While working in the said farm, he struggled for just compensation for all employees and farmers, regardless of position. Though he held a relatively high position in the farm, he opted to resign when it was not granted. Manong’s story blew all my angst away. There I was, looking for context, thirsting for validation, harboring resentment for all the things I had to give up—so that I could write this column. So that I could write for you. The things we write about, the things we lose sleep for, will eventually mean something. Everywhere, the people are fighting for something. The struggle to write this column is therefore not pointless. ●