DOCUMENTED MY FUTURE IN THE PRESENT

As I remember, June 24 dusked like any other summer evening in our town. The evening news arrived in my silent email—a request for a photographer—and when I read it as soon as possible, it became obvious that this was going to be like any other event I had covered since I entered journalism.

Well, I have to be honest, being requested to document an event is not, most of the time, the kind of email or job that I hoped would find me well—especially this summer vacation—for the reason that I ridiculously lose myself after an event. But, as the great quotation said in our rule-of-thumb archives, "The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others."

So, regardless of how much work would make you lose yourself, if it is for others, something—though without expectation—would surely be given to you twice as you can imagine. Perhaps, a subtle gift for you to find yourself more.

As for me, I always find myself committing to this job with the same complaint I have for making it this far, but there is always a sensitive feeling that assures me that after everything, I would still tend my heart in the service of others—or simply, in the idea of helping.

And yes, that's a long one for a blog's introductory part. I hope you still took the message with a heart despite the unnecessary words. If you made it this far, then grab your coffee, sit down peacefully, and relax while you read my newest narrative.

Basically, this blog is a continuation of my previous blog My Last Resort Before June Ends. In that blog, I showed you a peek of the resort's hidden beauty, gave you the important details, and shared my reflection before the end of June. But actually, visiting that resort had a reason why. And it had something to do with my future.

On a rainy Sunday afternoon, I found myself at the gate of Hisoler Beach Resort (see details of the resort in the previous blog). I was tasked to document the first-ever pinning ceremony of the Psychology Department in our school, which took place at the said resort. I honestly am not an expert in photojournalism—but had to be—after our former head photojournalist graduated. This meant the event at the resort was just an add-on to my nerve-wracking experience as a student journalist.

I started the job with some preparation and cleaning of the camera and other equipment. Cleaning the lens takes a lot of energy even if it looks like a simple task. We had to clean it thoroughly since it had been a month since we stored it in the office. It needs a gentle hand and keen wiping to ready it for the event and make the photos cleaner. After preparing the camera, we searched for nice spots in the venue where we could take our photos from different angles. We made ourselves the subjects and took note of the settings in every angle since we were new to this kind of job and not that expert in camera settings. It helped us a lot that we arrived at the venue one hour before the event, because it gave us more time to familiarize ourselves with the spaces, lights, and corners where the students would walk during the procession.

We didn’t eat our lunch that day because when we were about to eat, the visitors and students started arriving, and it felt quite embarrassing eating in front of all those strangers. So we did ourselves a favor and roamed the resort for 30 minutes. In my previous blog, I shared with you the features of the resort—and those are the things I saw during that quick 30-minute roam.

We went back to the venue a minute or two before the event started and saw everyone seated in their respective chairs, including the faculty and invited guests/speakers. When the master of ceremonies breathed her first word, our duty as photojournalists began. I agree that doing this kind of work leaves you with a past experience of the event—you do not get to experience it completely because you are trying to freeze time for those people celebrating it. You only get to experience it after the event, as soon as you examine and edit the photos.

The event began with a procession of students, parents, teachers, and speakers. It took us a while to figure out which part to capture them from. Then a formal introduction followed, such as singing the Philippine National Anthem and the School Hymn. A lot happened in the event—like the Welcome Address of the Dean, Words of Appreciation by the President, and the Keynote Speech. The event was actually anxiety-provoking for me, but I was calmed by the news that my favorite professor would be giving the Keynote Speech. I have always adored him for a long time because of his expertise and bright presentation of our major subject. He had always been an inspiration to every student he handled. Like John Keating in Dead Poet's Society.

For me, there were two main highlights of the event: the giving of pins and the students' tribute to their parents. I found it the most heartwarming part that day, when all you could see were the smiles of parents for their children, and the proud "payment" of the students for their parents’ sacrifices. It was also the hardest part to document—especially the tribute—because I couldn't decide which moment to capture, since everyone was in an emotional situation. Some were joyfully crying, hugging their parents, smelling the flower bouquet, and even taking pictures. One glimpse, and you lose a moment.

I found myself freezing right at that moment, listening to their cries and feeling it all. I was looking at my future in the present. I was documenting the future. Because somewhere next year, I would be the one crying and hugging my parents with flowers, listening to keynote speeches. To be clear, I belong to the same department as the students in the pinning ceremony, so I already have an overview of what will happen to us next year. I cannot wait for that glorious moment. I was not able to take good photos of the tribute because I couldn’t resist watching it instead. I found some good photos—but most of them are in my heart.

The event also had the lighting of candles, singing of the song made by the students, and the collective watching of their journeys from first to third year through a video presentation. Everyone, for sure, kept that day in their own keepsakes. Perhaps, it was the best thing placed there.

We ended the event with final remarks. And when it was formally ended, everyone posed for photos in their booth, cried again as if it were still the pinning ceremony, had a group picture on the stage, ate the food prepared, and some were already going home.

It was about 30 minutes before we exited the venue and found ourselves sharing one umbrella while searching for a tricycle. We dropped by Gaisano Bogo and separated our things from the shared bag. We left the event happily—not only because we enjoyed it—but because we knew they appreciated us. They even gave us a token.

Perhaps that’s the glory in documenting life—it allows you to witness narratives that aren’t even yours to keep, until somehow, they begin to become a part of you. And in those silent, freezing moments after the job is done, somewhere, you will know that maybe, you had something more than just photograph.