When I was in fourth grade, I knew what I wanted to be. A journalist. During summer vacation, I remember tearing away pages in my notebook that have been written on and keeping the blank ones. Then I would write stories on the blank pages. I don’t remember what stories I have written, but I do remember showing them to my dad. That was when he said, “ Anak , I think you’re going to be a journalist when you grow up.” In high school, my Tita Mary gave me a sketch pad. It was just a bunch of bond paper with green covers done in perfect binding. But I treasured that sketch pad. I would bring it to school every day, and while waiting for the teacher to arrive, I would draw my favorite cartoon characters on it. Sometimes, when the school bus was late, that sketch pad kept me busy. I must say I did some pretty neat pictures on that sketch pad, so I said to myself, “Maybe I could become an artist!” But that didn’t happen after high school. I went to the State University for a degre
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