This newspaper exists.
Plaridel Post started in the minds of people in a newsroom called Beltran in Wing A of the College of Mass Communication. It was born in Antipolo and Quezon City, one month in the making, from fiction to reality. It was parented by three college girls, all tired but optimistic: Elsie had colds and dishevelled hair, Claire's gastrocnemius was already hard from all the driving, and Mimi was the one who breaks down from less than 7 hours of sleep.
Regardless of their weaknesses, they fought. And they fought hard. Against sleep, hunger, thirst, jadedness, dread, 3 a.m. insects and that icky, stinky feeling. After more than 26 hours of hard core editing, layout work, cropping, ranting, x-marking paragraphs, hypnic jerks and microsleeps, they still drove from the mountains back to the city to the University to the Journalism department to make it before deadline. Alas, they failed. They were still late. Too late.
But as some song goes, "The shortest distance between two people is a smile." It worked. One smile and they convinced the great and famous secretary to print their four-page publication.
Finally, the Plaridel Post was born. From mere imagination to paper. It's crude, and partly unfinished, but what the heck. For they saw everything they had made, and behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the the free day.
PLARIDEL POST is the dream project the College might want to dream about, even a University whose students have long been searching for alternatives.
Next attraction ...
another alternative student paper from dreamland:
Where change starts with i