Freelance Writing

I've been considering freelance writing as a possible full time career option in the event that my hubby decides to start his residency training somewhere outside Cagayan. That means I'd have to resign from my current work as a school physician and lose reliever stints as a company doctor, to accompany him wherever he plans to train. I thought, online jobs might save me from possible joblessness because it would be difficult to find work for doctors like the ones I have now, that wouldn't entail 24 hrs duty. I definitely have no plans of going back to the zombie life once more.

When I browsed around for freelance outsourcing websites, I noticed there were a lot of open projects for writers but the pay can get as low as $1 an article, with expected turn around of 5-10 articles of 200-500 words per day. And these are not mere rewriting jobs but works containing original contents. Its not like you can write whatever's on your mind, right? It's not even a personal blog. You have to carefully study the topic assigned, process your thoughts before hitting the keyboards with words that actually make sense. Since I'm relatively new to this field, I'm not sure if it's easier for seasoned writers to effortlessly produce multiple articles like living factories.

Since most freelance websites hire their employees by bidding, the one who bids the lowest pay gets the job. Amazingly, there are people who can bid as low as .50 cents per article just to land the job. Are times really this hard up? Are they worth that low? This situation tolerates buyers/employers into offering jobs with very meager pay. The provider comes across as a beggar who will take anything, just to survive. Heck, beggars in our streets even require a minimum of one peso from willing donors. But these writers are supposedly professionals who spent years on education to be able to pull off a sensible article.

Maybe if I don't have the convenience I am presently enjoying in my current jobs, I might actually give in to the pressure of taking whatever is there. But good Lord, I hope it doesn't come to that point. That would probably be the time when I'd rather go full time into make up artistry, or whatever job that respects my skills and knowledge.

Anatomy Of A Writer

I am grateful that through this blog, I was able to land a writing gig at odesk.com. Although the entries here are not that polished and contain more of my rants than intellectually-stimulating pieces, it was a wise decision to keep it. This served as my portfolio.

I signed up for odesk last December just for the heck of it. Upon searching the open jobs available, I couldn't find anything suitable for me. In every job posting, there were a lot of applicants gunning for the respective positions. I didn't bother applying to any of slots because I didn't feel I had the edge over the others. Not until I got the invitation to work for a website for doctors in UK.

My present boss, who is likewise a doctor, contacted me to have an interview for a project they were working on. He browsed through my profile and this blog. The tasks included article/ blog writing and forum postings. This was just the job that I had in mind. This must be the "law of attraction" working.

With my assignments, I get to learn the latest news in the medical field, research about diseases and awaken my neurons which I haven't done for a while, after quitting residency. This work makes me think! Just when I thought I was ready to trade my career as a doctor to become a full time makeup artist, I realized I still crave for mental calisthenics. Don't get me wrong, make up artistry takes a lot of creativity, but it is in writing where I get to quench my brain the knowledge it has been thirsting for. I get to employ my medical education, the use of which I have been questioning for quite some time now.

I am thankful to God that now I am putting my skills to use. From make up to writing to music (I went back to playing the piano) to practicing as a physician, I am enjoying His blessings for me and the time that allows me to do all this. This makes my life a lot lovelier.

Oh yeah, I just got my first pay from odesk yesterday. Here's hoping for a lot more gigs to come. Thanks a lot to Matt, my boss for trusting me on this job.

I'll Miss You, Lil Pup

We always had puppies but this one I recently adopted is different. My mom told me it was my canine counterpart. She was chinky eyed, liked to isolate herself from the other puppies and loved sleeping. She had this funny habit of getting in the way when my car arrived. She would stretch out her tiny body just a few inches where the wheel was about to halt. They call her suicidal. I thought to myself, she's just like me: self- destructive.

Like me, she ate very little but her favorite food was sushi. She'd wiggle her tail when she is served her fave dish. She can get moody too. Ignoring her when she wants to play with you will send her to some corner and starve herself. She had always been a weakling. Maybe that's why I adopted her. My heart went out for her. She was the tiniest in the brood of puppies that our dog gave birth to. However, she was the cutest, prettiest and meekest one. She had curly hair and looked like a toy.

While her siblings were all playful, they annoyed her a lot. She would sleep in a corner away from them. It bothered me that there were times when she refused to eat. Once, it rained hard and we found her on the ground after falling off from the terrace. She was shaking so bad I wrapped her in a piece of cloth to warm her up. I even blow dried her hair. I thought she was gonna die then. Thankfully, she survived. Next thing we knew, she was beating her siblings off to their meal. That's how I knew she was getting better.

The next few days she was her usual weak self again. I suspected she needed deworming. Her tummy was distended. My mom brought her to a vet clinic where she was confined for 5 days. They said her intestines were probably obstructed by a ball of worms. I was willing to spend just for her to get well. I prayed for her everyday. I saw myself in her. A weakling but a survivor. I wanted her to be healthy once again because seeing her well means there's hope, there's miracle. She went home improved but I sensed there could still be something wrong inside her.

These past few days, she only drank milk and milktea through a dropper. She lost her appetite once again. We changed her name a couple of times thinking that a particular name made her more prone to sickness. From Jeprox (my nick when I was a kid) to kim rox , finally to kim shoe (because she liked curling next to my hubby's shoes). It didn't work. She was getting sicker by the day.

Yesterday, she puked. I didn't realize there was blood in her vomitus until my mom told me this morning. This noon, it was my first time to hear her cry. She hardly made a noise before. My mom said she was passing out bloody stools. I could only run my fingers through her hair wishing i could do something for her. She was already on antibiotics. Then she wailed again. I knew she was in pain. I was hoping she could get over this one like she did a couple of times before. After all, she was my tiny survivor. A few minutes later, my mom called out "she's dying". I rushed out finding her nonresponsive yet heavily breathing. I tapped her over and over again hoping to get a response. She was after all, still breathing. She was in shock.Like the many terminal patients I witnessed dying before me, I knew she was about to go. It was frustrating to be a doctor yet helpless as to saving my little pet's life.

I went inside my room to hide my tears, leaving her to my mom's care. I wept my heart out afterwards. I couldn't stand the sight of her struggling to live. I thought we'd survive our sickness together. I thought we'd prove that miracles can happen. But there she was, holding on to her life by a thread. Any minute, I knew she was about to leave me. When I went out to work, she was still breathing . I shed tears while driving. When I was in the clinic, thinking of her crushed my heart. I found out later, that she gave out her final breath minutes later after I went out of the house.

I take refuge in the thought that she is over her suffering. No more pain. No more agony. She's a happy pup wherever she may be now. But still, I couldn't help myself from missing her.