Simple Blabber

It has been one hectic of a week working on my new job as a feature writer somewhere in Ortigas area.

I never thought, or rather expected, that after languishing in our subdivision's streets loitering without end, playing billiards and cards, getting drunk and just plainly bumming around for more than a year, a job has finally occupied my time at last.

Nevertheless, this new writing job seems something fate has designed for me. I knew then, even when I was still desperate to land on a good job, that there is something good that awaits for me. The only question that preoccupied my time then was when would it come. But fate really works in mysterious way. Here am I now, one of the numbers in the statistics of those employed.

Going back on the fast-paced, hectic week that was, I mostly spent my time infront of the computer, researching and writing for hours. Since the company which I work in now is not a legitimate publishing house in nature, our (us writers) work and worth as writers is gauged by the output that we produce at the end of the day. So our managing editor, on his suggestion to appease our demanding business-oriented boss, is to type-away/speed-write any article that has the possibility of being included as articles for future issues of our line-up of magazines.

Well, I don't have any problem with that. I can yak and pound on the keyboard without end (though the quality of the text is expected to be replete with grammar and syntax errors.)

The only time when I felt down was when the article I wrote with all seriousness and with the critical eye of a pretending veteran writer returned to me with lots of corrections -- murdered to use another term. It seems, I still have not learned my lessons in writing well.

But that can be dismissed easily with an alibi that I'm still warming up, still finding my groove in writing.

The only thing that I can brag about my attitude on this new writing job is my willingness -- longevity can aptly be used -- in working for twelve hours straight. For several working days now, I would stay till the office is about to close, using all my time to write a rush article and going home just to sleep. Then when I wake up the following day, I would just take a bath, take a sip of coffee and probably even a couple of cigarettes and off I go again to work.

It is, indeed, hectic working days with this kind of working style. But I cannot find myself getting tried or grumpy during the past days that I have been doing this. I can even say that everything I do in the office is a respite from the lack of nothing to do I suffered during the previous year.

Probably, I'm just compensating for the time I lost and wasted then. Can be.

Well, I just want to say that I feel good that I am being paid to write, and can call myself employed.