Getting better

In my last blog, I wrote about the fears that I'm facing nowadays of not succeeding, of not becoming what I want to be. It' still a daily battle to conquer these thoughts.

When I decided to leave my job, the first obvious questions someone would ask upon hearing the news was: 'so what are you going to do?' Whenever I answered that I wanted to become a documentary film maker ánd a graphic designer, the other person would frown and ask: 'Oh, are you going to film school?' or: 'Are you doing a course at art school?' or: 'How are you going to do both?'.
I wasn't planning to go to school again, I just wanted to give it a try with the experience I had so far, and I had no clue how to do both. So being put on the spot like that would easily put me in a state of panic.

What was I thinking? I have asked myself the same questions over and over again: how can I do something I am not educated in? In the Netherlands, having the 'right' education is very important, or at least, so it seems. Thinking of a career in high school or changing your career later in life is always connected to having 'the right education' to be successful. However, looking at the people around me, most are doing something else than what they are educated to do.

Being confronted with the American way of thinking made me realize that there are other ways to look at this: you can do whatever you want, as long as you work hard for it. The American Dream. Obviously, this concept has a lot of downsides to it, but I really love the American reaction to my new career: 'That's great, what kind of movies do you want to make?' 'Cool, what do you design?' 'Nice that you are able to combine these things!'.

I am still working on becoming what I want to be. But I must admit that looking at the possibilities, instead of the obstacles is definitely more empowering. I still compare myself to all the people who have had the 'right' education, or have a lot of experience, and it always puts me down. How can I live up to their level? Then I saw this inspiring video, and I realized: I don't have to be great right now. I just have to get better. And the only way to do that is to work on it. Which is exactly what I've been doing this last year.

A year after quitting my job, I'm at the point where I call myself a beginning graphic designer and film maker. Which is more than just wanting to become one. And I'm starting to realize that this is ok for now. Instead of comparing myself to other people in the field - who are obviously mostly more experienced - I try to compare myself with me, a year ago. And I look at all the things I've done, and I've worked on. And even though my fears still will tell me it's not good enough, I do know it is better than before.

Click to see the video

Letting go

Without trying to be negative or melancholic, lately, I have had this feeling that it is all about letting go. And no, I haven't read any of the Dalai Lama books, nor did I do any Mindfulness course and I didn't visit any psychologist or shrink either.
The only thing I actually try to do, is listen to my body. And if there's one thing my body is telling me - apart from the daily messages about food, sleep and the more private needs one needs to give in to several times a day - it is that it doesn't want to let go.

I never expected this to be a physical feeling. But it's there. A very strong feeling that reminds me of when I was young, and my brother and I were fighting. I would sit with my back against my bedroom door, and my feet against my desk, hands flat on the floor to push, to prevent him from coming in. Now it's the other way around and I'm sitting in the same pose, trying to keep things from leaving the room.

So what the hell am I talking about? Almost a year ago, I quit my job and started the insecure life of being a freelancer. Part of that life is having to let go of things, the steady income obviously being the first. I also expected to have to let go of my life style of drinking vast amounts of coffee with friends, going out for dinner on a regular basis, and just not thinking of money that much. That definitely has changed. With less money coming in, one needs to be more conscious about how to spend it. Nothing wrong with that.

But over the last year, I also had to let go of other things, that in one way or the other had to do with the choices I've made. Letting go of people who were a big part of my life, letting go of ideas about my life that I wasn't even aware of: suddenly I saw myself at the age of 35 and realized: this wasn't what I pictured when I was 10. I have no idea what it was that I pictured, but it wasn't this, that is for sure!

One of the most important things I had to let go of is my own mindset. Honestly, I'm still working on that. To convince other people of my qualities, to do what I want to do, I first have to believe it myself. Which is harder than I thought. Once in a while, I find myself mentally blocking the door with my feet against the desk.
And the biggest obstacle: fear. Because, that is what it is all about. Fear of not succeeding, fear of not being able to do things, fear of loosing people, fear of the unknown life that lies ahead, fear of not drinking enough coffee with friends. Fear makes you tense, it makes you feel like your stuck with your feet pressed against the desk, and your back against the door.

So I have been carefully trying to let go of things, not to resist. I am trying to pull up my legs little by little, so they're not pressed against the desk anymore. If somthing need to leave the room, it can go. It might come back, or something else might walk in. You never know what's going to happen once the door is open...

Travel trouble

At the end of 2013, I left my country for the fourth time in that year. Traveling is great. I love to be 'on the road', in the no mans land of airports and train stations, where you can be a part of the mass that is moving from a to b. The small rituals of traveling; the passport control, the moment they start serving the meals in the plane, the strange smells and colours that come with new destinations. And finally the discoveries of a new world, in which you have to figure out how things are working.

Traveling is great, but there's a down side to it. The more I travel, the more I become aware of it. Custom officers who suspiciously treat you like your a fortune seeking who won't ever leave the country again. The notion of the enormous amount of plastic that is involved with those airplane meals. Flying itself, which makes every other environmental choice I make totally worthless. The frustration that comes along with discovering a new place when thing are different - and hence often illogical - than at home.

It's not a solution to crawl under a stone in Amsterdam and never to pack my passport and undies again. So I decide not to get intimidated by custom officials and I choose not to enter the body scan. And even though the cons of flying are big on the environment, to me they still are not bigger than reaching that final destination far from home. So I compensate by buying trees (which is also a dubious business) and I carry a canvas bag and a coffee mug with me at all times (also when not flying).
The frustrations of exploring a new place will stay, but eventually they will give you new insights and they will teach you that there are several ways to get things done.

Traveling is great. But I do believe that is a good thing to realize that there are two sides to it. Whatever you do with that knowledge is up to you.

New love

He is funny.
He is intelligent.
He is musical.
He is dramatic.
He is reasonable.
He is sexy.
He is exciting.
He is great.

The occasional address he gave in Perth in September was the first thing I saw of him. Then I saw Rock and Roll Nerd, a documentary from 2008 in which he transforms from a nice, shy and starting comedian into a rock star/comedian/composer/actor. After that, I got lost in the endless (but unfortunately still limited) amount of youtube films. I am living in the world of Tim Minchin and I want to stay here forever.

Again and again, I am struck by the combination of his musicality and his, imbued with intelligent messages, songs and jokes. Both the sounds and the content move me. I would like to keep all of this to myself, so I don't have to share his world with others. But in fact, he is already very famous and I am never the first to discover someone or something. So I turn into a desciple and preach the gospel of Minchin.

My friends roll their eyes when I tell them my stories. My enthusiasm and devotion are not connecting with them. They watch the things I show them, but they don't believe me. They know about my missionary zeal or the never ending dedication with which I lovingly and vigorously focus myself on new discoveries. They already have wondered about my fascinations and do so now again.

So I remain alone in Tim Minchins world. In which god and jezus are not a taboo, in which lovely lullabies are actually not so sweet, in which nothing is taken for granted and in which love, involvement and humour predominate. If you're looking for me, this is where I am.

Now what?

Why would you quit your job in these times? Didn't you like your job? Why would you walk away from all those securities and submit yourself to an adventure that is only guided by uncertainty? What are you doing now? What do you want to do? How are you going to handle this? What are you plans exactly? And... how do you earn your money now?

These are a few of the questions I got since I quit my job last Feburary, both from friends and from people I've just met. The strangers are easy to distract by asking them about their own work/job/life purpose/hobby. It's harder to talk about something different with friends and acquaintances. They want to know the ins and outs. They want to try to understand what I am doing. Often, this causes a lot of stress for them, that they directly fire back at me.
My honest answer to their questions is: I don't know. I am on a search, and I want to do a lot of things. But I don't know what or how or where. I was looking forward to do 'something else', but I don't have a clue what that is supposed to be. But not having a clue is not the right answer in a world where the economic crisis, melting polar ice and impending wars are a constant threat. There are too many uncertainties already, why the hell would you create even more?

Creating a new life is not easy. Not without stress. Not relaxed. But the vacuum that occurs when all the certainties disappear, leads to new ideas and new plans. I have to get used to the fact that 'everything' is possible again. I myself, and not my incoming mail, will decide what my day is going to be like. Of course there is money to be earned. Of course there are bills to be paid. But fortunately, the bills are relatively low, as is the money. So they cancel each out, which leaves time. Time to figure out 'Now what?'.

I'm not alone in this situation, I knew that. Next Monday, (October 7), the Dutch documentay show Backlight airs an episode about 'my generation' and how it 'handles the crisis that influences them in a time that is about carreer, founding a family and thinking about the future'. Everyone who asked me
one of the above questions perhaps should watch Backlight first. Then we'll talk.

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Happy

The music documentaries are always the highlight of my IDFA adventure. Last year however, none of the music films I wanted to see fit my tight schedule. They had to compete against documentaries about the financial crisis, Afghanistan and other terrible issues.

So, I missed Big Easy Express, a film that made me incredible happy at a later time. Imagine: three (quite famous) folk bands, in a train, crossing America.

It's so simple. And so much fun. And so nice. After having crossed the US from east to west and from west to east, both over land, I started loving films in which this happenes.

The bands: Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Old Crow Medicine Show and Mumford & Sons.
The journey: from San Fransisco to New Orleans.
The music, the train, the drinks, the skies.

You don't need more to become very happy and ready to pack your bags and become a traveling musician. Untill then, and while awaiting the beginning of summer, I strongly advise you to watch the film. So you'll be prepared once you'll hit the road.

Atention!

For days, I've been trying to find the right words to persuade the people that actually read my blog, in case it is necessary to persuade them, to join the world wide protest against Monsanto tomorrow (Saturday). In my head, I hear the critical voices of friends that wonder why I get wound up over this, and I can see my friends with children using their Saturday to finally clean up the house and getting their weekly groceries. I totally understand how busy they are, and ask myself: how can I explain the importance of this to them?

By explaining to them who or what Monsanto is?
(A huge multinational from the US that once started producing chemical weapons (like Agent Orange) and has been focussing on GMO products.)

By explaining why their work method is wrong on so many fronts?
(- Farmers have to buy their seeds on a yearly basis and whenever an individual farmer by accidents gets Monsanto's seeds on his field, he still has to pay them for property rights.
- Monsanto's genetically modified seeds can only grow when they are sprayed with Roundup, a pesticide that destroys everything and is very harmfull for people and nature.
- GM products were only used for feed for cattle and pigs - which then already led to deformed animals and many deseases, but is now also used for our own food, which brings along those symptoms to the human world.)

By talking about the power of multinationals and the European Union, who is not putting the needs of its people first?
(After years of lobbying by Monsanto and American diplomats, the EU has written a law which, apart from studies about GMO products and their effects on our health, prohibits the use of non-approved seeds in the European Union. This means many European seeds races will disappear and in time you will be violating the law when you trade some seeds with your neighbours.)

By explaining that it is really time for us to wake up, rise up and tell our governments that we, the poeple, have an opinion that should be heard, as a democracy implies?

Whenever I started writing, I lost the courage. Who am I to tackle this huge subject and give enough objective information, so my friends will stop their busy lives and fight for a greater cause? While reading and watching all the information I could find online, I realized I don't need to use my words: others have done it much better. (The quotes above come from the Dutch March Agains Monsanto Amsterdam Facebook Page.)

So hereby, I call for your attention! Take some time and surf the net. Read, watch films and try to educate yourself about the world we live in. If you still don't see any need for action, then don't do anything. But if you happen to feel discomfort, a feeling of disbelief, anger and the will to take action, then do something. Be like a hummingbird in a burning fire (see the second film).

And be inspired by Rachel Parent, who really believes in what she's doing!

Wake up!

Afghanistan

It was July 2002 and I was flying back to Europe heavy heartedly after having traveled for eight months. I was done with packing my stuff and carrying around my backpack, but I wasn't ready to leave the big wide world yet. That first trip had awoken the travel bug in myself, and I couldn't wait to discover other places. The world slowly passed underneath us, while I pressed my nose agains the airplane window, looking for new destinations.
We flew over mountains. Endless mountains, empty and dry, without any sign of forrest or water covering the brown dirt. I looked at the flight schedule to see where we were: Afghanistan.

Since that flight, that moment of astonishment about the vastness, and knowing that there are actually people living there, I want to see it myself. My discovery happened a few months after the US invaded the country in their search for Al Qaida, which has delayed my plans, and will do so in the near future.

In the meantime, Afghanistan and its people still fascinate me, and it is still with wonder that I watch reports and documentaries about them. At the moment, the Dutch broadcasting network VPRO has a series by journallist Natalie Righton, who moved to Kabul in 2010 to report from inside out. Though it is clear how dangerous it is to live there as a western woman, her story also feeds my desire.
One day. One day I will see it for myself.

Extreem leven

Online friendship

Whenever I'm abroad, I realise how precious friendships really are. The absense of my friends makes my daily life a lot quieter, and boring. I realize how their presence always inspires and feeds me and how I enjoy having them around.
Nowadays, it's practically impossible to not stay in touch, thanks to social media and the internet, who make distance a relative concept. I have daily chats with friends on Facebook, I Skype at least once a week with friend A. and exchange long emails with M. about the Important Stuff in Life.

Over the last years I - and I am probably not the only one - have had many discussions about the online versus the wordly friendships. Being an advocate and consumer of social media, I love being able to learn about the lives of my online friends, even if I don't see them often in the offline world. I personally think social media don't devalue friendships, they mainly create the opportunity to maintain friendships that wouldn't exist otherwise. I know people who I rarely see in daily life, who I've met while traveling and who I consider to be dear friends of mine.

Like my friends Sam and Heinrich, who gave me a ride eleven years ago in New Zealand and who I've seen four times since, in different places on this earth. I don't know anything about their daily life, their favorite restaurants or how their house looks like. But I know who they are, what they do and where they live. I know they have a dog and two cats and that they love to travel, and thanks to Facebook I can see glimpses of their daily life. Whenever we meet again, it feels like we just saw each other yesterday. On one hand that is thanks to the social media and on the other hand, it's because they are great guys and our friendships apparently doesn't need weekly updates. Knowing that these gentlemen are living their life on the other side of the world and are also a part of my life, even though it might be small, is very dear to me.


The American Paul Miller was offline for the last year, but last week, he got reconnected to the online world again. He concludes some interesting things about the pros and cons of our online life.

Economic training

The economic crisis is Big Business, not just for banks and companies, but also for the movie business. In recent years, countless documentaries and films have tried either to clarify an aspect of the crisis or to give a dramatic interpretation of the impersonal stories we get to hear in our every day lives.

In my IDFA notebook, most pages are devoted to documentaries about the crisis. While watching other films, in the dark I will take notes about beautiful shots or ways to conduct an interview. In the case of the documentaries about the crisis though, I mainly get to scribbling down the vast amount of facts that are shown, hoping that afterwards I will be able to make sense out of them. Sometimes, I manage to write down a note about the cinematic aspects: 'beautiful graphics' or 'the interviewee looks out of the frame', but my notes mainly consist of lists of numbers and dates associated with catastrophic events. Another recurring thing are notes like 'I need to read more about this' and 'I have no idea what this is about anymore' (halfway in a film). 

Since I now have the time to write down my notes into my official IDFA booklet, I'm rediscovering my plans to learn more about the subject. I am planning to rewatch some of the movies I saw, like I.O.U.S.A. (2008!), Enron (2005), Four Horsemen (2011) and of course Academy Award winner Inside Job (2010). Next to that, I am going to read Joris Luyendijks blog for the Guardian and the writings of Ewald Engelen, a Dutch financial geographer. 

I'm hoping this all might lead to gaining a little more knowledge about the situation we are in. I am open to more suggestions, so bring it on!

Naive

Three weeks ago, my Facebook feed was filled with raving comments on the Backlight episode The Tax Free Tour, on tax havens, offshore economy and how known and unknown multinationals are able to multiply their profits. Everyone was outraged about the role The Netherlands appear to play in this, and praised the brave filmmakers and speakers in the film. A sudden realization, it seemed, about our favorite companies (Apple, Starbucks, Amazon) that, now they apparently use our country to evade paying taxes, turn out to be really bad.
Their other practises; the situation of their employees in other countries, their claim to deliver 'fair' products and the exorbitant amounts of money you pay for having their logo on whatever you get from them, haven't kept us from buying their products. But that is going to change now!

Before pointing a finger at others, let me first admit my own Apple addiction. I really love how their products look and how they work. I never visit Starbucks or use Amazon, but yes, I too am part of the problem of our times, in which we seldomly link actions to our anger.

Just a few days before the Backlight episode, I expressed my frustration and anger about the unfairness of this world to a friend, and he called me naive. There was no news in what I was saying, things have always been like this. And even if I were right and the world would perish one day because of our behaviour - as I suggested in my rant - would it be any different from other Great Empires, that long, long ago suffered the same fate? And, he added, I probably knew as little about the economical crisis as he did, and all those smart people who once got us in it, probably would also come up with solutions to get us out. So why get so upset?

His somewhat condescending remark about my naivety got me thinking. Is it really ridiculous to worry about big systems, because you don't exactly know what to do about them? Is it naive to hope that fixed patterns can be changed? The responses to The Tax Free Tour gave me new hope. The more information we have, the angrier we might get, and who knows, maybe there will come a time when we actually do link our anger to action and won't buy new Apple products anymore.

Untill then, I remain naive and I sincerely hope that my laptop won't break down any time soon, so I won't have to deal with a terrible dilemma.

Stress

Last week, me and my physiotherapist discussed the pain in my back that I've been feeling for a while which sometimes can be so intens that I don't know how to move my body, and at other times disappears for days or even weeks. She asked me if I had suffer some stress lately?

I tried to shrug in a nonchalant way; it hadn't been that bad. Sure, the last months I experienced some stress because I was about to become unemployed, by choice, in the midst of this economical crisis. And yes, before that, I had been stressed at work sometimes, but nothing extreme. Afterwards, I realised that my reaction might have been a little misplaced. The prospect of a new, unknown future causes more stress then I'd like, but is nothing compared to the stress I've had at work in recent years.

I don't say this to earn some pity. What actually really surprised me was that I never realized how much stress I often feel and have felt. Only when the stress at work led to frequent fights at home, I realized that perhaps, it might be time for change. Without having a clear plan of what I want to do with my life, looking at the future as it presents itself before me, my choice to quit regularly freaks me out. Whenever I explain my lack of plans to friends, family and acquaintances, I can see how the very idea of my present life freaks them out as well; "But, but, how are you.., and what will you.., and then what...?". Their reaction doesn't really help to lower my stress. So all in all, it's not really strange that I have this pain. Stress can have many physical effects, which I already knew for a long time (years ago, an extreme stressful situation led to a swollen lip and too much tension has also led to involuntarily throwing up).

But the possibilities that arise also give energy and lead to a thousand ideas for a possible new life. And that changes the stress into excitement and a positive energy, because of which I look forward to start all those new adventures.

Monologue

I just entered the train and am about to sit down. When I take of my coat to get ready for the ride home, I hear someone mumbling behind me. At first, I think the grimy voice is accompanying the middle-aged woman on the other side of the aisle. He asks her loudly if this train is going to The Hague. She hesitantly answers with a nod and then turns her back to him.
As the train slowly begin to move I listen, partly involuntarily, to his monologue:

"My mitts are freezing man.
When I get home, I have to take my medicine. I totally forgot to take them.
I went to buy a ticket. Costed me three euro. And now they don't check them. But I still had to pay three euro.
I borrowd a tenner from my daughter.
Freezing mitts daddy.
Is this the train to The Hague?
My mitts are freezing.

This and that and so and so.
Where are we? Delft. Oh, Delft. I lived in Delft for twenty-five years. Now I live in The Hague for eight. But I grew up in Delft. Does this train stop at Holland Spoor or at the other station?

Last week, I scammed a ride on the train, but it still costed me money. This is where my daughter lived. But now she lives in Zoetermeer.

My phone is at home. My phone is at home.
My phone. Is at home.
I have to call my daughter soon though. I have four children, and seven grandchildren.
And I love all seven of them.
I have to remember to take my medicine.

Where are we now? We're still not in The Hague, right? This looks familiar.
My mitts are still freezing."

The announcer calls for the next station: The Hague Holland Spoor.

"Ah, that's my stop. Holland Spoor. That's where I have to get out."

As he get's up and gathers his stuff, I carefully look behind me, to see who this voice belongs? He's in his late fifties, long grey hair, and has very bad breath.
As he walks to the train doors, he keeps talking. The other people around him look at each other and smile apologetically to their fellow passengers. although we listened to his monologue involuntary, we whisper to each other that it must be a hard life to live.
I just hope he feel's warm soon.

Time

Time is a strange concept when you're traveling. At some point, you forget what day and date it is and feel detached from the rest of the world, that is defined by an ever continuing ticking clock.

On the other hand, time is the only thing that determines your trip. In the morning, there's check-out time. Then it takes time to travel to your next destination, and you normally take more time to actually get there, including breaks. Because when you're traveling, it's always time for a break: a coffee break, lunch break, toilet break. And of course, you want to arrive somewhere in time, so you have time for dinner and a nice evening. The next day, it starts all over again.

Then there's the time difference. Eleven years ago, I still had to calculate whether it was the right time to call home, now, receiving replies on emails arrive a lot later than they usually do (eleven years ago, email didn't function like a conversation like it does now, it was more like writing a letter, you didn't mind the wait).

And it has gotten worse. Thanks to wifi, you're online and available everywhere. The only problem in New Zealand is that the internet still comes from Australia and therefor is so expensive that you have to purchase time limited internet access.

So if, after a relaxed day that was actually determined by time, you want to get in touch with home, taking the time difference in account, you are also dependent on the 30, 60 or 120 minutes that you purchased for a lot of money. And then, the people at home have to be there and have to have time to talk, chat or reply your email.

It's not easy to be a world traveler.

Roadkill

Driving in foreign country is always an adventure. Last summer, I violently touched a deer, when I was driving through the States, which damaged the car in such a bad way that a poor guy had to drive up for four hours to replace it. The deer apparently survived, because it was nowhere to be seen.

On the other side of the world, where it is already an adventure to drive on the wrong - or right (though left) side, the roads are paved with small animals that are united with the tarmac in different heights. Besides the fact that they take many forms while dying - long and stretched or small and round, there are also an awful lot of different kinds: white butterflies, little round birds, stretched out mice, opossums or other rodents.
As a true vegetarian, I'm always afraid of these kinds of accidents, I prefer to refrain from any animal suffering whatsoever. However, the number of stupid birds that scarcely escaped the destructive effects of my tires is huge and sometimes the situation demands for the sacrifice of a bird instead of a human - that's obvious of course.

But every time there's a little pile of animal on the road and I drive along or over upright legs, tails or wings in an almost casual way, I wonder how 'mankind' got to be so superior? What makes us better than these animals, and why aren't we bothered by their deaths? We travel to the other side of the world because only there we can find pure nature, we try our best to take pictures without any proof of human action ("too bad of that lamppost", "hey, why didn't they put that fence just a little to the right?", "ugh, that stupid farm ruins my photo"), but we only shrug when we pass the hundreds of lives that once were. Of course, I realize that with all the misery in this world, roadkill in New Zealand will score low on the list - they still had a great life before they met my car. But still. But still. But still, I wonder every time again.

Identity

You can only start all over when you leave the old behind.
By suddenly renaming something the Old, that for years had been the Present - my job, it feels like my life turned upside down. My job had determined who I was over the last few years. I committed my time, energy and love to a place, the people, the work. When I told strangers about my job, I also told them about me.
Of course, not everyone sees it that way. People have jobs that don't say a thing about what they like or find important in life. People who work at IKEA don't necessarily like to arrange or build things or love Scandinavia. But in my case, by leaving my job, I now don't belong there anymore, I'm not a part of a place that felt like home for such a long time.

There's no better way to separate the New from the Old than leaving. In this case by traveling to the other side of the world for a few weeks (which lead to envy from people at home who have to work and to pity from other travelers who are on the road for months).
The problem with traveling though, is that you are constantly determining your identity. The first things people ask when you meet them are: who are you and what do you do? I still have to get used to talk about my new occupation, and I always feel a little insecure when I tell them. But it is a relief to see that no-one questions me and everyone just accepts it when I tell them.

They already believe me. Now I have to start believing it.

Rituals

People love rituals. We are creatures of habit, who like to know what is coming, so we can live our lives quietly and without any hassle. Everything that disrupts the ordinary has to be normalized as quickly as possible, because we want to feel safe.

When you want to start again, you need to change your rituals and habits. You have to break with existing patterns, to make place for new ones. Resigning your job means that work rituals will disappear: snoozing in the morning, getting a coffee when you arrive at the office, incoming emails that will determine your work, time ticking away too slow, but more often too fast so it's too late for lunch and almost time to go home, chats with your colleagues about life after work. A new job will replace some of the stress. because even though the coffee cups and your lunch buddies will look different, the snoozing and chats will probably still be a part of your life.

Without having a new job, without lunch buddies or coffee in the morning, your new life feels like a huge black hole of unknown depths. Sure, you can make yourself a coffee at home, you can have lunch with potential partners and force yourself to start snoozing early in the morning. But facing the unknown nature of your work, which only gradually will become clear, goes against all human behaviour.

It's frightening not to know what is going to happen over the coming months and eventually years.
I regularly feel like I'm jumping into a pool of icecold water, that takes my breath away. It's like that typical sauna feeling when every fiber in your body cries out: WHY? Why jump into this bath, when we were having such a great time in the eucalyptus scented heat? But you know, while the fibers in your body keep shouting at you, that although the heat was indeed lovely and safe, once you'll climb out that cold bath, those little screaming fibers will start purring like kittens because the next feeling will be so much better than if you hadn't jumped.
So whenever I am mentally catching my breath in the cold, I imagine the wonderful feeling that will come next, and I try to be confident that everything will turn out right. The lack of rituals can only mean that there are endless possibilities and anything that will happen might become a new ritual in time. 

Again

Once, I did this theatrecourse of a week, that was titled 'Again'. You had to repeat things, but each time like it was the first. So I jumped for half a day like I hadn't jumped before, and I had to sink to the ground and stand up again in slow motion for at least one and a half day. We were given a time frame (the duration of a song, five minutes starting now) and couldn't change our pace. It probably won't sound all that exciting, but I still have fond memories of that week. It was when I found out that there are numerous ways to do something that seems the same in a different way.

It feels like I'm starting over again. I'm not talking about the New Year and the twelve empty months that lie ahead and that I get to colour. Ten years ago, I graduated and got my first job. Slowly, I found my way: I found what I liked to do and what I didn't like so much. I had several temporary jobs untill I decided to err on the side of caution and take a 'real' job. And by a nice twist of fate, I got the job I knew would be mine when I applied for it.

Now, after working at this amazing place for six years, I choose the unsafe path and step into the unknown. I am going to try to do something I'm not so good at: to follow my heart. I am going to try to do the things I really want to do, but that actually scare me too much. And more and more, I am reminded of the course I did years ago and the fun I had finding new ways to go down and push myself up again. Whenever my daily panic attack hits me and I feel like jumping into a pool of icecold water, I try to focus on how I pushed myself up again. I guess it will be like that in real life too.

I will start again

New

October is Buy Nothing New month. An initiative that started in Australia, and now also has a Dutch version. The idea: not to buy anything new for a month (and enjoy what you already have). When I registered for the Challenge, which mainly means you promise to participate in exchange for tips and ideas, I was asked for my motivation. My answer: I think that this idea is already part of my lifestyle. 

Maybe it's the books that I've read and the documentaries that I saw about the excessive use of stuff, raw materials and especially the impact on the environment, global warming, climate change. Maybe it's because I never really outgrown my student life. Anyway: I buy very little new stuff. My last major purchase by this horrible Swedish furniture company was about four years ago, when due to circumstances, I had to buy half of my furniture new. Only for the convenience - and not for the money - I dragged myself on a weekday through their shop to get my pre-selected couch and bookcases from the warehouse. After that, everything I bought for my house has been second hand stuff.

As far as my clothes go, I have limited myself to the closet space that I currently have (2 cabinets from that same Swedish company, bought when I moved to a bigger student room). This fits both my summer and winter collection, and there's only room for something new when something old goes out, which rarely happens. When I see something nice or beautiful, I always wonder if I really need it, which 9 out of 10 times results in not buying it. Because I really don't need it after all.

My big temptation are bookstores and shops that sell paper and paint. I can not go into a bookstore without buying a book. My solution: only going in to buy a present. That way, I can fulfill my need, without having another book at home. And once in a while, I let myself walk around a paper shop, where I can feel the different paper, and look at all the different patterns they have. Sometimes, I let myself buy some of them.

Since the beginning of this month, the only thing I've wanted to buy new is a frying pan. The one I have is crooked, which makes my food slide to one side when I'm cooking. But hey, as long as I stir enough, it's not a real problem.

I have decided a long time ago that I won't ever buy anything from the Swedish furniture company anymore. And so far, so good!


 

Marina

Het is alweer een paar weken geleden, maar de beelden schieten nog steeds door mijn hoofd. Het enorme podium, de gekte van Defoe, die zich inleeft in het verhaal dat hij vertelt, terwijl de beelden naast en achter hem aan het publiek voorbij trekken, de strakke blik van Marina, wanneer ze haar moeder speelt en natuurlijk, natuurlijk, Antony, die in een prachtig gewaad letterlijk voor me stond waardoor de rest van Carre leek te verdwijnen en hij alleen voor mij zong. Vooraf wist ik van de hype. Ik had gehoord over de run op kaarten, en besloot niet mee te doen. Ik kende die hele Abramovic niet echt, en voor zo'n bedrag hoefde ik haar ook niet te leren kennen. Tot de mogelijkheid zich voordeed om voor een dubbeltje op de eerste rang te zitten. En ik letterlijk voor het podium zat en het geweld aan beelden, teksten en muziek over me heen liet komen. Toen begreep ik de hype die door Amsterdam zoemde. En na afloop wilde ik meer. Meer Marina, meer verhalen. Met dank aan Holland Doc kreeg ik meer. Profiel besteedde een hele aflevering aan haar project Meet the artiest, waarin ze drie maanden lang in Moma voor zich uit staarde, en keek naar de personen die tegenover haar plaats namen. Het verhaal kende ik, en ook de ontroering van de bezoekers. Maar ik begreep het niet. Pas toen ik haar zag, en haar performance, en de mensen die allen op hun eigen manier terug keken. Toen begreep ik het. En zat ik met tranen in mijn ogen naar de televisie te kijken. Sterker nog, ik huilde. Net als de mensen tegenover haar. Net als zijzelf soms. Hoewel ik al weken mijn best doe om uit te zoeken wat het nou precies is dat zo ontroert, kom ik niet op de juiste beschrijving. Maar waarschijnlijk is het precies dat: er zijn geen woorden voor, en daarom ontroert het. Zo hoort kunst te zijn.