I think my friends saw a pattern long before I did. The pattern that is called 'working freelance', which comes with its corresponding ups and downs. They aren't surprised one bit that I seem to vanish from the earth for a couple of months to work like crazy, after which I appear again, only to find myself completely worn out.
I've been freelancing for almost 13 years and I keep freaking out when A) work is coming in and B) no work is coming in. Looking at these words on my screen makes me laugh: sometimes facing the facts can be extremely liberating. My common denominator: I freak out...

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This seems to be my lucky week: after a VIP ticket for the concert on Wednesday, I was invited for the VIP opening of the PAN Amsterdam art and antiques fair last night. I have to give great credit to Kenji, because after receiving both invitations, he was the one who actually made my 'VIP week' possible.
And did I feel Very Important? Well, yeah! Let's not kid ourselves here shall we: it was tremendous fun to dress up, collect my tickets and to enjoy the unlimited free wine and finger food. At the exit of the PAN Amsterdam, I was handed a ticket for a second visit, that I would like to give to one of my readers!

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Many of my writing and editing assignments these days revolve around the theme of cultural participation by older people. And so I read studies on the beneficial effects of arts and culture on the health and well-being of older people and secretly wonder what is else is new. I'm a strong advocate of the positive effects of arts and culture - that is, for people of all age groups and in all conditions. The couple of works of art we have on display in our living room, move my soul and contribute to my overall happiness. Not just once, or twice, but every single time I look at them. Kenji confessed how these paintings became more meaningful to him after he got cancer: the healing power of art should never be underestimated.

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There is this guy on my desk, or to be more specific, on my desk light. He has lush brown hair, sexy stubbles and his most important asset: he serves freshly brewed coffee 24/7. The guy is called Larry, Larry the Barista. And having Larry close to me, cost me about three euros. That's even less than my favorite extra hot venti cappuccino at Starbucks. I know, isn't that awesome!
Right. I've probably lost you here. And that is fine too. Because you don't want to hear me ramble on about a Lego mini figure, even though Larry means a lot to me.

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It has been a tough week. And I don't know what made this week so particularly tough or if it was even tougher than other weeks. Not that it actually mattered. I just hung in there and counted the days for the weekend to arrive (or on some days, the hours for the day to be over).
My autopilot is functioning well: we all have clean underwear and we eat our greens. I make my deadlines, I go to swimming lessons and I do the obligatory school stuff. I go on, and on, an on. And then there is a sudden flash, in which I think: what on earth am I doing?

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