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Give me some work

Modifié le : 2019/07/21

To say that the days are qui­et is almost a euphemism. Maybe I should­n’t talk about these things since poten­tial cus­tomers could read this post after check­ing my port­fo­lio. I have trou­ble lying, act­ing like I’m lying. Our lives are so eas­i­ly buried in con­ven­tions that, like a roof over the house, pro­tect us, reas­sure us and put us to sleep too.

I have noth­ing against rooftops, nor the food you have to earn from the sweat of your brow. Quite the oppo­site. I am a hard work­er, stub­born prob­lem solver. I have nev­er lacked work, had loy­al cus­tomers and I gave it back to them well. My com­pe­tence is not to be chal­lenged. How­ev­er, that does­n’t give me much to put under my fin­gers. Even the key­board falls asleep.

What’s going on ? A com­bi­na­tion of cir­cum­stances helped by the Harp­er phi­los­o­phy. Projects are rare, small. A self-employed work­er can sat­is­fy a few clients at a time before he or she is pushed to exhaus­tion. How­ev­er, if these cus­tomers no longer have any projects for you, you must either change your nest or go in search of new sources. After near­ly twen­ty years of work­ing at home, it may be time to move on.

This is eas­i­er said than done. Job oppor­tu­ni­ties are now gath­ered in large search engines. You sub­mit your appli­ca­tion among the many oth­ers, cre­ate links on LinkedIn, on Face­book, make friends with strangers, look good, redesign your web­site, some­times do rare inter­views, con­tin­ue to serve your cur­rent clients and see accounts, tax rep­ri­mands or reg­u­lar admin­is­tra­tive announce­ments arrive. A rise here, a rise there. It uses up the patience that I have a lit­tle short for these things. Have I become a bear ? I feel a lit­tle bit like a cica­da who will have sung a lit­tle too long finan­cial­ly. With my head in the clouds, I did­n’t wor­ry too much about my frag­ile finan­cial foundations.

I also do a lot of clean­ing, try to look a lit­tle more like myself, to remain opti­mistic despite the red warn­ing lights. I look at my birth chart. Uranus in the mid­dle of heav­en. For the past year, it has been announc­ing the changes. This is a good thing, it rep­re­sents this new vis­i­bil­i­ty that will be acquired with the pub­li­ca­tion of Les Mailles san­guines. There is also Plu­to square in the same Mid­dle of Heav­en. Tec­ton­ic forces at work. I believe in astrol­o­gy ? No, I observe the uni­verse and I’m good enough to wrap myself in syn­chronic­i­ty and meta­da­ta. And then I grab on to what I can.

Things change, the ice is mov­ing. I’m try­ing to get my life in order. It may be, as a kind (and faith­ful) col­lab­o­ra­tor said, that it is only a bad pas­sage, that busi­ness will resume. I also believe so, just as I know that a small boat on a tur­bu­lent ocean could still be big, that it could sink before the lull occurs.

Yes, I’m wor­ried. My pater­nal grand­moth­er was a chron­i­cal­ly anx­ious woman. That did­n’t stop her from liv­ing 100 years, two months and two days. But it will not erase the mov­ing real­i­ty of hav­ing fun with my approach.

On the pos­i­tive side, I’m mov­ing for­ward with the house. It’s a mess here, in the big room. I removed the remain­ing plas­ter, made about twen­ty bags. I cer­tain­ly don’t have the mon­ey to fin­ish the work, but I can still demol­ish walls. The boat will at least be clean and we can see once again a metaphor. I can only be hap­py with what I con­trol. The rest, we’ll see. We have no choice but to be Zen, to move forward.

I sud­den­ly have a taste for the coun­try­side, will­ing to grow veg­eta­bles around a cot­tage, to take the time to turn the land over, fat­ten it up, sow it. It is not done by shout­ing with scis­sors or try­ing to hold your breath until you have crossed the Atlantic.

It’s 11:23. A cus­tomer con­firms to me that I can change the title from “4.5.5.5.1” to “4.5.5”. I will be paid in two months when the work is done. Some­times hours are long.

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