The Bad Influence
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The Bad Influence

Powerful Freelancer

After destruction, how do they build Rome?

Photo by Gabriella Clare Marino on Unsplash


I am in love. My phone rings from friends’ notifications. I have sent them pictures of my life in Belgium. The city is clean. The community caretakers have placed tulips along the bridges by the river. I feel fresh.

When the environment holds this way, your silenced desires wake the fuck up. What you wished was possible now seems to be. You think, I have space for the potential of a pretty, successful life. If people smile at me in the street, people will smile at me in interviews too. I believe in this.

Every freelance worker, such as a plumber, musician, journalist, cleaning staff, or beekeeper, has to stealth one’s self with bravado. The bravado of I will sell my service. We do not just put our hand out there for the interviewer to shake. We put our entire belief system. We present ourselves, from the start of our education to the line of continuous improvement. That is to say, we must improve, always. To not stay hungry for food or inspiration. We feed ourselves vigorously.

How did an inspired flower turn into flames with shredded self-esteem? I failed.

I failed.

It feels as if I am laying down my own wings to admit it. Interview after interview. Unkind recruiting hell. Ghost town in my email section. It stimulates the sense of failure in me. I had failed painfully. And I was afraid.

The Mordor of freelancing

By definition, a freelancer is a person who pursues a profession without a long-term commitment to any one employer. He or she is fully responsible for their strengths and weaknesses. The road to being valued for your productive work is unstable.

Unflinching moments come in a freelancer’s professional life. The doubt, the loss of income, the rude customer or employer that you need in order to survive. How many times has a freelancer been used in their professional career so that the hiring staff feels they have the bigger dick?

I will use myself as an example to showcase the Mordor of freelancing.

It is reasonably easy to make me feel useless professionally. In a week of dry desert of offers and callbacks, you can have me doubting I will ever touch an income again.

My power started leaving me as did my confidence. I really want to say I am not a bad writer, I want to remind myself about art. But, I can not. The room is empty too many days in a row. And then… the rudeness of a potential bigshot employer comes and it completely obliterates me. The doubt that follows is disabling.

Am I really that bad of a freelancer?
Do I really not attract clients?
Am I invisible?
Am I the last in the line?
What about this month’s rent and paycheck?
This is brutal and I do not know how to explain it to those that are not in the same line of work.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

The art never abandons the artist

Walking home from my favorite pasta place, I am holding a bag of new clothes. And on the other hand a donut. When the sun starts setting, I begin to notice the happenings around me. The tiny birds are sitting in the empty coffee place far ahead. I am spotting a young coming out to water the plants with a very large bottle. In my mind, I am making a connection of words for a poem. Life can be calm for an irreplaceable second and the sunset is being my muse.

What the fuck?

Who is left? Aside from my loved ones and my incredibly supportive partner. What do I have as I cry in my partner’s arms and say I have nothing 5 times in a row?

Turns out, there is nothing.

True. There is nothing, as there was nothing before, at the beginning of deciding to write. And when there was nothing, there was me. Me with a notebook scribbling ideas. More valuable than any recruiter saying wow.

I am wow. I have never felt more powerful as a freelancer. Seeing firsthand that when everything will abandon me, I still have my talent. As little as it may be.

I am still a writer. I have my ideas and my creativity is my river. And that’s a place that never goes deserted. My hands clap for me and it’s the loudest clapping my stories have received.

To see at your lowest that your art, the jewel God put in you never abandons you. And I could only ever experience this at my lowest. To appreciate the simplest, most generous thing I have been given.

A writer lives a thousand lives. And I am incredibly lucky.

Why are we valuable

I wonder if the big heads that turn and create an earthquake realize the importance and value of a freelancer. I am talking about the politicians that hold the buttons.

A freelancer carves his art like people in the old ages discovered fire. He has the burden and the blessing to be able to explore what he loves. We are free individuals that are not tamed by a company. Every freelancer lives in stress for the honor of giving time to his true passion. Evolutional, encouraging, new ideas come from a freelancer. He, who is unbound, whether it’s his choice or not, will go the extra mile to help a client, to help a person. A freelancer is a person that cares. To grow he must care about the clients, the progress, his plan, and his craftwork. A freelancer chooses to give a fuck.

Many freelancers, such as delivery motorcyclists are out in the street bringing us products for a minimum wage under terrible conditions. Valuable is too soft of a word to describe them.

We are powerful. As long we don’t allow anybody to make us forget it.



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La Chrysanthème

La Chrysanthème

Sensitive energy requires kindness and art. For the muses of this world.