It’s a strange feeling to walk into a new place and suddenly have to start all over again. Where I used to know exactly where everything was without thinking, I now sometimes just stop. Doubting. Searching. And honestly, occasionally looking in the wrong place.

My plan to write twice a week again? That hasn’t really worked out lately. I started a new job and I’m still in my probation period. And you feel that. New people, different procedures, a completely different kitchen layout. It takes energy. More than I expected beforehand.

Sometimes it feels like you are doing everything you are supposed to do, and yet nothing happens. You write, you send, you wait, and you get… silence. No rejection, no invitation, just nothing. As if you are talking to a wall that cannot even be bothered to echo back.

In earlier posts, such as Three Temporary Contracts and Then Nothing, Applying for jobs: between visibility and silence and Between movement and stillness, I already wrote about that phase. About searching, trying to be visible, and above all about the lack of responses. At some point, that silence becomes deafening.

There was a time when everything just worked. My email was on Gmail, I searched with Google, and used Google Maps for navigation. It was fast, free and above all: easy. I did not have to think about it.

Until I suddenly did.

What started as a small, almost innocent choice, trying a different search engine, slowly grew into something bigger. I have been using DuckDuckGo as an alternative to Google for years now. At first it felt like a compromise, as if I was giving something up. But honestly, that turned out to be fine. It worked well. More than that, it felt calmer. Less noise, less of a sense that things were happening in the background.

There are moments when reality doesn’t arrive in a grand, dramatic way, but instead quietly sits down next to you. No drumroll, no plot twist, just a simple conclusion: my contract will not be renewed. I’ve known this for a few weeks now. Enough time not to dwell on that conclusion, but to start moving. Because in the end, that’s the only thing that really helps. Standing still is comfortable, but rarely productive. So I started building. On visibility, on substance, and on new opportunities.

The first time I stood in the middle of a busy dinner service, I had an unexpected thought: this feels suspiciously like an IT project.

Orders streaming in. People giving each other short updates. Everyone knowing exactly what their role is. And an end result that only works when everything lines up perfectly.

The only difference is that this time it isn’t about software, but about plates that need to reach the table at exactly the right moment.

Since I received the news that my contract will not be renewed, I’ve noticed my nights have become more restless. During the day I can usually keep my thoughts organised, but at night they tend to return. Questions about what comes next, where things might lead.

Earlier, on March 2, I wrote that my third temporary contract will be coming to an end and will not be extended. Since then people have occasionally asked how I’m doing now. So here is a small, honest update.

Three Contracts, Three Years, and Then Silence

In the Netherlands, employers are allowed to offer a maximum of three temporary contracts within a period of three years. After that, either a permanent contract follows, or the employment ends. This rule, known as the “chain rule,” is intended to protect employees.

On paper, that sounds fair. In practice, it often works differently.

Static websites have many advantages. They are fast, secure, easy to host, and simple to maintain. With a generator like Hugo, you can deploy a blazing-fast site without a database or complex backend.

But there is one classic pain point: the contact form.

Without server-side logic, you quickly end up relying on third-party services such as Formspree, Getform, or the built-in forms functionality of Netlify. They work. Often even for free or at low cost.

I care deeply about sustainability. Not because it sounds good at birthday parties, but because it simply makes sense. Waste less, use energy more intelligently, think a little ahead. That’s something I’ve been trying to do at home for years.

My roof has been covered with solar panels for quite some time now. I was, and still am, genuinely happy with that. There’s something reassuring about the idea that the sun is quietly burning down my energy bill. At least, there was. In the meantime, the government has made owning solar panels considerably less attractive. Net metering is being phased out, feed-in compensation is decreasing, and additional costs are being introduced. The sun still shines just as brightly, but the enthusiasm has dimmed somewhat.