Shit Gets Real: You're Not Supposed to Talk About Money

I've always been told it's not polite to talk about money and I've mostly ignored that sentiment in my life and have been comfortable doing so. When I was younger, I often thought this "rule" only applied to rich people so others didn't know how much they "had". But now I realize it was also probably to save people from the knowledge of how little they had. Regardless of either reason, I'm REALLY going to talk about it. Like, right now:

This house, this house thishousethishouse. It is getting so close to being liveable. So close. And we are...so broke. The problem with being pretty poor in the first place and buying a house is that you have to find a house that's affordable. And in this case, what was affordable was also...a completely unlivable dump. Hence the construction loan. We will be OK, we really will. RJ has work for the entire winter but hasn't been able to work on the project because he's the main builder for our house. And all he gets from that is sweat equity. We have had SO many people helping, and continue to have help. Creede is great for that. But most days it's just him and me. And I do what I can but sometimes, I just don't have the skill to help. Also, shit happens--the flooring nailer breaks so you have to postpone a certain project. There's a snowstorm and the plumber can't make it. RJ has told me many times, when I've asked for a time frame, that he just can't give me one. There's an approximate goal but it is dependent on so many things working the way they are supposed to and they rarely do. And when you've got one to two people working, this basically fucks up your entire day.

And then, there's me. I'm paying all the bills right now. Alllllllll of them. A little background: Career-wise, I've been lucky over the past three years. Scarily lucky because I have had acting work for 75% or more of the year for three CONSECUTIVE years, which is AHMazing. In theatre, a dream gig is somewhere like Oregon Shakespeare Festival, which pays really well (for theatre) and is, at best, 10 months of employment out of the year. While not (yet!) working at OSF, I have had the privilege to either have jobs that have had co-productions that have extended my contracts. Or, I have had work that all but overlapped. For example, earlier this year I had a job that ended on a Sunday and a new one that started the following Tuesday. Baller!

As an actor, you can start to get comfortable with this sort of thing. And I have made an effort to be so grateful for the work, and to not take it for granted or expect anything. But there is a truly dark and desperate side to this profession. And that is, in the back of your mind--ALWAYS--is the thought (no, the worry) that the jobs will run out and you'll be in a spot where you're not working for a while. For many reasons I have little to no control over, I have currently hit that lovely place called a dry spell. For instance, I'm union and smaller theatres will often take an equally good non-union person over you, or they just don't have the money for the contracts in the first place*.  Also, sometimes you're just not right for a role or a season.  I've done a couple on-camera jobs lately (awesome) but those don't necessarily bring you lots of cash. RJ told me the other day that when he was a kid, he thought that everyone on tv was a millionaire. He now knows that that is rarely true.

All this leads me to the emotional stress of being truly broke for the first time in a loooooong time. When I say broke, I mean almost no savings, no cash, and I'm using my one, low interest credit card for lots of things, which I HATE doing. That thing is for emergencies, not for living.

I'm realizing that one of the reasons I started this blog is to give people a taste of building a house when you have little to no money. And what that is like. What do you have to be creative about to make it work (as Tim Gunn would say). It makes me think about the housing crash a few years ago when people were getting loans with unfixed interest rates that they actually couldn't afford. And the day came when they were utterly screwed, just to get a piece of comfort--a home. We made a huge effort not to fall into that and honestly, in the long run, this house is an incredible investment. The house will be worth more than 3 times what we paid for it and we have a fixed 15 year mortgage that, if we had our normal income, would be quite a reasonable monthly payment.

Now is the fucking hard part. This is the part that causes me to spontaneously cry in the middle of my almost done house. That makes me argue with my partner about time and money and crave the day when I can just. be. comfortable. When I can get up in the morning with my pets and my sleeping husband and have a nice cup of coffee and maybe buy a nice table cloth for the dining room table. I am so tired right now. Tired of knowing that I have $196.87 in my SAVINGS account. Tired of getting up and staining flooring. Tired of trying to be a cheerleader on the job that never seems to end. You think that these projects are going to be so invigorating and exciting. And that they sometimes are. But I can't help fantasizing how this process would be different if I had chosen a career (or a husband with a career) that actually made an average, comfortable living. This has mainly been buffered by the artistic work I've been lucky enough to be paid to do. A lot can be said for the impact emotional and creative riches have on your state of mind. But when you don't have that, life can seem pretty grim sometimes. And I (we) will be okay. It's looking good that I will be back at Creede Rep for the summer/fall next year. And who knows what opportunities will pop up before then. But moving into the holiday season of family and commercialism and giving and receiving, I struggle with my self-worth, my abilities, my...life. This is what it meant, when adults told you as a kid, that being a grownup is hard.

So...send good thoughts, friends. It'll be okay. But being someone trained to live "in the moment," all I want to do right now is scream.

(Update: Today is a better day and I'm back to being pretty excited about things and all that jazz. Plus, I've had lots of kind words from many of you and it's so good to hear. :D ALSO: The plumber is coming this afternoon to hook up the furnace and hopefully the upstairs bathroom. Comfortable pooping commencing soon!)

(Update #2: My husband just texted me, "The furnace is a go!!!" Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!)

Talk to the hand, Life!

 *Drop my union card, you might say. For many reasons this is a terrible idea at this time in my life and I'll explain another time.

I see the light. Sort of. It has paint on it.