Into the fire

Well, this is it, kids.  I'm down to my last dollar.  My literal last dollar.  I've been spending an awful lot of time agonizing about what I was going to do once I got to this point, but you know what?  It's not really all that different from anything else I've done so far.

I had my dad ask me if I wanted to be talked up for a 70k-salary job that I'm not really qualified for, if I would just move back to Detroit, and I basically said that A) I'm still more concerned for my mental health than I am my monetary situation, and B) they'll take my body out of Chicago before I leave this city.

Seventy thousand dollars is so much money it almost makes me want to vomit at the thought of how extravagant that is.  Maybe I still have issues determining my self-worth, but I really don't think I'm qualified to make too much more than twenty, regardless of what I'm doing.  Do people really live on more than that?  And what are you supposed to do with it all? 

I'm down to my last dollar, and I'm still sitting in a coffeeshop, editing photos and wondering how I stumbled into working with such wonderful (and unreasonably attractive) actors. 

Is it just me?  Probably. Image (C) Me.  Duh.

I'm sitting in a coffeeshop, paying for my coffee with laundry quarters, and somehow, I'm still managing to fangirl over how stupid cute the gent on the right is.  I didn't think so when we started rehearsals, but people grow on you.  We're finishing up tech and opening the show this coming weekend, and it's been really strange to work on another Equity production.  I didn't think I'd find myself doing Equity theater again, but here we are.

I'm down to my last dollar, and I am going to be fine.  This isn't going to kill me.  The universe provides.