The Hillhouse

Some days I think this is the best deal ever. I get to make choices, solve problems, imagine how I’d like things to be one year down the road, two, three, maybe even ten… My plans are beginning to physically manifest now, and it’s kind of mind-blowing. I still don’t really believe that this whole thing’ll fly. That I’ll be able to derive an income from it. That it’ll even pay for its own bills. Many are the times folks have suggested to me that I might have a hard time receiving. Feeling I deserve rewards for my efforts, living with a lack of self-worth. And I can see that, cuz money’s never come to me (I know, I know – all you supporters of manifesting – that’s no way to talk!) and I still don’t know where the money will come in the future, now that it’s all been spent on the Studio. But either way, it’s nice to see the potential that the investment has created. It feels so good to see the progress that’s been made. Sometimes I find myself happy, really excited even, to imagine where this adventure will lead. Sometimes. But definitely not always.

Like right now. I have a horrible headache, my stomach hurts and I think I might be coming down with a cold. There is NO end to the things I must juggle, remember, do, create, fix, clean, prepare… My son must be picked up after midnight at the airport tomorrow at the end of one long day, and I fear how I’ll make it. I fear how in hell this open house will do. I fear a weak turnout. I fear I won’t get it all done in the five days remaining. I fear it’ll always be just me pulling the load. Just my mother funding it. But that’s a moot point now; the money’s all been spent. The place is looking good, but as a contractor friend of mine pointed out just this morning – the roof’s going, and there’s a lot of carpentry to be done if I’m to keep the interior safe. How this works I have no clue. I know – ideally one has a board, and on that board sit all sorts of folks with energy, enthusiasm, professional connections and perhaps even money. But so far that board is me, my business partner and my mom. We’re legal, but still. It can’t go on like this. Which is why we’re opening the place up to the world. I just pray it works. Serendipitous and wonderful things have happened, but my head and my stomach don’t care. They feel just awful, and they’re not terribly optimistic about things.

It’s time to go to bed. Done almost everything on my list. My body needs sleep, if it’ll even come. I’ve lived such a low-stress life these past seven years here in the country that this kind of schedule is a real challenge for me. Some days I’ve got the radio cranking, the windows wide open and I can’t wait for the future to get here already, some days I wish I could just get this stupid, earthly life the fuck over already. Ya know?

Ok. There’s the digest of the moment. It’s a temporary agony. Things will go well. They will. They may not go as I’d planned, but somehow, as Martha Carver always used to say “Things always work out.” (Folks who know the Stonehenge scene in Spinal Tap will appreciate how I felt when I got my car door magnet sign for The Studio – a mere whisper of a rolling ad, barely readable from two feet away. Sigh.) On the other hand, the site exists now, I’ve sent out my first Constant Contact campaign, and my wallet is full of snazzy new business cards. There’s still a lot to do, but ready or not, Sunday’s a comin’….

Visit our lovely new website, won’t you?   The Studio, Greenfield’s Performing & Visual Arts Center