I’ve been cobbling together my financial life for several months now. I know, a taboo topic. But seeing as this exchange between you and I is rooted in music and art, I figured I’d share the chronicling of a life dedicated to such endeavors—without a trust fund. I’ll always be working in tandem with my artist-self, to keep the pillars built, the space dry, ready to play and say yes to cool opportunities, so your girl will always need to work. I don’t see capitalism going away anytime soon, but free health insurance, fingers crossed, is something I hope we’ll see in my lifetime.
Though I have been a day job girl for many years, plodding towards my bigger dreams, I had become a bit pummeled to a pulp. I needed work that at least gave me a sense of purpose. And playing cover songs on Broadway for tips was not my thing. I had to loosen my rigid assumption of what was possible for my work life. I needed to bleed together my own black and white thinking, to a more greyed out water-color, all while, quite frankly, trying to protect my songwriting and music-making practice.
This financial path-finding has always been tricky for me, and many artists. But maybe not in Finland?… Read here .Unfortunately we don’t live in Finland, where it seems music and art are understood as a non-negotiable piece of the humanistic puzzle. Creative self-expression is seen as plain living, and grants for creators are encouraged and readily available. Sure, you can argue a lot of things about how better American music and art is, but wow, how truly wonderful would it be to have easy access to financial well-being as an artist? Some of us can’t just turn off a switch that feels like a calling and are always pouring whatever resources we have—time, money, relationships—into our dire dreams. It seems America wants me to make music for free and die for my art, but honey, I have learned the hard way and boy, do I know better.
I am grateful that in the past few weeks, I have finally been able to work in the ways I have been applying, pitching and portfolio-ing for. Working with words. Writing. Whether it’s for ads, websites, bios or what have you. This work has meaningful to me, where I can leave my second most visited website—thesaurus.com— always open, growing an obsession with language which is at its core, tied to my deep value of expression.
But, of course, it hasn’t all come together when I needed it too, so I had to think of other ways that I could make some cash. After spending years in a call-center, I was serviced out. What could I do that would involve less chit-chat in exchange for this ever-present currency of American living?
Cleaning, my friends. Cleaning!
I’ve had many stints as a cleaner in my life. My first job was a dishwasher and cabin cleaner for some 500 camp kids at a summer camp. And before that my mom had me cleaning neighbors homes at 13 to learn how to make allowance and instill a tough work ethic. Time and again, I’ve come back to it, in times of job and transition. It’s funny, I had taken so long away from it, I had forgotten it was an option. Or maybe, on a deeper level, I had hoped I wouldn’t have to return to it, as it can be demanding physical labor and holds low societal standing. Lately, I’ve found it has been freeing to return to it. You get to be on your feet, work through any complicated inner dilemma, all while blasting your favorite Sharon Jones record, taking home the unopened beers and break a sweat while hitting 6k steps.
So yes, I have been cleaning some fancy Airbnbs here in Nashville. They. Are. Everywhere. Sitting empty for weeks, then filled for 3 days at $600 a night. When checkout time rolls around, little old me pulls up in my beater Honda Accord, carrying a vacuum, wearing spandex shorts, balancing an ice coffee with garbage bags and knocking on the front door hoping no one is inside. But more often than not, there is a group of well-off folks, hurting from a night on Broadway, gathering their luggage slowly, hiding under black sunglasses and severe dehydration.
The kind woman who gave me the job is the queen of gig economy. She’s got rental properties, an accounting job, cleans 4-5 of these things every two weeks and is a musician and farm owner. After cleaning, I mentioned to her I was interested in helping her on the farm. As a Tennessee resident, and a Taurus, this seemed like some sort of bucket list item. So she texted me one weekend and I said I’d be happy to help.
While driving to her farm, through unknown pockets of untouched, overgrown green areas in Antioch—I mean, parts of Tennessee look like freaking Ireland—I got get very lost, hitting detour after detour, not recognized by my GPS. When I did finally arrive, I saw a crooked mobile home tucked behind a chain link fence with an idyllic field, river, barn and vegetable garden surrounding its perimeter.
I thought I’d be shoveling goat shit today, which I was oddly looking forward to, fulfilling my-inner farmer kink, being so in tune with animals and nature that all my worries wisp’d up and away—but no. It was raining and everything was mud.
“Since it’s wet, I’d figure I’d treat myself, and pay you to deep clean my fridge, kitchen and bathroom.”
Oh?… Im not sure I would’ve said yes to this, but here I was, standing in a trailer outside Nashville, on a beautiful soggy farm, scrubbing ceilings, floors and crisper drawers while the owner sat on the phone with her divorce lawyer 10 feet away. I felt bad for her. And I felt bad for me. A bluegrass player and upright bassist, she told me her ex-husband and her were splitting up and the divorce proceedings had taken over a year. “I’m sorry you have to hear all this,” she said cupping her phone. Oh no honey, I didn’t say. I came with earbuds, I’m a millennial and I won’t be dipping into this drama, just your literal toilet.
The things we do to make a living… I’m still cleaning every other week or so, but now it’s a massive 3 floor, fancy Airbnb in 12South and has to be spotless when I leave. I’ve got other gigs writing copy, websites and then some singing backgrounds and playing guitar for a couple different singer-songwriters and bands in June. It seems now I am the epitome of the gig economy. A apart of me is grateful to do so many different things. It is definitely not boring and it definitely keeps my song idea wheels spinning. But let’s be honest, if you have the funds, feel free to buy me a coffee ;)
Till next time 💖