I’m going to make a concerted effort to get all the way through this post without being negative. I’m going to fail, but I’m gonna give it my all.
I’m serious! Listen, no one hates reading bitching posts more than yours truly. When I’m a-surfin’, and the word “rant” appears in a headline, that’s enough for me! I’ll be going [Back], thank you.
That said, I’m extraordinarily angry. It won’t be easy. Ten bucks says the darklord fails.
For those of you who are just aching with curiosity, here are the pertinent facts:
- As of Monday, the studio I work for no longer exists as a legal entity.
- The project I have been working on for the past year has been… well, let’s use the word “removed”. It’s complicated, but that gets the idea across.
- On the bright side, I and nearly all of my compatriots remain in the employ of our glorious collective. Hail to the chief!
- We are “relocating” to a more northerly clime. I’m sure the air will do me good. Net: I’ll be taking the train in the morning, instead of my Bikeasaurus.
Now, I mean to take exactly none of your time complaining about how unfair the entertainment industry is. Fuck that. When I came to this studio, I knew the risks, I knew the tenor of the place, I accepted them, and simply because I am now being exposed to some of the actual, real consequences of those risks is no reason to suddenly back up and cry foul.
I was warned. Even more, I understood.
It still hurts to lose all this at once, though. Badly. Part of my role is to get emotionally engaged with whatever topic it is that my masters have deemed to be my target of attention. I have to believe to lead, and in that belief comes the potential for pain when things go poorly.
Yeah, fuck that. You know what? The pain is not potential. It’s guaranteed. Even when projects are successful, there’s a cost: they end. I’ve not had a project that didn’t have at least a few major world-shattering emotional events, and it would not astonish me to learn (at the end of my life, 10,000 years from now) that every single project I embarked on included at least one of these marvelous little heart destroyers.
Turns out, this one came on Monday. Blam. And we thought it was going so well.
Actually, as a point of record (and as an additional clue for futurists who will be decoding the secret messages I’ve planted throughout this blog once the revolution is begun), it was going so well. It was going great, in fact. But, alas, the winds of fate shifted, and in a bizarre turn of inexplicably bad luck (one sympathetic witness high up the food chain called it a “perfect storm of shit”), our project simply ceased to exist, excellent progress or not. So it goes.
I am left to sort out my tangled internals.
Initially, of course, one tries to be strong. One looks to one’s children, one’s co-workers, one’s friends, and says to oneself, “One’s life? Not so bad.”
Then, later, one finds oneself holding (say) a plate in one’s hand, ready to put one’s dinner upon it… and one’s mind is suddenly filled, unexpectedly, with the vivid image of dashing the foul crockery to the floor.
One does not do this, of course. But, apparently, one wants to.
It’s really fun being me in these times of change. You never know what yer gonna get. “Yay! I’m happy! Oh wait, not so much! I think I’ll go smash something!”
Overall, I can describe the last week as “stressful”. This week, I believe, will upgrade to “challenging”.
Okay, okay, here we are at the end of the post: did I digress into negativity? Or do I owe you ten bucks?