When The Stranger asks The Dude how he’s doing towards the end of The Big Lebowski, The Dude replies, “Strikes and gutters, ups and downs.” My last few months haven’t seen any strikes and I can barely hit the gutters. I’ve devolved into that guy who goes to throw the ball, but releases it so poorly that it flies up into the ceiling.
In 2013, I took a year off from working in an industry I loathed to pursue my creative interests and shift my career. With this time, I poured myself into several projects that I was passionate about and could envision working out to great success. To survive, I drew from my savings, which diminished faster than anticipated, but I wasn’t too worried. Things looked good. The right people were interested, lavishing praise often. Scrooge McDuck sums of money were discussed as realistic payments. Most importantly, these were projects I proud to put my name on, a feeling not often resulting from work efforts. And then, this month, each fell apart spectacularly, for different reasons, all of which were beyond my control.