A year ago, I was pushing myself hard to launch the Future of Money Kickstarter. The idea of doing a TV series was one created with my then business partner Erika. She was the TV side, I was the content side. She was responsible for distribution pre-sales, I was responsible for content development. We both were responsible for fund raising. I funded 95% of the initial cash outlays. Then there was the kickstarter - which almost literally killed me - well the kickstarter didn't, but I almost did. After that money was in the bank, Erika bailed on me, called me a bunch of names because I wouldn't transfer the money to her company's bank account. I didn't feel comfortable handing over the money people gave to the project because they believed in me. I picked myself up and continued on with the dream alone.
I tried my best to move forward. But I am not a Hollywood person. I don't have those connections. Despite good meetings and conversations, people loving the concept, things stagnated. I was stretched too thin. I couldn't take over Erika's role. And I was failing at moving forward on the content side. On top of that, was increasing anxiety on paying my own bills and a sustainable cash flow.
Everyone wants to know the Future of Money, but it seems no one wants to pay for it. (This leads me down a road of despair that often leads to my fantasizing about slitting my wrists. Because I'd rather die with all I know than have someone make money off my work and not compensate me.)
I try not to complain. I try to figure out how to make business models work. I try to keep pounding away. I think, these cranky thoughts mean I am on the verge of some break through. And often something positive and small happens. I am grateful for those. But damn, I need a fucking wildcard! (I am a fucking wildcard.)
This project is too much.
A year ago I willed myself into a world where I'd make a TV series and have an awesome romantic partner. This morning I remembered that. And the complete and utter failure on both of these counts. (I'm pretty much rocking everything else in my life though, so I really can't complain right?)
I felt like a complete and utter failure. These two things I really wanted and worked to make happen this past year - absolutely nothing. (And by "working" to make happen, I mean taking action AND surrendering.) I've got a laundry list of "lessons learned" on both topics. I'm fucking tired of learning.
So what to do?
I'm here now. August 12, 2014. My bedroom. Filled with blue stripes, low light. Moist cool California air. Here in this reality, I have all I have. Instead of a TV series and awesome partner - I have a podcast (about to be launched), amazing friends and I definitely live life on my terms. I truly have so much.
But I see that other world. The world with the TV series and that awesome partner along with the amazing work and collaborators. It's not that I have to trade in what I have not for those. It's all part of the vision. I see that world and it feels so. far. away.
I think about failure. Of giving up. Being satisfied and finding happiness with what I have already accomplished.
Who cares if the world economic system evolves? We've learned to deal with the cyclical crisis and crashes. We don't like, but we understand the elite and power hungry will always siphon money off to private stashes in whatever way possible (though crime or capitalism). Who cares that our economic models are set up to destroy natural resources, making the earth inhabitable for humans. (Better'd go develop space exploration technology so we can escape. But you can never escape yourself.) And really, who cares about being conscious in their actions? It's all too much to think about.
What's the point of going on?
Of course, the flip side to that is, what do I have to lose by redoubling my efforts... again?
Either way, there is nothing to lose. Merely the conscious choice of which action to take.