Old Journals

June 8, 1989

I don’t think I have it in me to write and direct films. Where is the strength going to come from to persevere, to fight all those battles, when even this current situation with Broderbund – near-ideal as it is – is burning me out? Have I ever had what it takes? Am I losing it? Give me a signal; show me a sign. Where’s the meaning in all this? Nobody cares about the fucking game, not even me. Why am I doing this?

If POP is a hit and the royalties start flowing again and my bank account swells and the fan mail rolls in, will my spirits also soar? What if it’s a dud – if the Apple market is truly dead and the IBM version is delayed and Nintendo doesn’t pan out – will it break my heart? All that wasted work. What will I do next? Will I deal with failure as well as I dealt with success?

Robert’s going off to Yale

Corey’s gone off to Harvard

Doug’s going to cash out

What happens to me when this part of the story is over?

Got to have faith. Faith in my game. Faith in myself. Lighten up. Nobody wants to be around someone who’s stressed out and in the dumps. Got to rise to the occasion. Charm everyone around me with my youthful enthusiasm, unshakeable optimism, etc.

These are 2:30 am thoughts. I know I’ll feel cheerful and serene in the morning if I can just get to sleep. Just shut down my mind and make it through the night.

You can’t talk in your sleep if you can’t sleep.

Oh God, I see why people take sleeping pills.

Posted on Jun 8, 1989 in Old Journals | 2 comments