So, the question now is where to begin:
I quit my job.
In retrospect it was spectacularly easy. I told my boss I was having problems with my housing and that I couldn't really work 16 hour a days, he said okay, and I just sort of walked away. I didn't say goodbye to anybody or have any big explosion or anything, I just grabbed the L train and went home. I can go back to work if I want to, so there are no hard feelings, but it was a weird experience. So much of modern life is spent in cages of our construction. In reality it's a whole lot easier to walk away than we might initially think.
The thing about housing wasn't really a lie either. I need to find a new apartment and should do so rather quickly. This pursuit is hampered by the fact that every apartment in this city costs $5,000,000,000 a month, but mostly by the fact that my mother wants to buy one as an investment and have me live there, and I have to talk her out of this. This is a bad time to invest in NYC real estate, while rent is definitely bank account draining we are currently living in a big ass price bubble and it will pop given time. I don't want to be riding it when it does.
So I've been killing time supervising the painting of this apartment, dealing with some random stuff, and staring at blank computer screens completely unable to write. It's been less than fun but it's okay. I don't think I'll go back to the job, I've had nightmares that I did, plus the show is now on T.V. and for some reason that makes working on it even less appealing. One of the big problems with it was the size of the production, it was like an industrial plant more than a creative enterprise and while a lot of bigtime filmmaking, and especially TV, is like that it's not an environment I felt comfortable in.
I guess that's about it. I don't feel communicative these days. Privacy and silence are underrated.