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Independence Day, y'all.

Props to the peeps who said I was too legit to quit.

I haven't posted much about my personal life over the years. But here's how it's gone for the last four months:

Wake up at 5:20 AM.
Get my ass in gear. Make my brown-bag breakfast and lunch.
Fight traffic for 2 hours, from Anaheim to Beverly Hills.
Pop open the laptop. Eat. Work on my screenplays for 45 minutes before work.
Start my job. Crappy, high-stress position. Assistant to an entertainment lawyer.
Work on my screenplays for 45 minutes at lunch.
Handle more crap and stress during the afternoon.
Work on my screenplays for an hour after work.
Drive an hour back to Anaheim. Get there at 9:20 PM. Sixteen hours after the alarm woke my a$$ up.
Crash.
Rinse. Repeat. All week long.
Sleep most of the day Saturday.
Saturday night. Pop open my laptop. Write.
Sleep most of the day Sunday. Get ready for the week.

Repeat.

Four months straight.

The setting: SFB's house. In just about the strangest twist my crazy life has ever offered up.

Dogs. Grandkids. Home.

Thirty years since I've had the feeling of a place I could relax.

Save some money. Oh shnap, my screenplays are actually pro-quality, according to a full-time script reader. Maybe it's time to quit.

Not sure yet.

7:00 PM. SFB has to crash. Hands over a nice chip stack in a 1000+ player multi. 50% freeroll.

OK, let's see what I can do.

First place. Ship it.

I'm giving notice at my job tomorrow.

Hate to say it, but I miss y'all.

Wish me luck.

Success, I think, is close.