Random Bad Luck

The semester has just ended. And the winter holiday is going to be spent making my own, or working on other friend's short films. I like the idea that my job, essentially for the next three years, is making movies, writing scripts and learning all aspects of the film industry.

But I have to confess, I am exhausted, and more broke than I have ever been.

You see, this semester has been a series of bad luck. I am trying to remember what happened first. I think it may have been the guy who felt me up (he grabbed my right breast) from behind then took off on 125th Street. While I was rather freaked out, at least it was daytime, so I wasn't really worried about him dragging me off the street and raping me in some alley. But still...I did feel a bit violated.

Then my hard drive crashed. The best part? I had just backed up the entire contents of my computer on it, because my laptop wasn't behaving very well. This included my entire music collection, much of my digital art, and two books I am working on. The music (something like 20GB) can be replaced...not cheaply mind you...but it's possible). The book and art work...not so much. So I took it down to a couple of Mac shop in New York to see how much it would cost to do data recovery. You ready? $1,300. THIRTEEN HUNDRED FRIGGIN' DOLLARS!!! That is just wrong. So deeply wrong. I mean the hard drive only cost $250? How can data recovery cost $1300?

I was hoping my bad luck was getting better, but then on Wednesday I started throwing up and running a fever. I had to finish editing a film (it's a film noir and at least that turned out okay), write four papers, and get clearances to shoot on the street and in Central Park for a film I am producing this weekend. So, staying home wasn't an option. So, I chugged my Pepto, and went down to jump on my bike and found...I bet you know what's going to happen next...my bike had been stolen.

I think if I wasn't so exhausted, suffering from severe lack of sleep (I've averaged 4 hours a night in the last two weeks), I would probably be in tears. But I am too tired to cry. I'm just really, really sad because I liked my bike. It was great for transportation in New York. And yesterday was going to be the last time I rode it before putting it in the basement for the season. How to bike thieves steal a bike with two chains on it, including a U-lock, anyway?