Invisibles, Fight Nights, and WHERE THE HELL ARE MY COFFEE FILTERS?

I'm out! I don't know what to do. I'm going to have to go into work early to drink copious amount of coffee before I begin my shift not because I enjoy the caffeine, but because I need routine. And they're coffee is so weak! Ahhhhhh! Things to do today: GET COFFEE FILTERS!
Also, I'm thinking about investing in a French press if I ever get a job.

Yesterday, I went to the post office. Whenever I've gone to a post office, whether it be in Milan, IL (population... something like 6,000)or Glendale, or Downtown Chicago, I expect to wait. And in California, espcially, where the state motto should be "Hurry up and wait," I was fine with the near 25 minutes that I spent in line. After all, it's a Saturday, and I didn't have to work until 5, and I was the lazy ass who could not get out of bed earlier to arrive when the line was shorter. So, I waited patiently after ensuring that my package was perfectly prepped for shipping. There was one woman working the counter - the nice little Asian lady with a haircut like Rose's from The Golden Girls - and she was dealing with a beligerent Armenian. I know - an Armenian in Glendale being beligerent? - but no, he was. A woman steps in line, a typical California woman whose entitlement is all but written on her forehead. She waits probably a minute and says "Why is there only one person working this counter on a Saturday? It is like this every Saturday." The little Asian woman, not wanting to slow the line any more than this Armenian man already has, sorta mumbles something about someone being on vacation and keeps going. So the bitch-lady yells "This is rubbish!" and leaves. I clapped when she left. The idea that this woman was so self-important and self-absorbed that she thought her complaints mattered totally baffled me. Get to the post office on your lunch break during the week, stupid woman. And why is complaining at the sweet lady up front who does not determine post office scheduling and fudning going to help any of us?
I'm tired of how people treat other people. I'm tired of anyone providing a service being invisible. Why is our tendency to treat those on which we depend as though the are less than us? It happens at the restaurant all the time. To the servers, the bar tenders. This gross sense of entitlement people carry with them almost makes me cry. And it really makes me miss home. So many people in Los Angeles exist invisibly - I feel like I'm one of them. Three million people and we cannot connect because we're either too good or not good enough. The concept is so frustrating, so dehumanizing. I don't know how much more I can take. I know that deciding to go into film, to embrace the industry, means deciding to be invisible for years. Hollywood runs on castes, and it's tragic. It's also the reason, I think, why film is becoming so empty and stupid. By the time someone has established enough credit to make a film all their own, the person is either too jaded or too far removed from the reality in which the audience lives to connect on anything more than a superficial level.

Let's make it a goal this week, then, to treat each other as equals and fellow human beings.