Fucking Garage....

...and its fucking customers.

Seriously.

As much as you would think it would be a time of peace and good will, Christmas shoppers are ASSHOLES!

I don't fucking care how special you think you are, please don't piss on my day. I didn't do anything to you. I didn't do anything to make your day shitty.

Please don't throw stuff at me.
Please don't rip my face off.
Please don't treat me like I've somehow pissed in your coffee.
Please don't allow your misbehaved mongrel little children to fuck with my work station.
Please don't snap your gum at me. Eww.

Ugh.

Only a few shopping days left until people pull the stick out.

Cheraya: Punk Rock All-Star

Its been a minute since I posted any sweet pics of Cheraya, so here she is....

Just...I don't know....

I get home and Cheraya is running around like a mad woman with her little friend Lexi. My neighbor called me earlier and made up some bull about what the kids were (not actually) doing and that they didn't seem to be supervised (they were). The busybody neighbor is irritating anyway, but to then call and say something that's not even happening when I'm at work and there's not a damn thing I can do about it is just too much.

Anyway, she's running around like crazy. They've been running in and out of my apartment all afternoon, and it was messy before, but its totally fucked up, so now I get to go spend the next few hours cleaning up a giant fucking mess. So that's perfect.

I am trying not to be totally annoyed, because both of these things, as well as the rest of the irritating things earlier in the day, are just stupid little things that are now all adding up to be really just too much after a day already filled with asinine rich people.

And we all know how Amanda feels about asinine rich people.

Zen, or not really?

So I try to be zen. About everything. Like a duck in water.

So I watch Pulp Fiction last night, which seems a weird thing to make me philosophical, but regardless, it did. So the movie gets over, I tuck Rob into the couch where he's passed out, and I go upstairs.

I get in the shower and I start to think about life. Mostly about my quest for what I call "The Zen". I have mostly found it I think. Mostly found a way to be happy and satisfied with what I have. Happy with my current situations, the good and the bad.

But last night I start to wonder if being Zen is really a good thing. Is it that I am a Zen Master, or have I become complacent? So jaded by the seemingly insurmountable bullshit that I gave up caring about it. Is it something to work for, or is it as sad as it seems when I think about it that way?

I don't know.

I know I feel happier when I just don't care about shit like I used to anymore. My only problem is that now I wonder if I'm copping out. If I'm accepting what is simply because that's what it is.

Have I lost my interest in trying to change things for the better?

Have I lost my idealism?

Is there a way to be a Zen idealist?

To still give a fuck for what should be, while accepting what is?

Thoughts?