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Glass Menagerie
View from the Bottoms

Tuesday February 19, 2002

I really enjoyed having dinner with Pseudo-professor John last night. He is a good man. The pictures he showed me were from his trip to the Philippines last Summer. He seems to be very excited about the prospect of starting up a relationship with his babe friend from abroad. As I had suspected, Pseudo-professor John has never had a babe. Perhaps that is why he is so optimistic. Most babes could not do better than a guy like him. However, he will be overlooked time and time again. The babes, it seems, just want the "bad boyz."

Vanessa was a little distraught today, and now I've come to find out why. Ron has actually been putting the make on her. It turns out that he has been sending her e-mail and calling her up. Apparently, all of this started a few months ago when several of Vanessa's classmates (including Ron) went out for her B-day. I did not know any of this until today. Vanessa also told me that Ron gave her a "special" V-Day gift — a $60 Frederick's of Hollywood gift certificate. Ron also set up a new e-mail account, most likely to keep his correspondence a secret from his wife. Ron has also been talking about using his vacation time to tour another island. He told me that he planned to go alone. In actuality, he's been pressuring Vanessa to join him on the trip, telling her that he will pay for everything. I'm a little worried about Vanessa because Ron is getting a little scary.

Shirley asked me if I had any image processing software like Adobe Photoshop that I could lend to her. Obviously, I am not in any position to assist anyone in pirating software. Instead, I showed her which computers in the lab had the software installed. We ended up talking for a while again. She mentioned that Judy had made a comment about the ol' lavahead in class. "T--- works against the system. At least I try to work within the system," Judy had told the class. "So, that really explains the 'schoolboy gone bad' e-mail address," Shirley said, with a grin on her face. I had to laugh. No wonder the Asylum faculty avoid me. Sheesh! We are still planning to meet for lunch. One of my classes is going to have a potluck lunch, and there is also a going away party for Asylum faculty Ryan. I will have to miss both events. Too bad, eh? Lunch with Shirley will be much more enjoyable.

Wednesday February 20

I spent most of last night downloading the latest update for OS X. There was a time that I really enjoyed this benign activity, but now I am a little tired of it. Since the operating system is brand new, I have no choice but to keep up with the updates. So far, I've been extremely happy with my iBook.

Shirley left a message to cancel lunch, so I participated in my class potluck at the Asylum instead. Then, I attended the going away party for Ryan. I really chowed down. I suspect that Shirley believes I am up to no good. No doubt, one of her friends or maybe one of the Asylum faculty may have said something. Sheesh! At the Diploma Mill, one of my local babe students, Sheri, pointed out that she wrote up something for me in one of the lab assignments. The task was to create a small newsletter, so she wrote and included an article called "All Guys are Dogs." We had a lively discussion after that. An incident during the long weekend had apparently inspired the topic.

I have come to some interesting conclusions this week. I've listened to several more PowerPoint presentations by my students at the Asylum. I have come to learn that about 95 percent of the babes in my classes have kids. Most are not married. Their family lives are completely dysfunctional, and it originated with their parents. They have siblings from parents of different marriages and different unmarried partners. Thus, they follow in their parents footsteps. Boyfriends and husbands are definitely all derived from the old high school dating pool. My discussion with Sheri also confirmed this. This is why guys like myself and Pseudo-professors John and Robert are screwed. We share one common denominator. We were too nerdish in high school to know any babes. Pseudo-professor Robert and I spent a few years on the mainland. Pseudo-professor John only spent a year in Washington before returning to Hawai'i. So, the length of our stay on the mainland is not a factor. The real factor is that we knew no babes in high school. We were also not a part of the numerous high school social clubs. This is the reason why we will remain single in Hawai'i. The social cliques are completely closed to outsiders, even those of us who were born and raised here. The high school bond is so strong that it cannot be broken. Malia's story is a case in point. The longer any of us stay in Hawai'i, the more likely that we will all remain monks. I am firmly convinced that I had better opportunities on the mainland than I do here.

There is only one way to break through the barriers of social cliques here. One must go out to the clubs. Almost all of the locals go to the various clubs every weekend. And, I'm not just talking about the young babes. Otherwise, there is no way to meet any local babes. It's a closed loop. They spend their time hanging out with friends, "cruising" with friends, or going to the club with friends. There are also other possible methods, provided one has a lot of family friends, or friends who know a wide circle of people. There is the remote possibility that one can meet a local babe through work. However, since most local babes work at minimum wage jobs, that would mean one also has to take on a similar job just to meet them. Many readers will probably think that I've lost my mind, or that I have come up with yet another ingenious rationalization for my own inadequacies. No, just ask anyone who's come from the mainland to live here.

With this in mind, the babe situation is a lost cause. It's done deal. Which means that it is time to move on. Viktor Frankl's treatise has even further implications now because this is a kind of social prison. Many barriers have been erected and we "prisoners" must now find a way deal with our incarceration in an honorable way that gives us meaning. Liberation is highly improbable and wishful thinking will only lead to a mental breakdown.

Thursday February 21

Last night, I received an e-mail from Shirley explaining that she had been ill yesterday. She could not attend her classes or go to work, but she did go to the doctor. She came by my class this morning to see if she could print some of her work. We chatted for a few minutes before she had to go to class. I found out that she is 21 years old. She also works part-time at Daiei. So, we will reschedule our lunch meeting for another day. At least now I know that none of the nefarious Asylum faculty had attempted to poison her mind.

Vanessa mentioned that "Scary" Ron had called her several times yesterday and left messages. She did not listen to any of them. I noticed that Vanessa had not shown up to class yesterday. I deduced that she was trying to avoid Ron. She wants to avoid him tomorrow as well. I told her that Ron is going to pick up a recommendation letter from me after his morning class, so he should be gone before ten o' clock.

My afternoon at the Diploma Mill was uneventful. None of the multimedia equipment in my classroom was operational. Fortunately, no one showed up to class except for the St. Andrews girls. They had brought a couple of videos for us to watch, but that was not possible. So, we took a walk to Starbuck's and bought a few snacks. I called in for a technician, but no one showed up. So, we will postpone the videos until next week.

I am still a little unsettled by the findings that I disclosed yesterday in the journal. Perhaps I should resume ordering more hurdy-gurdy DVDs, eh? Maybe I should also set up LoserNet Chat. Nah, that's a loser. Maybe I should keep my Instant Messenger active when I'm on-line. Can you guess what the oversized cranium's screen name is? Frankly, who the hell would want to talk with the ol' lavahead? Sheesh! Well, I'll spend the rest of the evening with my beloved iBook as usual, livin' large in a small way.

Friday February 22

Another uneventful day at the Asylum. My classes are over, even though there is still officially one day left in the term. I have been preparing a PowerPoint presentation for the new student orientation next Friday. Since Mike and Kevin (Asylum computer faculty) left me holding the bag to do the presentation, I have a little surprise for them. In the presentation, I have included their photos and listed every possible area of interest under their names. I refer to them as "gurus." Naturally, I did not include myself. Thus, if any of the new students have any questions, they will seek out the "gurus." It's fairly easy to see that I am not a team player. Sheesh! I talked with Jay, another Asylum student, concerning the situation with Vanessa and "Scary" Ron. He verified everything that Vanessa had told me. Jay had also been at Vanessa's B-day party.

My classes at the Diploma Mill were uneventful as well. I managed to talk with Pseudo-professor Mari in the faculty computer room. The good part is that she always makes me think. "You should be grateful to be here at [the Diploma Mill]," she said. "Look at all of the interesting faculty whom you can interact with." She's right. The Diploma Mill does serve the purpose of providing me with an intellectual social forum, something painfully missing everywhere else. I have close to no interaction with the Asylum faculty. Most of them are mental midgets. Little wonder why the students can never grow intellectually.

Shirley sent me an e-mail. She has been trying to recover from whatever illness she has. So many people are sick. I suspect that poor ventilation and substandard air-conditioning are responsible for the continuous wave of infections. Shirley has to show up for Judy's class on Monday, so she wanted to reschedule lunch for that day. Sounds good to me. I am surprised that our e-mail correspondence has become somewhat regular. Also, I was surprised to see her come by my class several times in the past week.

Pseudo-professor Jim was on the express bus this afternoon. We chatted for the duration of the ride until his stop. Our conversation was limited mostly to academics. The weekend is here, and my primary goal is to keep myself from driving my six-four down to Koko Marina to buy a bottle of the "Hammer." I sent e-mail to Pseudo-professor John, asking him to call me if he wanted to do anything this weekend. I also did an initial search on the Net for different types of clubs to join. I'm looking at hiking and ocean kayaking clubs right now. I'm moving at a snail's pace concerning this matter, but I'm sure that I will be taking up some kind of activity within the next two years.

Saturday February 23

I've been locked into a variety of thoughts for most of the week. I constantly refer to Frankl's book to keep myself from convoluting those thoughts. Yesterday, Pseudo-professor Mari stressed the importance of diversions in her life. For example, she goes to movies to escape reality, if just for a few hours. She doesn't care if she goes alone because that allows her the freedom to see whatever movie she wants. On the other hand, I have eliminated all forms of diversions in my own life. Passive diversions (e.g., the tube) can become addicting, and I can easily see myself turning into a comatose slob.

Out of curiosity, I perused a few of those on-line dating sites and, naturally, I had to see the babes listed in Hawai'i. As you may recall, I placed my own millennium personal ad at Barbara's (in Oregon) suggestion. I described myself as a typical loser, because I am a monk of truth. Naturally, I never got any responses. Instead, my e-mail inbox became the target of Viagra dealers. Perhaps I'll run a more serious personal ad, but how can I not describe myself as loser without lying? Sheesh!

I spent most of the day alternating between pacing around the house and lapsing into a coma. I felt even more anxiety than usual to divest myself of all of my worldly possessions. This is the kind of crap that is driving me berserk. I finally had to break down and drive my six-four to Koko Marina. The 1.5L bottle of the "Hammer" was on sale for six bucks, so how could I pass it up? I have got to sedate my mind before I lose it. Not even the thought of having a nice lunch next week with Shirley could calm my nerves. I have a feeling that my old friend, the sinister kahuna, is once again toying with the oversized cranium. What else could possibly explain this insanity?

The only thing that keeps me sane is my beloved iBook, primarily because I compose the journal with it. The next 22 months are going to be extremely taxing, and I can only be thankful that I have kept up the journal during these trying times. I have done little around the house (i.e., houseboy and yardboy chores) these days — a sure sign that I'm "in a funk" (as Steph would say). The only good news is that I haven't seen the Ninja Turds in weeks. What a blessing! My goal is to never see the damned Turds again. I also finally removed the annoying trim rings from the wheels of my beloved six-four. The chattering noise was driving me nuts. I had to paint the steel wheels again because they were rusting. I didn't even bother to mask anything. So, a lot of the overspray ended up on the tires. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Insanity can sure wreak a lot of havoc, eh?

I'll spend the rest of the evening with my beloved iBook while I sip the fine vintage "Hammer." It is too bad that I can't seem to find a place that sells King Cobra. Don't let the smooth taste fool ya! I am also going to contemplate the babe situation because this appears to be root of the problems around here. In fact, it is the only problem around here. Everything else is under control. That's probably why it has finally come to the forefront.

Sunday February 24

I passed out in my favorite chair last night, so I didn't contemplate much. Good thing. Otherwise, I would have gone berserk. My problem is that I have too much spare time on my hands. I have estimated that I work only 1,010 hours in a year. I have delegated many of my responsibilities to my teaching assistants so that I do not have to put in any outside time. This level of efficiency has left me with a lot of idle time. Mind you, I do not get paid for the numerous academic vacations and holidays. Since I am dragging my feet insofar as extracurricular activities are concerned, then I should look for another part-time job. The marginal income from such a job could be allocated to the equipment (e.g., ocean kayak, etc.) needed for such activities.

I did not do much today. I walked to the gym, did my usual Sunday workout, and returned home. Vanessa called and left a message. I called her back and we ended up talking for about two hours. At first, I thought she may have been calling because of "Scary" Ron. Thank goodness, that was not the case. It was fun talking to Vanessa. She told me more about her "schoolgirl crush" on Ryan and other mundane topics. I was glad that we had a nice chat because I would have had nothing to write about today. Sheesh!

Monday February 25

Vanessa bought a sweater for Ryan as a going away gift. However, she was distraught because she really wanted to give him a different kind of gift — da wild thing. Fortunately, Shirley arrived on time. We left the Asylum before Vanessa could execute her plan to make the move on Ryan. Shirley and I walked to the Aloha Tower Marketplace. We ate lunch at the Big Island Steakhouse. The last time I had lunch there was with Malia. Shirley is an extremely quiet person, or she may just be quiet around the ol' lavahead. I suppose that it is an odd situation for a student to be having lunch with a faculty member, especially with a faculty member who is now "known" to date students. Of course, I looked around the restaurant to see if I could spot any of Roach's minions. Shirley has become good friends with Erin, the English instructor at the Asylum. "We mainly talk about her love life," Shirley said, after disclosing that Erin is engaged. Perhaps Shirley wanted to relay this information because Erin may have feared that the ol' lavahead was up to good. Remember that some of my students tried to set me up. After lunch, we walked back to the Asylum. On the way, we saw Chip walking along an adjacent street. I'm certain that he spotted us, which means more fodder for the rumor mill. The whole Asylum probably knows by now. Sheesh! I'm not exactly sure what happened with Vanessa, but I'll find out soon enough. Do you see why I call that place "the Asylum"?

After talking with both Vanessa and Shirley, I think I'm finally returning to reality concerning babes. They are too much trouble. I shouldn't really lump Shirley and Vanessa together. What I mean is that all babes share some commonality that is really beyond what any sane guy should have to put up with. I should be glad that I can enjoy the company of babes without being involved with them. My buddy Bud was absolutely correct, and I would be wise to heed his words. I believe that friendship with babes is possible, as long as one remains objective. Such friendships are transient, at best. Babes will eventually hook up with BoyToys and disappear. That's just the way it is. I seem to have forgotten that I have been moving much closer to Covey's definition of independence. This is a tremendous feat, in and of itself. Yet, I was willing to recklessly give it all up for reasons unbeknownst to myself. Desperation is contagious. I am in close proximity to an epidemic of insanity. What I have truly forgotten is that I have become my own shepherd. I'm not one of the sheep anymore.

I continue to read tidbits from Frankl's book each day to remind me of the fact that I live a good life. I try to imagine the fortitude required to survive the conditions of a Nazi concentration camp as described by Frankl. Is it really only through suffering and agony that we can truly appreciate the life we were given? Is everything else really vanity except for the spirit within us? Frankl speaks of two distinct "races" of humans — the "race" of decent people and the "race" of indecent people. He writes, "The rift dividing good from evil, which goes through all human beings, reaches into the lowest depths and becomes apparent even on the bottom of the abyss ..." Which "race" am I?

Tuesday February 26

Yesterday, Vanessa revealed to me that her friend Ellen is on a downhill slide. She was terminated from her job. Her new boyfriend is apparently another loser. He is living off of Ellen. Now, Ellen is completely depressed. She won't even return Vanessa's calls. I have not heard from Vanessa, so I assume that she has also fallen deep into the abyss of despair because she could not have her way with Ryan. As I continue to hear these woeful tales, I can only count myself as fortunate. Of course, I have no babe, which is pathetic. However, I am sans any major grief. I have slept well for the past two nights, which seems to indicate that my mind has calmed down considerably. I was also proud to discover that LoserNet has been linked from the Involuntary Celibacy Project site.

I took a regular bus to town this morning. I spent a considerable amount of time compiling syllabi for my classes at the Asylum. The Winter term ended yesterday, by the way. Naturally, one of Roach's minions slipped into "micromanaging" mode. I had to spend two hours this afternoon (after the gym) compiling course outlines, which basically are the same as the table of contents of the textbooks. Since I will cover the whole textbook, I argued, then I should not have to include the dumb outline. This kind of logic never flies in the "micromanaging" circles. The sheer idiocy of these fools never ceases to amaze me. My guess is that I am on borrowed time.

That's my problem. I have no job security. I have no security at all, as a matter of fact. I have no babe. I hardly have any dough. And, I'm constantly being reminded about how easily I can be replaced. All I want is 22 months of job security. I will meet my financial goals. Then, these asswipes can do whatever they want. It's hard to imagine how much stock I've place on the December 31, 2003 target date. I am expecting some kind of miracle transformation to occur. Kind of stupid, eh? My life-style will not change, so this transformation is going to be purely spiritual.

I have not heard from Shirley except for a brief e-mail to thank me for lunch. At the least, she knows that I have no ulterior motives. Sad to say, I suspect that she will eventually fall to the wayside. It's just too easy. I don't really feel sorry for these babes because they make a conscious choice. They pick losers because they want losers. Good guys are, as always, invisible. Somehow, that really torques my jaw. I believe that I, myself, am coming full circle to my obscure origins and the monk ways. Nothing else has brought any semblance of purpose into my life.

Wednesday February 27

I took the regular bus to town again. This was not a pleasant experience. The bus was extremely crowded during the latter part of the route. I was somewhat unnerved by the time I arrived downtown. I sent letters to three credit card firms to close my accounts. I cut the cards and enclosed them with the letters. I have four more credit cards to mummify. I never use them anyway. However, the gesture is symbolic. I am severing my ties with the damned moneychangers and eliminating part of my paper trail. I will eventually end up with just one credit card.

I had a nice conversation with Pseudo-professors Mari and Dorothy this afternoon in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. We are planning a "Meaning of Life" wine and cheese party next month. My discussions about Viktor Frankl's book has had a positive effect, eh? After my classes, I had another discussion with Pseudo-professor Dorothy. She seemed depressed today. In talking with her, I learned that she just been to a counseling session at Tripler Hospital. It's almost beyond coincidence that she has been struggling with a similar issue as mine. Pseudo-professor Dorothy is about the same age as Pseudo-professor Mari. The whole "Search for Meaning" theme has caused a small Viktor Frankl renaissance. Our small discussion group has already begun delving into deeper spiritual matters. This has been very encouraging to me. I now feel that I have enough strength to persevere through this latest ordeal and actually come out of it with an answer.

In my own journey, I believe that my need to bond my soul spiritually with that of others is tantamount to finding the meaning that I am searching for. In dealing with shallow, self-centered morons, I became disillusioned and retreated to a monk existence. I could say that the journal gives meaning to my life, but that would sound stupid and vain. However, this is true because I believe that somehow I do connect with others through this medium. After all, I am still the Keeper of Lost Lives.

I never made it to the gym this afternoon because I felt that it was more important to continue my discussion with Pseudo-professor Dorothy. Although none of us could answer the question about what specifically is the meaning of each of our lives, I think we're moving closer to finding an answer. My guess is that this "meaning" or "purpose" is something that a particular individual would die for or would struggle to survive for because of absolute conviction. Many of us would be perplexed to isolate such a "meaning" or "purpose." And, I am not talking about knee-jerk reactions, survival instincts, or plain stupidity. In an article titled, "The Search for Meaning," Asoka Selvarajah asserted, "Ultimately, the Search for Meaning is about taking responsibility for your life. It is about becoming a master of life rather than a passive participant. It is about acknowledging that you are a creator of your existence, and realizing that you are here for a specific and unique purpose. You can then actually direct the whole of your life to manifesting that purpose in your everyday reality. This is where meaning comes from. This is what happiness is all about."

Is it all just philosophical banter or psycho-babble? I think not. I have the ability to recognize pure hype. Likewise, I have discovered that there is synergy in the words of truth. When interpreted in piecemeal fashion, words often make little sense. When rote, materialist constraints are in place, the meaning becomes a convoluted joke. However, when entire work is analyzed without judgment concerning what is tangible or intangible, then the answer will become clear.

Thursday February 28

My patience was once again at an all-time low. Trying to discover my purpose in life is making me irritable, considering that I can't stop thinking about babes. I found that Ross Jeffries is still around promoting his "speed seduction" techniques. I read a few of his archived articles and, I have to admit, there is a lot of validity to what he says. I am certain that many of his observations and interpretations concerning the behavior of babes is accurate. Sheesh! Sometimes I wonder about trivial matters like why Kendra, one of the front desk babes at the gym, remembers my name. Kendra is a hottie, and there is no reason that she would remember my name out of the hundreds of people who use the gym at the downtown location. Perhaps I should purchase the Ross Jeffries' course materials and then try to mack on Kendra. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Can you imagine the utter humiliation that would result?

No one showed up for my class today at the Diploma Mill, so I essentially had the day off. I talked with Pseudo-professors Dorothy and John for a while at the faculty computer center. On the way out, I saw that babe Heidi (who no longer works at the Asylum). She was talking to some other babe. She looked straight at me, so I knew that she recognized the oversized cranium. Had I graduated from the Ross Jeffries School of Scoring, I could have snapped into action. However, I am just a boy in the army.

I've been thinking about what I want to do when I reach my goals at the end of Year 2003. Should I make a career change? Instead of becoming a Wal-Mart greeter, I believe that I would rather work at Barnes & Noble. In actuality, I am thinking about applying for a position there right now, so that I could fill my idle time on the weekends. I could secure one weekend class and make a lot more dough in just three hours. However, I am burnt out already. That's why the next 22 months are going to be rough. Saving up dough is inconsequential to me. It's just the only realizable goal that I've had in years. In the end, I will at least have an accomplishment to feel good about.

Friday March 1

I continued to read the material on the Ross Jeffries site. What is interesting is that Jeffries has incorporated concepts from "neurolinguistic programming" (NLP) into his "speed seduction" techniques. I did a little research about NLP, and I can conclude that there may be factual basis for the success of those techniques. If we strip away a lot of the crass vulgarity (which Jeffries seems somewhat endeared to), we may actually discover that Jeffries is a social scientist of sorts. While I extrapolated as much as possible from the available material, I observed that Jeffries was describing a power over babes, much the same as Caine had experienced in Shock to the System when the latter realized that he was indeed the Sorcerer.

I've also come to realize that I know a little about this power. In my day-to-day life as a pseudo-professor, I am in contact with many people. However, I have not realized that this contact has been skewed toward babes. I spend more time engaged in conversation with babes of all ages than I do with guys. I used to believe that this phenomenon had to do with the fact that I am faculty. That's not really so. Whether the babes are students or colleagues, I engage in conversation that becomes fairly personal. I also consciously refrain from going beyond a certain point because I do not want to cross the line. Yet, deep inside, I know that it's possible. It's just not ethical. Ross Jeffries is not out in left field as many people believe.

Today, I wasn't really in a talking mood. However, I made my presentation during the Asylum's orientation for new students. I really hammed it up. One of my former students, serving as a guide, was outside waiting for the group of students listening to my presentation. I could see him laughing so hard that I thought he was going to keel over. Later, I had an interesting discussion with one of my students at the Diploma Mill. Her name is Xochitl. She is a hottie. I came to learn a lot about her background. Her father is from El Salvador, but he has lived in Hawai'i for 16 years. Her mother is in Cali now, and Xochitl actually lived with her until recently. She moved here to stay with her father because he is terminally ill. However, she dislikes him because he is apparently very mean and does not treat her well. What is interesting about Xochitl is that she is very religious. She is also one of sweetest babes I've ever met. Her innocence cannot be faked. Xochitl is the kind of babe any guy would in his right mind would want to marry. Too bad that the ol' lavahead is old enough to be her grandfather. I also had my usual on-going, albeit frustrating, discussion with Sheri. Pseudo-professor Amber was in the faculty computer room. She was wearing an extremely tight outfit. Fortunately, she already has a stud, as Professor Russell disclosed to all of us earlier.

I saw Pseudo-professor Robert walking across the street as I was leaving the Asylum. I asked him about his big night at Oceans. He said that he met the babes but he was not impressed. They were attractive, he noted, but they were not in the same league as "we" are used to seeing. I suppose that he was making a comparison to the luscious, young babes at the Diploma Mill. "I was far more interested in the bartender," he added. Apparently, the bartender was a real hottie. Pseudo-professor Jim was on the express bus heading home. We talked mostly about the trials and tribulations of pseudo-professorship. Although I anticipate a relapse of "Sunday neurosis," I was glad to leave the salt mines. I still have half of a bottle of "Hammer," so I'm good to go! Sheesh!

Saturday March 2

"I'll probably end up a lonely, old bachelor," Pseudo-professor Robert said yesterday, before we parted ways. He must be putting in quite a few hours at the Legal Aid Society. No doubt, his real intentions are to keep himself occupied to forget the babe situation. Modern life is that way. Diversions and distractions to keep the mind sedated. Busy work to postpone any introspection. My discussion with Xochitl was not happenstance. She served to remind me that true meaning in our lives is impossible. We can only define this "meaning" based upon what Frankl described as a "transitory" life. Thus, the only true meaning is dependent on a higher power symbolized by the universe and a higher intelligence symbolized by a supreme deity. Although Frankl skirts the issue of religion, he does allow for a "Supermeaning." Everything is vanity in comparison. However, we must still exist and find a temporal meaning to live for. I seemed to have forgotten that I have been here before. I have become much more secular in my thinking and, therefore, I have inadvertently rejected the answer. Our sole purpose is to live a responsible life and create meaning within that context. No meaning will be permanent with the exception of our acceptance of an eternal deity. Within my own limited lifetime, I must determine transitory meanings which must fulfill my purpose. Being responsible requires that I not solely seek diversions just to occupy my time. Even amidst the horrors of the Nazi camps, Frankl found reason to still see the beauty of nature around him. One of the reasons that I am here is to bear witness to the beauty of the Creation and to rejoice in it. I am a being of free will, and that free will is all that I really possess. The issues before us are always those which attempt to rob us of that free will. Let no entity rob us of that free will. Let us not debauch that free will by acting irresponsibly.

I did absolutely nothing except lapse in and out of a coma. Finally, in disgust, I walked to the gym. I did a short cardio workout. Vanessa called at 6:30pm and left a message. So, I called back. "I'm really bored," she told me. We ended up talking for six hours last night. Vanessa did give the gift to Ryan, and she also asked him point-blank if he would do da wild thing with her. He did not comply. Vanessa claimed to be over Ryan, but I really doubt it. Why is she calling the ol' lavahead on a Saturday night unless she's losin' it? Apparently. "Scary" Ron had called her last week and asked her again if she would accompany him to one of the neighbor islands this Summer. Vanessa also told me of the time that "Scary" Ron had called her to discuss how his wife refused to do da wild thing with him. "Why don't you use your hand?" she had asked. "That's what I'm doing right now," he replied. The incident gave Vanessa the willies. Can you blame her? It's hard to fathom a phone call from some clown who is chokin' da chicken during the conversation. I learned a lot more about Vanessa. She detailed her troubled past including her time in a drug rehabilitation program. She was hooked on Ice. Naturally, I had to consume the remainder of the "Hammer" during the conversation.

I have returned to my old ways, it seems. My anxieties have subsided, and now I have a false sense of security again. In other words, I am once again a true monk. Divesting my possessions has become my main priority again. Back at Square Zero. I seem to like it here.

Sunday March 3

Last night, Vanessa told me more about the flirtatious ways of Erin, the English instructor at the Asylum. Although, she is engaged to be married, Erin continues to play with fire. I'm not sure why, but there are quite a few guys who are infatuated with Erin. Several of these clowns have actually corresponded with her via e-mail and have gotten into passionate discussions with her. She also had a similar reputation at the Diploma Mill. She is no longer there, however, and I can assume that her conduct was reported to the Dean. From what I've heard, Erin prefers the Asylum over any other institution anyway. She gets the most attention from the guys there. Oddly, Shirley is going to be Erin's teaching assistant. Shirley and Erin have become close friends. Something sounds a little fishy about that. My goal is to avoid any situation similar to what happened with Malia. My history seems to indicate that I attract severely troubled babes. They only choose the ol' lavahead as a last resort, not because he has any redeeming qualities. In fact, none of them really know who he is. They are desperate and are looking for any guy with a heartbeat to pull them out of the cesspool. I suppose that I have been either too stupid or too desperate to realize this myself.

So, what will I do now, given this revelation? I must "soldier on" and live the best life that I can. I have to finally grasp and embrace the monastic life-style. My time to lead a "normal" life has come and gone. That fact must just be accepted. With that, I spent the day lapsing in and out of a coma in my favorite chair. I walked to the gym, did my usual Sunday workout, and returned home. Pseudo-professor John and I met at Zippy's in Kahala for dinner. That's about as exciting as it gets around here. Sheesh! I have been making a few modifications to the LoserNet Supersite in anticipation of more service reductions from Geocities. The [UJ] archive will also be quicker to access. Back to the salt mines tomorrow!

Monday March 4

The first day of the new term at the Asylum. So far, so good. José said that he received e-mail from Malia. I found that odd, but it also made me realize how my thesis concerning Malia was probably accurate. Shirley was in class today. She agreed to be one of my teaching assistants. For some reason, we spent quite a bit of time talking after class. When I walked into the Asylum's library a little later, I saw Vanessa sitting at a table doing some work. I noticed that "Scary" Ron was also at the table. While I sat in one of the offices, Vanessa came in to tell me that "Scary" Ron was following her around.

The Diploma Mill was not much better. Sometimes I feel as though I am on the set of that cheesy teen sitcom, Saved by the Bell. "Dangerous" Jacqueline, the babe from Colorado has been absent for over a week. "Did you miss me?" she asked, upon reappearing. She then explained her woeful tale to me. Of course, there were more agonizing moments from local babe Sheri, as she pondered whether to take her parents' advice and quit school. To be honest, I believe that she is just looking for a BoyToy.

It is fairly obvious that I spent most of the day interacting with babes. On the express bus, I pondered the surreal nature of my daily life and the almost ludicrous interactions that I have with babes. Both my buddy Bud and Ross Jeffries are correct about babes. However, I am more inclined to agree with my buddy Bud. "They are dangerous," he warned me. "Stay away from them." Yet, do I listen to Bud? Hell no, I continue to play with fire just like Erin. Nothing is making sense anymore. I've really known the truth all along — babes only tend to disturb the natural balance. The monastic life is the only way to attain inner peace and tranquility. When will I ever learn?

Tuesday March 5

I did not sleep well last night. For some reason, my throat started itching at 2am and continued to itch until it was time for me to get up. I've had disturbing dreams for the last two nights about that babe Deena, a student at the Asylum. I was doin' da wild thing with her. Obviously, that can only be a dream. Sheesh! Shirley came by my class to visit, although we only talked briefly. She had also sent me e-mail earlier in the day.

When I arrived at home, I discovered that Malia had left a message. She wanted to know if I knew anything about the paralegal program at one of the community colleges. I'm a computer nerd. Why would I know anything about that? I've noticed that moms never tells me about the phone messages when any babes call (which is rare). However, when Pseudo-professor John called the other day, moms told me about the call. I surmise that moms is subliminally displaying displeasure about the possibility, albeit extremely remote, that I could become involved with another babe. Moms' religious beliefs firmly place emphasis on remaining single and devoting time exclusively to the church. This is really starting to irritate me. If I am going to remain a monk, the decision will be my choice.

I called Malia back and spoke with her briefly. I mentioned that another Asylum student, Jeff, had just matriculated in the same paralegal program. Jeff was also one of Malia's classmates when she was at the Asylum. When I saw Jeff about a month ago, he said that he was very satisfied with the curriculum. Malia seems to be excited about entering the program, so I assume that she has dropped her plans to return to the Diploma Mill. I didn't ask about her current situation. I don't really want to know.

Wednesday March 6

I ended up talking with Shirley for a couple of hours in one of the offices at the Asylum's library. I'm not sure why she hangs around the ol' lavahead. She told me about her last boyfriend. He had apparently terminated their relationship because they were "in different stages of life." I had to laugh when I heard that one. At least it's original. She also mentioned that she loves to perform karaoke. I was surprised considering how reticent she seems. I don't think that she was too impressed with the ol' lavahead's boring life. Not much I can do about that. Right now, I am only worried that the rumor mill will start churning away because Shirley and I seem to always be talking to each other.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Naturally, I had to have my usual discussion with local babe Sheri. Joining us today was her friend Kori, another local babe who is a hottie. Both are students in my class at the Diploma Mill. I was extremely fatigued after spending the day conversing with babes. I went to the gym for a brief cardio workout. Then, I departed the salt mines.

Thursday March 7

Another uneventful day. Pseudo-professor John gave me a ride home this afternoon. Then, we ate dinner at the Zippy's in Koko Marina. We had an interesting chat about the babe situation. Pseudo-professor John had mentioned to me last week that he and his friends always talk about the babe situation. He also confided that he constantly thinks about babes. I was rather surprised. On the surface, he appears to preoccupied with something, but babes would have been my last guess. Over dinner, I discovered that he exhibits the same kind of loser attitude that I have known and loved for years. Essentially, he has already pre-determined that no babe will have anything to do with him. I explained to him that his own words have indicated that he has already shut his eyes. If an opportunity were to come along, he would never see it. What Pseudo-professor John doesn't know is that I have already written the book concerning this matter. I encouraged him to remove any expectations or anticipated failure from his thinking patterns and just have a good time meeting new people. We, as pseudo-professors, are in an ideal position to capitalize on this type of networking.

That babe Kendra was working at the gym again today. I noticed that she called me by name again, as opposed to the other guys in line. She also asked if I either worked at or was a student at the Diploma Mill. I replied that I was faculty. She told me that she is a student majoring in biology there. Like a true moron, I did not follow protocol and make a formal introduction such that I can call her by name in the future. Like a schoolboy, I was taken aback by the fact that a babe was talking to me. I thought of making the formal introduction as I was leaving the gym, but I declined to do so because it would look as if I was up to no good. I can't even follow my own advice. Sheesh!

Friday March 8

Shirley wanted a tour of the Diploma Mill, so I played tour guide around the downtown campus. She treated me to lunch at Taco Bell, which was great because I really had a hankering for a couple of bean burritos with green sauce. We talked for quite a while. Shirley told me the reason why the breakup with her last boyfriend was so devastating — she gave up her virginity for him. She also kept asking me about my age. After a few vague references to my geriatric status, I could see that she was becoming frustrated. Hey, remember when I did that to Clare? "I want to see your driver's license," she demanded. I gave in and pulled my Cali card out of my wallet. Her face glazed over as she perused it. By the way, I am used to this reaction. I think that everything has changed considerably now, which makes me wonder what was going on in the first place.

We also discussed my status as a monk. "You're not a monk," she kept telling me. I'm not sure if Shirley realized how serious I was. "Do you ever date?" she asked. "Of course not," I replied. "Have you ever heard of a dating monk?" I am sure that she was amused by this conversation. "Well, how did you meet the evil handmaiden?" she asked. I had to defer the answer for later, as we know how laborious that story is. In all honesty, I actually feel that Shirley is a good person, which is why I befriended her in the first place. Yet, one has to wonder whether I am blatantly disregarding the stern warning given to me by my buddy Bud.

The Diploma Mill is another story. I had my usual discussion with local babe Sheri. I was ready to close the lab when another luscious babe student Kelly came in to tell me that she was in the main computer lab finishing her assignments. "Dangerous" Kelly, of course, is a hottie from Cali. She's also a dancer who has appeared in a few music videos. I stopped in the lab to pick up the assignment from her. Three babes from the same class were also in there. We were having quite a good time joking around. A few other babes who were in my classes last term were also in there and joined in the festivities. I told Kelly that I had to go to the gym. She said that she would deliver the assignments to me at the gym. So, I went to the gym. About 20 minutes later, Kelly showed up. She handed the assignments to me while I was on the StairMaster. Naturally, a lot of the gym meatheads were checking her out.

I mentioned to Pseudo-professor John the curious skewed interactions that I have with babes. Although he is in a similar position, he chooses to maintain his distance. I suppose that is a prudent course of action, especially if one cannot trust himself. I don't expect to cross the line. That's not my intention. I look upon it as my only opportunity to interact with babes in a neutral fashion. Of course, strange things could happen. Pseudo-professor John told me that Professor Darwin had married one of his students. I knew that something was up when I always saw him and that luscious young babe together. Hey, wait a minute. That's a danger sign. What the hell am I doing?

Saturday March 9

Vanessa called last night under the guise of needing assistance with her homework assignment concerning network subnet masks. We ended up talking for three hours about the usual nonsense. In actuality, I knew the real reason that she called. Vanessa was losing her mind because she has nothing to do. In fact, she told me that she was pacing back and forth in the living room as we conversed. Later, I sent her an e-mail with a few hyperlinks which provided solutions for her homework.

Moms wanted to call the plumber to fix the leaky valve in the shower. I fixed it for a cost of $1.03 total. This was the same valve that I had to repair about a year ago. The problem is that moms takes a bath in a small dishpan. So, she opens and closes the faucet continuously to replenish the water in the dishpan. This time, I did not replace the valve. I merely replaced the seal. Had moms called the plumber, the cost would have been $100 or more.

When I drove to Kuapa Kai, I noticed that my battery guage was reading at ten volts. Something was wrong. When I returned home, I charged the battery in my beloved six-four. By process of elimination, I came to discover that my alternator was bad. It's possible that the voltage regulator was fried, but since it is integrated in the alternator, the matter was moot. I purchased a new (read: reconditioned) alternator for $100 and also a big ass bottle of the "Hammer." Actually, it only took me an hour to replace the alternator. I was surprised that I had all the tools required to do the job. I was somewhat hammered by the time I was done. I also took a short break and called Vanessa to see if she had received my e-mail. She said that she saw the e-mail but she did not check out any of the links. So, I knew for sure that she didn't really call about the homework last night.

Later, I lapsed into a coma in my favorite chair. Big headache. I was in a bad way when I regained consciousness. I was also pretty upset that I had spend $100 on one of my useless possessions. Naturally, I knew that the sinister kahuna was once again toying with the oversized cranium. My patience was at an all-time low for the rest of the evening. I have not heard from Shirley since I was forced to reveal my age to her. What does that tell you? I am not sure why, but I seem to have a strange existence as a monk. My life seems to revolve around babes. Quite odd, considering my vow of celibacy. Perhaps, it's time to break out the "Hammer" again. Sheesh!

To be continued ... Go to M.06

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