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... Journal of Life
Life of Riley
Remember that cheesy program from the early 60s on the tube? I hate the tube. The tube is part of the Matrix. Life really isn't the way I know it. The drug called Ecstasy is becoming as prevalent here in Hawai'i as Ice. Something must be wrong. Humans seek out artificial means to experience euphoria, as if euphoria is a natural state. It's not. I suppose da wild thing come close to being euphoric. I oftentimes wonder how or why I also thought that euphoria was a natural state. Not being able to achieve that state, I felt inadequate. We have been mesmerized by unreal images and sensory illusions through a medium like the tube. Our need to have music pumped into our personal aural zones via Discmans and MP3 players is how we star in our own music video or act out a scene from our personal movie. The music is our soundtrack, just like on the big screen. It has affected all aspects of our lives and fuels an industry that caters to our insecurities and our dreams of being idols. Being envied by all. We will bet the house just for a chance to become rich and famous. We will eat rats on a deserted island and do other stupid things for the same cause. As always, only a select few will have the big chance. The others must pop Ecstasy or smoke Ice to sedate the pangs of inadequacy. When will it end?
I am one of the few who have never watched Survivor. Of course, the series is now history. Sure, the new sequel will do okay. But, the public is essentially done with this novelty. Something else even more dumb and ludicrous must take its place. Savage as it may seem, the real appeal of the show was the weeding out process. In our primal subconscious, we (but not me) wanted to see the real weeding out process. Cannibalism or just plain homicide. That's what the real weeding out process on a deserted island with no food would have meant. That's what the public really wanted to see.
The sickening aspects of voyeurism has finally bore fruit. No one is satisfied with their boring lives. That's why they need Ice. When we come to grips with the reality of life, then we don't need to escape anymore. It takes quite a bit of effort and expense to create the special effects extravaganzas that we now take for granted. The "magic" is created by a whole team of professionals whose job is to create the illusion and make it seem more real than our own reality. Then, we will do anything to obtain it. Primarily, the powers-that-be want us to purchase that illusion through all the after market products that are sold with the illusion on the packaging, be it music, videos, clothes, cars, and everything else. The need is insatiable just as the greed that is required to even partially fulfill such expectations. Sooner or later, we all get sucked into the vortex of this illusion. The vortex of stupidity. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaaa!
Tuesday August 29, 2000
I should have learned my lesson from last week. Instead, I chose to repeat history. Pacing. Resin chair. Taser-like device. Ponder the fate of my Palm IIIe and Bose Acoustic Wave. More pacing. Put more paperwork in the shredding pile. More pacing. Read the security products catalog. More pacing. Ponder about what other items can be donated to Goodwill. Repeat this ad infinitum. Sheesh! That's my idea of a day off. To make matters worse, I find myself washing my hands and face every ten minutes. The scenario is strangely neurotic and reminiscent of the Loser Living Upstairs. Only now, it's the ol' lavahead perpetrating the odd behavior.
Why am I always carrying the Taser-like device around all the time? Why am I always cleaning it? I wash my hands incessantly to keep oily fingerprints off of the Taser-like device. I must be at the edge of sanity. I remember when I used to carry my Palm IIIe around. However, it did serve some useful purpose at the time even if that just meant using Eliza the Pocket Psychologist. However, what purpose does the Taser-like device serve? It's not likely that the dumb ho' or her crackhead boyfriend will appear while I am sitting in my beloved resin chair.
Now that I've managed to attribute every diversion to a sinister origin, I have become extremely bored. There is absolutely noting to do except to spend money on useless junk. Diversions, usually electronic. The battery manufacturers are laughing all the way to the bank. Almost every piece of junk that I own (what's left, that is) operates on batteries. Just think of the number of toys non-monks have. How much money do we spend on batteries annually? Which brings me to an interesting point. The beauty of the Taser-like device is that the batteries will be good until I have the opportunity to discharge them into some moron. I also see why the novelty of the Taser-like device never seems to wears off. Until I actually use the device, it will always be a curiosity. Does it work or not? Yes, until that question is answered, the Taser-like device will be the center of attention. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!
Wednesday August 30
I left for town reasonably early this morning. Then, I met moms at Ala Moana. We ate lunch at Shirokiya. Then, I walked moms to the bus stop and waited with her until the bus arrived. It saddens me to see moms growing older. I now realize that I waited too long to come home. Moms has done a lot for me, and I know that I'll never really be able to reciprocate. I could have been a better son. Instead, I meandered through life. A good son would have done much more. I should be completely on my own and still be able to help moms out in every way possible. I should have established my own family as well, and be financially secure to provide for that family. What a loser! I'm no better than the other useless losers who are essentially leeches. There's nothing that I can do to make atonement for my foolishness. Moms doesn't know that I am in a state of depression as a result. I have forgiven myself for quite a few indiscretions. This was not one of them.
In the meantime, my patience for true losers, the ones that get in my face, is at an all time low. I am becoming homicidal. There were several incidents today that brought me to edge of senseless violence. I have no time to cater to idiots. I want to live a quiet life and my only goal is to be a good son. It really is because of this situation that I have learned something important. There is no value that can be placed upon this precious time. I suppose that signing for the safe deposit box and the dream that moms told me about has both made me nervous. In the dream, moms said that her father was talking to her about rice. I know it sounds strange. The bottom line is that I cannot forget my purpose.
I walked around Ala Moana for a while. I went back to Shirokiya to look around in the home electronics department. There are some really nice toys. I saw several different lines of compact audio equipment for very reasonable prices. That made me realize that I cannot sell the Bose Acoustic Wave. I would take a significant loss, which just would not be worth it. I also looked at some wind chimes at the Nature Company. I don't know. I am not an average consumer. Nothing really was of interest. I was fairly bored, so I returned to town. If there was a security products store, then I may have spent a few dollars.
On a lighter note, I must include this anecdote by Gunner that I found in the newsgroups:
Years ago, when [Taser-like devices] were just out, and had become rather popular, my employer at the time, bought one. He tended to be a gadget freak, and kept his on the desk to play with. We were in a meeting one day, and he was fiddling with his. Putting it down, picking it up, zapping, putting it back down. He evidently was a bit distracted when he used it to scratch his neck, under his chin ... and hit the button. I had been referring to a print out when I heard a zap, a muffled blast of air out of him, and looked up in time to see him do a back flip, office chair and all backwards. He was there one second, the next ... the chair is on its back, with his feet hanging over the front of the seat ... doing a random twitching ... and one caster on his chair slowly turning to a halt. I was laughing so hard. It took me a few seconds to even be able to stand up, and look over the top of his desk ... there he was ... arms spread, crucified ... the [Taser-like device] in the middle of his chest ... his eyes were going in different directions sorta with a life of their own ... which even set me off worse. The secretary came running in to see why I was laying on my back on his desk, completely busted up, holding my sides, tears running down my face. She took one look, saw his position, [Taser-like device] in the middle of his chest ... saw those eyes going in independent directions like little mobile raisins ... and she lost it as well. I'm in a fetal position on the bosses desk, in the middle of hysterical laughter ... the secretary is in a chair, having completely lost it ... when the bosses wife walks in. She looks at the two of us, looks over the desk at her husband, and dead pan says, "I told that [rectum] not to play with that thing" which, of course, almost killed the two of us.
Garland (the boss) came around in about 5 minutes, and it was about another 5 or so before he could get out of the chair and even talk, which was mostly composed of grunts, slurred bits and pieces which even set us all off even more. We got his chair back right ... and him in it ... and he sat there with a bemused expression on his face ... hands folded on the blotter in front of him ... and one eye would continue to wander round on its own.
The [Taser-like device] was never seen on his desk after that ...
What more can I say? Sheesh!
Thursday August 31
I decided to go to town this afternoon after spending the morning in a comatose state. And, I can only peruse the Taser-like device for so long. I didn't have much to do in town either. I basically wanted to go to the gym.
Moms has not been feeling well. She has had dizzy spells for the last few days. I'm a little worried but there's not much I can do. I haven't been feeling well either. I'm not looking forward to going back to work. The life of a pseudo-professor is no longer appealing. Today, I was particularly perturbed by the air of arrogance displayed by most faculty members. It's sickening. Sometimes I find it to be a breath of fresh air when I am around intellectuals. Yet, make no mistake. The arrogance is always there. I'm ready to live in my own world. I am extremely tired of people and society as a whole. I was always destined to be a monk.
Friday September 1
Mark and I had lunch at Sbarro. Then, I accompanied him to the University of Hawai'i. He had some research to do. We took the City Express. I finally got to ride on one of the new articulated buses. Sad to say, the windows at the rear of the bus were severely defaced. Mind you, these buses have only been in service since the middle of Summer. As the buses are also used for the Country Express, the ones that go to Wai'anae, I am certain that the welfare punks are responsible. It's really sad. These losers resent mass transit because it is below them. When they sell enough drugs or cheat the system even further, they may be able to buy a pimped-out Honda Civic. [Copulating] losers. Just like the disgusting ho' next door.
It's too bad moms doesn't care for pets. Since a "nine" is out of the question, a Pit Bull might have sufficed. I'll bet that everyone in da 'hood would be on good behavior if I had a trained Pit Bull. A dog like that would complement my Taser-like device.
The day was somewhat pleasant even though I stopped in at the Asylum. I talked with Roach about a few of the problems of pedagogy at the Asylum. He seemed distracted. Perhaps he was thinking about Maria. Well, at the rest of the day was sedate. I chatted with Pseudo-professors Elise, Lisa, and Robert. Lisa is actually a real professor now. As for me, I'm just waiting for the day that I get a job as a Wal-Mart greeter.
Saturday September 2
Mark and I ended up going to Kahala Mall. We ate lunch at Pizza Hut, of all places. Then, we went to Barnes & Noble. We looked around and also had coffee at the café. The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to a six-pack of cheap brewskis and more of the ol' lavahead's useless diatribe. What an exciting Labor Day weekend I'm having.
If I get around to it, I may actually add to the Virtual Harem (see Lavahead Express). Or, I may take a trip out to Pearlridge tomorrow. Could be new material for the LavaheadCam. Or, I may vegetate in the resin chair with my Taser-like device in hand. Too many options, too little time.
My trip to Barnes & Noble did manage to reacquaint me with my old friend, the Utne Reader. An article of interest titled "America the Blue" by Lasn & Grierson discussed the growing malaise of depression in affluent societies today. Rampant consumerism was posed as a possible cause:
In a consumerist capitalist system, author David Korten (When Corporations Rule the World, Kumarian, 1996) points out, we are all caught to some degree in a downward spiral of deepening alienation: Our quest for money widens the gulf between ourselves and our families and communities. Our growing alienation then creates an inner sense of social and spiritual emptiness. That's when advertisers get into the loop by assuring us that their products can make us whole again. We go out and buy their products, which requires money. And so we're back at the beginning, the quest for money.
Sounds like they're on the money, so to speak. Sheesh!
Sunday September 3
Cheap brewskis. Big headache. More cheap brewskis. Psychosis. I have now come to the realization that nothing is important to me except the Taser-like device. Other material possessions are useless. What is of major importance is that I have decided that human interaction is no longer useful. It serves no purpose. These interactions are usually self-serving anyway. Everything is vanity. I've learned this lesson from observing my own family dynamic. It's make me so sick, I just want to vomit.
As one can guess, my sister-in-law came by today to pick up all the food moms had cooked. There really is no difference between my family and the lolo's family next door. This morning, I observed the mother of the stupid ho' washing the ho's car. Amazing, isn't it? Dysfunction is blatantly rewarded. As I sit here drinking literally gallons of water to re-hydrate myself, I have to wonder. What is my purpose in this life?
Monday September 4
Today is a holiday, but there is nothing to celebrate. I'll be returning to the salt mines tomorrow. I read the latest issue of Honolulu. For some reason, I receive this magazine at no charge. The articles are disturbing because they cater to the small percentage of wealthy people in Hawai'i. That comes as no surprise since its advertising base consists of Prada, Dior, Gucci and the like. It's all about money. That really is the crux of our lives. Each day is a reflection of two questions. "What can I do today?" and "Well, how much dough do I have?"
One particular article in Honolulu concerning the latest surge in the real estate market drives the point home. In "How hot is hot?," author Markrich delineates:
While the economic boom is centered around the construction of luxury homes, there is very little carryover for the local economy. One telling aspect of this is the staggering 17 percent vacancy rate of the 10 million square feet of Class A commercial space on O'ahu. The rental of commercial space is usually a bellwether of local prosperity. Nothing can hide the long stretches of empty storefronts on Hawai'i's major streets.
The economy of Hawai'i is based almost entirely on tourism, military spending and construction. The three largest technology companies that came to Hawai'i several years ago — Square USA Inc., Uniden Hawai'i Research & Development Center and Buzzeo Inc. — are cutting back or leaving. Without companies like them, there is no economic driver as there is on the Mainland to provide jobs and revenues for local residents once the luxury market plays out.
Yes, we cater to the nouveau riche here, hoping for some kind of trickle-down effect. Markrich concludes, "The increased valuations will increase the cost of living in Hawai'i and widen the gap between the haves and the have nots." Guess what category the ol' lavahead falls in?
I walked down to Koko Marina with moms this afternoon. On the way home, I saw someone who looked like Roach. He was watering the yard. As we approached the suspect, I realized that it was indeed Roach. Turns out that he just bought the property. The Asylum must be paying him well. What little comfort I have in knowing that Roach now lives about two blocks away. Is the sinister kahuna behind this? You tell me.
My vacation is over, and I can't say that I'm rested. There is a nervous energy within that I cannot pinpoint. More like apprehension, I presume. Moms is in the twilight of her life. I am nowhere near being financially solvent, and I have made an implicit vow to be alone forever. Aside from moms, my family doesn't exist. Some may wonder why I don't capitulate to societal norms and find a babe. I can't handle these modern relationships. In his journal, Anonder has summarized this folly. More and more, I tend to agree with him. Aside from da wild thing, there is no purpose. And, as a monk, I don't need da wild thing. I need solitude.
Tuesday September 5
The first day of classes. What can I say? I ran into Malia on campus. This was her first day at the university. She had her can of pepper spray with her. The rest of the day was somewhat mundane. At the Asylum, I have inherited students of a prerequisite class that were taught by the "easy guys." I used to be one of the "easy guys" until I discovered that I wasn't doing anyone any favors. Now, I am going to have to spend a good portion of the term engaged in remedial work. Fortunately, these classes only averaged about six students each. On the other hand, my three classes at the university have about 30 people in each. I have my work cut out for myself this term.
Wednesday September 6
The rest of this year is going to be long and tiring. I had six classes to facilitate today. Four of the classes were at capacity unlike yesterday. That will be my normal routine from this point forward. In fact, I can only go to the gym twice each week because that is all the time I can devote to diversions. I've also only been eating one small Spam Musubi for lunch. I have become, by definition, a true wage slave. Tonight, I am so fatigued that I can barely write anything for the journal. All I want to do is sit in my chair and peruse the Taser-like device.
A weaker individual might have succumbed to the numbers of babes who are in the classes at the university. I can see why I've observed a few male faculty members with big grins on their faces. This is exactly what my buddy Bud warned me about several years ago. An affair with a former student of his almost brought about his demise. Fortunately, I am a monk. I am learning that the role of pseudo-professor could eventually clash with the monk lifestyle. I can see why many guys would do just about anything to have a work environment with babes in skimpy outfits running amuck. Sheesh!
All I'm concerned about is the Taser-like device. I contacted an on-line retailer that sells the Nova Police Special for a good price. I inquired about the effectiveness of the Nova versus the off-brands. The answer will decide whether I will order the Nova. I sense that I will need to use the Taser-like device soon. Where, when, and whom upon remain cloaked in mystery.
Thursday September 7
Moms has gone over to the bro's again because she has to watch my nephew tomorrow. Like a bad sitcom, it just keeps comin' back! Perhaps I should order Taser-like devices (and batteries) in bulk. Sheesh! I talked with Thomas, a student at the Asylum, yesterday. He's in my class. He was also in one of my classes two quarters ago. He apparently took a short hiatus because he had found a new babe. In fact, the last time he was attending the Asylum, he had just broken up with his old babe. The old babe took him to the cleaners. Well, as you can guess, history repeated itself. His new ex-babe took him to the cleaners. When will they ever learn?
I spent the afternoon in the faculty computer room. Pseudo-professors Ralph and Robert were there. Pseudo-professor Robert may purchase my Palm IIIe. That would be nice since I will have to come up with some dough to pay for my root canal next week. I neglected to mention that I ran into Pseudo-professor John a few days ago. He detailed to me about his plan to take his students through the wringer this term. And, as usual, he is always the bearer of bad news about the university's computer science program. At least I'm comforted in knowing that my alma mater in Convalescent City ranked high again for regional and engineering universities. That gives me a little more credibility.
Mr. Z, computer science department head, has offered a select few of the faculty a chance to participate in one of his grant programs. So, the ol' lavahead will be developing a possible course utilizing Microsoft Office 2000 Professional Developer. By the way, that is the easiest (and cheapest) way to become a software application developer. Who knows what else will be in the works?
Friday September 8
Another long and tiring day. I lectured for three hours in the morning and three more hours in the afternoon. My throat is irritated and also itching. The life of a pseudo-professor may not look taxing to the casual onlooker. Yet, I've come to realize that it's a lot harder than it looks. We're not really appreciated. Most students believe that we are all duffers. Perhaps we are. I have a bit of nervous energy even though I feel completely drained. I want to start doing things on the weekends instead of just sitting in my beloved resin chair with Taser-like device in hand.
What should I do? Add to the Virtual Harem? Listen to psychotic classical pieces on public radio? Go on a search for some new wind chimes? Download hurdy-gurdy files? Choke the chicken? Decisions, decisions. Perhaps I should take a brief hiatus myself and peruse some of the other on-line journals.
Saturday September 9
Mark and I went to K-Mart today. I couldn't find the wind chimes. Obviously, these were not hot items. After purchasing a few sundries, we ended up at Ala Moana. We ate a late bento lunch at Shirokiya. We only stopped in the Sharper Image and Nature Company stores. The Sharper Image had some interesting new, overpriced trinkets. I can see why I oftentimes succumb to consumerism. These new gadgets and toys really catch my eye. I have no use for them, mind you. There were a few new compact audio systems. The two models by Nakamichi were very impressive. The snazzy styling certainly made the Bose Acoustic Wave look extremely dated. The sound wasn't bad either.
We picked up a six-pack of cheap brewskis on the way back to Mark's place. Later, Mark invited me to his bro's place for a barbecue. I declined for some reason. So, we had a couple of cheap brewskis before it was time to call it a day. Naturally, I had to buy more cheap brewskis. I don't know why but I've felt totally insignificant today. I've been questioning my purpose in life all day. The Taser-like device is not even interesting to me anymore. I don't think it really works. It's a damned joke. The security products industry is infested with crooks who prey on our insecurities. That's why we spend so much dough on alarms that rarely work right and on useless junk like the Taser-like device. The sad part is that we, as people, do not need protection. We need to protect our possessions and our dough.
Sunday September 10
The Bose Acoustic Wave. Smooth Jazz. Cheap brewskis. More cheap brewskis. Big headache. Houseboy chores. Yardboy chores. I even washed and polished my beloved six-four. Quite a productive day considering the sheer volume of cheap brewskis that I consumed.
In an article in the Sunday paper, Kevin Dayton laments, "I learned to recognize that weird, dark look people get around their eyes when they've stayed up too long doing drugs. I learned to call the cops when shots were fired close to my house, but to simply go back to sleep when the gunfire was further off in the distance." South Central LA? Nah, we're talking about Nanawale Estates on the Big Island. Welcome to Paradise! More exciting news about Fleming International, the company that has ripped off most of the businesses in Hawai'i for as long as anyone can remember. Why is all of this coming to the surface now? Because Hawai'i cannot recover from the economic slump it is in. It's a witch hunt but nothing will come of it because the perpetrators are long gone.
The Bose Acoustic Wave is playing my favorite Sade CD as we speak. I can't part with my Acoustic Wave. I listened to my small handful of Smooth Jazz CDs. That is my prized collection. I suppose that I can give into consumerism just to maintain my collection of sane music. Well, that only means one thing. I've got to listen to Hearts of Space tonight. Yeah!
Monday September 11
I am completely fatigued. I lectured for over six hours today. My throat is scratchy and sore. Malia and I had lunch at the Big Island Steak House at the Aloha Tower Marketplace. This has been the first time we've gotten together in a while. Tomorrow is root canal day. Wheeee! The ho' next door hasn't driven her car in almost a week. I suspect that the hosebag was probably sleeping for several days. That's usually a solid indication of someone who has been "tweaking" on Ice.
I haven't been able to sleep well, as if I were "tweaking" on Ice myself. I cannot relax because I am too tense. Not even the cheap brewskis can help. I have no idea what this tenseness is about. It resides at the subconscious level. I gather that it is some kind of internal conflict that stems from my ascetic lifestyle. Sooner or later, this conflict will manifest itself overtly. Daily life is a struggle when one is diametrically opposed to prevailing societal values. An outcast. A nomad. A loner. That is what I have become. The small number of allies are dwindling. As Thompson, the ex-cop, told me, "Everyone has a price."
Tuesday September 12
Well, today was root canal day. The whole thing was over in less than an hour and it was completely painless. The endodontist was a nice guy and made the experience as pleasant as possible given the circumstances. The endodontist gave me a Parker pen afterward. At first, I thought it was a toothbrush. A token gift for the amount of dough I will plunk down when all is said and done.
I went back downtown after my root canal. I ran into Pseudo-professor John. I told him that I just had a root canal but I returned to town so I could go to the gym. He thought that I was crazy. I also ran into Pseudo-professors Ralph and Robert in the faculty computer room. Pseudo-professor Robert entertained us with his verbose imitation of Dr. Norman Vincent Peale delivering the infamous "Born to Lose" tattoo sermon. Faculty are a strange lot. Most of us are no different from our students. That's probably why there is no impetus to find a real job. We like it too damned much. All we do is talk and act like we know something about what we're saying.
Moms found a dead bird under the stone lantern in the front yard. It looked like it was placed there. Now, I wonder, who could be the perpetrator? Someone from the lolo's household, you say? It's too bad that moms disposed of the carcass. I would have just thrown it in the lolo's driveway. We would have found out who was involved real quick. Although my dental work is going to cost me a fortune (more than the price of a "nine"), I may have to invest in more security devices. In any case, I feel like maiming somebody real bad.
Wednesday September 13
Answers don't come easy in life. As you can see, I certainly haven't found any. The day after the root canal and I have noticed some improvement. The infection has subsided. The tooth, however is completely devoid of feeling. I am extremely fatigued from a full day of lectures. There is almost certainly nothing to write about. The day was a blur. It's the epitome of wage slavery. I take quick naps on the express bus bus to and from town. The rest of the day, I'm on the run from one class to the next.
My gym time has been cut down to two days per week. I really value my short one-hour workouts now. Sometimes I feel as though I am suffocating from this lifestyle but I have it better than most. The quandary is whether time or money is more valuable. Yet, the real thorn in my side is whether the Taser-like device works or not. I've thought about using it on some fruit or one of my bran muffins. Would either explode?
Thursday September 14
Easy come, easy go. My automatic withdrawal for my loan payment occurred today as it does every month on this day. The Cali DMV has sent me a notice that I am eligible for a $300 smog impact fee refund. Tomorrow is payday and it's also when the downtown Ho'olaulea event will be happening. I doubt that I will be going. I'll probably be vegetating in my chair with Taser-like device in hand. I foolishly signed up for a one-year cell phone contract just so I could get a ridiculously low rate of $13 per month. It would have been even lower (read: zilch) if I had just discontinued the service. I had my monk haircut restored today. Sometimes I wish that I could just do it myself. However, I save a lot of dough by going to the Hair Institute of Hawai'i. The campus is just a stone's throw away from the university. I don't mind going there since it's fairly difficult to screw up a monk haircut. Everyday lessons in frugality. It's not an option. It's a way of life. Survival for the destitute like myself does not come easy. My inability to pay affords me only the most minimal and substandard of services. That's why I'm here. That's why this is LoserNet!
Friday September 15
A sad payday. With my increased workload, I anticipated more dough. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! I make only a few more dollars. Downtown was bustling with activity by late afternoon. The Ho'olaulea is happening this evening. As I waited for the express bus, I felt the anxiety of an outsider looking in. This is where everyone will be. A fun time to be had by all, right? Well, I guess I forgot that I was there for the last two events. My only conclusion was that I observed a bunch of losers walking around and thinking that they were having a great time. Yet, I cannot help but feel as though I'm missing out on something. Missing out on what? Most of what we say and do have roots in what I would call "fear of exclusion." There is so much pressure to always be at the proverbial "right place at the right time" even though one is just an obscure putz in the big crowd.
Life is a big joke, but the joke is on a few of us. It's a costly joke as well. I'm not happy being a pauper but I certainly don't envy the affluent or the rich wannabes. They are the real losers. However, the pauper's life is seemingly dysfunctional. A monk is not a popular person. Babes don't flock to them either. It's a simple life that often invites ridicule. A monk can never draw strength from others, only from himself. The only satisfaction that a monk can derive is from knowing that he has not contributed to the debauchery around him. It can be a sad, lonely life or it can be a real breath of fresh air.
Saturday September 16
My whole day revolved around the cheap brewskis. Some may find that hard to believe but it's true. I was completely hammered in the afternoon. Sedated may be a better term. It's always the same old thing. My monk existence causes me great discomfort. I am too exposed to this decadent society. Sometimes I wonder if it has to do with babes. It dawned upon me today that Pseudo-professor Robert and I are the only single male faculty that I know of. I couldn't help but notice that I have quite a few babes in my classes. I am a monk, so the observation was purely academic. A weaker man would have fallen by now.
I read Anonder's Journal update. I have observed a few things, maybe intentional on his part. Anonder has become somewhat relaxed. The tone of his writing has changed. He is not quite as detached from babes as before. His journal should be a reference standard for gender relations. The situations and conversations that he meticulously transcribes is not unfamiliar to anyone. A review of his journal often brings me back to reality when I become weak and foolish. There is no question, though, that permanent seclusion is what I really need. Society has already gone to hell in a handbasket, as it were. The longer I remain in it, the more likely that I will be going there in a handbasket as well.
Sunday September 17
Rather than grade exams, I got hammered on cheap brewskis again. Big headache. Same old story, isn't it? Well, my nerves are shot. The Asylum is driving me me crazy. I discovered that Phillip, the self-appointed computer curriculum coordinator, went on a sex vacation two months ago just as I suspected. Another staff member, Karl, confirmed this fact. That's why he was gone for three weeks. Phillip also has a reputation for putting the make on his students. How do idiots like this succeed in life? Somehow he persuaded the powers-that-be at the Asylum to invest in the stupid Mickey MOUS testing center. In the last four months, there has been only one person (not even a student) who signed up for the testing. That person failed miserably. In the meantime, we have adjusted our curriculum to prepare students for the tests. Which is why I've had to fail 50 percent of my classes.
I've tried to keep retirement as my focus but somehow it became convoluted when I had to deal with idiots. I don't know how I'm going to make it through another year of this crap. In addition, I've lost touch with most people who were my friends. I am now a true loner. Family life is no better. My sister-in-law came by yesterday with another stray female friend that she has found. I don't know why she tolerates the life she has with my bro. They never do anything together. I suppose that I know the real reason. It should be apparent ever since she and my bro wanted to persuade moms to remodel the house to that of a multi-family dwelling so her relatives could move in. If I am right, she will eventually take my bro to the cleaners. This will be her house. I want to be financially secure and completely out of the picture before then.
As an aside, I will continue a topic I brought up briefly yesterday. The number of babes in my classes at the university is mind boggling. Kind of like the Virtual Harem (see Lavahead Express). As to be expected, they come to class wearing the skimpiest outfits possible. Try to imagine a cheesy B-movie set in a university environment. Scantily clad babes running amuck. Turns out, it's real life. It's a good thing that none of the babes really notice the pathetic ol' lavahead. I'll tell you, though, there are some real heartbreakers this time around. I can only imagine the agony that some of the guys are going through. Sheesh!
Monday September 18
I have been invited to join the Asylum's 401(k) retirement plan. If I participate in the plan, I will be further enslaved by the Asylum. After all, my health benefits plan is administered through the Asylum as it is. Am I willing to stay on for another six years? Do I have a choice? The draw of the 401(k) plan is alluring. I will reduce my tax liability and the Asylum will add a token amount. I'll talk with Tina, the human resources person, tomorrow.
A whole day of lectures has left me considerably fatigued. I am also still recovering from a weekend of imbibing in cheap brewskis. I am looking forward to sitting in my favorite chair and perusing the Taser-like device. Such a relaxing activity. I anticipate the day when I can purchase the Nova Police Special Taser-like device.
Tuesday September 19
I'm not sold on the 401(k) plan. So, I may hold out. Netscape Navigator is really giving me grief so I may just uninstall it. I ran into Pseudo-professor John. More bad news about the university. What else is new? One of Malia's classes was canceled so she came by to visit at the Asylum. Apparently, José has been calling her at home constantly. I told her to Mace him with the pepper spray. She also had an altercation with a local punk yesterday. Matters got worse when a cop ignored her pleas for help. She had to file a police report about the punk and the cop. Yes, mediocrity is the status quo.
I have decided to go into monk mode. I have put a moratorium on all spending. The only item that is still in the budget is the Nova Taser-like device, if I can find a place that sells it for the right price. I have made an appointment to finish the restoration of my tooth. So, that whole fiasco is going to cost me a fortune. There will be absolutely no trips to the mainland this year, or anytime in the near future. Until I get my finances in order, I will be confined to the life of an extreme pauper. Don't count on reading any exciting journal entries in the foreseeable future. Sheesh!
Wednesday September 20
A crazy day at the Asylum. The Job Fair was like a big party. Of course, I was where the food was located. Not only did I stuff my face, but I had a great time talking with some of the students and renegade members of the staff. My classes at the university were fun as well. Perhaps I am in the right profession. Lectures are still extremely fatiguing but I seem to feed off of them. No doubt, many other pseudo-professors feel the same way. Why else would we do what we do for such low pay?
In actuality, I really enjoy what I do. Sometimes I cannot understand why I always dread the first part of any school term. I couldn't really function in any other type of environment. Why is that? From MSNBC Health, here are tips from Barbara Biggs, PhD, a Los Angeles therapist, on how to be more irresistible to women:
Well, there you have it! I wonder if that applies to pseudo-professors. Sheesh!
Thursday September 21
Looks like the bus drivers are going on strike next week. Mark had more inside information than the newspapers since management is represented by the law firm he works for. The union membership rejected what I thought was a pretty good offer especially in these bleak economic times here in Hawai'i. Most poor people, minimum wage slaves, and senior citizens like moms rely on the bus as their primary for of transportation. So do quite a few students. Hurting all of us will not endear us to their cause. The sheer arrogance is what really gets to me. One of the staff members at the Asylum related to me his experience yesterday. The driver stopped at every bus stop whether anyone was waiting there or not. The last straw was when the driver actually got off the bus at one point and took a smoke break. Pops and my bro are card carrying union members. So, I've been sympathetic before. Not any more.
I was perusing one of Pseudo-professor Robert's books this afternoon. He leaves a lot of his stuff in the faculty computer room. It was a book about facts of Hawai'i. I really got involved with the timeline history. The real history of early Hawai'i is something I was never taught. It is a sad story and a repeat of plight of most indigenous cultures. This time, the offending parties were religious missionaries. Mainland missionaries. The richest families and the oldest companies in Hawai'i (known as the "Big Five") have origins traceable to those families. Large land grants were given to those clowns. Who wouldn't trust a man of the cloth? Well, apparently the Native Hawai'ians were taken to the cleaners. Eventually the sleazy robber barons launched a coup d'etat that deposed the last of the old monarchy. There is no "Aloha" here. It's just a trademark used by the robber barons to steal your dough.
As for me, I'm just sitting here wondering about how I will get to town on Monday. There won't be parking for miles. I'll probably have to carry both my pepper spray and Taser-like device. Some kind of pandemonium is bound to erupt. The struggle to survive in Hawai'i is never ending. As you were with me before during the humorous times, so are you now during these woeful times. Life will never be the same. You and I know that.
I also ran into Matt yesterday. He's in the police academy now. Three weeks in and he loves it. Next month, he'll get his gun. I could sense his excitement. "You want an application?" he asked. The idea is tempting. When all hell breaks loose, it's better to be on the side that has the big guns. Sheesh!
To be continued ... Go
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