Regular One - The Journal of ...

Note: This raw document is now the pathetic substitute for what was once a glamorous journal. This is all that's left. This journal is not edited to the usual LoserNet standards. Of course, you are wondering why the original journal was replaced with this pathetic substitute. I have no idea why. Take a wild guess.

Friday April 16, 1999

So, Bruce and I ended up at Mango's after class last night. There was a nice haole (Caucasian) babe in there. I was losing my mind when she was standing in front of the juke box for the longest time deciding on music selections. I think she knew that I was losing my mind over her. Actually, I was losing my mind when I was talking to Elena, one of my students in an earlier class. She said that she had to drop several classes because she has been working late at nights. She was wearing some incredibly tight shorts and a skimpy low-cut top.

"What are you doing for work?" I asked.

"I work in a bar," she replied, somewhat guarded.

"What do you do there?"

"Well, uh, it's a strip bar .... I'm a stripper (read: exotic dancer)."

Ho boy! So, I asked her to get some free passes for me. She said she would give them to me next week. I've got to get back to the monk mentality. Sheesh!

When I returned home last night, moms told me that my sister-in-law had called to say that pops is getting married today. I'm sure that was painful news for moms. Moms went into some detail about what happened years ago when pops was unfaithful. It was a very trying time for her. Pops eventually moved to the Big Island with his then mistress. That is who he is marrying. The whole situation also affected my bro in adverse ways. I don't think he will ever get over it. I was on the mainland at the time so I really did not know what was going on. I do remember when pops kicked both moms and my bro out of the house for about six months. This new situation is perplexing to me. It only adds to the confusion that now permeates my own life. At this juncture in my life, I yearn for stability, yet I have none.

Saturday April 17

Can you guess where the name Regular One came from? It's not important but there's some trivia behind the name. As you can probably guess, this journal is going nowhere. I can't cover much because there is not much going on. Life has been pretty mundane since the demise of the old journal. So, what exactly is the purpose of this journal? Nothing. It's just going to be a collection of ramblings and reports of mundane events like that of me sitting in Mango's, a sleazy bar downtown. Entries may be sporadic. I may also wax philosophic about my favorite subjects like the monk life. Remember when I used to do that?

I came to at about six o' clock with a damned headache. Yeah, my whole day was wasted because of the blasted fire water. Now I know it is going to be a big problem. I woke up early this morning and started my day with coffee. A lot of coffee. However, I dipped into the fire water around 10am. The whole day became a blur of semi-comatose thinking. The really bad part about drinking a lot of brewskis is that sickening bloated feeling that persists and augments the headache. I now have to face the facts. I am not adjusting to this life as well as I thought I would. I am totally bored and I have no idea what to do. Unemployment once again looms around the corner, which does little to quell my anxieties. My almost daily visits to Mango's, that sleazy bar downtown, does not help either.

The same unanswered questions hover like a gloomy fog overhead. I can't seem to forget them. The mystery behind the breakup of my relationship seems to thicken the fog. I already know that I cannot return to the monk existence. It took years to develop the strategy and regimen to properly implement such a lifestyle. I am so out of touch with the concept of singularity that I cannot see myself in that position ever again. Yet, here I am. Sedating myself with the fire water. There babes everywhere. Believe me, there is no shortage of babes. The usual problem is the same as starting an enterprise. Barriers to entry, so to speak. The barriers are even greater for someone who has spent a considerable portion of his lifetime developing the LoserNet credo.

As you have probably already deduced, there is a significant difference between Regular One and the journal we knew. I once felt it necessary to limit my entries to few brief paragraphs. That limitation exists no more. Diatribe is the name of the game now. Getting my life back in order is the prime directive. We'll still be making old man noises. In effect, please consider the Mission Statement and Strategic Plan of the journal (as per Covey) to still be in effect. The Exodus has begun. So, where does Regular One come in? In Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, Regula One was the name of the space station where the Genesis Project was hatched. Do we now see the significance? Close, but no cigar. I have no idea why I continue to write this nonsense. Why did I sacrifice LoserNet to maintain a "clandestine" journal? Only a few people know the answer.

Sunday April 18

I have vowed to get off of the fire water. I'm not going to buy any more booze and bring it home. I may continue to go to Mango's because I am limited in what I can spend there. I can always find booze values in the supermarket and stock up. What good is that doing me? The weaning process has never worked for me before. It took years before I realized that I just had to stop. No tapering. Just cut it off completely. Continuing to patronize Mango's is foolhardy even though there are some babes in there every now and then. It's right next door to the university, which makes it so convenient. Booze and convenience. What a combination!

Incidentally, Anonder's Journal is alive and well. At least one aspect of my life has returned to normal. Unfortunately, the kitty is still missing. Pops got married yesterday to his former mistress (if that term serves her correctly). And, I ... I continue to blunder along. After my beloved computer crashed fatally due to Dial-Up Networking, I have kept my installed applications at a minimum. Well, that leaves more room for my hurdy-gurdy files, I suppose. Just kidding!

I didn't make it through the day without the fire water, I'm afraid. I had to "wind down" the day with a brewski while I worked on some Mickey Mouse security for these pages. It's actually pathetic because it really is Mickey Mouse. I'm beginning to see why I can't get a real job. Security really isn't an issue at LoserNet. After all, the readership is around four people. I know who we have to thank for all of that. Yeah, but she's not around anymore.

Monday April 19

The so-called "journal of the mind" subscription forms continue to filter in one at a time. One of them is possibly the double agent, the dreaded mole, I have been looking for. We know the mole exists, but who is he or she? The Mickey Mouse security I've talked about has been introduced and will be activated for everything except non-essential portals. I finally broke down and bought a new PC Card modem. Yep, the ol' lavahead is finally moving into the 1990s just a few months short of the millennium. Now, I'll be able to download those hurdy-gurdy files four times faster. Sheesh! In fact, since I'm doing a little programming again, I should work on the Java Chicken Choker project. Anyway, the modem will end up costing $50 once I get my rebate. What a deal!

I received an interesting piece of e-mail from Duke today. I thought I'd share it because it has a lot of valid points.

From: Duke (duke@dccullinan.com)
Subject: What's New?

You are the best. It's time for you to quit deluding yourself - something that probably has been going on for a very long time. I'm only privy to the journal which captures "The Monk Years" as it were. But even then you were playing a game with yourself that you didn't want female companionship/sex. I'm not saying you didn't see some (small) rational reasons for denying yourself of the same. I'm saying you're full of shit until you just admit that you want it. And, further, until you're willing to suffer some humbling to participate in that game. You castigate Lori for playing the game of love, but . . . well, it *is* a game. Games don't necessarily mean someone has to *win*. Games are a participation. You do this, she does that. She does this, you do that. You're in love.

Anyway, you should admit you're *in the game,* and go from there. You're going to be a lot happier. And instead of playing the *game* of pretending you're not in the game (which is very frustrating indeed, as you lose twice), just take your chances with the real game.

This comment (off-base or not) was brought on by your saying that you feel you're finally free now that you no longer have any emotional involvement with Lori. Which is complete bullshit. Of course, (having been there myself - and this is why I say what I say) I don't expect you to suddenly shut it all off and be free of it. But it's obvious to see that most of what you write about currently (dare I suspect that most of what you live, also?) is based on her - even if it's only to say repeatedly that you are so happy you don't have to deal with her anymore.

You'd be well-served to drop the firewater again. Especially if you're partaking first thing (practically) in the morning. I'm no angel in that regard. But I back off when I sense it's hurting my writing or other professional endeavors. And I believe if you're not on vacation, 10 a.m. drinking is not a positive thing. A reasonable likelihood is that you've taken up the firewater again for three reasons: 1) As a reaction to Lori's lifestyle and her implicit approval of people who do drink and party, and 2) As a way to better open the floodgates of emotion for you to expel all the bad feelings and misgivings and pure speculation (into the journal) about the relationship, its demise, and the future, and 3) As a perceived aid to facilitate your relations with the future babes in your life.

In some ways, all of these reasons are valid. But perhaps now is nearing the time they've outlived their overall usefulness. You have to weigh the value of your lucidity. Consider what value it's been to you in the last five (?) years of your sobriety? Would a continuation of that benefit you more, at this point, than continuing to drink for the above reasons?

Since the unofficial National Sport of LoserNet is telling the ol' Lavahead what he should do, I'll continue finally and say that I recommend all of the above as long as you get into real life and admit you want a babe, that you're going to be trying to get a babe, and that you hope you'll ultimately be happy when you land a good babe. This is what us heterosexual people call "living." It's better that you participate in it rather than rebel (even silently) against it. My opinion is that, for whatever hell you're going through now, it's still better than not trying at all, when you weigh it all out. Again, this is *living*. Move along and next time a babe is telling you she's a stripper whilst you discuss matters philosophical, do something - however underhanded or sneaky and wolfish - to make a play for her. That chick would love an intellectual guy like you. You want a serious fuck machine again - at least for awhile. Maybe you should play the other side of it for a change. Don't do anybody harm, but if she's willing to have a mindless tryst, why not? This is just that game of life. A good gambit for you might be to say frankly how attracted you are to her (whomever she may be) but that you'd have a hard time with the situation because it would jeopardize your teaching position. The beauty of it is: 1) It would probably work, 2) It's really true about the teaching position, 3) If she turns out to be good, you can just abandon the stupid job which you might well lose next semester anyway.

Just some thoughts. As always, thanks for listening to my advice and not freaking out even when it's wildly astray.

Alas, poor Tralfaz, I knew him well. By the way, here's a scan of the boys at McClintock's Saloon in Convalescent City. After the gym, I ran into Bruce at the university. So, we were off to Mango's. Another day, another brewski. The game of love. I am still reading Lila by Pirsig. The second part is great. I sat out in Bishop Square this afternoon reading and laughing my fool head off. That stuff about sex and celebrity. How true! You know, I really love the stupid journal. I feel like a protégé of Pirsig. Perhaps Duke was right about the monk years. My "monastery" was right smack in the middle of Babesville. What was I thinking? Of course, there is no better way to test one's mettle than with temptation. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

Tuesday April 20

The sinister kahuna is definitely toying with me. Just after I bought my new modem, I find that I can no longer dial up my ISP. The access number doesn't work. And, as of last night, the university's system has been so overloaded that I cannot get on. My computer spent over five hours dialing away. All I got was angry. The $50 rebate for the modem has now become a $30 rebate and I'm wondering why I just don't take an Uzi and perforate everything in sight. Also, someone has breached the security of Regular One. There wasn't much else to do except to go down to Foodland and buy more fire water. By the way, there's nothing one can do while the computer is dialing away. The interrupt for the dialing process steals the total processor time. I believe that I was meant to suffer. That's my lot in life.

I'm not going to mince any words. I am close to losin' it and I mean in a very violent way. This past six months have been a nightmare of unimaginable proportions. Of course, my life is a cakewalk compared to what's going on in other parts of the world. Sometimes I believe that many of us have to experience something like that so that we can develop a deeper understanding of gratitude and humility. Pirsig has accurately described how we have lost touch with humanity itself. We have replaced it with vanity. Sometimes when I sit here and think about how we are all choking the chicken in front of the computer, it just makes me sick to my stomach. And, what about those games of virtual destruction and mayhem? How many of us would want to trade that for the real thing?

I sat outside in Fort Street mall this afternoon. One of my students, Orlando, sat with me and chatted. He mentioned that one of his classmates ended up marrying his daughter. He had some words of wisdom about finding a babe. "You need to find one who's young and rich. A professional, like a doctor." He also suggested that I find a foreign babe, one from another country. I'm beginning to see his point. My students have been a good source of levity. In class a couple of weeks ago, I broke out my bottle of Wort and asked, "Have any of you tried this yet?" One of the guys asked, "What's that? Viagra?" Never a dull moment.

Wednesday April 21

I was walking back to the business college this afternoon when I ran into two former students, Ginger and Chandamei. They asked me to join them for lunch. So, we bought some take-out Chinese food and sat out in Bishop Square. I happened to notice a certain unnamed individual's good buddy sitting outside, too, but I am staying away from the other camp. After all, I'm the bad ol' puddy tat. When I'm downtown, I know hundreds of people. However, they are all students. That's why I enjoy hanging out in town even though I have no other classes. It's too bad Elena, the exotic dancer, didn't show up to class yesterday. I may never get those free passes. That may be all and well. I don't know if I could handle an evening at one of those places. My mind might snap.

I have been releasing the location of the "journal of the mind" in an attempt to test the Mickey Mouse security I've put in place. I surmise that at least one of those people is the infamous mole. Well, if you hear an explosion that seems to have originated from the middle of the Pacific Ocean, then you know what happened. Too bad, eh? Incidentally, in the picture I included from my trip to Convalescent City in March, I should mention that The Master is sitting in front. That's my homey Tom sitting way in the back. Can you guess who the other two characters are?

It is ironic that yesterday I was talking about going on a homicidal rampage, then today I discovered that two teenagers did just that in Colorado. None of it makes any sense. Just how close are we to being victims of circumstance in our everyday lives. How about that crazy woman I saw today? She had affixed a folded pair of glasses to her head using some wire. Why didn't she just unfold them and put them on? Could she be packing a "piece"? I have the feeling that one day someone is going to cut loose on Fort Street Mall. The area is ripe for such an occurrence. There are many students from the university hanging out along with a large number of psychos who are ready to snap at any time.

Thursday April 22

Every day that I live in the city I become more paranoid. There are too many people. The buses are full of senior citizens who spend most of their day wandering about the city aimlessly. They all eventually converge downtown. No one seems to know why they all migrate to town and hang out in front of Long's Drugs. Perhaps one day I'll be doing the same. Most of the locals are simpletons. They are happy to spend their time in a holo holo stupor. It's part of the "plantation" mentality that has filtered down through at least three generations. Most of our ancestors were immigrants to Hawai'i and they worked in the sugar cane and pineapple fields. Sometimes I fight my own urges to remain a simpleton. That is why I am frustrated most of the time.

There is a paranoia that can be associated with any large city. Actually, it's fear. There's no distinct cause of the fear. It's just there. The are so many souls in a city that the preciousness of life seems to dissipate into nothingness. The only important soul is your own. A group of old-timers gather and form an impromptu ensemble on Fort Street mall. They bring their musical instruments and somehow they synchronize their talents into a cohesive jam session. They are mocking the big time talent in Bishop Square. It's holo holo time again. If only all of Hawai'i was this way. Then, we'd all be poor. Or, we'd all be rich depending on how you look at it. The simpletons are poor yet they're happy. It's a far cry from the depressing blight of urban ghettos on the mainland. The simpletons don't know any better. Otherwise, there would be hella Uzis perforating everything in sight. One day it will change. That's what happened with the homeboys. The "gangsta" thinking is in its infancy here. It's day will come.

Bruce and I ended up Mango's before and after our night class. The bartender now pours out a cold one for me whenever I walk in the door. I need the fire water more and more. One reason is that I have not been able to access the Net from home. The university account is so busy that it takes maybe three hours before I can connect. My regular ISP was also not connecting but it turns out that it was my fault. I had set up my new modem to only connect at some extremely high speed, so it never went past the handshake routine before cutting me off. Sometimes I have to wonder whether I really know what time it is.

Friday April 23

Someone has infiltrated my Mickey mouse security system. It was bound to happen. I wonder if the mole has finally gotten in. There could be a serious turnaround in events soon if that is the case. Why would anyone go through the trouble of breaking in? It's easier to just ask for the access code. The numbers don't make sense though. There should be a consistent pattern but it varies. The multiple hits indicate that the pages were printed. Well, in the worst case scenario, we can expect significant private journal updates of an adverse nature. Maybe the city has made me too paranoid.

I've been having more discussions with various faculty members. However, the social climate in faculty circles is a little different than within, say, the party crowd. University faculty are much more reserved and conservative than I'm used to. The personalities are more in line with the upper crust of society. I don't really fit in but I need to. I don't expect to see many of them hanging out at Mango's. I don't think that many students are expecting to see any faculty members in Mango's either. One of my students walked in yesterday while Bruce and I were there. She was surprised to see me. Alas, poor Tralfaz ...

I ended up Mango's after I went to the gym this afternoon. Then, I went home. I was getting a little nervous so I decided to go to Kahala Mall at the last minute. I'm glad I did because I had to replenish my supply of Wort. Then, I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble with my beloved computer. You can probably guess what I was working on. Perhaps I am dedicating too much time to the journal. It's not like I'm getting paid to do this. Sheesh! After all these years, it's hard to believe that LoserNet is really living up to its name. It's a loser. I once had stupid dreams that it would be "discovered" and I would subsequently reap suitable rewards. What a laugh! Real rewards only come after taking significant risks. Tempting a loser mole to break into a secure LoserNet portal is not exactly a significant risk. Shutting down the only active portion of the site because of undue pressure from someone who is not even a part of my life anymore is even less risky. It's just plain stupid. In a few months, I plan to repackage Regular One and put it back where it belongs.

Saturday April 24

As I sat in Barnes & Noble last night, I observed that mostly everyone was paired up. And, why not? Hawai'i is a romantic place. As I am finding out, one almost cannot help but end up in a relationship. That is, of course, unless one is a member of the select few. The elite losers. The Master could explain this phenomenon rather easily. Even a certain unnamed individual found her Knight in Shining Armor here. I am rapidly discovering that I am once again falling into the same status that I've always had. Remember my lamentations during the monk years? Remember those true tales of woe that I told? It's all happening again. Just a like a bad sitcom, it keeps coming back. How long can a sane man remain sane under these conditions? That is why I always sought counsel from The Master, for only he truly knows how to persevere under these pathetic conditions. He's a pillar of strength. A man of infinite conviction. He's The Master.

I mentioned the levels of insanity that have become manifest in the local mainstream. Sometimes moms' behavior is suspect. I have told her time and again to throw out those unsanitary plastic trays that she uses. She saves every single one of those plastic trays that come with raw meat and poultry at the market. She uses those for everything including serving trays. If she brings food to a potluck, she will use those trays. I suspect that we will soon be using those for plates as well. There are hundreds of these stored in queue waiting to replace the ones that she has used for months. That's right. Moms will reuse these trays until they are worn out. Most of the people here who are moms' age display similar quirky behavior. It's partly a matter of culture, too. Oddly, she does not reuse plastic forks or knives or disposable chopsticks. She does not reuse disposable cups. She also displays compulsive behavior by wrapping everything in plastic bags. Frankly, it's all starting to affect my mental health. I can see myself on Fort Street Mall with my folded shades affixed to the oversized cranium with some wire.

I spent the day in a stupor thanks to the fire water. I was somewhat oblivious to my aunt's arrival. She is visiting from Cali and will be spending a few days at moms' place. Moms and her sister talked at some length. They have not seen each other in a long time. I felt it best that I not add any of my tidbits because Heaven knows what the fire water would inspire. Frankly, I was in a bad way because of my situation. I realize the stupidity of posturing myself as a victim. So, I had to compose more of my nouveau poetry. Sheer genius!

Chimp II

That bitch made a chimp out of me.
Chimp, chump, champ, does it matter?
The fire water, big headache.
Take that piece of [dung] wind-up clock and smash it.
Laugh my [copulating] fool head off.
What a [copulating] maroon!
Bad ol' puddy tat! [Copulate] it!
Now my [copulating] clock is broken.
All because that bitch made a chimp out of me.

Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Can I get a witness? Oh brother. Fortunately I found some sample packets of Tylenol. I then drove to Kahala Mall in my six-four. Yep, another night at Barnes & Noble. I felt right at home because there were a whole bunch of people with computers in Computer Row, the section with the electrical outlets. I was the odd man out so I had to run on battery power. Just like my life.

Sunday April 25

Is there any way that I'm going to make it out alive? Heck if I know. Are you amused by my story? This is my life, you know. My question is ... how am I going to make it to the big time from the sub-turd level? I can't even get a witness. Aside from that, I have not noticed any unusual activity that would suggest a breach in the Mickey Mouse security. Of course, Regular One is wide open. Maybe there's enough information here for the mole. As we well know, curiosity is what killed the bad ol' puddy tat.

What I really need is a weekend job. I wouldn't mind working in the evenings at Barnes & Noble. It's kind of a happenin' joint. I know that I'd be a minimum wage slave but that is not the issue. I need something to do. I don't really care to go to the clubs. Dating is out of the question. I could always buy a DVD player and a tube so that I can watch hurdy-gurdies all day long. Sheesh!

I sat outside at One West Waikiki for the first time in a long time. An old guy playing the fiddle gave a solo performance. He stole the show away from all the other sidewalk performers. He was extremely good. I couldn't help but wonder how his journey ended up here at One West Waikiki. It struck me that the real nature of humanity was in this performance I was viewing. I am beginning to understand Pirsig. We are so caught up in showcasing the select few who have "made it" like the Gates One. That creates a lot of anxiety for those of us who cannot cut the mustard. Celebrity and big bank. What a bunch of crap! I'll remember the fiddler. He brought joy to the hearts of the small handful of people who took the time to revel in his art.

Monday April 26

I still have not made any plans for the Summer, and now I am becoming extremely anxious. In actuality, I have done nothing except work on this foolish journal. As I look back, I see nothing coherent. It's as if I am losing my mind slowly but surely. I have some ideas about what I want to do. However, I cannot include them here for the sake of security. So, I will have to discuss this matter privately, if you know what I mean.

So, here it is the end of April. I moved to Hawai'i with my babe so I could live in Paradise. Baby dumped me for a rich, balding pilot. Now I am all alone. That's the bottom line of all I've been talking about in 50,000 words or more for the past few weeks. I have yet to initiate a contingency plan. I'm not sure if I am going to. I may just go down with the ship. Bruce and I ended up at Mango's this afternoon. I did a short workout at the gym prior to that. He told me some interesting stories about his own life that certainly made me see that I do not have it as bad as I thought. He had also gone through many years of drinking as a result. If I continue down the same path, I will definitely end up a loser.

So far, there is no evidence to indicate that the mole truly exists. I would have thought that my poetry might have evoked some reaction. Nothing. At this point in time, I'm not sure if I want to return to the old journal. There are too many restrictions and it brings back bad memories. There may be a lot of changes ahead.

Tuesday April 27

Niagra Falls! Slowly, I turn. Step by step. Inch by inch. Remember that classic Three Stooges episode? What exactly was the meaning behind that? The Three Stooges were my favorite comedians when I was a kid. I appreciated them more when I grew older. I have an audio clip of Moe saying, "Quiet numbskulls, I'm broadcasting!" That's what my computer starts up with. You can download it and use it on your computer. Turn up the volume full blast. Then, you can imagine that you're me. Wizard-O!

I have been talking with several students who seem to have a real entrepreneurial spirit. As I've always said, there are dreamers and there are visionaries. Bruce believes that Hawai'i is ripe for development in either telecommunications or information technology. He may be right. The technology infrastructure is already in place. It's just that no one knows what to do with it. How do I know? The Mau'i High Performance Supercomputer Center is a prime example. Why is it here? Someone had the vision to bring it here. Now, no one has the vision to carry it one step further. That's the problem. We are throwing around a few ideas but I'm not exactly sure what could happen. For one thing, none of us has gone deep enough into the "egghead" network. I have a foot in the door but I need to put my other foot in especially at the University of Hawai'i. There are people who have the answers. We need to find them or we will be lamenting over spilled beer at Mango's after we never follow through.

Paul (the Chaminade student from Convalescent City) is also interested in getting involved in an enterprise venture. He is having a hard time because he just went through a traumatic breakup with his babe. They had broken up a few weeks ago but they managed to get back together on her terms. Apparently he wasn't cutting the mustard because she ended it again. Paul was in bad shape. He wanted to talk so I spent some time chatting with him. His story sounded too familiar.

"She's out playing pool, going to movies and having a lot of fun. Her girlfriends are telling her to just forget about him," Paul said. "I'm completely lost without her," he added.

"Welcome to the life of a chimp," I told him.

I suppose that all breakups start to sound about the same especially if it's the babe who calls it off. The rest of my day was mundane including my obligatory visit to Mango's. I downloaded the VirtuaGirl screen buddy. It's pretty good. Some miniature babe walks on the screen of my computer whenever she feel like it. Isn't that how it works?

Wednesday April 28

Time continues to fly and now I am beginning to see the applicability of Covey's dissertation on time management. Without a doubt, my whole life can pass before my eyes if I just blink. My tenure at Mango's doesn't facilitate anything else. I have somewhat lively discussion in class about matters pertaining to personal aspirations. I have discovered that most people are happy with the status quo. This may be a universal trend, not just limited to the locals in Hawai'i. I discussed the matter of the technological infrastructure in place here and the opportunities it presented given the proper strategic alliances. No response. The students were more excited when I discussed the "career opportunities" at Burger King. The lack of initiative and drive is not just limited to students. I, myself, suffer from the same problem. As I presented my motivational talks, I saw that I fall short in those areas myself. I believe that I am understanding more of the problem by presenting it to my classes. In some respects, I'm beginning to believe my own words (which are based on sources like Covey). I have shared a wealth of information that most concede they have never heard before. Yet, as I convey that they should use this knowledge to gain a competitive advantage, the words seem to fall upon deaf ears. Of course, I should talk. Oddly, these discussions appear to be the sole reason that I have maintained good evaluations on at least one campus. I have developed somewhat of a reputation at that campus and it seems to be favorable.

I went to the gym and then stopped in Mango's as to be expected. Then, I went back to campus (right next door) to check my e-mail. Usually at this time there is a babe also checking her e-mail in the faculty nerd room. She was there today and she started up a conversation about the gym since I was dressed in my gym attire. Her name is Claire. No, not the carpool buddy. She is a also an adjunct faculty member. She has a law degree and actually can practice law here. She does that on a contract basis. She teaches English literature at the university. It turns out that she spent some time in Portland. Beaverton, actually. That's where I was for a year, as you know. Strange things. She paddles for the canoe club out in Maunalua Bay. That's the same club that an unnamed individual's daughter paddles for. Anyway, I'm glad that I'm finally meeting a few new people here.

Thursday April 29

You probably thought I was going to slip, didn't you? I'm a monk. A man of conviction. I probably should have slipped and tried something real stupid. That may cut short my tenure at the university. It's always fun and games, isn't it? That's the bottom line no matter how hard we try to avoid it. What I really need to do is go into seclusion. Real seclusion. Otherwise my mind may play tricks on me again. Next thing you know, I'll be repeating the same mistakes. Sheesh!

Moms has been happy that her sister is here visiting. I have noticed that moms treats her sister the same way she treats me. Like a kid. I'm beginning to understand why. My grandmother passed away when moms was ten years old. She was the second oldest in the family below Uncle Mike. Moms pretty much took care of the other siblings. Uncle Mike was away at school at the time. After my grandfather passed away, Uncle Mike never took over the responsibility of head of household. Actually, Uncle T took on that task. I guess moms never forgot the additional burden that she carried. It perpetuates through today. I've known the family history for a long time. It just never sunk in until now.

The job situation. Money. Status. Babes. Mango's. Everyday it's the same thing. I just can't seem to find the meaning of life. None of the aforementioned provides me with a definition. They are merely distractions that prevent the meaning of life from seeping through. Is it some kind of spirituality that I'm missing? I have to wonder. People around me seem pretty satisfied to substitute tangibles for spirituality. That's the concept of ownership as a means of obtaining immortality, I suppose. I speak to the Almighty every day. I never seem to receive an answer. Should I expect one? We are just a bunch of complex organisms moving about randomly on a planet out in the middle of nowhere. We have tried to make sense of our paltry existence by constructing a complex infrastructure of money, politics and power. Yet all we are doing is what our ancestors have done. We are building towers to reach out to the heavens. We want to be closer to our Creator. In a morbid way, the capitalists are offering their tithes through rampant and insatiable materialism. All of our monetary exchanges are just extensions of the pagan dances that once filled the streets of Babylon. The skyscrapers are merely advanced temples of worship. Money is the offering. Our lives are the ransom. What is missing? Where is the spirituality?

Friday April 30

I ended up at Mango's with three of my students after class last night. I've really come to enjoy the people that I am in contact with. One of the students gave me a ride home after that. As we passed Koko Marina, I saw a certain unnamed individual walking across the street. Today I discovered that one of the students (who was at Mango's with Bruce and I) was amongst a small handful who decided to slam me on evaluations. Backstabbers! My days as a faculty member may come to end very soon. What can I say? The weak must be weeded out.

Since I have my new and faster modem, I've been able to make use RealPlayer and listen to Smooth Jazz and Rap on Net radio. After all I've been through, I'm more inclined to listen to Rap. Just like the old days. The problem is that RealPlayer and Windows 95 make a lousy combination unless rebooting the computer every few minutes (because of a "Fatal Exception Error") is considered entertaining. I'll tell you, though, there's nothing like listening to Big Punisher after a day like I had. Sheesh!

Saturday May 1

I have had some very scary recurring thoughts lately. I'm not sure that I can even include them here. Not to worry. I'm neither "going postal" or "going janitorial." We already have enough kooks who are willing to do that job for me. I had to sedate myself with fire water again. Naturally, I didn't come to until late in the afternoon. By then, it was too late to go to the gym. I believe that the root of my anxiety is the burning question about what I am going to do with my life. I specifically came back to Hawai'i to spend time with moms but, after my breakup with a certain unnamed individual, I have had to rethink this situation. That makes me wonder whether I had any intention of spending time with moms at all. Living at home has changed my perspective, I'm sure. The thought of returning to the mainland doesn't exactly have me jumping up and down. I worry that something will happen to moms when I am away. Then, I'll really have regrets. It's a Catch-22 situation all right. If I can do what Paul does for about three to five years, then I may be financially secure when I make my return, That is, if there is something to return to.

The thought of being alone again for an extended period of time is yet another annoying aspect of being an old guy. If I was a young stud, I wouldn't mind. But, I have one foot in the geriatric ward as it stands now. Well, at least I won't have to worry about spending a lot of dough on Viagra. I can't believe how old I am. Sheesh! And, I'm around all of these young babes on campus. What a dilemma! I'd like to befriend my colleague Claire but I don't want to impress upon her the mistaken notion that I'm trying something funny. That's how stupid life can be. I cannot just walk up to a babe and befriend her because it's obvious that I'm up to something even though I'm not. And, babes don't want to be seen with just any clown. Lord knows someone might mistake the putz for her boyfriend. The opportunity costs would be too high. We can't have that. When all is said and done, I can see why I'll be sitting in the closet for the rest of my life.

After what I've been through, I don't know whether I want to find another babe. I don't know if I can trust another babe. A few of you may know exactly what I'm talking about. Who the hell was I with for the two-plus years we were together? I feel as though my life was a chilling Hitchcock movie. It makes sense that something like that would happen. My whole life was open for all to see. My thoughts, although abridged, were there to read. I was completely vulnerable. I was an unknown celebrity. Today, I'm just unknown. There are only a handful of readers left. The total was as I always suspected. Less than ten people. I have decided to let the journal rest in peace. In a short period of time, the archives will be sealed permanently, as it were. It's a time that I no longer want to ruminate upon. I once carried a hardcopy of the archives with me. It was like a morbid security blanket. I have since placed it in the recycler as a symbol of closure.

I still search for answers where there are none. I'm looking for the mythical lost tribe. The answers are probably already there. I have meticulously constructed the answers from the shred of evidence that was available. The answers don't satisfy me because I do not want to believe them. They seem beyond belief. And, I would rather not admit that I was that gullible. I've been had. The funny part is that I treat it like it my embarrassing little secret. Yet, my pathetic story is available for the whole world to see. It's no secret. I'm already a fool in the eyes of the world.

On a lighter note, have you noticed the so-called stereo speakers in notebook computers? For one thing, they have absolutely no bass. But, why stereo? Can you actually hear the separation between the two channels when the speakers (and I use the term loosely) are just five inches apart? The stupid part is that no one will buy a computer if it doesn't have stereo. Maybe it's time Dr. Bose designed Acoustic Wave speakers for notebook computers.

To be continued ... Go to R.2