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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. It has been restored to "public" status after a brief hiatus. This journal should not be confused with the Journal of the Mind.

Sunday October 31, 1999 - Sinister Kahuna Day

Well, here it is. Sinister Kahuna Day. I did absolutely nothing this weekend. I drank my Keystone beer until I felt sick. I managed to go on the search for the elusive budget-priced digital camera again. A repeat of last week's pathetic experience. This time, however, I decided to go to Shirokiya after all else failed. I found a Fuji digital camera for $260 and purchased it. This is twice as much as I wanted to spend since I wanted a camera that I would not be worried about losing or breaking. So, I defeated my own purpose. I have to wonder what I am doing. I have exactly two weeks before my financial demise. I will also fail the comprehensive exam since I have yet to even start studying. My expenditures have vastly exceeded my $200 monthly income. That's right, there are no missing zeros. It will take two months for me to pay for the camera. Why do I live this way? I can't tell you except that I have no choice.

The digital camera was a stupid purchase. Will it end up boxed up in the closet like my Bose Acoustic Wave? Probably. I do want to get the LoserNet WebCam going though. It's really too bad that I don't get paid for all of this, huh? Sheesh! I have heard that pops may be going in for surgery again. He has another tumor. I still wonder how and when I'm going to get off the fire water. Since I will not fly to the mainland for several years, I will be stuck on this rock with nothing to do. I have to cope but I don't know how. The real problem is that I am getting closer to being 50 years old and I have absolutely nothing to show for myself. I am downtrodden as a result of my own failure. All I've ever had was LoserNet and that's all I'll ever have.

As usual, moms cooked a whole mess of food for my bro's family. My sister-in-law was supposed to come by this afternoon. She never showed up. Moms was extremely worried, thinking that something terrible happened. It's so stupid. I told her that it's Halloween and they probably went to a party and forgot all about her. Why else would my bro not be home as well? Moms didn't buy the reason and spent the rest of the night worrying. These are more reasons why I'm losing it over here. The sheer stupidity of "local" ways just taxes my sanity. I'm already in a fragile mental state as it is. Why did I ever move back here?

Monday November 1

I've been hearing stories about Halloween adventures all day. It seems that I was the sole person not out on the town last night, no less the whole weekend. When I heard the stories of all the fun and excitement, I really felt pathetic. Am I the only loser in Hawai'i? Then, I recalled the days that I did the party circuit. Yeah, everything seems like it's a lot of fun when one is completely inebriated. In the end, it doesn't matter. I stayed at home and played with my new digital camera. As I dreaded, the camera cost me too much to just take it anywhere. So, now it's essentially useless. I wanted the cheapest one I could find so it wouldn't matter if I broke it or lost it. The camera I bought is fairly cheap to people with a real income. I don't have a "real" income. That's why I'm not a "real man." I'll put some dumb pictures up to test the new LavaheadCam interface as soon I have the scripts perfected. It's all part of the LoserNet Millennium celebration. Stay tuned for more details.

I've thought about scrapping LoserNet. I have debated with myself whether I should at least take one of the mirror sites down. LoserNet is not anything special. There are many sites of the "Woe is me" genre. So, let the festivities continue. Maybe I'll even have some picture up by tonight. And, remember, I only have two more weeks before my financial and mental demise. Sheesh!

Tuesday November 2

The bells of St. Andrews Cathedral tolled solemnly this morning. Less than an hour prior, a disgruntled Xerox former employee went on a shooting rampage. The grisly event took place less than two miles from downtown. The Xerox offices downtown were evacuated. This just minutes away from the university. The ensuing manhunt kept people off of the streets. Classes were empty as a result. The manhunt ended in Makiki near Tantalus when the enraged psycho surrendered. The question of why this tragedy occurred can no longer be ignored. I've said for months that Hawai'i is a powder keg just ready to explode. We have been fortunate that the ones who have snapped prior to this have only reduced themselves to blatant displays of absurd behavior. Now what? No doubt, the killer today has opened the door for future episodes. Paradise lost.

Wednesday November 3

When I walked to the StairMaster area of the gym this afternoon, I ran into the handmaiden. She stopped in to give me a gift. "When I heard this, I thought about you," she said as she handed me a small bag. I must have looked perplexed. "I don't think bad of you," she continued. I have no idea what's what. Only the sages can answer this. Such a strange encounter! I opened the gift when I later returned to the faculty computer room at the university. It was a rap CD by a few local artists. I mentioned the curious event to Chad and Marv, two of my colleagues who hang out there just as I do. We also exchanged a few ex-babe horror stories.

I also saw the handmaiden's friend Anne on the express bus. She was shaken up about the tragedy yesterday. The Xerox office downtown is in the same building that she works. She said she had to go home and drop back some brewskis. Can't say I blame her. Although, it was Anne who made me think about my fire water problem. She said that it was affecting her in minute but annoying ways. I realized what she meant. The lethargy and proneness to error are pronounced symptoms. All the side effects of the fire water.

I have been extremely fatigued these past few days. I'm not sure why. There are three strains of the flu going around and many people are sick. Perhaps I'm on the verge of getting sick. Or, it may be fire water withdrawal. I can feel the urge to break open a can of Keystone. Booyah! The LavaheadCam appears to be working fine. I'll be setting up the image archive site soon, not that anybody really cares to see these photos again.

Thursday November 4

The whole world is going crazy. Even I have been on the edge of extreme violence. The city has that effect. I spend most of my day dodging idiots who have little in the way of common sense and courtesy. It's like a huge cattle drive. Ironically, as the per capita density increases, so does the per capita idiocy. I don't really get it. This is the way most people want to live, or so it seems. That leaves me with NetRadio House and all of the hurdy-gurdy Web sites. And, let's not forget the Keystone.

Babes have been on my mind again even though I have telling everyone that I'm a monk and eunuch. Babes. Babes like Haunani (at right). You won't see any babes in the LavaheadCam. Does it matter? I'm living at home with moms making less money than most high school kids. I had an eerie thought as more information came out about the psycho who went on a rampage. He lived at home with his father and brother. He was totally involved with raising fish and making furniture. He was 40 years old and it can be inferred that he had no babe. In other words, he was a loser. Mind you, he was an ordinary guy but he was a loser. Like me. How long before I lose it? The only purpose I seem to have now is the LavaheadCam. Isn't that stupid?

Friday November 5

After a hard day of nonsense, I came home to more nonsense. Moms immediately began telling me what to do. "You should put the top back on the six-four." Later, moms told me, "You better pay the dentist right away." I almost snapped. "Why are you worrying about my business?" I yelled. I've told moms time and again that I can take care of my own business. I have been sensitive to this kind of stuff ever since the handmaiden made several callous remarks about my living at home. The whole situation became messy. Moms then went off on how she did not want to talk about the handmaiden. I haven't mentioned the handmaiden in almost two months. And, moms doesn't care to talk about anything else except religion. The whole thing came to a head when moms lamented that she felt responsible for the rift between my bro and I because she let the handmaiden stay here two years ago. It all boils down to guilt. Moms has always felt that "God left this house." She blames herself for more things that she lets on to and she feels that the Creator has not accepted her repentance. Guilt has consumed moms, which explains why she lives in squalor. Moms is punishing herself for her alleged transgressions. My family has exhibited serious signs of mental illness for a long time. Most of the people of my parents' ethnicity and age group suffer from the same malady. I believe it has to do with some kind of immigrant culture shock. And, I also believe that the killer this week was enmeshed in this kind of crap in his own family dynamics. He just couldn't take it anymore.

I thought that I could handle living here for a few years but I seriously doubt it now. Moms' guilt is going to be her own undoing and it's going to build more rifts. That is why she wraps herself in religion. She spends every waking moment reading religious literature to the point that she has severe eye strain. Why? Penance will buy neither forgiveness or salvation. If she keeps it up, she will bring me down with her. The writing has been on the wall a long time. I've written about the signs before. Things could work out fine if moms would just leave me alone. Moms is stubborn. That's why she never listens to me. Like when I tell her that she is going to kill herself when she sprays that powerful insecticide around the house. Each time, she makes herself sick yet she claims to just be tired as she staggers to bed at 7pm. Sometimes I believe moms wants it all to end. Moms is extremely miserable because she cannot deal with her guilt. The Creator has forgiven many who have committed far more heinous acts than moms. It's a lesson for all of us including myself. Forgiveness must come from within after proper repentance. Life must go on.

Saturday November 6

The dust has settled from the debacle yesterday. Yet another typical trait of my family. Act like nothing happened after the fact. I am still feeling extremely fatigued. I probably have a mild case of the flu. So, I decided to prescribe some antibiotics to myself in the form of fire water. Naturally, I overdosed and ended up hammered. I have less than a week left before my financial demise. I will also be failing the comprehensive exam scheduled for next weekend since I have yet to do any kind of studying. What possesses me to seek out failure?

I read more of JenDa's diary on the My Dear Diary site. It made me sick. Yet, JenDa is a typical babe by today's standards. I also reflected on the situation with the handmaiden. Why did she bother to buy that CD for me? What is she up to? And, why does she continue to contact me when I am on to her lies? What makes her think that I could ever trust her again? Only the sages know for sure.

I really wanted to go snowboarding next month but it looks as though that is not going to happen. Instead, I'll be here, most likely sedated with fire water. I could replace the radiator in my six-four. Sheesh! Now that I have a digital camera, I have no events to capture. The irony of life. Why did I buy that camera? Did I give in to my materialistic urges yet again?

Sunday November 7

Hammered again! Rather than do anything constructive, I spent my day in a drunken stupor. I have no idea why I cannot bring myself to do anything else. My demise is just around the corner. Do I care? Apparently not. Everyday I also wonder why I couldn't have been fortunate enough to become a hurdy-gurdy star. Doing da wild thing for a living. Oddly, I am a monk but I love to do da wild thing (as you well know if you read the [UJ] archive). Perhaps I am just losin' it.

In my sober moments, I have diligently been divesting myself of more stuff. I am also putting together a bunch of items to donate to Goodwill. Soon I'll have less than most of the homeless guys on Fort Street Mall. I broke out my Bose Acoustic Wave to listen to the CD that the handmaiden gave me. I believe that it's time for me to sell the Acoustic Wave. I also need to terminate my cell phone service. And, I should also terminate my GTE Internet service. I could save over $30 per month if I terminate those useless services. The material life is mere vanity.

Sometimes I try to fool myself into believing that all of this nonsense is just temporary. That I'm in transition. I already know that I'm stuck. I've painted myself into a corner with no way out. My future is predictable from this point forward, especially concerning the babe situation. I'm a confirmed bachelor. Let me tell you why.

In the Psychology Today article titled "The New Flirting Game," author Deborah Lott stated:

When it comes to flirting today, women aren't waiting around for men to make the advances. They're taking the lead. Psychologist Monica Moore, Ph.D. of Webster University in St. Louis, Missouri, has spent more than 2000 hours observing women's flirting maneuvers in restaurants, singles bars and at parties. According to her findings, women give non-verbal clues that get a flirtation rolling fully two-thirds of the time. A man may think he's making the first move because he is the one to literally move from wherever he is to the woman's side, but usually he has been summoned.

The article also cites studies done by Timothy Perper, who also is cited in the Monk's Guide to Dating. The writing is on the wall. I have seen no activity on the part of any babes to suggest any interest in the ol' lavahead. It's over. The sooner I face the facts, the better things will be. Some may chuckle, thinking that I am an idiot. However, I know what time it is. I can make some causal verification of Lott's findings. However, I believe that her estimates are conservative. Babes initiate flirtation closer to 90 percent of the time. I believe that I am cognizant enough to recognize flirtation and I can safely say that I can become a monk without worry about temptation.

Monday November 8

The morning express bus romance has apparently blossomed. Stud walked baby to the university and kissed her good-bye this morning. I almost fell over. Yet, I knew that he was driven by her extreme beauty. He could not let another day pass without snapping into action. One day last week, baby didn't get on the same bus and my boy seemed perturbed. As we passed baby's stop, he looked outside to see where she was at. He could not let her slip through his fingers. My morning class was more like the Jerry Springer Show. Dating stories. One of the babes had a hot date with a rich guy last week, a result of a chance meeting at Starbuck's. Hardly likely. After hearing about how he flaunted his wealth (Porsche, palatial manor, etc.) unabashedly, I was almost sickened. "He was such a gentlemen. It has nothing to do with money," she explained as she also detailed eating oysters on a half-shell at some classy restaurant. It's a story I know well. Big money makes one a true gentlemen. Oh, believe me, it's true. As for me, I have NetRadio House and my Keystone. Yeah!

I have set up the LavaheadCam Archive and will soon be linking the archive and the LavaheadCam to LoserNet. I am also making the file sizes smaller and I have reduced the transition time. What a Millennium celebration we are having! Makes me want to break out some fire water. Say, that's a great idea! Let's have a Keystone now, shall we? Right now I'm listening to "Almost Lost" by Timewriter. Perhaps I should go snowboarding next month. I need to get away.

Tuesday November 9

My gym bag is now stuffed full each day. I carry my backpack, gym clothes, cell phone, digital camera, my lunch, and even my toothbrush. It's as though I'm packing for a day trip. I can't believe that I carry so much junk with me. A few months ago, I only needed one of those plastic grocery bags to carry my stuff. Life has changed. I am an express bus commuter with no life.

I am getting a little tired of the LavaheadCam already. It's definitely not as exciting as those hurdy-gurdy WebCams. How can I compete with a bunch of awesome babes in their birthday suits? All I have are boring pictures that somehow relate to my boring life. Maybe I need to give it a rest already. Actually, I need a rest. I think I'm coming down with the flu. So far today, I have been around ten people who had varying stages of the flu. This is, of course, predictable. The sinister kahuna is going to work overtime to insure that I fail my comprehensive exam. Did we expect anything less?

Wednesday November 10

I sat outside in Bishop Square this morning. I was trying to relax since I was somewhat stressed out. Within minutes, the handmaiden, her friend Alexis and some other person walked by. The handmaiden stopped to talk with me. She mentioned something about the regional Vice President of the firm she works for is in town. She also said that she climbed up Koko Crater again. I was intentionally distant. I have no idea why the handmaiden is trying to be friendly. Perhaps it's because of that ring on her finger. The one with a rock on it. I'm not sure if it's an engagement ring but it has more significance than to suffice as a prop. I can only surmise that the handmaiden's intentions are questionable. She is attempting to show me that she has got it goin' on. Her ploy must have worked since I felt depressed for most of the day.

I spent the rest of the day just talking with my students since I didn't have much planned. That made me feel a little better. Student turnout was low anyway since tomorrow is a holiday. I talked with Dennis on the express bus this afternoon. I used to wait at the bus stop with him in the mornings. We usually talk about the pathetic economy of Hawai'i. He mentioned that the average income in Hawai'i is only $25,000 per year. As you can see, that's extremely low. Dennis should know. He's in the insurance business, a reliable source of actuary statistics. Of course, don't bother telling the handmaiden about this. She's living in the lap of luxury with rich guys. Interestingly, if I had a decent class load at the university, I would make well over that and only work about 20 hours per week with holidays and all vacations. I'm only dreaming. Some say that teaching does not make any dough. Well, compared to 40+ hours per week wage slave jobs, maybe not. However, there is relatively little stress. There are no hostile co-workers to contend with. There are no supervisors per se. Only 20 or so hours per week. And, even at the lowest level, one has the title of "professor." Well, if by some miracle I pass the comprehensive exam, then maybe I'll consider a doctorate. Dr. Lavahead. Oh man.

Thursday November 11

Things are looking grim for the ol' lavahead. With just two days left, I still could not scrape up enough incentive to cram for my comprehensive exam. I spent several hours at Barnes & Noble for the express purpose of reviewing what little material I had available. There were just too many people there. I couldn't concentrate. So, I wasted a day. However, I happened to catch a panel of Nisei WWII veterans relating their war experiences as part of the Veteran's Day commemoration. Each of the panelist contributed to the recently released book "Japanese Eyes, American Heart." I was deeply moved by their testimonials.

My beloved digital camera still goes with me everywhere. It's the FujiFilm DX-10 model and I have to say that it was a steal at the $260 price. The pictures come out real nice but I have the compression pumped up when I process the images so they are not quite as clear as the original. However, I must do that to reduce the size of the files. It's too bad that I am not an exciting guy. Otherwise, I'd have some great pictures for the LavaheadCam. All I have are pictures of the ol' lavahead droppin' back some cheap brewskis. Sheesh!

A strange, undisclosed incident brought me in contact with one of the sages. As I am to understand, the handmaiden's progeny is slated to visit in December. That explains why the handmaiden has maintained her present residence at considerable expense. I believe that the lies I have been privy to are somehow related to the sages. The handmaiden believes that I am a conduit of information to one of the sages and she is attempting to circumvent that alleged information leak. Not to worry. The sages already know all. The bottom line? Denial by fabrication does not make anything go away.

Friday November 12

The express bus stud wore some fancy duds, but his babe never got on this morning. He frantically looked out the the window to see where she could be when we passed her stop. To no avail. He got off at the usual stop baby gets off at and walked through the university. He was making one last ditch effort to find her. My guess is that he was going to ask her out on a date. Booyah! I ran into "Mr. Z" (as he calls himself), the professor who is to proctor my exam tomorrow. He said that he has not received a copy of the actual exam so we are not sure what will happen.

As the dark hour of my demise rapidly approaches, I found uneasy comfort in further procrastination. I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble doing as little studying as possible. I did manage to find an interesting article by Sue Erikson Bloland, daughter of famed psychoanalyst Erik Erikson, in the current issue of the Atlantic Monthly. Somewhat ironic considering that my comprehensive exam is on counseling psychology. The article titled "Fame The Power and Cost of a Fantasy" led me on an emotional rollercoaster ride as I had to review my own motivations in life. Let me include some noteworthy excerpts:

In the relationship between the public image of a famous person and the private human being there is inherently something profoundly paradoxical. The public image is the reverse of the private person as experienced by him or her self and by intimate others. It might be accurate to say that the public image reflects what the private person most longs to be. It represents an ideal self.

When a person feels so deeply flawed that he or she cannot imagine ever "fitting in" human society, a solution is to imagine rising above human society. This is the narcissistic solution to shame: If I am not lovable for who I am, I will have to make people adore me for what I can do — and that is how I will sure that I am never abandoned and alone. The ultimate threat of the experience of shame, after all, is that one will be rejected or ostracized as unworthy of human companionship. And the ultimate motive for seeking extraordinary success, power, or fame is to make sure that this most feared rejection never happens.

Public applause and admiration are intoxicating while they last. More than that, they are addictive, creating an appetite for the heightened feeling of acceptance that comes with being adored and revered. But when the applause was over, my father experienced a letdown, a feeling of abandonment, a depression, that diminished his pleasure in everyday living. After one has been publicly celebrated and is again in the privacy of home, the sense of isolation can be more acute because of its contrast with that exhilarating moment when one felt like the center of the universe.

As I've said many times before, I'm livin' large in a small way. I have used teaching (and LoserNet) as a means to seek public acceptance and increase my notoriety. I have no talents or skills that will elevate me to stardom yet I can now see that Bloland's description fully serves to depict who I am. And, it also explains the depression I experience daily. Once my so-called performance in my classes is over, I cannot cope with the aloneness. I can also see that I desire more but I have tempered that desire with my uncertainties and fears. I am not who I appear to be. Now I know why.

Also, while at Barnes & Noble, I was privy to listen to a conversation at the next table that involved some serious flirting between a guy and a babe. Baby was doing all the flirting. The guy was somewhat boring. She must have found him to be suitable since she was using every wily trick in the book. I cannot imagine myself in that scenario. It made me uncomfortable just being there as an invisible third party. Dating is not a game for those of us who are "deeply flawed."

Saturday November 13

The trip on the bus to town took about an hour. When I got there, I immediately ran into "Mr. Z." He told me that he never received the exam. He checked again to see if anything came in at the last minute. Nothing. So, I have no idea what is going on. I piddled around for a while and then I took the bus home. I was invited to a party last night but thought better of it because I felt it was much wiser to study for the exam. What exam? So, I was left with no recourse but to partake of the fire water.

As I drove to Barnes & Noble this evening for my weekend ritual, I saw another six-four rapidly approaching from behind. It caught up with me as we approached a red light. I looked over and noticed that it was a later model but it was the exact same color. There was a gorgeous blonde babe driving. She kept looking over while we waited at the light. We managed to catch a few more red lights and she kept looking over each time. I noticed that she had Washington license plates. I didn't really acknowledge baby since I am a loser and eunuch.

Moms has been sick so she's been confined to the house. She says it "just a cold." I know she has the flu. Moms has been pacing around because she has absolutely nothing to do. It's all starting to drive me batty. As a matter of fact, everything is driving me crazy. I need seclusion. I need to be away from civilization for a few weeks to revitalize myself. I am becoming sadder as each day passes. I don't why. I am also beginning to feel that I won't be able to keep my composure much longer. I am becoming more afraid that I will commit a violent act, something the people of Hawai'i were introduced to a week or so ago.

The biggest mistake I could make is to sit and wait until I explode. I am beginning to see the source of that anger. I long for a kind of human connectivity that seems impossible in this day and age. I deal with substantial quantities of superficial interactions. Anything more and there's some kind of catch. I find that the only people who want to interact with me either want something or want to sell me something. Look in people's eyes. Can you see their soul? I can't. All I see is the sinister kahuna lurking behind the fake smiles. My eyes are no longer visible to others. My shades block the view of my soul because I refuse to become vulnerable again. When the soul is exposed, it will be attacked.

The pains are back. I suspect it's my liver acting up again. I have run out of Keystone Light and I will have to get more tomorrow. Can I put a stop to this madness now before it's too late? What will I do if I go on the wagon? I can't afford to do anything else except to drink cheap booze. I feel helpless and overwhelmed. The debilitating effects have permeated every aspect of my life. All because I am one of the millions of economically disenfranchised. What do the other poor losers do for fun? Drink cheap booze, what else? On the other hand, the cheap booze could be what's holding me back from doing anything constructive. It's easier to lapse into a coma than to try something new. I suspect that the cheap booze is also responsible for my anhedonia. That's probably why I resemble a zombie. I'm afraid to put myself on the line. I don't really want to do things by myself but it would be easier than joining a group. You see, I'm still a shy, quiet guy although one would be hard pressed to tell while talking with me or to observe how I conduct my classes. Of course, that's the public relations side of the ol' lavahead. The real lavahead is a frightened little boy still living at home with moms.

Sunday November 14

I have done nothing about my financial situation so I must assume that I have officially defaulted on my loans. What else could I do after that but buy more Keystone? The sinister kahuna has finally brought me to my knees. Even though I was hammered, I managed to get the yardboy chores done. I also washed my my beloved six-four. I can better understand my inability to do much given some historical antecedents. My parents have never done much. All throughout my childhood, we rarely went anywhere. Pops spent his weekends drinking Primo beer (worse than Keystone), getting hammered, watching the tube, and passing out. Moms mostly did housework. That was my exciting family life. No wonder I am such a boring putz. Not much has changed. Moms has absolutely nothing to do. Although she has quite a few friends in the church, she opts to sit at home and read religious literature. She does not care to socialize. Little wonder. She is preoccupied with her self-imposed guilt. It's a totally sad state of affairs.

I should be able to transcend all of this nonsense since I have a clear understanding of what is going on. Apparently I am more stupid than I thought. Human frailty does not preclude stupidity. That's why history tends to repeat itself even though we have recorded the same stupid mistakes from time indefinite. Last night, I perused a book by the Monks of New Skete while at Barnes & Noble. It was a treatise on how we can apply monastic principles to our daily lives to enrich and enlighten our souls. I already know the importance of spirituality. Without it, we are nothing. Even with this knowledge, I have forsaken my own spirituality for vain pursuits. Look where it's gotten me.

Monday November 15

I found an interesting article from Women.com by Beth Weinhouse titled "Blame It on His Hormones." Well, she explained everything. Guys are a product of their hormones - specifically one - testosterone. That's why, she asserted, guys have difficulty with intimacy, why guys love sports (even if it's just the armchair variety), why guys like to do da wild thing in the morning, amongst other things. Well, had I known this earlier, I could have ascribed my behavior to "that High-T time of the month." Well, hey! I'm a High-T kind-of-a-guy!

In the wake of my financial demise, I can say that I feel no different. I suppose I should try to reconciliate something before my credit record plummets and I lose all my credit cards. After all, that's what I use for money. In view of this pathetic situation, I have not been taking too many pictures with my digital camera.

Well, I think I've found the babe of my dreams (see photo at right). She fits into my High-T profile. Of course, since all I have is my hand, I am merely dreaming. Kind of reminds me of Clare. I can already feel the testosterone building up. Where's the Keystone? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

Tuesday November 16

As my modem is on it 253rd try to connect with the modem pool, I have to wonder what this journal is all about. Why do I maintain it? Who really reads it? None of my old time friends read this crap. Heck, half of them still haven't discovered the Net. That's another reason I don't have to worry about going to the mainland anymore to visit. I have nothing to offer except my pathetic and boring company. Who needs that? I should break down and buy a tube and a DVD player. Then, I can order a whole mess of hurdy-gurdy DVDs. That's as close as I'm going to get to Jenna Jameson (at left). Oh that Jenna!

I have come realize my insignificance. Well, I've known that for a long time. However, I have not received or made a phone call in two months. I haven't even gotten any real e-mail recently. Just the so-called spam crap. Man, what a loser! That's what I mean when I say I have nothing to offer. Friendship these days is contingent on what one can offer to others. That's why affluent jackasses have a lot of friends. And, that's why they get a lot of action, if you know what I mean. That's the whole point of being rich. To get laid. What a damned game! Why should I even care? It's better to be alone than to be around fake people. At least I found the Your Daily Girlfriend site. Sheesh!

Wednesday November 17

Well, the express bus stud has won baby over. They were holding hands today as he walked her to the campus. He must have snapped into action recently although I thought I saw him kiss her a couple of weeks ago. What drives a man to go for broke? I'm sure he was so enamored by her beauty that it overcame his senses. Sheesh! Well, at least two of my classes have decided to have potluck feasts during finals week. So, the students are all bringing different entrées to class next week. The classes at the university never followed through with similar plans last month. Typical.

So far, my life has been put on hold ever since my demise this past weekend. There was a phone message from the university when I arrived home. Something about scheduling. I can only wonder if my classes for next term have been canceled. The sinister kahuna is working overtime to bring me to my knees. There may be another violent incident here in Hawai'i very soon. Time for me to visit the Internet gun shop again.

Thursday November 18

Fortunately, I was spared from further persecution by the sinister kahuna. My fears yesterday were unfounded. I rewarded myself with a frozen pot pie dinner. Makes your mouth water, doesn't it? Am I livin' large, or what? I am feeling the withdrawal effects of no fire water. This was my fourth day. However, I can't say that I won't break down and imbibe before the night is over.

I can't believe what a computer nerd I am. I spend every spare moment during the day in front of the computer. Then, when I return home, I immediately log on. Frankly, I enjoy playing with the computer. it keeps me busy. I am tired of being made to feel inadequate because I'm not doing any extreme sports. I could and I still may. In the areas of interest I pursue, I strive to be good. Not exactly a perfectionist but close. If I can't devote the time, then I don't usually bother. I'd rather be in front of my beloved computer. From what I can tell, most people take up interests to impress others. Guys, especially, want to impress babes with their athletic prowess. I'd rather be known as the wimpy geek that I am.

I may have to reconsider all of that. The modem is on it's 765th try to connect to the modem pool. I have effectively been sitting at the computer for several hours and have got nothing done except to stare at the "Line Busy" message. It's time to break out the Keystone!

Friday November 19

Barnes & Noble. Then, more modem pool nonsense. After a while, it just gets tiring. My mind is no longer functioning. I am an automaton. I gave in to the fire water last night. I only had four cans of Keystone left so the damage was minimal. I'm beginning to agree with Hermit. The beer is no longer enough. I need stronger fire water. King Cobra, perhaps? Well, hey! Don't let the smooth taste fool ya!

I spent some time grading a few final exams. One of the babes in one class, Rosemarie, wrote this as one of her answers:

Men admire me for my physical appearance, my beautiful long hair, my sexy legs, tantalizing seductress bedroom eyes, and a smile that would warm any man's heart.

In another class, Joyce made an interesting PowerPoint presentation called "boys." I will upload it later for your perusal. I swear I'm not making any of this up. This is the kind of nonsense I have to put up with in my role as the "professor." Sometimes I wish that I was stranded on a deserted island with Ginger and Maryanne. Just kidding!

Saturday November 20

It's easy to see that the humor has worn off around here. I am constantly on the edge of sanity. If it weren't for this journal, I would have snapped a long time ago. I am beginning to understand life as we humans have decided it should be. Technological conveniences aside, we have made life much harder because we have little concern beyond our own instant gratification. Little wonder that no one can lead a fulfilled life without endless distractions and material pursuits. We, as a society, firmly believe that the grass is always greener on the other side. Therefore, this philosophy permeates the very fabric of our existence. There's always something better or someone better just over the hill. It's foolish to settle for second best when just within reach is perfection. Poor Æsop. No one remembers his fables. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I'm surprised that people live like this. Maybe it's because they fool themselves in believing that they are in the pursuit of excellence. I find it particularly odd that no one really is able to invoke moderate introspection to see where the flaw really lies. I suppose I should know better since the bookshelf psychologists have been making money by persuading people that the fault lies with everyone else. It's an easy notion to buy. Who wants to admit fault?

The truly insecure ones readily accept this notion. It's an easy way out with no liability. Since no one except a small select few are willing to accept even an iota of responsibility, it's easy to see the ramifications - the very society we live in. The symptoms are all there. Little wonder that I am always hammered in my spare time. I am one of the eternally flawed. I have been thrown into the lowest caste. There is a way out. I must become aggressive and make it known that others are imperfect and at fault. Not me. Never me. I am perfect. I deserve better. It's sounds familiar, doesn't it? Most will argue that perfection is never assumed. That is the paradox. If we always deserve better, then we do assume perfection.

In perusing the book by the Monks of New Skete again, I began to realize that their message applies to me. My happiness is determined by the spiritual connections I make. As I make absolutely no spiritual connections, I am unhappy. I have nothing in common with the instant gratification crowd just as I had little in common with the handmaiden. The pursuit of money and material possessions in the name of happiness is embraced by the general populace. Spirituality is accomplished when one is able to afford to buy things that others cannot. While I'm in a drunken stupor, I can forget all of this crap. When I sober up, however, I'm in a really bad way. Perhaps I'm insecure as well. I have to travel the path alone because I am different from the others. There is no one to provide encouragement. Only ridicule. I am an oddity. An enigma. A crackpot. Heck, I've given in before and compromised myself. Why? Just to have company? No one really wants to be alone. I want to give in again. Yet, I'm never truly happy when I do. I feel like a hypocrite.

I am very certain that I will never be in a relationship with a babe ever again. I suppose that bothers me but I am coming to accept it. I don't think that a relationship is as important as I have been made to believe. My biology may disagree but the real forces to reckon with are the marketers. Romance is big business. It generates a lot of dough. I am a monk by nature. I don't want to display my wares. I don't want to buy things to impress babes or to get their attention. I don't intend on proving to any of them that I can be a "provider." Even if I ever save enough dough to be more than comfortable, I would never tell anyone especially a babe. I will always claim to be unemployed and broke. That's what I claim now (the truth) and so I have no friends. What does that tell you?

The inner struggle continues. Will the ol' lavahead finally cry "Uncle" and give in to the debauchery of the world? Or will he find his place in monastic solitude? Is there a middle ground? And, what about the LavaheadCam? Sheesh!

To be continued ... Go to R.13

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