Wednesday November 28, 2001

As I lectured in my classes today at the Asylum, I experienced a strange feeling of derealization. I felt transparent. I'm not exactly sure how else to describe it. I am totally disillusioned with everything. Perhaps I've been spending too much time researching current events. Or, maybe I'm still in shock over that babe Ellen's crush on a colleague. I don't fit in this society. I don't relate to people. I am essentially forced to be a loner. Life is passing very quickly before my eyes, and I only see myself putting time in as a wage slave. I am doing what it takes to survive. Yet, I derive no meaning from what I do.

If only I had been smart enough to realize that I was painting myself into a corner. I have been chokin' da chicken for years. If I had got off my ass and gone to work like I should have, then maybe today I would have had a nice, cozy monastery out in the middle of nowhere. I could have been retired by now. Instead, I'll be working into my Golden Years. Being alone is not a problem. Sometimes I am stupid enough to think that I need a babe. However, when I have deal with all of those young bitches at the university, I come home ever so thankful that I am a monk. Yes, I have many drop-dead gorgeous co-eds in my classes, but they are bitches in the true sense of the word. I have never seen so many babes who are so full of themselves. They all think that they are some incarnation of Britney Spears. Being alone is not a problem for me. Being trapped in a rut is a big problem, however. I am wasting my life away going through the motions of a pseudo-professor just so that I can collect a paycheck. I am a rubber stamp in the diploma mill.

I've been trying to download a copy of a spreadsheet for my Palm IIIe. However, all I've encountered so far are sites that I can no longer connect to, or the links are erroneous. Interspersed with this frustration are the sheer number of babes I have to listen to as they whine at me. I'll just spend the evening on the Net so I can relax. The Net is my only friend.

Ol' Lavahead Day 2001

It has to come around sooner or later. What is it? Ol' Lavahead Day, of course. There was no celebration. In fact, I told no one. After a grueling day of putting up with self-serving punks, I returned home and sat in my favorite chair. My homey Rod had called and left a message. I'll probably call him this weekend. Vanessa gave me half of an apple pie for some reason. I brought it home with me on the express bus.

The search for a spreadsheet for my Palm IIIe is turning into a fiasco. I have downloaded a compressed file but I cannot expand the file since the network profile locks out any kind of installation. The real problem is that I must use one of the campus computers since I cannot synchronize the Palm with my beloved iBook. My purchase of the iBook has rendered most of my other digital toys useless. I cannot connect my digital camera to my iBook either.

Since this is Ol' Lavahead Day, I've been thinking about my close-to-fifty years on this planet. At this point in time, I only exist because I am alive. The most important aspect of my day, and hence my life, is the journal. Yet, I have so little to write about. I had pondered the discontinuation of the journal on this very day, but I have decided to continue it for no other reason that I would have nothing to do otherwise. And, I only keep my iBook around for that reason. Perhaps I should concentrate more on my banal thoughts. Obviously, my life events are a total joke and a complete waste of time to describe in any detail.

I am going to continue my quiet celebration of Ol' Lavahead Day by reading a few of the alternative news sites on the Net. I will also check out the Apple forums. Later, I will sit and contemplate my newfound commitment to the monk lifestyle.

Friday November 30

I am a year older and much crankier. Everything gets on my nerves. Moms keeps microwaving cups of water as we speak. Each time, I must unplug my iBook power supply because it shares the same outlet with the microwave oven. Otherwise, the surge would kill my iBook. That's how pathetic everything is. Sheesh! Since Ryan is leaving the Asylum in Spring, I will become the sempai (senior man) as opposed to my current kohai (junior man) position. The self-appointed "technology curriculum coordinator," Philip, has been pressuring me to take over the Visual Basic and the HTML/JavaScript classes that were once coveted by Ryan. I really don't want to facilitate the classes because they will require a lot of preparation time. That's why no one else wants to do them as well. The quandary is that I am going to be the sempai.

I have discovered that I won't meet my financial goals until the next pay period. However, if it were not for pops' annuity and pops' small savings account (the one my bro and I had split the proceeds), then I would be close to $3,000 short of my goal at the end of the year. This is simply appalling. Remember, the iBook was the only big ticket item that I purchased. Even my hurdy-gurdy DVD library was chump change in comparison. I can't believe how much effort it takes to save even a small amount of dough. In comparison, my bro is spending dough like there's no tomorrow. Well, I'm just glad to have left the salt mines for the weekend.

Saturday December 1

The final month of the year is upon us. I can't believe that I've made it through another year of wage slavery. In retrospect, time has flown by. And, I still have to ask myself, what have I got to show for it? Absolutely nothing. I spent most of the day sitting in my favorite chair, lapsing in and out of a coma as usual. Later, I did my yardboy chores. The heavy rains of last week caused quite a bit of soil to slide down the hill. So, I used the soil to even out the front yard. At least that saved me from having to purchase a few bags of topsoil and compost.

Yesterday, I had a chance to talk to Pseudo-professor Jim. I ran into him while I was waiting for the express bus. We talked for over half an hour. Pseudo-professor Jim had written a couple of articles and forwarded copies to me. The bus was a no show, so I caught the later bus. A major traffic problem delayed my arrival in Hawai'i Kai by another 20 minutes. Anyway, I had thought of going to the gym this afternoon and then going to Starbuck's in Koko Marina because Pseudo-professor Jim mentioned that he would be there. However, I just didn't feel like going anywhere.

My bro's wife came by with her son at about 4:30pm, which made me wish that I had stepped out. My bro was supposed to come by after work, since he was at the same side job in Kalama Valley. I'll be perfectly honest. I don't trust my bro's wife. I suspect that the dolt was not exactly tickled pink by the reconciliation between my bro and I. Of course, none of that would have happened had it not been for pops' untimely passing. The real issue, I sense, is moms' house. There is no doubt in my mind that my bro will not be able to purchase a place of his own. My bro and his family are stuck in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in Kaimuki. Needless to say, that's not going to fly in a couple of years. I seriously doubt that my bro has enough dough put away to even rent a larger apartment. As I am living in moms' house right now, there is a clear danger to the dolt that I may be trying to take away what rightfully belongs to her (and my bro). Since she has borne the only progenitor of the family name, she is entitled to everything. I, who have nothing, deserve nothing. I have no facts to back up my allegations. Just call it intuition. My bro's wife is a rank amateur in comparison to the handmaiden insofar as deceitful practices are concerned. However, the dolt appears to have moms completely bamboozled. I am worried about my bro. I expect that, once title of the house is transferred to his name, he will be handed divorce papers and will subsequently lose his shirt. I suppose that it's time that my bro and I discuss these matters.

As of ten o' clock, my bro had not returned home, nor did he stop by here. The dolt called every five minutes. My bro was not responding to his pager. Little wonder why. Moms was completely worried. I'm sure that my bro was droppin' back a few brewskis with da boyz. However, I've always noticed how little time he spends with his family. Sometimes he and his wife drive here separately. Can you see that I'm absolutely correct in my assertions?

Sunday December 2

Lapsing in and out of a coma while sitting in my favorite chair is my idea of living a fulfilling life. What else is there to do? Since I have no need for superfluous material possessions, then I certainly don't have to go shopping. I have no desire to visit anyone and spend useless time engaged in idle chatter. Most of the places I would like to visit are war zones, so I'm better off staying put. Sheesh! My bro didn't visit today, which is fine. I really could use a break from droppin' back expensive brewskis. I forced myself to go to the gym. The gym is usually packed with rich haole s. Most of them are terribly out of shape and extremely weak. As I did my own mediocre workout, I thought about how stupid modern life is. Our jobs are so sedentary that we must pay to go to the gym to use machines to maintain muscle tone or increase cardiovascular fitness. When I returned home, I did my yardboy chores and called it a day. I must return to the salt mines again tomorrow and follow the usual nauseating ritual.

Monday December 3

Let's face it. The ol' lavahead has been in a rut for a long time, probably ever since he left Convalescent City. He's been through some tough times, most of which occurred after his return to Hawai'i. Now, he's vegetating in his favorite chair or he's doing time in the salt mines. Wage slavery, he calls it. Damned straight! I've become too serious. I spend too much time researching stuff over which I have no control. So, we are going after Saddam now. Who cares? Bill of Rights flushed down the toilet. Who cares? Russia edging us out in Afghanistan with a huge "humanitarian" airlift. Who cares? Recession. Who cares? Now that all the big sales are in effect, I should drive my beloved gashog six-four to the other side of the island where Circuit City is located and purchase a 32-inch Sony digital WEGA tube. Heck, I've got enough dough to afford one of those idiot boxes. After bringing it home and setting it up, I would — wait, I'd have to run to Foodland and buy some cheap brewskis first! Okay, then I'd set it up on the table across from my favorite chair and sit right in front of the damned thing all day and all night long. Isn't that what everyone else does? Don't worry, be happy.

The day was like a blur to me. I can't remember much after disembarking the express bus this morning. Next thing I knew, I was sitting on the express bus going back to Hawai'i Kai. I managed to install a small spreadsheet called MiniCalc Lite on my Palm IIIe this afternoon. I used the computer in my classroom at the university to do so. I will probably purchase the software tonight because the price was reduced to $15. However, I cannot HotSync it to my iBook. So, I'll have to find a campus computer to install the conduit software. Well, at least I'll be able to make use of my Palm device rather than give it away for nothing. I plan to implement my gradebook in MiniCalc. I am now also using the Datebook functions to keep track of my class schedule. Too bad that I can't use it to keep track of all the babes I've been skinnin' up. Just kidding! Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

Tuesday December 4

I've noticed that I return home in an extremely agitated state. The reason, I believe, is that I only eat two small bagels for lunch. I do not take in enough nutrition during the day and that affects my fragile mental state. In addition, I drink that crappy Fodgers (remember that from the alt.coffee newsgroup a long time ago?) all morning at the Asylum.

I discovered that Dana, one of the gorgeous local babes in my class at the Asylum, has two kids. She can't even be much older than twenty. It's really sad. The same goes for Vanessa's friend Ellen and Deena, another gorgeous babe, both in their early thirties with several offspring. What always comes to mind is the rhetorical question that Pseudo-professor Robert had posed when we had lunch together many moons ago. "Why is it these babes are not with guys like us?" He always includes me even though I am a monk. However, I know what he's saying. Most of these babes end up with losers who are only man enough to use the Vienna Sausage. After that, they're outta there. The babes get stuck with the kids. I'm just wondering how these babes could be so stupid as to think they would not get pregnant after doin' da wild thing. Then, after they have one child, they manage to get pregnant again and again. Who supports these kids? Where is the dough coming from? I can't even imagine myself supporting a family on what I make. In my weakened state today, I must confess that I wondered why I don't have a babe like Dana. Isn't that pathetic? I'm not sure how I stooped to that level of debauchery.

I managed to e-mail Pseudo-professor Robert. He replied fairly quickly. From what I can tell, he's still working for the Legal Aid Society. My homey Rod and I finally got to chat this evening. He's still in LA and still carrying on the traditions of the good ol' days. Rod mentioned that his cholesterol level was above 240 just like mine. Same b-day, same cholesterol level. Sheesh! I've been playing with my registered version of MiniCalc Lite. I'm definitely impressed because it adds a whole new level of functionality to my Palm IIIe. I may set up my gradebook worksheet tonight. Then, maybe I'll discuss the babe situation in more detail tomorrow.

Wednesday December 5

The day was a blur once again. I've been on the run since last week when all of my students at the university submitted their project packets. One of my students, a babe from India, stopped by to talk with me. She was telling me about life in India and how it is so different from here. "People have it really good here," she said. "And, they don't even appreciate it." How true.

I'm not exactly sure why I lapsed into a moment of weakness yesterday. I am around so many babes, such that I find it hard to understand how I've remained a steadfast monk. The choice isn't really mine. I mean, I could try to bust a move on the babes only to end up humiliated through rejection. No thanks. Give me the monk life any day. In fact, I'm better off loading up some games on my trusty Palm IIIe than entertain the idea of finding a babe. As I've said before, babes are not interested in eunuchs. Nor are they interested in a General Noriega look-alike. Sheesh!

The babe situation is moot. I've become so distant to people in the past year, so I will not find myself in a precarious situation. I believe that I project an extreme level of aloofness because I have no personal dealings with anyone. I have even cut myself off from friends of the past. I have made no new friends either. Even in the classroom environment, I have heard that I am not well liked by students. Things have really changed in the last year or so. The babe situation is really just a matter of residual biology. I certainly cannot stand the companionship of babes for longer than a few seconds. The psychopathology of the so-called "loner" is what keeps many of us apprehensive about making a full commitment to singularity. There really is no pathology. The common belief is that humans are social creatures. What that means is that we have a need for cooperative dependence in order to survive, but we do not necessarily need companionship. The most sickening aspect of the human condition is the biological struggle that torments us through our lifetime. Frankly, I am tired of the biological surge when I am in the presence of babes. I am even more fatigued by the inner voice that says I should snap into action. The monks had it right when they cloistered themselves in isolation. Out of sight, out of mind.

Thursday December 6

I had a long discussion in the Asylum's library with Susan, one of the married babes who was a student of mine last term at the Asylum. She mentioned that there were quite a few babes who are interested in Ryan. However, Ryan already has a babe. Last year, I had asked Kristel (a former staff member) about Ryan's babe:

"Well, she's kind of big," she told me as she stretched her arms outward.

"How big is that?" I asked.

"Let's put it this way. She's bigger than Barbie," she replied, referring to Barbie, who works in the academics office.

"What? Bigger than Barbie? Sheesh!"

Of course, none of the babes know this. Susan also mentioned that a few babes had said something to the effect that the ol' lavahead needs to do da wild thing more often so he is not so cranky. I don't see anyone volunteering for the job. As we were talking, that babe Deena came in to do a little studying. What a babe! Not that it matters. I'm a monk.

As I stood at the bus stop, I pondered this whole foolish scenario. This is not a perfect world. It's far from perfect. Even The Bull found that out when he aborted his search for the perfect virgin. He ended up with an "instant family." A loser in my age group has even less choices. Speaking of which, that babe Dana was in class today. I've already ascertained that she's extremely dangerous. My mind was starting to play tricks on me again. Fortunately, Mark was on the bus. I have not seen him in a while, so we had to talk story for the duration of the ride home.

I've been really impressed with MiniCalc Lite on my Palm IIIe so far. This evening, I made a spreadsheet to calculate my taxes. Now, I just have to plug all the numbers in and it will do the calculations for me. If it were not for this journal, I probably could have gotten by without my beloved iBook. A good, color Palm handheld would have sufficed.

Friday December 7

It's confirmed. I will be assuming Ryan's coveted classes commencing next term at the Asylum. These include the Visual Basic, FrontPage, and HTML/JavaScript classes. Later, I'll also have the Web Database class under my auspices as well. I'm not exactly overjoyed, but I suppose that it will insure my job security for a little while longer. Philip, the "technology curriculum coordinator," was happy. He also mentioned that he's heard of a coup being formulated by a group of pseudo-professors at the university. The contract rate for pseudo-professors has not changed in 12 years, so many of them are pretty irate. They plan to walk out. I don't really care. I have made adjustments in my lifestyle now just so that I can meet my financial goals regardless of circumstance.

I've been returning home late all week because I've been grading all of the projects submitted by my students at the university. I am happy that the weekend is finally here. I have left the salt mines. I no longer bring work home with me. That's my quiet revolution to protest the low pay of pseudo-professors. The only work-related activity I have planned is to finish populating my gradebook MiniCalc worksheet for my beloved Palm IIIe. I'll spend the rest of the time in my favorite chair. As for babes, who needs 'em? I've got my hand. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

Saturday December 8

My excitement has now waned. I am somewhat disappointed by MiniCalc Lite because its performance is rather slow on any spreadsheet table larger than a few cells. I have to set the global worksheet attribute for manual recalculations to compensate. What did I expect? The Palm IIIe is not a computer per se. It was not designed to do those kinds of tasks. It is simply an electronic organizer. So, I spent most of my day lapsing in and out of a coma in my favorite chair. Moms is preparing all kinds of food again, so I expect to see my bro and his family tomorrow.

Sunday December 9

Much of the information that I have acquired from alternative news sources has finally filtered into the mainstream news, albeit in completely watered down form. It really doesn't matter because the powers-that-be will do whatever they want to do. We, the minions, should be content to sit back and enjoy the comfortable existence we have at the expense of others. I am now only concerned with banal and benign topics anymore. Yesterday, I woke up at 8am and, the next thing I knew, it was already past three o' clock. I was still sitting in my favorite chair. I managed to break free from my semi-supine position a few times because of the on-going ant problem. I remove a few ants at a time from their trail and wash them down the drain. There are two predominant trails going through the house. My sporadic and local exterminations only seem effective through repetition. I have, however, all the time in the world since I have nowhere to go. Somehow, life is resembling Robbe-Grillet's classic In The Labyrinth in far too many ways.

I noticed with alarm that the Asylum did not advertise in the Sunday classifieds as it has been since as long as I can remember. I suspect that the Asylum's financial problems are running much deeper. The idiotic decision to rent storefront space for a handful of administrative staff will probably be the final nail in the coffin. I can only hope that the dump will remain operation for at least two more years. I also have a feeling that the textbook changes for Summer are going to be part of a sham to bilk the students of money. I've been told that the books are cheaper, but my guess is that the students will be charged a higher price.

The economic situation in Hawai'i is getting worse. The poor are getting poorer but they still manage to afford luxuries like cell phones. The whole problem ties in with globalization and the real tenets of the current "war." I will no longer detail my thoughts about this matter because it does no good. And, with the current situation, I could easily be called in by the Gestapo. The ads in the Sunday paper are bloated with useless plastic crap — trinkets to be dispensed as gifts to satisfy the pagan, commercialized "season of giving." Ultimately, only the fringe "survivalist" groups like the Freemen have a viable plan for the future — stock up as much non-perishable food as possible along along with a long-term supply of arms and ammo. As unemployment continues to rise and a steady stream of welfare recipients reach their six-year limit, there will be a major impact on the system. Funding a dubious war and extending unlimited handouts to "globalized" corporations will only bring about the demise of the lower echelon even quicker. The money system will remain intact, but interest rates and inflation will have to rise significantly. The trinkets that most people are now collecting in hedonistic bliss will be worthless in bartering for essentials such as food when we are collectively forced down Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs to the basic level of survival.

I often wonder about my bro. If my bro's wife suddenly becomes unemployed, I am certain that my bro's family will be back in moms' house in no time. My bro is already marginally employed, and he is heavily reliant upon his wife's income. The situation will become a powderkeg, and I will be forced to move out almost immediately afterward. I am not going to live in the den again, as it will quickly be transformed into the warehouse that it once was. Of course, my prediction for the disposition of the property will immediately come true. I am worried about my bro. Moms has already indicated that she will give preference to my bro's wife and her son if the demise of my bro's marriage comes to fruition. That, of course, means that both my bro and I would be out on the streets. Needless to say, I will always be the odd man out. With these gloomy prospects hovering over my head, I should move quickly to divest myself of any and all useless possessions. The dough will carry me much further than will the Bose Acoustic Wave or my beloved six-four.

I went to the gym this afternoon after spending most of the day in a coma. When I returned home, my bro was here with his son. My bro's wife arrived about an hour later. I did manage to have a short talk with my bro as we drove to Foodland to buy a couple of sacks of rice for moms and an eight-pack of Guiness for us. I asked my bro to consider the disposition of moms' house. I felt awkward bringing up the topic. I hope that we will settle the estate amicably when the time comes. In the event that my bro is taken to the cleaners by his wife, I promise that I will take him in and help him.

Monday December 10

I know my time is limited at both the Asylum and the university. My popularity with the students at both campuses is waning. I really don't belong in the profession any longer because my attitude toward students has changed. My patience with these vast numbers of doorknobs is at a low point. I hope that I can hang on for just two more years. I don't even associate with any faculty these days. Professor Russell invited me to attend his wedding. So far, I've given him some kind of feeble excuse that I will be off the island at the time. In reality, I will be sitting in my favorite chair. Weddings are a "couples" event. From what I could tell, I would be the only monk there. Count me out. The university had its big annual dinner party at some posh joint on Saturday evening. Naturally, I didn't attend. I am no longer concerned about hanging out with the unkempt nosehair crowd.

I received mail from American Century that the bond fund I am invested in has been consolidated with two other bond funds. So far, the fund is reporting an 11 percent yield over one year. Oddly, I set this up as one of my retirement accounts. The bulk of my investments is still in a money market fund yielding about two percent. I'm not sure why I don't convert some of that to a taxable bond fund and take advantage of the higher yields. That's probably why I'm a poverty-stricken loser.

I was late to work for the first time ever. Traffic on the antiquated H-1 freeway was bad. I looked out the window of the half-empty express bus and observed that almost every car on the road had one person in it. Yep, nothing but hideous 3,000-pound rolling toxic waste dumps with fat slobs at the wheel. The sad part is that I probably arrived earlier than these fools because they still had to find parking. Makes no sense. Sheesh!

Tuesday December 11

Another faculty meeting at the Asylum. Same old nonsense. Phillip, the self-appointed "technology curriculum coordinator," was sitting next to me. "Las Vegas style is pretty difficult," he told me at one point. He was playing Pocket Solitaire on his iPaq Pocket PC device. I had my Palm IIIe with me but I don't have Solitaire on it anymore.

I ran into Mark at the bus stop this afternoon. We had a nice chat during the ride home on the express bus. When I arrived at home, I discovered that moms had bought a new dining table set. My favorite, albeit dilapidated, old chair was also replaced. I'm not sure why moms spent so much dough on new furniture.

Wednesday December 12

The Federal Reserve lowered the interest rate yet again. My money market fund will be yielding close to one percent per annum very shortly. I am not even sure why the Fed continues this policy, given that it has done absolutely nothing but generate small spurts in the economy. Let's face it. No one has any dough to spend. Everyone is up to their necks in credit and the moneychangers are not lowering the rates for the peons.

I'm not sure why I continue to spiral further downward into the abyss of disillusionment. I am disenchanted with the wage slave situation. Although I have classes listed under my name for Spring term at the university, I have yet to receive the contracts. I may find myself in the same position as former Pseudo-professor Emmett. I am not even certain whether I care. Frankly, I think that I'm gradually losing my mind. I had to see that babe Deena in the Asylum's library this afternoon. When I departed for the university, she also left. We ended up in the same elevator. We walked up along opposite sides of Merchant Street. I could clearly see what a babe she was from my vantage point. I chuckled to myself knowing what a fool I was for letting my mind wander. After all, I am a monk. It's a good thing that I had already ordered a few more hurdy-gurdy DVDs for my expanding library. Well, hey! They were on sale!

I have finally put my grades into MiniCalc on my Palm IIIe. The performance is even worse than I expected. I am now thinking of scuttling the whole thing and just putting it in Excel as I originally intended. If I do, I will have wasted $14 for the cheesy MiniCalc software. I should be used to this by now. Mediocrity is all that I know. I just can't afford the finer things in life, and that includes babes like Deena. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Thursday December 13

"It can sure get distracting around here. It's a good thing you're a monk," Sitia, the director of the Asylum's library, told me today. He was referring to the "eye candy" (read: babes). Vanessa almost slipped and told me that she, too, has a crush on Ryan, although I am already certain of this fact. I have been cracking down on my classes in advanced preparation to take over Ryan's classes. The "high school shop teacher" mode is in full effect. I plan to bring this concept to the university and introduce it to my classes in the Spring term. Yes, my contracts arrived in the mail today. Finally, I am getting used to MiniCalc Lite. It's not so bad after all.

When I returned home from another banal day in the salt mines, I discovered that the ants had invaded the house again. Moms decided to spray them with that stupid can of Lysol air freshener. Of all the different scents available, moms had to pick the most tacky and pungent of them all. How that piece of [dung] could be called an air freshener alludes me.

Friday December 14

The Asylum held its annual party. I never sent in my RSVP but I crashed the party anyway. The food was marginal, but it was much tastier than the two plain bagels that I have for lunch every single day. I noticed that wherever I sat, people moved away from me. Actually, I don't care. I'd rather not make small talk with anyone. My goal is to move further into isolation with little or no dependence on anyone. Perhaps I'll pay dearly in the end when I am all alone. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! One thing is certain — I must never find myself in a position where I must ask anyone for a favor, reason being that I do not want to return those favors. I will only cooperate under "professional" situations where a fair barter is made. I no longer reveal any personal information (except in the journal). That, of course, has been the greatest deterrent to forming interpersonal relationships. I also make absolutely sure that I tell everyone that I'm a monk.

In time, I will polish my act such that there will be no doubt that I am some kind of devout monk. My exterior façade will be so virtuous that no one will feel comfortable around me. After all, the whole world is a steamy cauldron of lust. I've certainly got to return to the days when I was a pillar of strength. A man of conviction. Infinite willpower. I don't need to grovel around in debauchery. And, I certainly don't need big house, big car, big bank, and babes. All I need is peace of mind.

Saturday December 15

I had a dental appointment this afternoon. I asked about the tooth that has remained sensitive to cold temperatures ever since it was filled. The problem, it seems, has to do with the type of filling used. My dental plan only allows for standard silver amalgam fillings for molars. Had a plastic compound filling been used, then I would not be experiencing any discomfort. Much to my chagrin, another set of x-rays was taken. I can't even imagine how much radiation was probably absorbed by the oversized cranium. I can only suspect that the bill is being padded by these unnecessary services. I was somewhat perturbed by this because I just went through hella x-rays for the damned Barium Enema. Who keeps track of this crap? I could easily be beyond the safe exposure level.

I had some time to spare, so I walked across the street to Barnes & Noble in Kahala Mall. The place was packed with idiots who were grabbing anything in sight to fulfill the obligatory gift-giving ritual in less than two weeks. I am extremely happy that I am totally free of that farce. I was glad to leave and take the bus home. I don't plan to find myself in any mall any time soon.

That stupid bin Laden tape sure has everyone fooled, eh? I'm one of the last holdouts. I cannot believe that, through some kind of Divine intervention, this VHS tape was miraculously found lying around in an Afghani abode. Then, quickly it is introduced as the "smoking gun." What happened to all of the conclusive proof that was never released months ago? Heck, the damned audio is so bad that even the Arabs couldn't understand it. And what about that pathetic nonsense concerning the plans for a nuclear bomb being found earlier in some mud hut? It was a printout of an old Net hoax. Come on, someone planted that crap. Too much of this [dung] has been too damned suspicious for too long. I'm not buying any of it. Why aren't there news stories on real "freedom fighters" like baby in the photo at right?

I am going to spend the evening upgrading some software on my beloved iBook. Maybe I'll find something else useful for my Palm IIIe as well. I've seen quite a few people with Palm devices on the express bus. I have observed that they were playing games on them. I'm glad that I finally found a real use for mine.

Sunday December 16

I've decided that I must get rid of my digital camera. I have no way to interface it with my iBook. So, I'll probably sell it at a loss for under $100 or so. I perused all of the other junk that I've got lying around. Many of these items were gifts given to the ol' lavahead for no apparent reason. They have little useful value to me, so I will be donating them to Goodwill. The only gifts that I have actually used are the two small wind chimes given to me by the handmaiden and the Jacob's^® Little Piper wind chimes given to me by Malia. We live in a society that is so dependent on material expression that we have lost touch with the real meaning of giving. Useless gifts and cards are supposedly meant to express some emotive value to the recipient. In reality, it's just a quick fix to stay on the active list of one's acquaintances. The true gift that anyone can give is real friendship. No token trinkets are required. The only gift that I can offer is the company of my presence and my singular wit. I don't need to buy friendship. I'm better off spending the dough on my hurdy-gurdy DVD library or on some expensive booze. Sheesh!

I felt crappy most of the day, most likely because the oversized cranium was exposed to abnormal levels of x-rays. I lapsed in and out of a coma in the new chair. Not a pleasant experience. The new chair is much more uncomfortable than my favorite chair. Later, I forced myself to go to the gym. I pay $36 per month for my membership so I should be going there daily. Last night, I updated iTunes on my iBook, although I have no music to play. There's an upgrade for the DVD player, but there was an uproar in the Apple forums that it didn't work properly. I can't disable my DVD player. How else am I going to peruse my hurdy-gurdy DVD library? My bro didn't stop by this weekend. I suppose that he was engaged in a maniacal shopping spree just like everyone else. Well, I return to the salt mines tomorrow for more fun and games.

Monday December 17

I finally finished grading my classes at the university. The whole process could have done randomly. That's how bad it was. As always, I ended up grading very leniently. I can't very well flunk all of those doorknobs, can I? I inherited a couple of Zip disks, and so I archived the whole LoserNet site on one of them. I also submitted my contracts for next term. I have a lot to do this week. I am going on unpaid vacation at the end of week. I don't plan on going to town at all during my two week hiatus from the salt mines.

Well, my latest hurdy-gurdy DVD order has not arrived yet. The mail has been extremely slow ever since the Anthrax scare. What's even more pathetic is that genetic "fingerprinting" of the spores has now implicated a few US Army research labs. So far, all of the alternative and foreign news sources have been fairly accurate. The truth will eventually come out no matter how hard the real "evildoers" try to obfuscate it.

Tuesday December 18

I am frantically trying to get as much done before I go on vacation. I am working on my syllabus for my Spring term classes at the university. I'm also gathering material for my new classes at the Asylum. My vacation will be uneventful. Heck, I won't be earning a cent. All of my vacations are unpaid. I'm the low man on the totem pole. My new hurdy-gurdy DVDs have still not arrived. Frankly, I wonder why I ordered them. As a monk, I should avoid debauchery. And, as I have nothing to do with babes, it makes no sense to even maintain a hurdy-gurdy library.

I talked with Vanessa in the Asylum's library today. She seems really lost, and I suspect that she is heartbroken over Ryan. That babe Deena was also in the library. I was trying to imagine what it would be like to do da wild thing with baby. Yikes! I also ran into Serge, who is still trying to find a job. He mentioned that his buddy Ronald is back at Shirokiya and working for minimum wage. I couldn't believe it. Ronald was one of the few Asylum graduates who ended up with a decent job. He tried to climb the corporate ladder by switching jobs one too many times.

I've been going to the gym every day so far. My workouts still leave a lot to be desired. My physique (term used loosely) seems to be gradually degenerating. And, instead of increasing my regimen, I am tapering off. The whole idea of staying in shape is merely a ploy to attract babes. As I am a monk and a General Noriega look-alike, I am essentially wasting my time.

Wednesday December 19

Sometimes I have no idea how I manage to exist. I discovered that my haphazard methods of storing my files only results in my inability to ever find them again. Thus, I must create them again from scratch. It makes no sense. However, I had a whole mess of floppy disks, some with as little as one file stored. I have another Zip disk lying around, so I may consolidate everything and make it an archive.

Last night, I was not able to connect to the university modem pool. So, my evening consisted of an extended sitting session in my new favorite chair. My hurdy-gurdy DVDs have not yet arrived. I suppose that it will take close to three weeks for delivery just like last time. I am looking forward to my unpaid vacation. I will probably spend more time writing a few thoughts for the final chapter of this year's journal. I'll reflect on everything from babes to the salt mines. Isn't that great?

Thursday December 20

No matter how detached I try to be, I still oftentimes wonder about the predicaments of my students at the Asylum. I especially wonder about about all of these babes, young or older, who have kids. Babes like Dana, Deena, Rina, Ellen, Jacqueline, Malia, and so many others that I have come across. Some of the babes are living with their parents. Some are on their own but must still depend on financial support from their parents. Who watches their kids when they attend classes? As to be expected, they all come from West O'ahu, that is, from Waipahu on up to Wai'anae. I observe some of the younger ones like Dana. They are so immature, yet they are raising kids? It's such a pathetic cycle of stupidity. I am not siding with the babes. After all, they were stupid enough to hook up with losers, and they will continue to do the same thing. The real problem is that they are breeding a whole new generation that will follow in their parents footsteps.

I am finishing up my week as productively as possible. I have one more day before I leave the salt mines for two weeks. My hurdy-gurdy DVDs have not arrived yet. Why did I order more hurdy-gurdies? It makes no sense. I cannot be thinking about doin' da wild thing with babes. Then, I would foolishly believe that I should find a babe. Desperation would wield its ugly head, and I'd end up in a bigger mess than I was in before. Imagine if I hooked up with one of those troubled babes that I am constantly in contact with. Not only would I jeopardize my employment, but I would be stepping into a seedy world of lust and debauchery. My sole purpose would be to satisfy my primitive desires which would make me no better than the scum who preceded me. Yet, I see my eyes wandering. Could my hurdy-gurdy library be implicated? I believe that the babe situation as I have just presented it is also the recurring theme in Anonder's journal. The biological struggle is immense. There is almost no way to avoid the strong desire to do da wild thing. Being in the constant presence of babes does little to deter that desire. All of this should be cause for alarm. I have become weak and I could fall to the wayside.

We live in confusing times. Ultimately, we insatiably seek pleasures because of our fear of mortality. We know that peace of mind is the most noble of quests, yet we look for quick fixes. Babes, da wild thing, drugs, booze. I, myself, have become totally confused. I spew rhetoric in the manner that the gasbag politicians do. Inside, I am already a hypocrite. It's just a matter of time before my actions betray me.

Friday December 21

I received e-mail from one of Roach's minions at the Asylum. Apparently, a student had turned me in for dress code violations. The student was called to the mat because he was wearing shorts, so he blamed it on me. Mind you, the dress code is an on again, off again fiasco. No one takes this policy seriously because it is seldom enforced. Even Roach admitted that he would not enforce it. What's my story? Well, I go to the gym at 2pm whenever I can. Since the university is on break, I was able to go every day for the first time since Summer. After my workout, I return to the Asylum's library and do some work while I wait for the express bus. I never go upstairs where the offices and classrooms are located. I won't detail this stupid story any further because anyone can see where it's going. As usual, Roach and the other morons are bamboozled by the students. I wonder who the real doorknobs are. Remember when Toad had persuaded Roach and his minions that I was dating a student? Same old story. So, once again, my employment is in jeopardy. I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Quixtar wasn't somehow involved.

Two of my classes held potluck feasts. There was a lot of good food and I was chowing down. Yes, there are often good moments at the Asylum, but never has any of that to do with either the faculty or the administration. That's why I am sacrificing everything to become financially secure. Speaking of which, I have officially saved up a total of $60,500 as of this week. So, I have achieved my goal despite the various setbacks. I must remain employed for two more years to reach the ultimate goal of my five-year plan. Even then, I must work at least one more year to pay off the balance of my loans ($16,000 in 2004) and also offset the amount that I have in my IRA. No doubt, I won't really have enough to retire. However, I will be able to make better choices and, if the morons at the Asylum or the university continue to act up, then I'll just move on.

I am officially on unpaid vacation. Wheee! I'm going to upgrade OS X to version 10.1.2 tonight. That's the extent of my excitement. My hurdy-gurdy DVDs have not arrived yet. Yeah, who knows? Maybe after I reach my financial goals, then I may break my monk vows and start dating all of the babe students at the Asylum. Booyah!

Saturday December 22

The OS X upgrade was successful. I am extremely pleased with iBook and, thus, it is the focal point of my life. My life is one of social isolation and seclusion. It's an irreversible choice at this point in time. I am close to 50 years of age, yet I have absolutely no close personal friends. I make no effort to befriend anyone. If I do befriend someone, I quickly alienate that person with my inability to meet the bare minimum of social obligations. Lord knows, I will pay the price for this behavior. There is little reason to believe that I could be anything else other than a monk. I am effectively a loner. Oftentimes, in confusion, I speak of babes. Yet, aside from da wild thing, I have no desire to maintain the pretense of a modern day "relationship." After all, that concept is a total farce.

As I analyze my station in life, I have come to realize that my frustration results from my inability to totally remove myself from the proximity of people. Humans have become like roaches, infesting every square inch of this planet. If people didn't behave badly, I'd say that the situation would be tolerable. However, the world is full of self-righteous ignorant scum. They are so stupid and do not realize that they are being manipulated like puppets by the ruling class of elite. I am surrounded by myriad idiots who feel they have some kind of intellectual and moral superiority over me just because they make incrementally more dough. They don't realize what lowly peons they are in the grand scheme. This confusion in the peonage simply enthralls the ruling class because they can rob us blind as we bicker over petty bourgeois issues. Ignorance is bliss.

Uncle Tosh and Aunty Maria came by to see moms today. We last saw them at Uncle Nobu's funeral. Neither my bro or his family came by today. I was happy for that since my nerves are shot. I have a number of things to do during the vacation. Aside from my usual chores around the house, I have to take my six-four in for that ludicrous annual "safety check." I also have to get a blood test done before I see my physician in three weeks.

I was trying to relax in my new favorite chair this evening, but I could hear the tube next door. Some moronic sitcom was on. Why do people watch that inane crap? As always, I notice that people rarely laugh during these pathetic comedies even though the laugh track would make one think otherwise. Any fool could write a sitcom. Here's my version:

Moron: Honey, I'm home. I can't take another meeting with the unkempt nosehair crowd.
Laugh track: Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!

Moron's wife: Well, have you taken a look at yourself lately? What's that jutting out of your nose?
Laugh track: Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!

Moron: Hey, they look like retro-rockets!
Laugh track: Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!

Moron: [Makes sound like rocket engine] Booster rockets successful. Houston, we have lift-off.
Laugh track: Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!

Moron: [Glides around living room like a fat slob emulating a rocket]
Moron's wife: Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!
Laugh track: Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!

Yes, my friends, modern life is getting to me. This vacation is just what the doctor ordered. Laugh track: Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!

To be continued ... Go to V.19

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