I have been listening to my Bose Acoustic Wave just about every waking moment. I have to listen to Extreme-FM because that is the only station I can receive in stereo. I still have not determined the cause of that annoying tone in the background when I tune into the public radio station. Extreme-FM plays the same six songs every hour, two of which are the man's music. The rest are hip-hop. The DJs' bantor is focused primarily on tiring innuendoes about the wild thing. I suppose that this gratuitous form of "shock" radio is now mandatory for these fools to remain competitive. I am becoming more immune to this mix because I have no other choice.

My outburst at Burger King is reminiscent of some of my escapades back in Convalescent City prior to the monk years. I knew then that there was room for reform. I sought that reform by seeking refuge in monastic solitude. However, without that controlled environment, my temperament is allowed to go unchecked. Hence, I am losin' it over minor incidents and turning those incidents into a cause celebré for my own tribulations. Perhaps, I am listening to far too much rap and the man's music. It's a good thing that I'm not playing marathon Duke Nukem sessions. Sheesh!

 Of course, I have left the Bose Acoustic Wave on for most of the day with Extreme-FM blaring. I am really beginnning to like all six songs on the playlist. Evidentally, my mind has turned to complete mush. I think that I now have enough zombie preparation to watch the tube for hours on end like most of the world. Although the Bose Acoustic Wave costs considerably more than the Bose Wave radio, I find that I am not as protective of it because it was "factory renewed." That's another Bose term for "remanufactured." So, I don't box up the Acoustic Wave every night. Lori thinks that I should buy everything as "factory renewed" so I can wean myself of my obsessive behavior. I probably just need a lobotomy.

Lori and I did not participate in any of the 4th of July activities. We opted to stay in and do nothing. Excitement to me has nothing to do with milling through crowds of drunk idiots celebrating Independence Day. Independence from what? Most are slaves to their possessions, their jobs, and their credit cards. Heck, I am a slave to my Bose Acoustic Wave. I have no reason to criticize others. I'd rather be a slave to my Acoustic Wave than an idiot like Len any day, though. Now, that's da bomb!

Moms has been spending a lot of dough lately. She has been buying all kinds of stuff for my bro and sister-in-law. When she comes home with all kinds of stuff, I ask her what she bought. She doesn't really provide a coherent answer so I can only infer the obvious. Lori believes that my bro and his family will be moving back into moms' house very soon. She's probably correct. Will my bro and his family be appreciative that they will be moving into a clean and freshly painted house? I doubt it.

Reading about that Knowles guy, on the other hand, has left me with mixed feelings about the Web. Knowles has become the Hollywood gossip guru of the Net and his site is extremely popular. There's much to be said about empowerment and individual achievement. However, does that apply in this case? I have always had a difficult time understanding how people worship sports and entertainment figures. That worship has been adulterated by the gossip mongers. What specifically is the value of that trashy, albeit useless, knowledge? I don't know, but people will pay a pretty penny for it. Perhaps I am out of touch with reality. I live in a dream world where one's private life is one's own business. Then again, what do I know?

I found out that moms had fallen when she was walking to Koko Marina earlier this week. She tripped over an uneven metal plate that covered a utility box in the sidewalk. Most of these utility box covers remain in a sad state of disrepair because everyone drives. No one uses the sidewalks. Moms hit her head pretty hard. Frankly, these are the kinds of things that worry me about moms. However, I cannot force moms to stop doing everything. That would be more detrimental. Activities such as walking to Koko Marina are very important to moms.

The renovations continue at LoserNet. Why any time is invested in making the site look different, I do not know. Naturally, the journal will undergo yet another transformation. The changes are never drastic as LoserNet has inadequate resources to produce anything better. And, the ol' lavahead will never acquire a job in the Web design field anyway. So, who really cares?

I was fatigued after a long day at the shopping malls. Fortunately, moms had made Shrimp Curry for dinner. After dinner, I listened to the Bose Acoustic Wave for a while. Lori wanted to return home to bake some Mango Bread. I went along with her and continued my relaxation mode with the Bose Wave radio at her place.

I have decided that I have to apply for welfare and food stamps. I am going to send the rest of my savings to the loan people, essentially leaving me penniless. I will also sell my six-four and send the proceeds to the loan people. That's why I bought the Bose Acoustic Wave. That's all I'll own. I won't be able to keep LoserNet going, but the archive site will be maintained since it is free. I think that I'll start up Club Cobra again, too. Why not? A true loser should be hammered 24/7 to keep his mind off of the reality of his pathetic life. I've done it before. I can do it again. If I sink any further than I am now, I should be at the liquor store sometime tomorrow. Well, hey! Don't let the smooth taste fool ya!

I have also decided to renege on the teaching position. It's a dead-end street. There has been a major decline in the teaching field especially in computers. Only MCSE-related courses are booming. The position will only bring in chump change and make me ineligible for any social services. These are tough decisions to make, and now I can see why many people opt to apply for welfare. Even moms has come to agree with me on this matter. She knows that I will never be able to fend for myself. I think that she has always known that. As a kid, I was very peculiar and helpless. These traits have permeated into my adulthood. I have refused to believe that my unemployment has nothing to do with flaws in the system. Really, it has to do with flaws in my character which invalidate me as a potential candidate for employment. Take a good look at the people who are chronically unemployed. Just based on appearance alone, who would hire them? I need to take a good look in the mirror.

I took a good look in the mirror. I was right. It's easy to see why I'm unemployed. My monk haircut has grown out and looks shabby. I haven't shaved in days. There are bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. The face of stone looks much more porous than usual. Amidst the dereliction, I was able to upload the "whitepaper" for my gubernatorial campaign. Yet, who would take seriously a candidate named "the ol' lavahead"? Perhaps that is my problem in life. Everything is a pathetic joke. Case in point. I have revised my cover letter that I will be sending out with my résumés. The body of the letter reads:
 

"I have a BS (sic) degree in Engineering and an MBA, although that apparently is of no importance to most employers. Unfortunately, I have no relevant work experience that I can refer to. However, I will always deliver on what I promise. I am a hard worker and dependable. I will work for minimum wage ($5.25 per hour), nothing more. I also am willing to waive any employee benefits and will work overtime for free."
 

My reaction to this revelation was even more idiotic. I set out to destroy everything in my path. Perhaps I wanted to insure that I would end up on Skid Row to prove that I am a true loser. In actuality, I should have known that I did not have to choreograph that event. It will just come about naturally in due time. Unfortunately, I have already applied the catalyst and now I must face the music. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa! Can I get a witness? I'm going to bumrush da fools!

Moms went to the doctor today. For some reason, she had to go on a liquid diet yesterday as a prerequisite to the examination. My bro will begin working on Monday from what I hear. I'll still be sitting in that detestable resin chair.

Lori called this morning. She had gone out to party and also to a concert in Kane'ohe last night. She wanted to talk over coffee, so I went to her place. We spent the rest of the day talking.

Everything has to do with money. That's the bottom line. I have vowed not to become a slave of money and possessions but I only became a slave because I have no money or possessions. Ironic, isn't it? In terms of my earning power, I am proportionately further in debt than most people in this country. My debt-to-earnings ratio is asymptotic. A neighbor, Roland, still lives with his parents. He was unemployed for a couple of years but recently landed a job that pays extremely well. Just yesterday, he and his fiancé bought a twin-engine motor boat. How quickly they forget. Sheesh!

Today, I was more cognizant than last week. My task now is to sift through the debris and reconstruct the events that led up to my demise. I believe that it was a combination of factors:
 

1. I just entered my 7th month of unemployment.
2. The lousy minimum wage job with Inacom left a bad taste in my mouth.
3. I have officially run out of projects to do (i.e., fixing and painting moms' house)

Lori has tried to be supportive in more ways than one. As I mentioned previously, she said that she will support me and help me pay off my loans. So, in essence, I can become a "kept man." I know guys who would jump at the opportunity. For me, this only serves to examplify how I cannot pull my own weight and how helpless I really am. For now, Lori means well. In addition to the "kept man" offer, she has also offered to pay me to keep her company (i.e., going out to dinner, going to the movies, etc.). She also offered to pay me to sit in my favorite chair all day if I want. I don't want to be rewarded for sitting in my favorite chair. I deserve to be punished.

Lori explained her own fall into the abyss this weekend. Her life revolves around the ol' lavahead. So, without the ol' lavahead, she was losin' it. I found that so hard to believe. She is truly a wonderful babe.

I actually found the energy to go to town yesterday. I picked up business license forms. I also did a little research about computer training programs here, particularly in the area of intranet development. Zilch. The popular topics here are networks and Office Suite applications. I have seen only two ads appear recently in the classifieds concerning intranet design. These were the same ads that appeared three months ago. I'm beginning to believe that there just aren't any Web programmers on this island anymore. They are all in Seattle. I may apply for the same jobs again. I could, of course, start up Highest Source. I can then solicit contracts to develop corporate intranets and quote $20,000 for each completed project. I already have a (kind of) completed intranet core. Just three of these projects will set me free! Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! What a pipe dream! I'm a minimum wage loser, for goodness sakes.

The panic attacks have subsided considerably since yesterday. I attribute that to nothing short of a miracle. Some might call this the point of resignation. I'm looking at it as the point of self-revelation. I wish I had more space to delineate my internal dialog. Essentially, I am a bitter and cynical fool with a poor attitude. That is why I have been rewarded with what I deserve ... minimum wage jobs. I lament at the Wailing Wall and profusely exalt my status as a victim when I have no time to show empathy to others. Sometimes I believe that I manipulate my peers with such crafty psychological precision that it has even eluded me. I am nefarious and despicable. That is why tears filled my eyes when I read what <K> (Kane1Nihm@aol.com) poignantly stated:
 

"Whatever ya'lls relationship right now, it seems to the <K> that she very much wants to be part of your life. If shes as strong a friend as she seems to be, then dont think of it as her keeping you as a kept man, think of it as a friend helping you out. I know I'd do the same for my friends, if they were ass broke and needed to get out, I'd take em out .... it's only money .... money dosen't mean s--- compared to a real friend. Dont let it make you feel like you're something less than Lori ... we're all just people trying to make it through another day and have a little fun and throw back a beer or iced coffee. Let her take you out, enjoy her company. And remember it when you get a chance to make amends eh?"

Lori has mentioned several times that she wants us to get married. That is totally out of the question, especially given my chronic unemployment. What exactly am I supposed to do as her husband? I can't contribute anything financially. Babes just don't understand that guys aren't necessarily chauvinistic when they worry about being able to contribute.

I mention this in passing because I have learned a lot about myself in the last few days, probably more than I wanted to know. I had another panic attack at 2am this morning. Once again, I prayed to my Creator for help. The anxiety vanished but I still couldn't get to sleep. So, instead I continued to have a dialog with my Creator. Whether I actually had a dialog with my Creator or whether I was carrying on a debate with my conscience is inconsequential. In all, I've learned that I have regressed into a hardened cynic. What little compassion and empathy I had for others has all but disappeared. I have no love for my fellow humans. Without that, I can find no love of life or a sense of purpose. I have become obstinate and view myself as a self-proclaimed oracle.

As Roland told me, his three years of chronic unemployment was a humbling experience. It was also a very trying time. What he related to me was exactly what I am going through now. The questions. The doubts. The abyss. However, he believed that there was a purpose ... to teach him humility. This is the case for me, too. It is my time of reckoning. Why now? There really is no answer except that I am in my most vulnerable state.

This morning at about 3am, I had a dialog about my situation with Lori. Why does this woman love an old pathetic loser? What have I done for her? She says that she derives comfort and strength from me. I cannot see how. I spend most of my time in a monologue detailing the injustices done to me or in some kind of all-knowing dissertation about nothing. She is either a glutton for punishment or in love. As, I stated about a year ago, I am not sure what the definition of love is. Thus, I would not know whether I am in love with Lori. In my most vulnerable moment, I found out that I am. My foolish pride kept me from admitting it. My foolish pride did everything to put our relationship at risk. However demented, it is my love for her that moves me to try to break up the relationship at this time. I never wanted to hurt her. Nor, do I want her to witness my self-destruction. Yet, there is something very special about this woman who has stayed with me through thick and thin. She could do extremely well without me yet she fell apart in my absence last weekend.

This morning, I asked moms what she thought about Lori. "I like her," she said, "Otherwise I wouldn't invite her over." My mother ... never a shortage of words. Lori wants us to get married. That's why I wanted to know what moms thought of her. There are so many considerations, the main being whether I will be able to pull my own weight. Lori is hopeful that my turnaround will come soon. That's how she is. I've been locked in self-pity for so long that I never realized I had all the wealth I'll ever need when she says, "You have a woman who loves you." Tears streamed down the pumicehead as I wrote this. Maybe I'm beginning to soften. Maybe I'm finally going through remorse. I have to give this a lot more thought. In the meantime, the reconstruction process is just beginning. I have to make some serious attitude adjustments. I have 14 years of pathological luggage to unload in the toxic waste center. My ingratitude is obvious. I have been provided for but I take that for granted. Lori had no choice but to survive. I couldn't help her. Thus, she was rightfully blessed. It's also going to take a lot of effort for me to get away from all the complaining and bitterness (subdued for LoserNet). Only until I make these changes will my turnaround come about. As for Lori ... she has a lot of energy these days. She seems so alive. She gets up and leaves at 5:30am and works out with her friend at a gym downtown. Then, she works all day. She is still full of energy and enthusiasm when comes by to visit. I, on the other hand, have not even had the energy to turn on the Bose Acoustic Wave.

I don't expect Lori to be here and lead me by the hand through this experience. I never wanted her to see me in this weakened state because that would forever impact her impression of the ol' lavahead. That is the hard part about the turnaround. It's going to be a long struggle and there will be times that I slip and fall. The real problem is my pride. I never thought that I had any pride since I was a loser. However, pride is all a loser has. It doesn't take any so-called self-esteem to have pride. Actually, pride is the surrogate. Pride is also a protection mechanism. It prevents one from looking weak in the face of others. Pride is also a surrogate for confidence.

Lori doesn't have this problem. She is strong, confident and assertive. She doesn't have a safety net and she doesn't have anyone to lead her around by the hand. That's why I asked her what she would do when she discovered that I would remain helpless for the rest of my life. Would she want to come home after working hard to be the breadwinner only to have to nurse the infantile lavahead's wounds that he incurred from playing in his sandbox all day? I doubt it. She has a life now. As for me ... I'll always be here. John (jdford0@pop.uky.edu) summed it all up when he wrote:
 

"It is debilitating to see those around you seemingly course ahead on their paths through life while you are stuck in the same old stagnant riverside pool. Almost like a joke, hey, you can count on me, I never change! And even worse, due to your condition, it is as though you lose legitimacy in the eyes of yourself and others. Fade away into the background of the situation, with nothing left to do but fume and make acerbic comments."
 

In this time of reckoning, I have come to recognize all of my pathetic faults. If you met me in person, you would never suspect that the persona I described ad nauseam in the last few days was my own. Lori has been supportive in many ways. She has given me suggestions about my options. Start my consulting business. Finish the novel. Seek out my final deferment option for the loans. Send out résumés everywhere in the meantime. I have fixated on the assumption that I have been reduced from a man to a powerless eunuch and I then grasp at straws to make sense of my demise. Then, I use that assumption to rationalize my behavior. It was I who reduced myself to eunuch status. It was I who refused to listen to reason and continued to further my own demise. Now, it is I who view my chronic unemployment as an affliction and not as an opportunity.

In the end, it becomes obvious that I do not deserve to be with Lori. I wanted to transcend the ranks of the slob and better myself. The real turnaround point is here now. The buck stops here. I have been given all the information to make the changes. I've been given the environment to make the change. Heck, someone else cleaned off the desk for me. Perhaps it was some bigger G than Yaphet Kotto in that infamous episode of Homicide. Yes, the metaphors have made themselves manifest for a good reason. As for Lori, I have rarely told her that I love her. I must have felt that I would look weak ... sappy. To whom would I appear weak? Is it not better to appear weak and fallible than strong and stupid? I have professed my love for Lori here in written word. I have the same feelings for her as she does for me. I miss her in her absense just as she misses me.

Lori did go shopping for rings. She gave me the business cards of the places with the serial numbers of the actual rings written on the back. The price range was wide. She wants me to view the rings and choose one. I just wanted her to tell me where to buy the one she wanted. Once again, I missed the point. She wants me to make a commitment for once. I must view the various choices that meet her tastes, but it is I who must decide which ring I will give to her. I emphasize the word "give" because that is the essence of the gift. The gift must come from the heart. My input concerning the final choice from the selection is a symbol of commitment ... my part of the relationship. I had only thought that my silent purchase of the ring was important and that was commitment enough. For Lori, the symbolism is more important than the dough. The real message is that money can't buy love.