Sunday was a bad day, starting from midnight. My computer refused to work. Because of a bug in the Microsoft Office 97 and 2000 installation programs, I couldn’t install Access, and that meant I couldn’t do the web work that I needed to do.

I had to reinstall Windows. I deleted the entire directory in order to start over fresh. When I was done, I was tired, I was frustrated, and I was surprised: Office still wouldn’t install. I had wiped Windows for nothing.

After I went to bed, I dreamt about the web project. It loomed in my dreams, all consuming—the only thing I can compare my state of mind to is that this web project is like a woman I can’t stop thinking about. The deadline is getting closer.

When I woke up, I called Rob and suggested we get something to eat. He agreed, and I started to head out—but my car wouldn’t start. It was raining, and for some reason the engine refused to turn over. I had to borrow my brother’s car.

On the way to Victor’s Villa, we stopped at the bank. I hit the wrong button and overdrafted my account.

Later on, Rob and I went to church. At church, Rob spotted a girl—Jennie Alvarado—that I had gone on a date once. It was a good time, but circumstances prevented us going out again. The next time I saw her, I had gotten into a relationship with Chan, and was hesitant to talk to her. It doesn’t matter anyway—she didn’t recognize me when Rob and I went up to talk to her. She still won’t—I didn’t feel like trying the “Do you recognize me?” game while she was talking to Rob.

About the only time on Sunday that I felt good was at church. During the mass itself, for that hour, I felt good. 1/24th of my day was not a waste.

Monday is already better, even though its only 2:30 in the morning. After getting a different Office 2000 disk, the installation worked—well, half worked. Unfortunately it hosed Windows. I had to reinstall one more time, but then everything was peachy.

I figured out a problem that had been vexing me on the project, and successfully transfered over the product information from MJ Systems’ main site to the new one I’m developing for them. I wrote a nice status update email to Echo at MJ Systems, talking about my accomplishments over the weekend, and I must believe the things I say about myself because I’m feeling pretty good right now.

“So tell me why I don’t like Mondays. I want to shoot the whole day down.”

The title here is “I Don’t Hate Mondays.” That’s not the complete truth, but I didn’t want to title this column “I Hate Sundays.” That would just start a bad tradition, considering yesterday’s column. Tomorrow’s column would then have to be titled “I Hate the Chip Lady.”

The Ramones have one song called “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend.” It was titled that specifically because they had had so many song titles that started with “I Don’t Wanna.” They didn’t want to seem so negative. So the title here is a little nod to the Ramones, too. That seems like a justifiable correlation to me.

EOL

When I left Japan, the plan was simple. Work my ass off until I go back to school. Every excuse, every worry was bullshit. Everything was figured out, everything made sense, every other course of action was eliminated.

I don’t know what’s changed since then.

Nothing, I suppose, except time has passed, and I feel boredom’s long shadow. When I left Japan, I knew that I should not move to another city, let alone another country; doing so would be a deviation from the course I should be taking, a distraction. “What if I get bored?” I asked. “So what if you fucking get bored?” was the answer. I needed to stay here and crush some discipline into myself.

I wish I had the surety that I had then; I wish I had any surety at all. I read Henry Rollins’ words and they burn into my head:

After I had hung out with the Flag guys, I saw that there was a lot more out there to be seen and done and I didn’t think I was ever going to do any of it. That night at work, everything in my life felt meaningless. I knew that somehow I was blowing it. I had a low level panic attack. I got a glimpse of something that made it impossible to bullshit myself. I wished it didn’t open my eyes so much and make me see so clearly. I saw my life stretching out in front of me. Same town, same people, same everything. It felt as if I was getting tied down and beaten by life. They had guts. The way they were living went against all the things I had been taught to believe were right. If I had listened to my father, I would have joined the Navy; served and gone into the straight world without a whimper I’m not putting that down. But it’s not the life for everyone.

When I first left high school, I wanted to travel. I wanted to join the merchant marines and sail to exotic, far off places, and crappy hellhole third world harbors. My grandmother and mother, and basically every other responsible person I know told me to get my college degree, then I could travel if I still had the desire.. I acquiesced; this was the smart plan, and I knew it. But I didn’t do what I was supposed to do.

Now its five years later, and I still don’t have a degree, but my wanderlust has just kept growing. Worse, I have actual concrete knowledge of the means which I can use to travel. When I was 16, I had desire, but no knowledge. Now I have both. And I can’t pursue school now—through my stupidity I’ve locked that path out, for a year and a half—until August of 2001.

Is this decision I made in Japan just me trying to enforce that same plan I decided on when I was 15? If it didn’t work then, why should it work now? I have seen things that make it impossible to bullshit myself. I am blowing my life. But the question I can’t seem to answer is which route is the right one to take. I feel dead right now, inanimate. I really do. I have a thousand reasons to not go in each direction, and two thousand to not stay still. “Just sitting here resting my bones, and this loneliness won’t leave me alone.”

I hate everything I’ve written today. I can’t even write well. Fuck.

EOL

People do everything they can to avoid simply sitting around and thinking. This is why we never eat our meals without a distraction. We must watch television, talk with friends, read the newspaper. The silence in our minds is oppressive.

…

There’s some strange similarity of feeling between contacts and using drugs. I saw an HBO special on heroin users two days ago, and last night this sensation accosted me as I took out my lenses. The fumbling around with small semi-medical apparatus. The careful measuring out of fluid. The intimate contact when device meets body. When its done, everything becomes blurry and yet, more real.

…

The answer to my happiness is simple. It’s like bowling: the key is to hit all ten pins every time. But for some reason I keep missing. I forget even to bowl when it’s my turn. I don’t do my work. I sleep all day. I don’t meet the goals that I set for myself. So I become unhappy. But it’s easier to sleep and forget than to do all the things I have to do to make me happy…

…

I miss my grandfather. Life goes on and… I have nothing to say. I just sit here listening to the sound of the fan on my laptop. Joe comes in crying and I feel emotionally inadequate. Other peoples’ tears are flowing in other peoples’ lives, and I don’t know how to connect with them. I don’t know how to hug correctly. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know. It’s not my head. It’s not my heart. Don’t tell me that I’m cold. I don’t know, even when I cried about the same thing two weeks ago.

…

When someone comes to you, crying, and you have the answer, you do not give it to them. They aren’t looking for the answer, they are looking for comfort. They are looking for someone that understands their sadness. The knowledge they seek is that they are not alone.

The Buddha would have been the biggest dick. “Life is suffering,” says the Buddha. “Your sadness is the result of an illusion that you perpetuate. It is only your false expectations that give you dashed hope.” No one would have gone to him for comfort.

These are lessons that cannot be imparted to a crying man. A gun must be loaded before firing; so too must you learn these things when your heart is at peace, that you may use them when it is in anguish.