Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.

Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<





Join Zipcar and get $25 in free driving!

Trillian McMillian
Trillian McMillian
Create Your Badge





www.flickr.com





Instagram






Women, The Internet and You: Tips for Men Who Use Online Dating Sites
Part I, Your Profile and Email

Part II, Selecting a Potential Date

Part III, Your First Date!

Part IV, After the First Date. Now What?


"50 First Dates"






Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.

Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Find Federal Officials
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Find State Officials
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Contact The Media
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State





Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)

Quasar
Hyperbole
Amenable
Taciturn
Ennui
Prophetic
Tawdry
Hubris
Ethereal
Syzygy
Umbrageous
Twerp
Sluice
Omnipotent
Sanctuary
Malevolent
Maelstrom
Luddite
Subterfuge
Akimbo
Hoosegow
Dodecahedron
Visceral
Soupçon
Truculent
Vitriol
Mercurial
Kerfuffle
Sangfroid




























 







Archives
<< current
ARCHIVES
4/27/03 - 5/4/03 5/4/03 - 5/11/03 8/3/03 - 8/10/03 8/10/03 - 8/17/03 8/17/03 - 8/24/03 8/24/03 - 8/31/03 8/31/03 - 9/7/03 9/7/03 - 9/14/03 9/14/03 - 9/21/03 9/21/03 - 9/28/03 9/28/03 - 10/5/03 10/5/03 - 10/12/03 10/12/03 - 10/19/03 10/19/03 - 10/26/03 10/26/03 - 11/2/03 11/2/03 - 11/9/03 11/9/03 - 11/16/03 11/16/03 - 11/23/03 11/23/03 - 11/30/03 11/30/03 - 12/7/03 12/7/03 - 12/14/03 12/14/03 - 12/21/03 12/21/03 - 12/28/03 12/28/03 - 1/4/04 1/4/04 - 1/11/04 1/11/04 - 1/18/04 1/18/04 - 1/25/04 1/25/04 - 2/1/04 2/1/04 - 2/8/04 2/8/04 - 2/15/04 2/15/04 - 2/22/04 2/22/04 - 2/29/04 2/29/04 - 3/7/04 3/7/04 - 3/14/04 3/14/04 - 3/21/04 3/21/04 - 3/28/04 3/28/04 - 4/4/04 4/4/04 - 4/11/04 4/11/04 - 4/18/04 4/18/04 - 4/25/04 4/25/04 - 5/2/04 5/2/04 - 5/9/04 5/9/04 - 5/16/04 5/16/04 - 5/23/04 5/23/04 - 5/30/04 6/6/04 - 6/13/04 6/13/04 - 6/20/04 6/20/04 - 6/27/04 6/27/04 - 7/4/04 7/4/04 - 7/11/04 7/11/04 - 7/18/04 7/18/04 - 7/25/04 7/25/04 - 8/1/04 8/1/04 - 8/8/04 8/8/04 - 8/15/04 8/15/04 - 8/22/04 8/22/04 - 8/29/04 8/29/04 - 9/5/04 9/5/04 - 9/12/04 9/12/04 - 9/19/04 9/19/04 - 9/26/04 9/26/04 - 10/3/04 10/3/04 - 10/10/04 10/10/04 - 10/17/04 10/17/04 - 10/24/04 10/24/04 - 10/31/04 10/31/04 - 11/7/04 11/14/04 - 11/21/04 11/21/04 - 11/28/04 11/28/04 - 12/5/04 12/5/04 - 12/12/04 12/12/04 - 12/19/04 12/19/04 - 12/26/04 12/26/04 - 1/2/05 1/2/05 - 1/9/05 1/9/05 - 1/16/05 1/16/05 - 1/23/05 1/23/05 - 1/30/05 1/30/05 - 2/6/05 2/6/05 - 2/13/05 2/13/05 - 2/20/05 2/20/05 - 2/27/05 2/27/05 - 3/6/05 3/6/05 - 3/13/05 3/13/05 - 3/20/05 3/20/05 - 3/27/05 3/27/05 - 4/3/05 4/3/05 - 4/10/05 4/10/05 - 4/17/05 4/17/05 - 4/24/05 4/24/05 - 5/1/05 5/1/05 - 5/8/05 5/15/05 - 5/22/05 6/5/05 - 6/12/05 7/24/05 - 7/31/05 7/31/05 - 8/7/05 8/7/05 - 8/14/05 8/14/05 - 8/21/05 8/21/05 - 8/28/05 9/4/05 - 9/11/05 9/11/05 - 9/18/05 9/18/05 - 9/25/05 9/25/05 - 10/2/05 10/2/05 - 10/9/05 10/9/05 - 10/16/05 10/16/05 - 10/23/05 10/23/05 - 10/30/05 10/30/05 - 11/6/05 11/6/05 - 11/13/05 11/13/05 - 11/20/05 11/20/05 - 11/27/05 12/4/05 - 12/11/05 12/11/05 - 12/18/05 1/1/06 - 1/8/06 1/8/06 - 1/15/06 1/15/06 - 1/22/06 1/22/06 - 1/29/06 1/29/06 - 2/5/06 2/5/06 - 2/12/06 2/12/06 - 2/19/06 2/19/06 - 2/26/06 2/26/06 - 3/5/06 3/5/06 - 3/12/06 3/12/06 - 3/19/06 3/19/06 - 3/26/06 3/26/06 - 4/2/06 4/2/06 - 4/9/06 4/9/06 - 4/16/06 4/23/06 - 4/30/06 4/30/06 - 5/7/06 5/7/06 - 5/14/06 5/14/06 - 5/21/06 5/21/06 - 5/28/06 6/11/06 - 6/18/06 6/18/06 - 6/25/06 6/25/06 - 7/2/06 7/2/06 - 7/9/06 7/30/06 - 8/6/06 9/10/06 - 9/17/06 9/17/06 - 9/24/06 10/8/06 - 10/15/06 10/29/06 - 11/5/06 11/5/06 - 11/12/06 11/12/06 - 11/19/06 11/26/06 - 12/3/06 12/3/06 - 12/10/06 12/17/06 - 12/24/06 12/24/06 - 12/31/06 12/31/06 - 1/7/07 1/21/07 - 1/28/07 1/28/07 - 2/4/07 2/4/07 - 2/11/07 2/11/07 - 2/18/07 2/18/07 - 2/25/07 2/25/07 - 3/4/07 3/4/07 - 3/11/07 3/11/07 - 3/18/07 3/18/07 - 3/25/07 3/25/07 - 4/1/07 6/24/07 - 7/1/07 7/1/07 - 7/8/07 7/8/07 - 7/15/07 7/15/07 - 7/22/07 7/22/07 - 7/29/07 7/29/07 - 8/5/07 8/5/07 - 8/12/07 8/12/07 - 8/19/07 8/19/07 - 8/26/07 8/26/07 - 9/2/07 9/9/07 - 9/16/07 9/16/07 - 9/23/07 9/23/07 - 9/30/07 9/30/07 - 10/7/07 10/7/07 - 10/14/07 10/14/07 - 10/21/07 11/4/07 - 11/11/07 11/11/07 - 11/18/07 12/9/07 - 12/16/07 1/6/08 - 1/13/08 1/13/08 - 1/20/08 1/27/08 - 2/3/08 2/3/08 - 2/10/08 2/10/08 - 2/17/08 2/24/08 - 3/2/08 3/2/08 - 3/9/08 3/9/08 - 3/16/08 3/16/08 - 3/23/08 3/23/08 - 3/30/08 3/30/08 - 4/6/08 4/6/08 - 4/13/08 4/13/08 - 4/20/08 4/20/08 - 4/27/08 4/27/08 - 5/4/08 5/4/08 - 5/11/08 5/11/08 - 5/18/08 5/18/08 - 5/25/08 5/25/08 - 6/1/08 6/1/08 - 6/8/08 6/15/08 - 6/22/08 6/22/08 - 6/29/08 6/29/08 - 7/6/08 7/13/08 - 7/20/08 7/20/08 - 7/27/08 8/3/08 - 8/10/08 8/10/08 - 8/17/08 8/17/08 - 8/24/08 8/24/08 - 8/31/08 8/31/08 - 9/7/08 9/7/08 - 9/14/08 9/21/08 - 9/28/08 9/28/08 - 10/5/08 10/5/08 - 10/12/08 10/12/08 - 10/19/08 10/19/08 - 10/26/08 10/26/08 - 11/2/08 11/2/08 - 11/9/08 11/9/08 - 11/16/08 11/16/08 - 11/23/08 11/30/08 - 12/7/08 12/7/08 - 12/14/08 12/14/08 - 12/21/08 12/28/08 - 1/4/09 1/4/09 - 1/11/09 1/11/09 - 1/18/09 1/18/09 - 1/25/09 2/1/09 - 2/8/09 2/8/09 - 2/15/09 2/15/09 - 2/22/09 3/29/09 - 4/5/09 5/3/09 - 5/10/09 5/10/09 - 5/17/09 5/17/09 - 5/24/09 5/24/09 - 5/31/09 5/31/09 - 6/7/09 6/7/09 - 6/14/09 6/14/09 - 6/21/09 7/12/09 - 7/19/09 7/19/09 - 7/26/09 7/26/09 - 8/2/09 8/2/09 - 8/9/09 8/9/09 - 8/16/09 8/16/09 - 8/23/09 8/23/09 - 8/30/09 8/30/09 - 9/6/09 9/20/09 - 9/27/09 9/27/09 - 10/4/09 10/4/09 - 10/11/09 10/11/09 - 10/18/09 10/18/09 - 10/25/09 10/25/09 - 11/1/09 11/1/09 - 11/8/09 11/8/09 - 11/15/09 11/15/09 - 11/22/09 11/22/09 - 11/29/09 11/29/09 - 12/6/09 12/6/09 - 12/13/09 12/13/09 - 12/20/09 12/20/09 - 12/27/09 12/27/09 - 1/3/10 1/3/10 - 1/10/10 1/10/10 - 1/17/10 1/17/10 - 1/24/10 1/24/10 - 1/31/10 1/31/10 - 2/7/10 2/7/10 - 2/14/10 2/14/10 - 2/21/10 2/21/10 - 2/28/10 3/14/10 - 3/21/10 3/21/10 - 3/28/10 3/28/10 - 4/4/10 4/4/10 - 4/11/10 4/11/10 - 4/18/10 4/18/10 - 4/25/10 4/25/10 - 5/2/10 5/2/10 - 5/9/10 5/9/10 - 5/16/10 5/16/10 - 5/23/10 5/23/10 - 5/30/10 5/30/10 - 6/6/10 6/6/10 - 6/13/10 6/13/10 - 6/20/10 6/20/10 - 6/27/10 6/27/10 - 7/4/10 7/4/10 - 7/11/10 7/11/10 - 7/18/10 7/18/10 - 7/25/10 7/25/10 - 8/1/10 9/19/10 - 9/26/10 10/3/10 - 10/10/10 10/10/10 - 10/17/10 10/17/10 - 10/24/10 10/24/10 - 10/31/10 10/31/10 - 11/7/10 11/14/10 - 11/21/10 11/28/10 - 12/5/10 12/5/10 - 12/12/10 12/12/10 - 12/19/10 12/19/10 - 12/26/10 12/26/10 - 1/2/11 1/2/11 - 1/9/11 1/9/11 - 1/16/11 1/16/11 - 1/23/11 1/23/11 - 1/30/11 1/30/11 - 2/6/11 2/6/11 - 2/13/11 2/13/11 - 2/20/11 2/20/11 - 2/27/11 2/27/11 - 3/6/11 3/6/11 - 3/13/11 3/13/11 - 3/20/11 3/20/11 - 3/27/11 3/27/11 - 4/3/11 4/3/11 - 4/10/11 4/10/11 - 4/17/11 4/17/11 - 4/24/11 4/24/11 - 5/1/11 5/1/11 - 5/8/11 5/15/11 - 5/22/11 5/22/11 - 5/29/11 5/29/11 - 6/5/11 6/12/11 - 6/19/11 6/19/11 - 6/26/11 6/26/11 - 7/3/11 7/10/11 - 7/17/11 7/31/11 - 8/7/11 8/21/11 - 8/28/11 8/28/11 - 9/4/11 9/18/11 - 9/25/11 9/25/11 - 10/2/11 10/2/11 - 10/9/11 10/9/11 - 10/16/11 10/16/11 - 10/23/11 10/23/11 - 10/30/11 11/6/11 - 11/13/11 11/13/11 - 11/20/11 11/20/11 - 11/27/11 11/27/11 - 12/4/11 12/4/11 - 12/11/11 12/11/11 - 12/18/11 12/25/11 - 1/1/12 1/1/12 - 1/8/12 2/5/12 - 2/12/12 2/19/12 - 2/26/12 3/4/12 - 3/11/12 4/1/12 - 4/8/12 4/15/12 - 4/22/12 4/29/12 - 5/6/12 5/13/12 - 5/20/12 5/20/12 - 5/27/12 6/24/12 - 7/1/12 7/1/12 - 7/8/12 7/8/12 - 7/15/12 7/15/12 - 7/22/12 7/22/12 - 7/29/12 7/29/12 - 8/5/12 8/5/12 - 8/12/12 8/12/12 - 8/19/12 8/19/12 - 8/26/12 8/26/12 - 9/2/12 9/2/12 - 9/9/12 9/9/12 - 9/16/12 9/16/12 - 9/23/12 9/23/12 - 9/30/12 10/7/12 - 10/14/12 10/21/12 - 10/28/12 11/4/12 - 11/11/12 12/9/12 - 12/16/12 12/23/12 - 12/30/12 1/6/13 - 1/13/13 1/13/13 - 1/20/13 1/20/13 - 1/27/13 1/27/13 - 2/3/13 2/3/13 - 2/10/13 2/10/13 - 2/17/13 2/17/13 - 2/24/13 3/3/13 - 3/10/13 3/17/13 - 3/24/13 3/31/13 - 4/7/13 4/7/13 - 4/14/13 4/21/13 - 4/28/13 4/28/13 - 5/5/13 5/5/13 - 5/12/13 5/12/13 - 5/19/13 5/19/13 - 5/26/13 6/16/13 - 6/23/13 6/23/13 - 6/30/13 7/14/13 - 7/21/13 8/11/13 - 8/18/13 8/25/13 - 9/1/13 9/8/13 - 9/15/13 9/22/13 - 9/29/13 10/13/13 - 10/20/13 10/20/13 - 10/27/13 11/10/13 - 11/17/13 12/1/13 - 12/8/13 12/15/13 - 12/22/13 12/29/13 - 1/5/14 6/29/14 - 7/6/14 9/14/14 - 9/21/14 9/21/14 - 9/28/14 10/12/14 - 10/19/14 11/23/14 - 11/30/14 12/7/14 - 12/14/14 12/28/14 - 1/4/15 1/25/15 - 2/1/15 2/8/15 - 2/15/15 2/22/15 - 3/1/15 3/8/15 - 3/15/15 3/15/15 - 3/22/15 3/22/15 - 3/29/15 4/12/15 - 4/19/15 4/19/15 - 4/26/15 5/3/15 - 5/10/15 5/17/15 - 5/24/15 5/24/15 - 5/31/15 6/14/15 - 6/21/15 6/28/15 - 7/5/15 7/5/15 - 7/12/15 7/19/15 - 7/26/15 8/16/15 - 8/23/15 11/6/16 - 11/13/16



Highlights from the Archives. Some favorite Trillian moments.

Void, Of Course: Eliminating Expectations and Emotions for a Better Way of Life

200i: iPodyssey

Macs Are from Venus, Windows is from Mars Can a relationship survive across platform barriers?
Jerking Off

Get A Job

Office Church Ladies: A Fieldguide

'Cause I'm a Blonde

True? Honestly? I think not.

A Good Day AND Funyuns?

The Easter Boy

Relationship in the Dumpster

Wedding Dress 4 Sale, Never Worn

Got Friends? Are You Sure? Take This Test

What About Class? Take This Test

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away, There Was a Really Bad Movie

May Your Alchemical Process be Complete. Rob Roy Recipe

Good Thing She's Not in a Good Mood Very Often (We Knew it Wouldn't Last)

What Do I Have to Do to Put You in this Car Today?

Of Mice and Me (Killer Cat Strikes in Local Woman's Apartment)

Trillian: The Musical (The Holiday Special)

LA Woman (I Love (Hate) LA)

It is my Cultureth
...and it would suit-eth me kindly to speak-eth in such mannered tongue

Slanglish

It's a Little Bit Me, It's a Little Bit You
Blogging a Legacy for Future Generations


Parents Visiting? Use Trillian's Mantra!

Ghosts of Christmas Past: Mod Hair Ken

Caught Blogging by Mom, Boss or Other

2003 Holiday Sho-Lo/Mullet Awards

Crullers, The Beer Store and Other Saintly Places

Come on Out of that Doghouse! It's a Sunshine Day!

"...I had no idea our CEO is actually Paula Abdul in disguise."

Lap Dance of the Cripple

Of Muppets and American Idols
"I said happier place, not crappier place!"

Finally Off Crutches, Trillian is Emancipated

Payless? Trillian? Shoe Confessions

Reality Wednesday: Extremely Local Pub

Reality Wednesday: Backstage Staging Zone (The Sweater Blog)

The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad

To Dream the Impossible Dream: The Office Karaoke Party

Trillian Flies Economy Class (Prisoner, Cell Block H)

Trillian Visits the Village of the Damned, Takes Drugs, Becomes Delusional and Blogs Her Brains Out

Trillian's Parents are Powerless

Striptease for Spiders: A PETA Charity Event (People for the Ethical Treatment of Arachnids)

What's Up with Trillian and the Richard Branson Worship?

"Screw the French and their politics, give me their cheese!"


















 
Mail Trillian here





Trillian's Guide to the Galaxy gives 5 stars to these places in the Universe:
So much more than fun with fonts, this is a daily dose of visual poetry set against a backdrop of historical trivia. (C'mon, how can you not love a site that notes Wolfman Jack's birthday?!)

CellStories

Alliance for the Great Lakes


Hot, so cool, so cool we're hot.

Ig Nobel Awards

And you think YOU have the worst bridesmaid dress?

Coolest Jewelry in the Universe here (trust Trillian, she knows)

Red Tango

If your boss is an idiot, click here.

Evil Cat Full of Loathing.

Wildlife Works

Detroit Cobras


The Beachwood Reporter is better than not all, but most sex.



Hey! Why not check out some great art and illustration while you're here? Please? It won't hurt and it's free.

Shag

Kii Arens

Tim Biskup

Jeff Soto

Jotto




Get Fuzzy Now!
If you're not getting fuzzy, you should be. All hail Darby Conley. Yes, he's part of the Syndicate. But he's cool.





Who or what is HWNMNBS: (He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken) Trillian's ex-fiancé. "Issues? What issues?"







Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.


< chicago blogs >





Reading blogs at work? Click to escape to a suitable site!

Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains





























Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero

 
Wednesday, November 26, 2003  
Thanksgoing
If you're British, or of British lineage post 1776, living in America, is it hypocritical and wrong to celebrate Thanksgiving? Sorry if you've heard this one before...it's time for my yearly soul searching on this topic. Be patient and give thanks it only happens once (or maybe a few times) a year.

I replay this over and over, hoping to find a clue or inspiration.

A bunch of religious outcasts (read: Bible Thumping Weirdoes) were not free to practice their fringe religion (read: Cult) in England, so they chartered a rickety merchant boat (read: Secondhand Church Bus) to a developing nation known for it's harsh seasons, difficult crop cultivation and hostile (even violent!) natives (read: America) to start new lives. To form a religious community where they were free to practice their beliefs without persecution, the prying eyes of the government and neighborhood gossip. (read: Jonestown or Branch Dividian Compound)

Is it any wonder my ancestors happily helped them load their gear on the ship? That they stood on the shore that morning, smiling and waving good-bye, enthusiastically wishing them well, "Cheers gang, best of luck, send a postcard" then under their breath "poor misguided fools, don't stand a chance in that 'New World' (air quotes) of theirs," then giving the Mayflower a hardy shove?

Walking home, talking amongst themselves...rubbing their hands dismissively. "Got rid of that lot."

"I give 'em six months. They'll be back."

"I heard the Adams girl, what's her name? Prudy? Pish? Posh? Is leaving in shame. Got Tangled up with that Beckham boy."

"I heard that too - he's gone off to Spain. And that Goody Johnson, I mean, who does she think she is? All her holier than thou 'I pray 10 hours a day' (air quotes) malarkey."

"Hear, hear. And Jacob Smartpants...a farmer?! Daft as a mad cow!"

"Ship's already nearly full of Hollanders - you know how 'they' are..." (knowing glances)

"Heh heh, though if that's part of their religion, maybe they're not so foolish!" (wink wink nudge nudge)

"I hear this Myles Standish chap has had some 'problems' (air quotes) in the military - rather questionable army tenure. 'Has' (air quotes) to leave if you know what I mean." (eyebrows raised, nods in knowing concern and dismissal)

"And just where is this Robinson bloke? I notice he's not on the ship. All well and good for him to organize this disaster, then send them on their way to the 'New World' (air quotes) with naught but a prayer and a crocodile tear...he's not the one crammed shoulder to shoulder for months on end in that broken down heap of a ship."

"Organize?! Organize! Why, he couldn't organize a piss-up in a brewery!"

(Hardy guffaws.)

"On that note, stop in for a pint?"

"I say amen to that!"

(More hardy guffaws.)

Okay, so I may have just explained a lot about my ancestors and why I am the way I am. (It's in my blood. At least we've evolved past the air quote gene - it's recessed into oblivion.)

And so, I feel hypocritical and a little blasphemous celebrating Thanksgiving. It seems more appropriate for me to celebrate the departure of the Puritans from England in September, a "Thanksgoing" celebration more in keeping with my nationality and heritage. Or maybe, at a stretch, a month prior, the Canadian "Thanksgiving" (air quotes) festivities, at least closer to the date of departure and more in line with my "Thanksgoing" idea.

Let me state loudly and clearly from the highest peaks of the Purple Mountains Majesty, I firmly believe in adapting to the customs of one's environment. If you choose to live in a country other than that in which you, your parents, your grandparents, etc. were born, you adopt, adapt, embrace, engage and blend. Period.

Let me yell across the fruited plains: America has been berry berry good to me and my family. I love America. I am thankful for America.

But. The British are thrust in a unique situation in America. There's a lot of history. A lot of issues. A lot of baggage. A lot of stuff. Being rid of the British is the very reason for a few cherished American celebrations (Thanksgiving, Fourth of July). There are no American holidays celebrating being rid of any other nationality. (Is someone working on that? I nominate France. I'm sure Canada would be in on that, too.)

Consequently, the British in America are in a bit of a uniquely awkward spot. In this case, if you are British, or of British descent, to follow my above "rules" of adaptation means you must be hypocritical. You must sacrifice some personal integrity. And come to terms with the fact that it was your people, your country, your kind who caused so much animosity that an entire nation, your now chosen nation, celebrates leaving you and independence from you. For hundreds of years these celebrations have been going on all across America. If you're British, and I mean of any British descent since July 4, 1776, how could you not take that just a bit personally or shamefully?

In another life, another job, I worked for a company that had many departments. There were several departments on my floor. My office was situated on the border of another department, so I got wind of a lot of their dirty laundry. The head of their department was a very smart, very hard working man. But he was so hated, so vile, so repugnant to his staff, that when he took a job 12,000 miles away, the department not only threw him a nice going away party, but then had an enormous blow out of a bash the week after he left. People were literally dancing and singing in the halls for weeks after his departure. I know he had a clue his staff detested him. He was not stupid. But I often wonder if he knew how happy, how overjoyed they were when he left. And was that a factor in his decision to leave? If so, no matter how much of a hardass he was, it had to hurt. At least a little. In the wee small hours of the morning when sleep won't come.

I always think of this, about him, when Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July roll around. To Americans, the British are that evil boss. I'm not saying the celebrations aren't justified. I'm in no way defending religious persecution or taxation without representation. But because I'm British, living in America, I'm like Scrooge looking at Christmas Future, watching people celebrate that I'm gone. But I'm there. Watching. They just can't see me. And it's a bit difficult for me to join in the festivities.

I know some other Britons do not have this issue. They gloss over it. Dismiss it with, "let them have their little celebrations, no harm could come of it, their frolicking and merriment will only make us look that much more civilized." Or, "yeah, that's why we left, better parties over here."

Or like my mother, embrace the whole thing whole heartedly. "Don't take it all so seriously and so personally dear. We can all stand to take time out to be thankful for what we've got." (Yeah. That irritates me sometimes, too. But she's right, and she means well.)

My parents do celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving. Not because they're really, really, truly so thankful they feel a need to celebrate twice, but because they're the only ones living in America and are always up for a family gathering. Off they trudge to Canada to the family members who never quite made it 'all the way.' Yeah. Ontario's "nice" yah sure, why go to America when Ontario's right here? Uncle Duncan, give it up, we all know about your little legal problem. Erm, challenge.

(And yes, we also celebrate St. Andrew's Day. In a big way. If you don't hear from me Dec. 1, suffice to say I paid appropriate tribute to St. Andrew. And I'm not talking kilt and woolly jumper, here. Besides, it's not all kilts, blue face painting and Brigadoon dance numbers, you know. No one provokes me with impunity. Ha! Take that yanks!

Giving thanks for the New World AND paying tribute to the patron saint of the old world in the same weekend...even though neither I nor anyone in my family is, or ever has been, Catholic (well, not for hundreds of years, anyway) Is it any wonder I'm horribly confused about my identity and holidays? See what I mean? See what I'm up against here? If you really think about any of this, really give it some serious thought, it's all weird.)

You many generations in America people don't know how lucky you have it. Or maybe you do. Comfy in your smug little New World and Founding Fathers celebration. Your zeal for independence in any form. It's been bred into you. You swell with pride at the site of the feast spread before you, the giant character balloons floating in the Macy's parade, hours of American football...yes, you have much history and pride for which to be thankful. It's yours and you deserve it. While you firmly planted Britons don't know how lucky you have it. No country full of people who hate you because of national history (yet insist on plastering your royality all over their media) - living in a place full of people who never, ever fail to pull out the whole, "The war's been over since 1776. We won. We kicked your blue-blooded ass all the way back to that puny little island" or "If it weren't for us you'd be speaking German right now" trump cards. Oh, sure, growing up with one foot in each nation sounds fun and exotic. But just you try to work out holiday celebrations. Dig deep to the roots and true meaning of the celebrations. Then dig deep into your soul and conscience. See how torn you are then, and get back to me on your conflicted feelings. And believe me, holidays are just the tip of a huge iceberg of conflicted feelings. Sorry. That's another blog. Or several. Issues. I've got issues.

Thanksgiving's different from the Fourth of July, that answer's obvious. No way. It's wrong for me to celebrate. Not because I am bitter or remorseful that America gained its independence, but because my family was on the other team. No, they didn't personally cause the trouble, but they didn't help, either. Things worked out okay in the end, but let's face it, at the time of conception of this holiday, my relatives had no cause for celebration, nor did they have any justification in sympathizing. It's not even as if my ancestors were on the first boat out when the whole war thing blew over. (they heard the beer was really thin and weak, impossible to get a decent cup of tea, the whiskey and gin were sub par, and there was no Harvey Nichols or Fortnum and Mason, so they stayed right there, thank you very much) So Fourth of July is a no brainer for me. Should be for anyone of British descent with ancestors immigrated to America post 7-4-76. (or 4-7-76) Quiet reflection on independence and what it means on a personal and global level, a sparkler or two, a quiet nod to both teams, and be done with it.

But this Thanksgiving thing. I mean, even in the broadest sense: Give thanks. Apart from the most innocuous bows to personal gratitude it all seems a bit contrived and shallow. If we're so darned thankful, shouldn't we be giving thanks every day? Wouldn't that be the true Puritan Way?

And in the bigger, global sense, isn't it a bit presumptuous, arrogant, even, to give thanks for things that aren't really ours in the first place?

Just an excuse to get together, eat a bunch of food, surreptitiously drink a lot of alcohol and argue about the difference between yams and sweet potatoes. Or maybe that's just my family. Celebrating the harvest, one split hair at a time.

My parents have adopted the "tradition" of each person having to list at least one thing for which they are thankful. With a few rules. Giving thanks for material possessions is not allowed. Nor is the easy option of "Family and friends." A nod to my "shouldn't we be thankful every day" stance. No, we're required to dig deep into our hearts, souls and brains and fish out something beyond the obvious or material for which we are truly grateful. Leave it to my parents to make us work for food. (They also make us make wishes - profound wishes - for the new year on New Year's Eve. Yeah. My family's a hoot. And yet still I wonder why HWNMNBS couldn't go through with marrying me.)

Gratitude and giving thanks requires a lot of thought on my part this year.

What, apart from the innocuous, fills me with thanks and gratitude this year? Health? Nope, not this year: Broken ankle, whiplash, concussion, strained wrist, allergic reaction and subsequent newfound restrictions including my most favorite food on the planet. Prosperity? Guess again: Cutbacks at work, no new job, 401K in the toilet. Romance? Yeah, it's been a great year - more anguish and missing HWNMNBS, and dates with: a guy who dresses up as a Storm Trooper and a stalker. Should I really just be thankful I have a job in this economy? Well, let's see. I work on average 58 hours a week which, if prorated to an hourly rate, equates to a very dismal sum of money, but that's a moot point because I'm salaried and therefore do not get paid any more or less for the amount of hours I work, my boss is a complete, useless nincompoop, we have three vacant jobs on my team and I'm doing their work until the hiring freeze is lifted, and the one person who can help me got a boob job and hasn't been feeling well enough to function properly. That is when she isn't interrupted by a constant stream of visitors checking out the new tourist attraction on our floor. Yeah. Lot's to be thankful for about my job. Shelter? Please. Same old drafty, three and a half flights of stairs up apartment in desperate need of re-habbing (can you say avocado refrigerator?). Thankful just to be alive? My jury's out on that one. Until I know the confirmed alternative, I cannot make an informed decision.

If I could just see the glass half full instead of empty, you say. Yes. I suppose you're right. Let's re-address: Health? Hey, at least it was just a broken ankle, whiplash and concussion. He could have pulled a knife or worse, a gun. I'm lucky to be alive! I'm thankful my mugger only shoved me down a crowded flight of subway stairs! And I'm thankful they figured out what the allergies are, now I can avoid them and not suffer another attack! I am thankful for allergy scratch tests! Prosperity? At least I have a steady paycheck coming in. And my 401K has almost crept back to where it was pre 9/11. I'm managing on one income in a two income society! I am thankful for my paycheck! Romance? Hey! At least I had true love, once. I have fond and happy memories to last a lifetime. A lot of people never even get that. And I had few dates this year. Actual, bona fide dates. A lot of people had no dates this year. So what if one spends his spare time traveling to Star Wars conventions...so what if another turned into a stalker, he's giving me attention, right? I am thankful there are a few men who find me attractive and interesting enough to date. A job in this economy? Yes. I am thankful for that. I have been unemployed and I don't ever want to go through that again. Shelter? I have a roof over my head. So what if that roof occasionally leaks? So what if the building's been broken into and ransacked four times in the past year? So what if it costs me three times it's actual worth...I have a place to call home. Thankful just to be alive? Yeah. I guess. Whatever. I suppose I can continue to tow this party line until I have confirmation of the alternative.

See? This whole concept is too foreign for me to wholeheartedly grasp and hold dear.

I am thankful for Furry Creature. But he, my mother admonished me, counts as family and friends and therefore is disallowed from my debt of gratitude.

I am thankful for family and friends and few kind strangers who have helped me during my struggles with a broken ankle. I am thankful for "Kimmie" and her special (though annoying) encouragement and all the progress she's led me to achieve in physical therapy. (yes really. I am thankful for her. However I will be more thankful when I'm finished with her.) I am thankful for a fantastic orthopedic surgeon who helped me heal without surgery. I am thankful for my PayLess shoes which have seen more miles than any other pair of shoes I have ever worn. I am thankful for iPods and iTunes and musicians past and present who soothe my weary ears and brain. I am thankful for authors and books and Barnesandnoble.com. I am thankful for artists past and present who soothe my weary eyes and brain with visual feasts. I am thankful for Orange Pineapple Soy SlimFast (I'd rather be thankful for Strawberries and Cream SlimFast and how it tastes just like Frankenberry cereal, but I can't have it anymore, now that I have the little lactose issue.) I am thankful for fresh snowfall (even if I can't skate and ski this year). I am thankful for travel. I am thankful for email so I can keep in touch with far-flung friends and family. I am thankful for blogging and most of the blogworld.

I am thankful there are people who care about people and things other than themselves, in spite of overwhelming evidence to the opposite. I am thankful there are intelligent people with good ideas, good words and good resources to keep this planet moving forward, even if it's in small, seemingly insignificant ways. I think I used that one a few years back, but maybe no one will notice. Can't be any worse than the time my brother, unable to come up with the right things of thanks on his own, tried to pass off the lyrics to My Favorite Things as his things to be thankful for. Really. Lucky for him his inspired attempt at a sincere oral recitation was so funny even my parents cracked up and let him get away with it. He got all the way to wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings before my mother could no longer stifle herself and burst out laughing. He might have pulled it off had he left out the fly with the moon on their wings part. But, like so many other amateurs before him, he didn't know when to quit while he was ahead. Couldn't discern how much was too much. Got too carried away. Too full of himself. Forgot his roots. Overconfidence struck him down in his prime. Fell by the wayside faster than last season's American Idol.

Hmmmm. Raindrops. Roses. Whiskers on kittens. Woolen mittens. Brown paper packages tied in strings. Yeah. I'm thankful for all that. It just might work...

Happy Thanksgoing everyone. Have a good holiday to the Americans, drink smartly and avoid the haggis to the Brits. To everyone else, have a good weekend.

6:21 AM

 
This page is powered by Blogger.