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/.
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.
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.)
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
Monday, December 22, 2003 Ghosts of Christmas Geeze, I'm out of the office two and a half days and I can barely find my desk under all the work that's been piled there for me. I'm hoping it's because everyone left for a week or two out of the office and wanted to get all this off their desks before leaving. That none of it requires much, if any, action from me today or tomorrow. I'm taking some time off, too, you know! I may be alone, single, sad and broken hearted but it's the holidays for me, too!
Add to that the surreality of coming back to work after a job interview. Or in my case, three job interviews. It's amazing what interviewing for another job does for your perspective on your current job and co-workers.
I'm feeling very odd today. Untethered. Unhinged. Unbound.
I saw great stage production of A Christmas Carol last night. I'm an A Christmas Carol - o - phile. I need and crave it the way addicts need their drugs. I know it's not good for me, I know it will hurt me, but it's so good I have to have it. This story never ceases to reach out, grab my heart and soul and touch me deeply on many levels.
I vividly remember the first time my father read me the story. I remember it well because it was the first time I remember being conscious of the fact that I was deeply touched. I was about five, maybe four - not in school - I remember thinking that I was thinking big thoughts. That I was experiencing grown-up emotions. (yeah, I was kind of a sensitive kid. Okay. A very sensitive kid.) That I was "getting" something beyond and deeper than the surface level.
I was moved.
I was really scared.
Not of the ghosts (yeah, I was kind of a weird kid, too) but of the fact that I knew I was experiencing grown-up emotions. I knew not too many, if any, of my friends had experienced these feelings. Especially over a story. I was scared that I was dabbling in a grown-up place where I had no business being. I instinctively kept all of this completely to myself.
A few years later, after attending a community production of the play, I cautiously asked my best friend if she believed in redemption (I think I actually asked her if she thought second chances were real and if they could make things right) and made a few remarks about some of the deeper points. (what a geek - a Lit Wit even then) Fortunately (Bless you Friend, bless you always) she didn't laugh at me and we actually had a conversation about it. If you think your 7-year-olds are incapable of thinking beyond Barbie dresses and soccer balls, think again. I knew she "got it" on a few levels, but I still felt like I had been given some deeper meaning and insight long before I should have understood any of it. I never said another word about it to anyone.
But when I witnessed Scrooge-like behavior, I thought I understood there were deeper reasons for the behavior. While the other kids would tease or mock or be afraid of certain mean teachers or weirdoes in the community, I would quietly hope they would have their own Scrooge experience and be happier before they died and It Was Too Late.
Thus began a (so far) lifelong compulsion for Dickens. Could I find deeper meaning in other works? Did Dickens hold the keys to the answers for every life issue? Was I somehow channeling Dickens himself by reading his works? Was I to be a Dickensian scholar? Was this my calling? Scary as it sounds, I nearly did devote my life and career to literature, with a specialty in Dickens. Swear it's true. I devoured every Dickens work. I studied all the criticism and praise. The essays. The inspirations. I studied Charles himself. I developed an encyclopedic knowledge of the man and his work. All by the age of 16.
One of my life's biggest ironies is that I am now literally Miss Havisham from Great Expectations. Life imitating art.
In spite of me now living out Miss Havisham's life, it's still A Christmas Carol above all others that sends me deep within myself, brings tears to my eyes and gives me hope for state of humanity. (Though I can argue a good point that Miss Havisham and Scrooge are actually the same character, that Dickens just dressed Scrooge up in a wedding dress and girl's name, fleshed out the broken heart and disappointment issues to further push his point about growing old, bitter and jaded with love lost, and hence, very little hope for certain members of humanity.)
This year in particular, I am left even more full of emotion over A Christmas Carol, sensing that I am experiencing feelings I am too young to experience. As we streamed out of the theatre I could barely hold my head up. I was sad. I was touched. I was alone in a crowd. I was trying to hide my tears and hoping my mascara wasn't running Alice Cooper-ish down my face. Being visited by one too many ghosts of my own Christmases past. Everyone else was happy and jovial. No one else seemed to be having emotional issues after viewing this stage production.
It was a good production, I was there man, I was there. I hope others in the audience "felt" it too. Otherwise it's just kind of freaky or I'm being way too sensitive. Again.
God bless us, everyone.
I will watch any version of A Christmas Carol at least once. I think I've seen all of them. Including Very Special Episodes of television shows I'd otherwise never watch. And so, I present:
Top Ten List of My Favorite A Christmas Carols.
1. A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott as Scrooge (1984) This is the best production of the story, bar none.
2. A Christmas Carol with Alistair Sim (1951) Until George C. Scott's performance, this was the best.
3. Scrooged with Bill Murray (1988) Fantastic comedic and touching adaptation.
4. A Muppet Christmas Carol with Michael Cain (1992) This is really funny and extremely well done. Trust me. This is very, very good.
5. Black Adder's A Christmas Carol with Rowen Atkinson (1988) Black Adder. Dickens. Together at last.
6. Mr. Magoo's A Christmas Carol with Jim Backus (1962) Really. This is good. I'm not kidding.
7. A Christmas Carol with Patrick Stewart (1999) Good if you can forget Star Trek long enough to believe Stewart isn't going to go galactic.
8. A Christmas Carol with Reginald Owen (1938) The acting is not so great, the effects are cheesy, but hey, it was 1938. Good piece of film history.
9. A Christmas Carol with Whoppi Goldberg (1997) Animated with all star voice cast.
10. Flintstones/Jetsons Christmas Carol(s) These two are actually not too bad. Fred and Mr. Spacely, respectively are Scrooge. Musts for Hannah Barbara fans.
Bonus! 11. A Christmas Carol live stage production (1982) This is good, especially if you're a live theatre fan.
Don't go there: All Dogs Christmas Carol Walt Disney's Mickey's Christmas Carol (Sorry Disney fans, this is just a really annoying adaptation. Admit it. You know I'm right.)
Rich Little's A Christmas Carol (I know people who like this...I've watched it several times trying to see what I'm missing. All I get is creeped out and not in a Christmas Spirits kind of way.)
A Diva's Christmas Carol A Christmas Carol animated with Simon Callow and Kate Winslet (there's no excuse for this, it's bad with a capital Phoning in the Performance)
8:50 AM
