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
Saturday, May 03, 2003 Bottle of Wine, Fruit of the Vine...
What a day. As many of you know, I was trapped at work today. Saturday. The weekend. It was unpleasant, but now that it's finally over, I am very proud and pleased to announce: Horrendous Project on Tight Deadline is nearly complete. AND, I got caught up on a lot of other pending projects and desk work, too. Financial services will be very happy with me Monday when they see all those approved invoices. (And not one having anything to do with the watering or feeding of the staff).
So what do you do when it's 7:00 on a Saturday night and you worked until 9:00 the night before and all day today? Too tired to be social. Nothing on TV. HEY! There's that bottle of Blue Heron you've been saving for just this sort of moment.
Cue...hmmmm....I think we'll begin the evening with Taxi.
Yummmm. Furry Creature likes it when I stay home. He likes it even better when I stay home and drink wine and invite Bryan over for a quiet evening. Yep. Just the three of us. Me, Bryan and Furry Creature. It's been a rough few weeks at work, but the end is nearer and not so foreboding.
I still hate my senior manager who will be blogged ad nauseum another day. For now I am not going to spoil my feeling good about my accomplishments.
It's Friday, which for much of the Galaxy carries pleasant connotations. The air is tinted with the excitement of expectation, two days spreading out with freedom from work and school and the weekday drudgery of life.
But for Trillian, this particular Friday dawns like a funeral dirge.
Another weekend in the office.
Horrendous Project on Tight Deadline, while still moving along, requires much time and effort for it to maintain it's course and not careen out of control.
This was not so much a dawn of sudden realization for me, but rather a processional of intuition actualization.
So I did not allow myself to make plans with Arthur or Bone or Frankie and Benjy, thinking I would foil fate by letting it know I was resigned to the Project and would sacrifice yet another weekend to its cause. This was a double bluff maneuver, because I very secretly hoped I would have things in better order by now. But as ever, Fate wins. It double bluffed my double bluff.
Thank God for Bryan Ferry. And wine. And Furry Creature. And books.
Why have I waited so long to read Kavalier and Clay? Holy swut it's a good book! I bought the darned thing well over a year ago, and it's been sitting in the "To Read" stack until last week. "To Read" stack is huge, by the way, and I am certain there are many wonderful adventures waiting for me there. I'll get to them all, I always do. And the stack is tall enough now that I will not allow myself to procure any more books until "To Read" stack is half it's current height, so I will get to them soon.
I know. I'm very disciplined. When I want to be.
Furry Creature is amazing. He can manipulate his unusually large carriage (he's not fat, he is truly tall, long, big boned and very fluffy. Even the vet says so.) to half it's size just by curling himself head to tail. In this manner he scrunches in as tight as he can to me while I read. It's such a comfort. A Furry Creature comfort.
And one of the reasons I think he might be of a higher power is this: He knows when I am about to finish reading for the evening and go to sleep. (Which causes him to change position) As I turn the pages, he happily sleeps and purrs away, occasionally nuzzling for a bit of kootchie. But somehow he knows when I am on my last page. Just before I turn my last page for the night and close the book and turn off the light, Furry Creature jerks awake, leans up for a good night kiss and bolts off to other regions for nocturnal pursuits. Mind you, my behavior is no different on that last page, and yes, I have tried psyching him out by fake thinking "this is the end of the chapter" or "last page" but he doesn't stir. Not until it really is the last chapter or page for the evening. If he's not reading my mind, how does he know?
Manor House is thankfully ended it's run. Now I can return to my regularly scheduled life.
If you saw last night's final episodes, you don't need me to regurgitate them for you. More Edwardian Idol, more Sir John behaving badly, more animals grossly killed and consumed, more, thankfully much more, of M. DuBiard. I love that guy. I wish he hadn't been drunk and unable to get out the proper English words when he attempted to tell off John.
I'd like it if someone could explain why Regi's evening out was such a big deal? Sure, of course his decision to go out for the evening was an immature, spiteful response to not being invited to the downstairs party. (after he said he was told by Sir John not to go downstairs, so what's the big deal about not being invited?!) Guy seemed to be having a good enough time at the party downstairs, why not let him have a little fun at the party then send him to bed early? And, if Sir and Lady are so bothered by his presence at their anniversary, perhaps they should have thought through the care of Guy for the evening.
It's over and I am glad. I wouldn't have lasted through another evening of it. Thank God, again, for Bryan Ferry. No way would I have ever made it through the evening without him.
That other show, however, drones on and on. I only saw a few occasional moments of it last night. But, I caught the coup de gras moment, just in time, I caught HWNMNBS II's Mock Shock over Ruben landing in the final two. It was priceless. Love your hands, HWNMNBS II, but a good actor you are not. But the bad acting only makes me like you more. Strange, that. I never cut slack for bad acting. Must be love. Or because I have such low expectations that I expect cheesy sets, mediocre talent and faux everything. Faux talent, faux voting, faux comradery, faux criticism and praise, faux results, and of course faux reaction from judges is required. All from a reality show. And that makes me like it. If it were actually good, actually real, I wouldn't be interested. I see through it and love it for what it really is.
Though I have to admit, I didn't think they'd pull another Tamyra. Didn't think they'd be so silly as to use that stunt again. Yes, they put a new spin on it, Ruben ended up staying, with the "just barely, so call in those votes!" implication (nice touch, guys). But it was still the Tamyra Maneuver all over again. And yes, it was good the first time, but it's not the sort of thing you can repeat and get away with, be careful, boys, don't let your run of marketing genius luck go to your heads. You can't afford to get sloppy now. Don't go for the hat trick.
Of course there is the possibility that few people bothered to call in for Ruben. Or that, like me, his rendition of Breaking Up is Hard to Do put them in the mind of 2 AM last call at the local, alone and crying in your drink. Not exactly a "Man! That was awesome I am gonna call and vote for this guy" frame of mind. And to make it worse, he performed it again. Now yes, it was wonderful, and he is talented, and I hate that song (see yesterday's blog vis a vis Neil Sedaka) and he made me forget how much I hate that song (the omission of the cumma cumma down doobie doo down down's was a wise choice and a positive move toward redemption for the song) but please, I beg you, stop! Enough! I have enough 2AM last call alone crying in my drink moments in my life since the breakup with HWNMNBS I. I tune into this show for some laughs and to see what the other marketing guys are doing. Not for buzz kill. Yes, of course, that's proof that Ruben's got the vocal goods, that he can reduce a grown woman to tears with a rendition of Breaking Up is Hard to Do. It's like I was there, he took me to that place. But that place is alone on a dingy bar stool at last call wondering where it all went wrong with HWNMNBS I and what he's doing and who he's with and why, God, oh why, why, why?!
Yeah, thanks Ruben. You're a heck of an emoter.
Still, nice Mock Shock HWNMNBS II, wish I'd taped that. It could be a useful vid bite with lots of practical applications. Did you hear he's going to be on the Simpsons? That will surely be another When Two Blogs Collide. The thing is, much of my attraction to HWNMNBS II is his wonderfully sexy hands. And of course, as a Springvillian, his digit count will be reduced. And stubbier. And more yellow. And generally not very sexy. Shame, that.
Gotta go. Horrendous Project on Tight Deadline looms larger than life before me.
And I have this terrible pain in the diodes down my left side.
I was not going to let any of this seep into my blog. But it's my blog and I'll seep if I want to. The whole point of blog to speak one's mind. And apparently my mind is a vacuous void today.
Tonight on Manor House: Edwardian Idol!
First up, Sir John sings an a capella parlor ditty.
Then local musicians perform period background drivel.
The evening's competition is rounded out by Clarion Cycle Club Woman who leads the group in a Socialist anthem to the tune of O! Tannenbaum.
Call now and vote for your favorite!
Is it just me, or are all the women in the manor house especially well endowed in the bosom? Were the casting agents thinking ahead to the Women of Manderston calendar when they conducted interviews?
And, when they hired the new scullery maid, they allegedly hired another housemaid (Erika?) to help out so the overworked staff could have some free time. We saw lots of Ellen the Farmer's Daughter come Scullery Wench. Lot's of Kenny and Ellen. We saw the staff enjoying their free time and then paying the heavy price. But not another shot of the new goth-eyed housemaid! What gives? Is she sooo busy doing everyone else's work that she gets no camera time? All the other male staff seemed to be jaw droppingly as impressed with her as they were Ellen, so camera time and possible forbidden interaction are possibilities - but where is she? AND, geeze boys, keep your boots on, what about the other gals in the house? If you're going to openly ogle, then ogle all the girls, not just the new fresh and clean ones. These new girls, too, will be smelly and bitchy soon. Very soon.
I confess I didn't actually see much of last night's episodes - grisly hunting scenes. Come on, just how authentic do us viewers really need this show to be? The pig? Well, M. DuBiard is French. And for probably the first time in my life I don't mean that in either a sarcastic or critical way. He's a French chef. What do you expect? I'm not condoning the far too much air time the poor animal received. And I'm not condoning this sort of cannibalism as culture or art. But don't blame the French chef. This was a huge, huge gimmick to shock the viewing audience and I am not pleased with PBS for reducing their "standards" to go for shock and gore value. That's FOX's job. Know your place and stay there. (I also think the whole pig debacle was in part a lame British attempt at getting back at the entire nation of France by trying to publicly humiliate one of their chefs, hey, Channel 4, guess what? We all know about the French. We don't need you to prove the point by giving a poor dead animal a lot of air time. Love/hate the British TV.)
And as for Sir John. What a prick. And I mean that with all editing for good ratings aside. Of course they're only showing us the bits where the Fam is enjoying their role far too much. That is understood, and much slack has been cut. But, Sir John's hypocrisy about preferring to kill real ducks as opposed to clays, not ten minutes after the pig scene where he was allegedly repulsed, and then getting uptight with Edgar for the birds (with feather adornment) being cut at the table and cold (instead of, perhaps, being served just from the kill hot and juicy?). Come on John, one way or the other. You're in or you're out.
On that note...
HWNMNBS II was particularly gay tonight. I mean, adore that man, those hands, oh, those hands! But the drag reference and the way he looked a little too lovingly at a few of the boy performers creeped me out a bit. This was honestly the first night I've actually seen most of the show in a while. The boycott didn't go well, I missed HWNMNBS II more than I realized. Like breaking up with the comfortable boyfriend for the flashier new guy only to find he's boring and uncomfortable, I swallowed my pride (again) threw dignity out the window and tuned in one more time, for just one more glimpse of HWNMNBS II and those hands.
In fact, maybe tonight's underlying theme is actually "We're so gay but we realize that doesn't go over so well in Peoria so, we're not pretending to not be gay, but we're not going to risk overt overtures about it, either" Because, here comes tonight's special guest, Neil Sedaka!
Am I the only one who thought Neil Sedaka was dead? As in at least five years cold in the ground dead? As in I swear I remember reading his obituary dead? (maybe that was on CNN.com) As in, America mourns the loss of pop icon? I mean, I'm glad he's not actually dead, I harbor no ill will toward the man. Sure, I can't think of one of his songs that doesn't send me sprinting to change the station/cd/webcast on the first three bars, but I harbor no grudge. He served, oops, serves a purpose in society. Far too perky and chipper for my taste, but that's my issue, not his. So for me to sit through almost all of this show (I couldn't stomach hearing Bad Blood or Love Will Keep Us Together, even when laughingly butchered by the, um, plucky young talent, I had to leave the room. Potential nice hand spotting be damned. I do have a shred of dignity left!)
I got more than I bargained for. Yes, the cheese factor is at an all time high. Good. I like that about the show. Yes, the shameless product placements are rampant. Good. I like that. (Hey, I'm in marketing, what can I say? And if you're going to do it, do it shamelessly and flagrantly, don't try to hide it as anything other than what it is.) The host is an annoying idiot who says nothing of merit and serves no purpose to the show other than to bridge the gaps between performers and judges. When will these "hosts" ever learn their place and stay there? There are very few Monty Halls and Chuck Wollerys in this world. They're born, not made. So all you current and aspiring hosts out there: If you weren't born with a personality, don't try to manufacture one on air. It bores and annoys the viewing audience and makes you look stupid. And in the end, that's a recipe for bad ratings. Nice hands, plucky young kids with marginal talent and a cheesy low budget kitsch set will only get you so far. Ratings is the name of the game.
But I digress. I love the cheesy sets on this show, but, I hate the cheesy sets on this show. I love the low, low, bargain basement budget FOX endows them, and I love that FOX doesn't spend money on even it's top rated show. (No, I refuse to offer any explanation to the legitimacy to those ratings claims. And no, even if they're true, I refuse to offer insight or explanation to the viewing taste and habits of America.) BUT, tonight they were really too full of cheek. Beyond cheesy and straight into just plain bad idea territory. Because tonight, the closing number is: The Total Eclipse of Clay Aiken!
Somebody help me: What movie poster am I thinking of when I conjure up the image of that poor, misguided kid, standing there in all black slim cut clothes -can't tell what exactly he's wearing, because of the harsh back lighting - back lighting so harsh it makes his strange, (what color is that?) spiky hair glow with a halo, the round green screen darkened, but also backlit, producing a Sun during full eclipse effect? I know it's one of those "Only One Man Can Save the Earth from Total Annihilation, and That Man is Just a Boy. A Boy from Another Planet" type movies from about 12 years ago.
Back to Horrendous Project on a Tight Deadline. Back to searching for a Babel Fish to help me understand what the I.S. guy is telling me about the network.
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
Blog: Day two.
Question to the universe for the day: When working on a Horrendous Project on a Tight Deadline, why do colleagues (who know you're on a deadline with said Horrendous Project) insist on staging The Parade of the Inane Comments and Questions?
Is it that people are just cosmically predisposed to this bothersome (and rude) behavior? Is it a need to feel part of the Horrendous Project on a Tight Deadline, even if their role is nothing more than Interferer? Is it that humans in general are rude, inane and bothersome?
Of course the possibility exists that I, Trillian, need to not be quite so impatient and uptight with these colleagues. That my expectations for individuals (and the entire human species) are just too high.
In a few cases, yes.
But today? Nope.
Why would anyone ask me about paying the bill for our office water cooler? Further, why would anyone ask me this when they know I am smack in the middle of Horrendous Project on a Tight Deadline? (For those who do not know me yet, suffice to say I am not responsible for the purchase, procurement or administration of liquid refreshment for the office staff. It is, of course, possible that Watering the Office Staff has been added to my job description, and this is their surreptitious way of informing me. Hmmm. Better check into that.).
Well. Another day.
Am I the only one who got sucked into PBS's new go at reality TV for the alleged thinking set, Manor House? They played an evil FOX-like game by pre-empting Antiques Roadshow with their big season attempt at luring new demographs. There I was, all comfy with Furry Creature purring away, ready for our weekly Sojourn into Voyeurism. Ready to reduce the better-than-thou-I'm-sure-it's-Tiffany-and-worth-gobs-of-money-but-I'd-never-part-with-it show-off guests to a pile of yesterday's barely-collectible-mass-produced-80's-action-figures. Ready to critique and admire every patina...and, What Ho?! (insert scratch record noise here) Manor House??!!! Is PBS really worried about ratings to the point of trying to compete in the reality arena? Can't it be argued they started the genre in the States with Antiques Roadshow? And how much more real can you get than NOVA?! Are they really losing that many viewers to American Idol? Okay, they lose me every now and then, but only because of HWNMNBS, II.
But there I sat, for the full two hours. Furry Creature didn't seem to mind the programming change.
Must work. Deadlines and commitments. What to leave in, what to leave out.
Monday, April 28, 2003
Hello, and welcome to my blog.
If you have found your way here looking for a Hitchhiker's fan blog, well, you might want to keep on blogging. Not that I am in any way opposed to conversing about The Hitchhiker's Guide, mind you. I truly enjoy all things Adams. And this blog will contain references to the Guide.
But it is not the primary focus of the blog. If you just want some Hitchhiker's Guide info, I suggest that you begin here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/
Frankly, I'm not entirely certain, just yet, what the purpose of this blog is, or if there will even be a primary focus other than narcissistic need to share insight and vent to and with the world. And a place for those voices in my head to be heard.
I'm sending this invitation out to the universe to join in, blog away everyone!
