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
Tuesday, August 10, 2004 iGuys Honestly, try something a little different, flex a few creative muscles, have a little fun with PhotoShop and links and look what happens. Everyone’s all like, “Trillian, what’s with the 2001 analogy? Trillian, I don’t get it. Trillian, are you on drugs or something?” Go away for a few days and look what happens.
If you didn’t click the photos on yesterday’s post, all you missed are some (I think) kind of funny or informative links. They do add to the overall post, but based on the email I received they’re only leaving many of you confused.
So I’ll just spell it all out for you.
I splurged and bought one of those spiffy new click wheel iPods.
Which was the beginning of the dawning of the age of i.
iFrustration.
iExpense.
iConfusion.
iAnnoyance.
iSleepless nights.
(any other women out there sleeping alone while their POI refuses to give up the quest for ultimate Mac system? Welcome to your new life as an: iWidow. I’m starting a support group.)
iIrritation.
Did I mention iExpense?
I’ve been living in iWorld a long time - I’ve been around long enough to remember when it was MacWorld. I know my way around quite well. I know a lot of old tricks. And a few clever new ones, too.
Apple makes a really swell computer and their marketing and branding is well done. Hey. That’s important. Think about it: Branding and marketing matters with Apple more than most consumer goods companies because their product is used by marketers, advertisers, branders and creative people all over the world. It is their niche and always has been. Consequently their marketing has to be good. Really good. Because the people they are appealing to know good from bad. The people they are appealing to know marketing and design.
Having said all of that, I resist the whole iWorld thing. Sure, I am probably a stronger, savvier, longer time user of Macs than a lot of people, probably most people you know. But I have never felt the need or urge to flaunt the fact that I live la vida i.
Or at least I didn’t think I did.
Enter POI and the new iPod.
Ours is a bi-platform relationship. I’m actually more cross platform, whereas he is one of the most Windows savvy people I’ve ever known. Some might even call him a geek. Because he has constructed his own computers. He knows DOS. And you should see his hard drive. Even I, a Mac user, cannot help but be impressed, curious and more than a little excited about it.
When we met I was very open about my platform. I’d learned it’s best to just have out with it right up front rather than dance around the issue later in a potentially embarrassing moment. (“I’d love to chat, but, erm, well, I, um, well, I’m on a, well, you know, I’m on a Mac and Mac doesn’t always like MS Messenger...”) Fortunately POI accepted my platform and I accepted his. We worked out our differences. Unlike a lot of Mac users, erm, iUsers, I could function in Windows, I even spoke a little DOS myself. He was curious about Macs. We grew as people and as a couple. Oh, there were frustrating times, a few unspoken potentially hurtful words, but for the most part the bi-platform aspect of our relationship was never an issue.
And then came the new 40G click wheel reduced $100 iPods.
And life as we knew it changed.
POI, being not only a devout Windows user, is also British. So he’s never had an opportunity to experience an Apple store.
He’s also A Guy.
I’ve always known he has Guy tendencies. Even through some of his metrosexual ticks his Guyness is obvious. He has A Guy ego and Guy insecurities, both of which for the most part lie dormant or fairly contained.
But there’s this thing that happens to Guys, even to the most sensitive metrosexuals, when Guys are around other Guys in certain situations. Their egos and insecurities then manifest in some rather unattractive, albeit funny, ways.
These situations occur at places like: Consumer electronics emporiums, auto dealerships, fitness centers, sporting events, rock concerts, music emporiums and computer stores.
Huh? You may be saying. What do any of those places have to do with each other? If you’re saying this you’re probably A Guy. If you’re chuckling a knowing chuckle or shaking your head and sighing a knowing sigh of exasperation you are probably a girl who has spent time with A Guy.
Two steps into any of these places and A Guy will transform into a dog in a pack vying for alpha dog status. Why? Because the guys who are employed at these places are by definition egomaniac know it alls who live with their parents and don’t have much of a life outside their gadgets, bodies or music. (If you’re a guy employed in any of the aforementioned places and are not an egomaniac know it all who lives with your parents and doesn’t have a life or interest outside of your gadgets, body or music, let me know. I’d like to talk to you.) The Guy who enters a consumer electronics emporium, auto dealership, fitness center, sporting event, rock concert, music emporium or computer store immediately sizes up the staff and assesses his rank.
This process actually begins with the decision to visit any of these places. The chromosomes and genetic imprinting receive a message from the brain: “Alert! Alert! Possible affront to masculinity will commence in T minus two hours! Alert! Alert!” The testosterone levels begin churning. The Y chromosomes don little superhero suits and begin suppressing the X chromosomes who throw up their arms in disgust and all meet for cappuccino and Robert Bly discussion groups. It’s no coincidence that at any of the aforementioned places you will notice many male faces in need of a shave. I suspect there are Guys out there who do not go to these places solely because they have recently shaved. My observation has been the men working and visiting these places have facial growth worthy of Fred Flintstone or Homer Simpson. While this may not be a conscious condition, have no doubt, this is evolution. The purpose here is to establish rank among other Guys. The more manly and threatening to other men, the better. Apparently stubble poses a visible threat to other Guys. “Look at me. I’ve got stubble. This is just one day’s worth. My stubble is thicker, courser, darker than yours. Because I am A Man. I didn’t shave. I’m not afraid to annoy my woman.” Which brings up a good point: If they scratch or otherwise maim their woman with their stubble, so much the better.
The Guy enters a consumer electronics emporium, auto dealership, fitness center, sporting event, rock concert, music emporium or computer store with at least a day of beard growth, his most cool/butch/ungay/unmatching clothes (never, ever anything which could be construed as an “outfit”), and a week’s worth of studying every nuance of the consumer good, car, bicep press technique, team stat, drum solo, release date or microchip under his (old and worn) belt.
He looks around.
He checks out his competition: Guys who work at the establishment and Guys visiting the establishment.
He assesses his rank.
This is the easy bit.
All Guys always assess their rank to be alpha dog.
Which is why they will never, ever ask for help in any of these places. Because they know they know more than the Guys working there, and they know they know a lot more than any of the Guys visiting there.
When approached by an employee at one of these places they will immediately rebuff his approach. And they will be approached, because the Guys who work at these places are egomaniac know it alls who live with their parents and don’t have much of a life outside their gadgets, bodies or music and cannot wait to defend their masculinity on their turf. And there's that commission. I have to give credit where it’s due here, you have to admire their bravado, even if they are egomaniac know it alls who live with their parents and don’t have much of a life outside their gadgets, bodies or music. It can’t be easy to go to work every day knowing you are fulfilling the sole evolutionary purpose of making Guy customers feel superior to you. No wonder they’re jerks. Are they born this way or are they made in management training seminars?
A Guy can and will make his own way at a consumer electronics emporium, auto dealership, fitness center, sporting event, rock concert, music emporium or computer store. He is, after all, alpha dog. The leader of the pack. He doesn’t need help. Woe to the woman who, accompanying A Guy in any of these places, suggests talking to someone who works there. The wise woman will either not accompany her Guy to these places or will remain silent and complacent at her Guy’s side. Or, as I have learned, just leave him to carry on his alpha dog thing while doing/looking at other things. I know that sounds bad, but after years of going to these places with men varying in relationship from my father and brother to friends to boyfriends on several continents and countries, I have learned the Guy behavior in these places is universal. This is not the time or place to challenge A Guy's knowledge of DVD formats, fuel injection, muscle integrity, the stats from the '83 season, the replacement drummer on the tour two Summers ago, the release order of the Saga singles or bit rates. It's. Just. Not.
Don’t believe me?
Head down to Best Buy or MicroCenter on a Saturday afternoon. See! The stubble. Hear! The topper conversations. Smell! The testosterone. Feel! The tension. Marvel! At the size of the egos. Grimace! At the obvious insecurities. Laugh! At the ridiculous comments made by Guys trying to be alpha dog.
It’s also no surprise that after going to these establishments Guys are so hopped up high on superiority and testosterone they are at their peak of horniness. It’s not the thrill of a new consumer good, car, ripped abs, an awesome drum solo, import only vinyl or a faster, bigger hard drive. It’s the elevated state of defending their place in evolution they’ve been in for the past several hours.
It’s not the catch, it’s the thrill of the hunt and the pride of victory. Cavemen came home and “took” the women after the hunt. Not because of their successful catch, but because they’d been so stoked up on testosterone proving their alpha dog status to the other cave guys for days, maybe even weeks, that the final deed in proving themselves worthy of evolution was to procreate, actually produce another link. Evolve.
Guys don’t have to go off on hunts for days or weeks anymore, so they buy consumer electronics goods, buy cars, or go to the gym or rock concerts. Life has become a lot cushier since the cave days, but the biological need for Guy status hasn’t subsided. So it’s evolved.
Right.
Re-enter: POI and the Apple Store.
Apple stores are not like other computer stores. Or consumer goods stores. Again, a tip of the hat to the Apple marketers, branders and merchandisers. You obviously thought different.
But this creates a problem.
It confuses men.
They go in, all stubbly and unmatched and Y chromosomes on high alert. Electronics! Computers! Gadgets! Music! Put a gym in the back and in theory you’ve got testosterone heaven.
But wait.
It’s different.
It’s all sleek and white and kind of cool and very reminiscent of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Upon entering, Guys feel like Dave. Guys relate to Dave. Dave had the ultimate Guy job: Astronaut. To be an astronaut you have to be adventurous, brave, intelligent and fit. Guys therefore relate to Dave because they all think they could be an astronaut if they wanted. They just don’t want to be an astronaut until they can go to Mars or Jupiter. Yes. Guys relate to Dave. And therefore they hate HAL. And Apple stores add this state of anger to the already hopped up high, be-stubbled Guy.
It’s not a pretty site.
POI handled it well.
Ish.
I am very proud of him.
He even admitted a trip to the Genius Bar was in order.
I know. That's huge for A Guy.
And he waited for a genius to help us. We know he was a genius because his t-shirt said so.
While we waited, (And waited. And waited.) POI defended his place in evolution by mocking the Apple guys, particularly the geniuses. (who, I notice, all have a certain frailty not seen in other computer, music or consumer electronics goods stores. I’m not sure if this is a good or bad thing. I’m sure it’s intentional, some sort of employee social engineering. iMarketing. iConsuming. iMoney.)
iBods, as they have come to be known, are geeks, iGeeks, but not really horribly annoying geeks you run into at MicroCenter. Oh, they’re egomaniac know it alls who live with their parents and don’t have much of a life outside the iWorld, but there’s that frailty. They have an endearing dorky brother quality to them. (The few women who work the floor (none at the Genius Bar, by the way) are hipper than hip and all appear to worship at the altar of Gwen Stefani.)
This should make Guys feel at ease. Their alpha rank in the pack secure, Guys visiting an iShop should feel really good. Right? Wrong. There’s that HAL issue.
At first I thought it was because of the platform issue. Real men, after all, know DOS and use Windows. Macs are for girls and designers. And all Guys know male designers are all gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know, you wouldn’t catch A Guy using a Mac. So I cut POI a lot of slack and was really proud of him for enduring all of this with me. Computer challenges are frustrating, but throw in a different platform and it’s a horrible, nasty argument and ugly break-up just waiting to happen. He kept his good humor and let the iBods have their say. (oh sure, he mocked and jested, but he wasn’t all Guy to the iGeeks) He never, not once, suggested that I switch platforms. (We’ve been through that conversation and have agreed to accept each other’s platform.)
At the end of a very long saga, POI even agreed with iGeek Zachary (not his real name in case there are any actual iBods named Zachary), who shot out iSpecs and iProcessing speeds and iCapabilities with the precise rapid fire ease of an assault weapon. Zachary is an egomaniac know it all who lives with his parents and has no life outside of his computers. Zachary is quite possibly the skinniest 24 year old I have ever seen. Zachary has no stubble. Zachary curses his baby face. Zachary is undoubtedly a virgin. Zachary dreams of being an emo singer and practices every night in his bedroom, the blue glow of his iScreens casting an eerie pall over the room as he screams out his iEmo compositions recording them with Garage Band.
So no, Zachary didn’t exactly pose a threat to POI’s manhood.
Except that Zachary knows more about Macs than POI.
And Zachary showed that off in front of the girl POI was with in the Apple Store.
Zachary may or may not fantasize about moments like this. I can’t tell if he’s that kind of iGeek. I know there are iGeeks who do get off on these encounters. A woman, her Windows Guy, an Apple purchase. You can almost feel the exuberance and glee in the iGeek: A chance to be The Man to a woman and flaunt iKnowledge in front of a non iGeek. But Zachary strikes me as the kind of testosteronely challenged guy who knows he’s never, ever going to get the girl in these situations and has long ago made peace with that. Some day, when his emo career takes off, some emo girl will dig him and that’ll be cool. He’ll impress her with his Apple knowledge. They’ll play strip iTrivia. Until then he’s content to work at the Apple store and learn every bit of knowledge possible about Macs and lives in his little iWorld. After all, it’s a safe, secure place for iGuys like Zachary.
iZach, as he fantasizes being called by his future emo girl.
Meanwhile, my iGuy has been very, very patient and for the most part good humored about the two week saga in progress which has become iIrritating. There have only been a few implied “You and your swutting Macs...” Apart from being an iWidow I am taking the compliment that he cares enough about me to see this through to satisfying completion and trouble free computing. I am not delusional, I know he’s not doing this just for me. I know he's doing it for us. And I know there is a part of him who cannot stand thinking Zachary (iZach) might know more than he does. Because he is A Guy first, and an iGuy second.
Could I have done all of this on my own? Yeah. Does iGuy (POI) know that? Probably. But if this makes him feel like he’s doing something for me, if it makes him feel needed, I’m the happiest iWidow in town. Stroking his iEgo keeping the iInsecurities about his iMasculinity at bay? Yeah. But in a bi/cross platform relationship sometimes this sort of thing has to happen. iCompromise. I can understand how he might feel threatened. He can give me a lot, his: Intelligence, humor, understanding, perception, sarcasm, curiosity, quick wit, cheekiness, sardonic smile, handsomeness, buff physique, gorgeous eyes, sexy hands...he’s got everything a girl like me could want. Everything except the one thing Zachary (iZach) has: iKnowledge. And let’s face it, there comes a time in every woman’s life when the only thing she wants and needs in a man is iKnowledge. All that other guy stuff is great, but if your iPod doesn't synch with your Mac, nothing else is going to be in synch, either. And a woman out of iSynch is a very, very bad thing.
1:39 PM
Monday, August 09, 2004
Sheesh people, this isn't the Da Vinci Code, click the photos for links and connect your own dots.
3:43 PM
