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
Thursday, August 19, 2004 Coming Clean
Okay. Fine. Brace yourselves, though. Some of you aren't going to like what I have to say. And I'm sorry about that. I am fully braced for the h8er mail I am about to receive.
Current POI (Person of Interest) is, in fact, HWNMNBS.
Now before you get all indignant and huffy for making you endure posts about getting back with him, and then, when I do, I don't bother to tell you, keep in mind I don't post a lot of my life here. In fact, not much of it at all. Which may be difficult to believe since there are usually so many words. Lots of stuff happens in my life. Hence, Life (?) of Trillian. Writing all of it would be an epoch. Swut. Writing half of it would be an epoch.
HWNMNBS, as you may recall, was fired from his long time job last March. He traveled and job hunted and did all the things people do when they're fired. He then made me a proposition. He invited himself on a lengthy visit to me so that we could both cheer each other up and see how we manage day to day life together, and yes, see if we could "go forth and multiply."
I was strong. You'd be proud of me. I didn't say yes right away. I didn't welcome him with open arms. I stated my concerns. We discussed them. We discussed the past, and finally, again, for the first time in ages, the future.
I have faced a lot of crap at work with a smile and cheerful attitude because I knew I had the one person who matters to go home to when my work day ended.
I have laughed.
Oh swut how we have laughed. That kind of stomach aching, weak knees, gasping for air laughing.
I have even thanked God, yes, God, because this, I thought, was nothing shy of a miracle, for giving us this chance, for giving me time with HWNMNBS.
I have savored every second and been grateful for all of them.
I have felt safe.
I have felt brave.
I have felt alive again.
I realized I truly do love him as much as I thought I did. (Yes, okay, yes! Sometimes I wondered if I was just living in the past as a way to avoid the future.)
I knew I loved him, but it's nice to be given the reassurance, proof positive that yes, those feelings are real.
And then we had a conversation.
Which has led to him cut his visit short.
HWNWNBS will be leaving Chicago and my life, forever, earlier than planned.
All the usual devastation and more.
I am his agony aunt and nothing more. He only needs me when he's in crisis. I'm his "emotional rock" he counts on me to see him through his troubles, make him laugh, make him well again so that he can go out and live his life without me until the next crisis hits. His doormat. He only loves me when he needs me or is scared.
Mind you, just a few days ago we were riding along on bikes when out of the blue he announced: "I haven't been so happy to be alive since I was a kid!"
But here it is, folks. The bitter sting, the painful truth. And this is very, very painful for me, for a lot of reasons. And this is exactly the sort of thing I don't usually post.
But because I may not post for a while, or if I do it may not be the sort of words I usually post, a little advance warning or explanation is probably in order. And in my ongoing effort to observe and report so others may learn, this is lesson one in How Not to Tell the One Who Loves You That You Are Never Going to See Them Again.
If you are a woman or have a weak heart, skip ahead to the next blank space. What I am about to say will make some of you very angry, others of you will smile and think, "a ha! I knew it all along!" and others will feel sorry for me. Right now I don't need hostility, smugness or pity. Thanks, I know you mean well, but really, this is beyond any sort of devastation I have faced in the past and I need to sort it out on my own.
He emphatically stated, angrily, that he is never, ever going to marry me for the sole reason that I am not good looking enough for him.
And that, guys, is how you ruin a woman's life. Regardless of the source, once a person hears those words, from anyone, just once, they stick like super glue for life. Coming from the person the woman loves wholly and dearly above and beyond all others, those words are fatal.
He's already ruined my life and now he's killed me.
I know there is no getting past the damage to my already low self esteem. I know I will hear those words ringing in my ears the rest of whatever life I have. I know I will always believe them to be true.
Intelligence, sincerity, honesty, integrity, compassion, sense of humor, kind heart, gentle soul...none of it means anything, none of it got me anywhere. When a woman is ugly, she cannot expect anything in life no matter what other qualities she possesses.
Call him shallow, stupid, selfish, narcissistic, evil, all of that and more. It's all true. But. The fact is that I am too ugly for him to want to face every day.
And of course there's the children to consider. He's apparently always been very worried our children would end up looking like me.
Oh yeah. Rub some iodine in the wound, too, as long as it's gaping open.
For the sake of all humanity, I'm begging you, no matter what lies you have to tell, no matter how bad the break up, do not ever, ever say these things to another human being.
Even if it's true. Even if they're the ugliest composition of DNA you've ever seen, a blight on humanity, there is no need to tell them this. There is not one reason to hurt a person this way. The only things which can be gained from these statements are jokes with your buddies on someone else's behalf. Someone else who is hurting not only because of a break up but because of cruel words over things which they have no control. And remember, you went out with them in the first place. If they're so ugly you have to end an otherwise perfect relationship which you developed with this ugly person, why did you go out with them in the first place?
I know I'm no beauty. I know even on a good day nice looking is a stretch for me. I know this. I've spent my whole life knowing this. I've spent years starving myself to near death attempting to get at least body men would like. I've spent an entire life watching prettier girls and women get the attention, the prizes, the men, the jobs, the life I want. I'm not stupid and I am very observant. I know how the system works. But I always thought someone, just one man, would be grateful enough for the love and devotion I would give him to overlook my flawed appearance. That hope has kept me from being bitter and resentful. And for a reason I cannot understand or reconcile, the one man I let into my life, the one man I trusted, the one man I allowed to get close to me, the one I fell in love with, has handed me the irony of a lifetime: He doesn't want or need my love because I am not pretty enough for him.
How do I feel? How am I holding up?
Thanks for asking.
Considering the fact that in the past 63 hours I've had no sleep, have cried so much and so hard my normally (apparently grotesquely) large eyes are swollen to slits so narrow I can barely see out of them, have had two asthma attacks and have been violently sick to my stomach, I'm holding up fairly well. Right. If this is "fairly well" "not so good" is going to be a riot.
After having to hear all of that (and much more) I am horrified of his leaving.
I am upset and scared that this is indeed good bye forever.
I am hurt more deeply than I thought I could hurt.
Why would I want anything to do with this man?
Why have I not thrown him and his chocolate wrappers and smelly shoes and really crappy taste in music out on the street?
Why am I sitting here at 2:30 in the morning shaking scared because I know I still love him and could forgive him for all of it should he ever want or need me in any capacity?
Why have I not met anyone who can make me forget about this horrible beast of a man?
Why do the good times, the laughs, the day in, day out normalcy we've had feel so good and so right to me?
Why am I not angry with him?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I thought I couldn't hurt anymore. I thought there wasn't any heart left to be broken. I didn't think emotional suffering could get any worse. So I took a chance.
I can. There was. It does. I shouldn't have.
I will undoubtedly have words at some point, but most have been too personal to post publicly. I never know what the words are going to be, I don't plan them, they just appear. I may be writing words about shoes or wine or the Daley regime tomorrow. If they are not too mired in self pity and self loathing I will post them as usual. If you don't see new words, it's not because I don't have any. HWNMNBS has taken everything from me except the words. But some of them are too personal, too painful and too annoying to post. Unless there are any bits that might be useful to someone else, lessons or insight to be gained and shared, those words will be kept private. And if those are the only words I am given, this blog will be stale. I canot predict if, when, or what I will post. Maybe my head will be full of words about everything other than HWNMNBS.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Congratulations to FreeBirdy, the lone astute reader who “got” the joke of this clip. Or at least the one wrote laughing about it. (The link is a map to Apple HQ in Cupertino, CA. If you still don't get it, don't worry and don't bother. You need to be a 2001: Space Odyssey junkie and Mac user to see any humor or poignancy in it.)
And yes, I personally thought this one was rather funny, too. In fact, at 2AM with a bottle of wine in me, when I put it together, I thought it was one of the funniest things I'd ever produced. The blinding sun hurts my eyes in the morning, but I still think it's kind of funny.
Get it? Dave, Mike, Hal, coworkers not getting along? No? Okay, maybe it's not so funny after all.
FreeBirdy, POI and myself may be the only three people in the Universe with this type of sense of humor. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but gauging by what I know of POI and myself, FreeBirdy, you might want to seek professional help before it’s too late. With proper care you might still be able to salvage your life and make something of it - at least go on to lead a productive life in normal society.
I’d offer you an iPod as a prize, but since there was no contest and since I cannot stand to watch human suffering, a public declaration of your being a very kind, clever, witty and cool person is all you’re getting. May the Universe shine favorably upon you. Live long and prosper. Come and go in peace. One rung closer to Nirvana. Whatever.
As for the rest of you wondering what’s up with Trillian and why she hasn’t had as many words for the Universe lately, sorry, I guess.
Life(?) of Trillian has been a little lively lately.
And fraught with technical difficulties.
Please bear with us while we sort out a few issues.
Sheese, people, I mean, thanks and everything, I had no idea so many of you read or cared about the words I blog out on here, and I mean, you know, it’s really swell so many really nice people bother to care enough to actually miss a daily installment and tell me as much, but you know, really, I’m okay. But now that I know some of you are concerned and a few others hurt and of course the h8ers are angrier, it’s given pause for thought about this blog and blogs in general.
You all know I do this because there are all these words in my head and I have to get them out. It’s not meant as anything or for any purpose other than a place for me to put these words.
The thing about blogging, though, is that it is public. Anyone in the Universe can read the words. I always contend that I don’t care who reads these words or what anyone thinks of the words on this blog.
However.
What I have learned in the years of doing this, and why I continue to publicly post, is that there are some really swell people in the Universe. Sincere, kind, intelligent, funny people. One of the unexpected by-products of this blog has been the reassurance that I am not not alone. Life can be very isolating for people like me. (and if you’re reading this, probably you, too) But putting all the words I don’t or can’t say to anyone (for various reasons) on this blog is a message in a bottle to the Universe. Except not one, but many people have access to the message. And the birth of a group of people who would never, ever otherwise meet connect. People from all over the world read this blog. (don’t ask me why, I truly do not have an answer) Apart from the h8ers (and even them in their own way), there are some common traits. If you’re sitting in your office or at home reading this, keep in mind there are others all over the world reading this as well. If we all got together in one room, we’d probably have nothing to say or break out in fighting. But here we all are, peacefully (hopefully) writing and reading and smirking, snarking or weeping over the same issues.
Gosh, Trillian, did you take your deep pill today?
Sort of.
As I mentioned, few of you have written with concerns because of my sporadic posting of late.
This happened to me last year, too, when I went on hiatus from public posting for a while.
The kind thoughts and wishes were/are overwhelming. Relative strangers taking the time to write an email to say hello, pass on well wishes or even to complain about the lack of posting was/is something I was/am not prepared for when I began blogging all those years ago.
It’s staggering for me to realize people whom I do not know, or at least have never met face to face, actually care about me and/or my words.
It’s a lot of responsibility.
Maybe I’m taking this way to seriously.
But.
It’s that pause for thought: Why do people read blogs? Particularly blogs like this one which is just a big jumble of words. Many issues argued but few solutions offered. Lots of trivialities noted but few actual points made. Personal rants, concerns and sorrows mentioned, but no lessons learned or insight given. It’s just Life (?) of Trillian.
A lot of press has been devoted to the power of the blog community lately. It’s becoming a recognized forum worthy of political, marketing and yes, even journalistic interest. The press focuses mainly on blog authors. The readers are mentioned as the “blog community” or in broader terms by concerned “reliable” media, “the public” in statements like, “swaying public opinion” and “reaching the public” and “giving the public a voice.”
You and I, blog readers, are more than an impassive mass of neophytes blindly following the words of the (many times) anonymous writers of a blogs. We are much more than just “the public.” The readers of this blog, at least the ones who write me, are all intelligent, sincere, kind, normal (well, I mean, normal is relative) people who are going about the business of living life. Most of us are not out to set the world on fire, change the face of nations or even sway public opinion. We’re just trying to get through life one crisis, one bad job, one technical triumph, one date, one break-up, one concert, one dilemma, one issue, one good glass of wine at a time.
Market researchers, political analysts and “reliable” media figures, however, see us a rich and viable source of information. And in the case of the “reliable” media and a few politicians, there is growing concern. Which is valid. We’re not gonna take it, no, we ain’t gonna take it anymore.
Well.
Knowing us we probably will. We’re not the most combative bunch. Apart from what we write or read on blogs, that is. The fact is we’re too busy, too tired, too apathetic or just plain too fed up with it all to be militant. So we write and read blogs where we can put out whatever words we want to get out of our heads, read other people’s words and take comfort in knowing we’re not alone. And that’s really all most of us want from a blog.
The market researchers, political analysts and “reliable” media can study and worry all they want. They can (and have, and will) attach nifty charts of figures which will impress their bosses and the general non-blog public. They will use and pander and lobby popular blogs. Soon, very, very soon, in some cases already, many of the once “alternative” voice news blogs will become “reliable” media pawns. Political rant and protest blogs will be used and manipulated by the politicians they rally against. And so it goes.
But us, we’re different. We’re not alternative news voices. We’re not political activists. We’re just angry because our new iPods don’t work properly or sad because we’ve had a bad break-up or lonely because we can’t find “the right one” or confused because we work with a bunch of idiots who earn more money than us or trying to figure out how to navigate the car buying/home buying/apartment hunting process as painlessly and cheaply as possible. Some of us are just hoping to find a really good falafel pita or advice on white stripping our teeth.
A ha.
Eureka.
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Realization dawns, a new day begins.
We are an huge community. We are exactly the people marketers, politicians and “reliable” media want to reach. We are the elusive group of people who do not fall neatly into nice, clean data tables. We have stymied and perplexed marketers and politicians for years. We've been seemingly unreachable. We know our opinion matters but we are wary or apathetic to public opinion polls. We buy stuff, but not the usual stuff marketers hope we’ll buy. And when we do buy the stuff marketers hope we’ll buy, we are painfully honest about it. We’ll speak the uncomfortable words about white merlot or Swoops or iPods. We may or may not vote, but only out of a sense of duty or apathy. We read and watch “reliable” media sources, but have the brain capacity, intuition and insight to know there is always more to the story. We’re not the least bit wishy washy, we’re just intelligent enough and tired enough to see it all for what it is and just go about the business of living our lives.
Not exactly ground breaking revelations there, except: We’re a formidable group. Individually, we’re just sincere, perhaps somewhat off-beat people. As a group, a “community,” we’re a powerful force. A group of people marketers, politicians and the media has been hungering, fighting to reach for years.
Think about that the next time you’re reading a blog about cheese or a date gone horribly wrong.
On the surface you’re reading a blog about cheese or a bad date, but keep in mind, to someone, somewhere, the fact that you are reading a blog about cheese or a bad date makes you very, very special. Elite, even.
And to me, you are always special and elite. As much as I shout, “This is just a bunch of words, nothing more!” I am grateful for everyone who reads this. Not because I want readers, but because it means I am not alone in my thinking and offers me reassurance that there are, in fact, not only intelligent signs of life in the Universe, but also compassionate, witty signs of life right here on Earth.
Thank you for your concerns and wishes. Apologies for the blanket response to email, I will write to each of you when I can. I will also try to get back to some sort of regularly scheduled posting soon. As you are all aware, there are things in my life which need a major sorting, and I am doing everything I can to sort them. Not the least of which are ongoing technical difficulties.
11:13 AM
