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
Wednesday, October 06, 2004 Ms. McMillian, “Trillian,” has been dealt yet another crushing blow (we know, how much more can this poor girl take?) and is unable to form words which we won’t “edit.” She told us to tell you she’s trying really hard to get her swut together, thanks for your continued support, she wants to get through this, she really does, but it's really, really difficult and something about work and some guy she had lunch with a few weeks ago and a lot of why why why and she ******* him so much and why can't he just ******* and why must the Universe mock me at every turn and what did I ever do to anyone to deserve this...You get the picture. She hates censorship but knows it's for her own good and yours, too.
Closet cleaning so I can put my air conditioner away for Winter time.
I love and hate this time.
I love that it's colder and Fall. Winter is just around the corner. I love that it's time for real clothes, not those imitation things we wear in the Summer.
I hate that I am spending another Winter in this apartment.
Alone.
This apartment was a temporary arrangement. A place to sleep while I figured out what and where my next move would be.
And, ahem, several years later, I'm still here.
I have lived here longer than I've lived anywhere other than with my parents.
That is creeping me out and upsetting me in ways which I think I have only begun to count.
I live with second hand, or Ikea, or cast off from other friends pieces of furniture because I don't want to spend money on anything "nice" or "real" for this temporary space.
I have never "fixed up" this place, even though it could be cute. Even though by Chicago standards it's a very large apartment. Even though with a little time and elbow grease and some money, it would be a "nice" place.
I haven't made any effort because, well, it's temporary.
Every time I take the air conditioner out or put it in the window, it makes me aware everything in my life since I moved here has been "temporary."
The friends who had found work here and urged me to follow moved shortly after I moved here. The guy who convinced me to move here turned out to be a temporary blip on my dating chart. (And in hindsite, a relatively temporary heartache.) Which led to my freelance career which was a temporary gig to see if I could cut it on my own and give myself some space to figure out what I wanted to do for my next career move. Which led to my current job which I took as a temporary measure to earn a regular paycheck and health insurance for a few months or so. Which led to this apartment, a cheap easy place to live until I got on my financial feet again and sorted out where and when I would move next.
Time passed. I did a lot of thinking and learning about myself. I had a bunch of really miserable dating experiences (all temporary) and carved out a little single life, thinking all the while, "this is good. I need this time to myself to grow as a person, to get my feet on the ground, to form a plan. Because this is all temporary." I cultivated a few friendships. I didn't date because, well, I thought I had quickly exhausted all of the potential males in the greater Chicago area, and besides, I didn't want to get involved with anyone because I wasn't sticking around. This was a temporary stop while I took some time out and figured out a permanent plan.
I grew to intensely dislike my job. But that was okay. It was only temporary. A means to an end.
Another job, in another department opened and the manager courted me heavily for the position. "No, thanks, really, this is only temporary, I'll be moving on soon." He persisted. I gave in. He knew I was in a temporary frame of mind, I hadn't formed a solid plan of any real permanence, my then boss was a demented lunatic, I almost had my credit cards paid off and I could make some good contacts. So I took the job. Temporarily. "I'll help you out, get this project on an even keel, but don't get too used to me. I'm not staying here much longer," were the words I used as an agreement to the new job.
I wanted to move, I was growing to loathe my apartment, but it was still more space on a cheaper budget than anything else I'd seen. Besides, it was temporary, I'd be moving soon. The credit card balance was getting lower and the blurry permanent plan was coming into focus. I could feel that soon all the little loose threads of ideas I had would be tied up into a real plan. A friend gave me a cast off air conditioner to help me cope with the Summer heat. I resisted, "Oh, no, I don't want that, it's a pain to lug up all those stairs, and I'm not staying here..." After another hot Chicago Summer began I relented and we dragged up the air conditioner. I thought, "Eh, I'll just leave it here when I move. It's temporary."
Then I met a man.
The Man.
Him.
I resisted. Oh how I resisted. I was quite happy in my solitude. I wasn't looking for a man. I was temporarily working out permanent ideas. I didn't want a man making things murkier. It was high time I sorted my life and I was on my way to doing so. A man would only cloud my vision.
But.
It was useless and futile to resist. He had me at Sweetheart and nailed the coffin at O'Hare.
You all know I haven't been the same since.
I stuck with my job because our plans were up in the air. Literally. International relationships are difficult and expensive. US Customs and Immigration are difficult. Everything in my life was even more temporary. Though finally I knew, or thought I knew, I was, we were, working toward a goal of sublime permanence. So permanent. The big permanent thing I really wanted. All of my life had been temporary time filling leading to this permanence. That vision I was seeking came into sharp focus and the picture included both of us.
Surely I could manage a little more temporary time at that job, in this apartment, in this city with a permanent picture like that in such sharp focus. I began to laugh at issues at work, smugly thinking, "Ha, I am out of here as soon as we get that visa...You see this ring? It's the exact color of his eyes and they're real, we're real, and permanent, this ring is my reminder of our permanence and proof to you that I am temporary here." or when it was 20 below in January and the wind blew through the cracks in my windows and I could see my breath and my landlord refused to give more heat, "Ha," I smugly thought through chattering teeth, "I am out of here. We're going to settle down and buy a lovely home and it will be new and warm and nice and permanent and we'll keep each other warm."
When I felt weak, when things felt perilously temporary, He would reassure me. He always knew when I needed a shot of permanence. He always said the exact thing I needed to hear. He eased my mind. Reminded me what we were working for and that it would all be worth it.
With him I was strong. Even though everything else in my life was that step beyond temporary: limbo. I had the one permanent thing I wanted and needed: Love. His love. My love. Our love.
As pathetic and unliberated as this sounds, believe me when I say there is nothing like love to make you feel invincible and able to look past every pain or inconvenience as a temporary bother. I know all the conventional wisdom says we should find our strength and motivation from within, but laws of natural science dictate that we find a mate. I am strong, (well, was strong) But with him I was stronger and better and motivated for bigger, better, more important, permanent things in life. We were working toward the big picture, the greater good, and the contentment permanence would give us.
The Horrible Thing happened. I was functionally brain dead. I was a zombie. I'm not sure for how long. That period is all fuzzy and blurry and I don't remember too much about it (thankfully). Friends were concerned. People told me I needed to move on, take steps toward a life without him. I knew they were right, but I was lost. I tried to force a life on myself. I tried to get back to that place before him, to try to get a clear picture without him. But he was the only permanence I had and everything else seemed, well, temporary. I wanted to move on, I wanted to turn a new leaf, I wanted to put him and all of it behind me. I pretended. I thought if I pretended and everyone else believed me, maybe one day the lie would be real to me, too.
I wanted to begin the charade by moving out of this apartment. Well. I really wanted a new job. If you've never had to face co-workers who know you've been dumped by your fiancé, let me just tell you: That's a special kind of shame and embarrassment. But first things first. A new apartment. I spent months scouring neighborhoods, comparing rent prices and examining my budget. Ah yes. The B word. Over the course of our relationship I'd spent every penny and racked up more credit card debt. (To be fair he did, too) Rent had gone up a lot, the city had gone condo crazy, and I couldn't find another place I could afford. Remember, I don't have a car. That greatly curtails the selection of available affordable apartments.
Then The Incident happened. I wanted to move but literally could not. I was physically unable. Besides, I still couldn't afford a different place and moving expenses. And I was still drifting, still feeling temporary in a permanent world.
But looking like a permanent fixture to the rest of the world.
The manager who courted me for my job is long gone. Several other people have come and gone in my department. Friends have left the company. I am now one of the few with a "history" in our department and the one people call for information on legacy projects which date back further than their hire. Two of the "temps" I hired to help get things on an even keel when I took this job have long since been hired as permanent and have been promoted to other positions in other departments. The rest were either hired and then went on to quit, or moved on to other temporary jobs.
That reminds me of an old job, several jobs and companies ago where the standing joke was, "The only thing permanent here are the temps."
Meaning, the "permanent" employees were the first to go when the economic climate became volatile. Meaning, there were temps who had been there longer than most of the permanent employees. The day my entire department except for the temps was let go, permanently, over drinks our manager lamented, "If you want to get anywhere in this company, you need to get your foot in the door as a temp."
That permanent job lasted 11 months. When I took that job I thought I could see myself staying there a while. Oh the irony which is my life.
Friends have left the city. People born and raised here, (a fact which always amazed me, aren't they curious about somewhere else?) have left their seemingly permanent home for far flung locations around the globe. Apparently yes. They were curious after all. Leaving me behind in my permanent state of temporariness.
My landlord informed I have now lived in the building longer than any other tenant. I am a fixture, he said.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined I would still be in this temporary dwelling, taking out my air conditioner for Winter. Again. That second hand air conditioner has come to symbolize all that's wrong in my life. Resisting putting it in the window thinking, "No, I'll be moving soon..another city, another job, no. If I put this clunky thing in it will weigh as a heavy reminder than I am still here." Then it gets too hot and I give in to the heat and lug it to the window. Fall hits. I take it out thinking, "this is the last time I do this. I will be moving and this old thing is staying here."
I made that vow again yesterday. I am horrified to think that I may be here making the same vow next year. Just as I was last year. And the year before...
Because this is all temporary.
Until I get a permanent plan. Until I figure out something permanent.
The problem is that I have learned everything is temporary. Especially the things you think are permanent, the things you really depend on, are temporary. And the things you think are temporary have a way of becoming the only permanent fixtures in your life.
5:30 PM
