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/.

Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<





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Women, The Internet and You: Tips for Men Who Use Online Dating Sites
Part I, Your Profile and Email

Part II, Selecting a Potential Date

Part III, Your First Date!

Part IV, After the First Date. Now What?


"50 First Dates"






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.
Find Federal Officials
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or Search by State

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Contact The Media
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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.)

Quasar
Hyperbole
Amenable
Taciturn
Ennui
Prophetic
Tawdry
Hubris
Ethereal
Syzygy
Umbrageous
Twerp
Sluice
Omnipotent
Sanctuary
Malevolent
Maelstrom
Luddite
Subterfuge
Akimbo
Hoosegow
Dodecahedron
Visceral
Soupçon
Truculent
Vitriol
Mercurial
Kerfuffle
Sangfroid




























 







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Highlights from the Archives. Some favorite Trillian moments.

Void, Of Course: Eliminating Expectations and Emotions for a Better Way of Life

200i: iPodyssey

Macs Are from Venus, Windows is from Mars Can a relationship survive across platform barriers?
Jerking Off

Get A Job

Office Church Ladies: A Fieldguide

'Cause I'm a Blonde

True? Honestly? I think not.

A Good Day AND Funyuns?

The Easter Boy

Relationship in the Dumpster

Wedding Dress 4 Sale, Never Worn

Got Friends? Are You Sure? Take This Test

What About Class? Take This Test

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away, There Was a Really Bad Movie

May Your Alchemical Process be Complete. Rob Roy Recipe

Good Thing She's Not in a Good Mood Very Often (We Knew it Wouldn't Last)

What Do I Have to Do to Put You in this Car Today?

Of Mice and Me (Killer Cat Strikes in Local Woman's Apartment)

Trillian: The Musical (The Holiday Special)

LA Woman (I Love (Hate) LA)

It is my Cultureth
...and it would suit-eth me kindly to speak-eth in such mannered tongue

Slanglish

It's a Little Bit Me, It's a Little Bit You
Blogging a Legacy for Future Generations


Parents Visiting? Use Trillian's Mantra!

Ghosts of Christmas Past: Mod Hair Ken

Caught Blogging by Mom, Boss or Other

2003 Holiday Sho-Lo/Mullet Awards

Crullers, The Beer Store and Other Saintly Places

Come on Out of that Doghouse! It's a Sunshine Day!

"...I had no idea our CEO is actually Paula Abdul in disguise."

Lap Dance of the Cripple

Of Muppets and American Idols
"I said happier place, not crappier place!"

Finally Off Crutches, Trillian is Emancipated

Payless? Trillian? Shoe Confessions

Reality Wednesday: Extremely Local Pub

Reality Wednesday: Backstage Staging Zone (The Sweater Blog)

The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad

To Dream the Impossible Dream: The Office Karaoke Party

Trillian Flies Economy Class (Prisoner, Cell Block H)

Trillian Visits the Village of the Damned, Takes Drugs, Becomes Delusional and Blogs Her Brains Out

Trillian's Parents are Powerless

Striptease for Spiders: A PETA Charity Event (People for the Ethical Treatment of Arachnids)

What's Up with Trillian and the Richard Branson Worship?

"Screw the French and their politics, give me their cheese!"


















 
Mail Trillian here





Trillian's Guide to the Galaxy gives 5 stars to these places in the Universe:
So much more than fun with fonts, this is a daily dose of visual poetry set against a backdrop of historical trivia. (C'mon, how can you not love a site that notes Wolfman Jack's birthday?!)

CellStories

Alliance for the Great Lakes


Hot, so cool, so cool we're hot.

Ig Nobel Awards

And you think YOU have the worst bridesmaid dress?

Coolest Jewelry in the Universe here (trust Trillian, she knows)

Red Tango

If your boss is an idiot, click here.

Evil Cat Full of Loathing.

Wildlife Works

Detroit Cobras


The Beachwood Reporter is better than not all, but most sex.



Hey! Why not check out some great art and illustration while you're here? Please? It won't hurt and it's free.

Shag

Kii Arens

Tim Biskup

Jeff Soto

Jotto




Get Fuzzy Now!
If you're not getting fuzzy, you should be. All hail Darby Conley. Yes, he's part of the Syndicate. But he's cool.





Who or what is HWNMNBS: (He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken) Trillian's ex-fiancé. "Issues? What issues?"







Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.


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Reading blogs at work? Click to escape to a suitable site!

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, January 31, 2005  
Then Again, Maybe Not All Hope is Lost
I've met someone.

A very dangerous someone.

Someone who has given me renewed faith.

Someone I never thought I'd meet.

He's intelligent.

He's sincere.

He's really swutting funny.

He's plagued by irony.

He's responsible.

He has a career.

He has friends.

He is on good terms with his family.

He's not from here.

He travels a lot.

He's sarcastic.

He's caustic.

He's cynical.

He's jaded.

Oh.

And.

He's tall.

He has dark green eyes.

He has thick dark hair.

He has a wry smile.

And a sardonic smirk.

And a sexy swagger.

He's a vegetarian.

He's...

exactly like me.

(Without boobs and with (I presume) a penis)

I found the male version of me.

I should be really happy, right?

Wrong.

That renewed faith he's given me?

It's faith that I do not want and cannot date someone like me.

Even though someone like me is the only chance I have of being understood, the only vow this coupling will result in is a suicide pact.

He's a few years older than me. He's been around a couple more blocks than I have.

I have seen the future, and it is: Bitter, negative and resentful.

He's given me faith that I do not want to become That Person.

Somehow, through all of my angst and woe and why me, why me, I have managed to not become bitter.

Jaded, angry, cynical, sad, nonplussed and confused? Yes.

Bitter? Not yet.

Resentful? No way.

I know I am on the express train stopping at those two stations, but I'm not there yet.

This guy, I think, was sent to me from the future. "Take a long, soul searching look at this person, Trillian. He is you if you're not careful."
How do I know this?

During the course of our three hours together, one person thought we were brother and sister, another person thought we were a couple celebrating an anniversary. Which I take to mean we look like one of those couples who have been together so long they look like each other. Or, there is, in fact, something my parents have never told me.

Those remarks made to us resulted in some humorous dialog between us. Which is good. He can laugh at himself and at an awkward situation. He is: Nonplussed. I like that. Sort of.

I don't always exude enthusiasm.

Throughout my life I've been told (repeatedly) that I look intimidating. Or bitchy. Or stuck up. Or too intelligent to mingle with the common folk. (I get that one a lot in various forms, particularly from men who barely know me, which really irritates the crap out of me. Is this supposed to be a compliment? Advice? I should "dumb down" my look? How do you do that? More peroxide? More blue eye shadow?)

But.

These remarks are made by people who have not had the pleasure (ahem) of seeing me when I am passionate about something. Or when I am happy/excited for/encouraging someone else. Or when I'm with HWNMNBS or even thinking about him. Or when I'm out with friends. Or when I'm playing with my cat. Or when I'm at a concert. Or when I've had a few drinks.

This guy, Male Me, cracked a few smiles, wry ones, and a sardonic smirk or two. I like that in a guy.

But his eyes are soulless.

Life has beaten him up and robbed him of his ability to let go and enjoy the moment.

He is too smart to take anything at face value.

I know the feeling.

I'm that way, too.

But.

What I discovered through this guy, Male Me from the Future, is that deep, very, very, very deep in me, so deep I didn't realize it was still lurking there, is a particle of hope.

Hope that I don't end up Dead, Like Him.

He's very aware of himself. He knows and talks about how he is and what happened for him to evolve into who he is. He's tried the medications, the therapies, the alcohol...

But he's realistic. He is not deluded. He sees things for what they are. He looks in the Mirror of Truth every morning. He sees himself as who he has become. A nice, intelligent, sincere person who's endured some of the worst life has to offer the species human.

Character?

Oh yes. He has character.

He is wise and witty.

And weary and wary.

Boring? No way.

He's too aware of himself and too polite to let himself brood and bore.

I know.

Definitely not the kind of person you meet very often.

Which is why I believe he was sent to me from the future. "Trillian, stop looking in your own Mirror of Truth for a minute and look at this person. He's too far gone, there's nothing which can be done to save him. But look and learn. Save yourself before it's too late."

He's given me faith in my ability to be open to possibilities.

He's given me faith that I am not as far gone as I thought I was.

He's given me faith that I have not lost all hope.

Yet.

The problem in all of this tangled web of hope I wove?

Once again I got home and collapsed in a puddle of self pity, self-loathing and tears.

Why, why, why?

I'm so lonely...


and the broken woman tri-fecta:

I miss him so much...

Oh yes. Male Me gave me hope, all right.

He gave me hope that maybe, somehow, some way, some day, HWNMNBS will decide he's had enough chasing after pretty girls and decide apart from looks I'm the only one he really loves or wants.

And that kind of hope I don't need.

How'd I get to that place after a date with Male Me from the Future?

Well, because, I always end up at that place (I am Miss Havisham), and because this time around I thought I was close. I thought maybe, maybe, finally, someone like HWNMNBS but not exactly like him. Different from him in enough ways to be like him without being a replacement HWNMNBS.

Because now I know I had more hope going into this date than I realized at the time. I really, really, really wanted this one to be different. I wanted this one to work out past a first date. I wanted this one to maybe, you know, be someone.

But he's not.

And I'm not different for him.

I'm not someone.

Sure, we got along okay. Sure, we had actual conversation. Sure, we had a few real, honest laughs.

But he's passionless and dead and hope-less. And I'm passionate and on life-support and minutely hope-ful.

Next to him I'm spunky. Seriously. He even said so, "You know what you are? You're spunky. You got spunk, kid."

I know. Me? Spunky? Not quite.

Well.

Actually.

Next to him? Yes. I am spunky.

It's all relative.

And I have absolutely no idea if he meant that as a compliment or a criticism.

He said he liked my boots. (thanks, they're new)

He said he liked my coat. (thanks, it's old)

He said he liked my sarcasm. (thanks, it's old, too)

He said he liked my eyes. (thanks, they're perceptive)

He said he liked my hands. (thanks, they're, erm, capable)

But he didn't say he liked my spunk. He merely commented on it.

To him I seem spunky. And here I thought I was nonplussed.

It's all relative.

In retrospect, I think that was when I began to realize Male Me was sent from the future to give me a message, to make me realize I still have a particle of hope left in me. I did splurge on new boots (okay, not specifically for the date, but still, I wore them for the first time on our date), I did put on the cute outfit requiring uncomfortable undergarments. I did spend (a lot) of time on my hair and make-up. I did wear my slutty coat. A completely hope-less woman doesn't do any of those things. I thought a nonplussed woman would do them as a matter of course. But I was wrong. You need a particle of hope to bother. That's the message I got from the future via Male Me.

Male Me from the Future did his routine as a matter of course. For him, the real effort was trying to meet women in the first place. Because he is trying. But not because there's any shred of hope for a "real" relationship inside him. He's going through the motions because he knows that's what he should do. (Apart from hoping to have sex, which is his only real ambition with women, and I don't think he wants from me because I'm ugly and because, well, somewhere in all of that I don't think either one of us was sending any of those signals. And it would be really weird having sex with him because it would sort of be like having sex with myself which I can do any time I want without the emotional issues of sleeping with someone new. Not that it's any of your swutting business. But just so that the few of you who always ask me if the sex was good can be spared sending me that email.)

And that's what I miss about HWNMNBS. No, not the sex. Well. I mean, yes, the sex, but not now, not here. I miss his spunk. His perception. His cheek. His spark in the eyes. His ability to get enthused and passionate about mundane things. He has hope. Okay, that hope is no longer for or with me, but, he has hope. I've been really jealous of him about that. As hurt and lonely as I am about all of it, I look at him with awe and wonder, not the "How can he do that to me wonder" (okay, sure, every now and then there is that awe and wonder) but the, "I wish I could bounce back like that" wonder. The "he dumped me because he's hoping for something better" wonder. He's got hope. He's got spunk.

Apparently I've got some spunk, too, and a shred more hope than I thought. But by my calculations (using a complicated formula involving Male Me from the Future's birth date and my birth date) I've got 2 years and 5 months to do something about myself and my life before becoming Male Me from the Future.

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