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, September 26, 2005  
So this is a new twist on being single.

It’s not actually new, it’s just taken me a while to realize what’s happening.

With the exception of a few people who are divorced or widowed, most of my friends, family, colleagues and coworkers are married. Many of them have children or are nesting in preparation for children.

I’ve gone through the whole “still single” thing at wedding after wedding, outing after outing, dinner party after dinner party. My friends no longer try to bridge the single/married gap. They’re very cozily married and are openly smug about all the benefits of marriage. They have now for the most part forgotten what it’s like to be single and are not capable of relating to anything about being single. From ordering a pizza to joint tax returns, their lives are different in every way from those of single people.

For a while some of my friends tried to keep everything the same as when they were single. They tried to live as they did when they were single except with the benefit of a constant partner.

Most of them very quickly succumbed to the fact that being married is very different than being single. First and foremost, if the spouse works, there are huge financial benefits. They automatically have more spending money. And once the wedding bills are paid, their lifestyles improve greatly. Which is why I’ve given up on the whole conventional love thing. I need a financial partner. I’ve seen the financial benefits of being married and I want a piece of that action. Because I’m really, really sick of managing on one small income in a two income society. It’s wreaking havoc on my bank account and contributing to a lot of my sleep problems.

My married friends seem to very quickly forget what it’s like to live on one income. They go places, do things, buy things, basic things, like food, without giving it much, if any, thought. Without budgeting a night out with friends as an expense which will eat into their monthly operating budget. They don’t stock up on store brand cereal when it’s on sale as a means to go out with friends one night during the month. True story: I went out with a friend for dinner and drinks. In order to afford this extravagence I had to eat store brand cereal for every meal for three weeks. My friend thought the night out was an inexpensive treat and which we should do every week.

I kept making polite excuses, she kept countering them. Finally I had to explain to her it’s simply not in my budget.

She offered to pay my way. Because she’s a good friend and happy to help/share. Which is really nice and I’m grateful to have such a swell friend and everything.

But.

I’m sick of being a charity. My friends and family already pity me and worry about me, you know, alone, single, on my own all the time. And now comes the charity. At first it was charity in the form of trying to set me up with some guy or another. Usually a coworker of their spouse. Usually not someone they would have ever considered going out with when they were single, but since I’m still single they figure I’ll go out with anyone and be happy to do so. Which, yes, you know, in my case has become true, but this was back when I was still trying to maintain some sort of base standard for dating. Note to people who like to fix up their single friends on dates: Don’t offend or insult us. If you wouldn’t date the person, why would you inflict them on anyone else?

The financial issues are frustrating and embarrassing on a lot of levels. Every time someone invites me to do something, I have to re-evaluate my budget and either cut back on a basic living expense, usually food, or make a polite excuse to not attend. Because my friends are married and have more disposable income. Their tastes have increased with their income. They are not really into ordering a pizza and picking up a cheap bottle of wine and renting a movie. They’re into full fledged dinner parties. Or big nights out. Or spa weekends. And yes, I’m into all of those, too, but as a huge, save up for it event. Not as a matter of course, as a matter of lifestyle. Most of my friends “understand” my “situation” but they think, “she’s single, no kids, she’s free as a bird to do whatever she wants...” which is fairly true, but the “whatever I want” part is not accurate. I can do whatever I want within my means. Which is one income. The embarrassment takes me by surprise. My little compartment without much furniture is a huge embarrassment to me in light of my friends’ swanky condos and big houses, all decorated lovely creating a comfortable and pride swelling place to live and entertain. I’m generally okay with my compartment, you know, it’s nice and everything. But it is very small. I’ve adapted but when I visit a friend I realize how pathetically small and, well, impoverished my compartment is. I live a very, very, very different life than my friends live. A meagre, impoverished, pathetic life compared to theirs.

Jealous? Well, yeah, a little bit. I wish I could see my friends more often but because of my financial limitations I cannot afford to go where they go or do what they do.

My good friends and I manage, you know, we get together now and then. But. Well. It’s getting to be more then than now. They’re involved with a lot of other things. They have spouses and children and activities and vacations involving those spouses and activities which is, you know, normal. I’m the odd one, I’m the one not conforming to the normal stages of life. It’s not them, it’s me.

We’ve been all over this territory.

So to the new issue.

This aspect hasn’t reared its ugly head until recently.

Some of my friends have young children. Whom I adore. (and yes, I am jealous of their children. The more I see them, the more I long to have at least one of my own. Another aspect married people don’t understand: Their children, wonderful as they are, can cause a lot of angst and sadness or at least some serious pangs of sadness and longing in their childless friends.) Right. My friends are becoming parents. Another step through the normal stages of life, another step further away from me.

And because I’m stalled behind them, stuck in single land, and therefore immature in comparison to them, they are starting to treat me like one of their children. This is not an isolated incident. This is happening to me with increasing frequency from all of my friends who have become parents. They talk down to me. They over explain everything. They tell me what to do. They make decisions and plans for me before even speaking to me about it. They don’t offer advice on any topic in my life, they tell me what I’m doing wrong and compare how they would handle a situation to my apparently incompetent plan. They forget details like money. My friends now all tell me to quit my job. “Just quit!” they’ll scream at me. “Just quit that job. You hate it, you’re not getting ahead, stop complaining about it and just quit!” Uh, yeah, you know, I’d really like to, I fantasize about that on a regular basis, but, erm, I’m not actually independently wealthy, and the actual reason I’ve stayed as long as I have is because I, well, I need the paycheck. I can’t afford to quit until I have another job.

One of my friends was honestly taken aback by my explanation of the need for a paycheck.

“You mean you don’t have at least a years’ salary saved? My God, Trill, you really need to start saving some money. My entire paycheck goes into the kids’ college fund and our savings account.”

“How nice for you, Friend, great that you’re able to be so responsible. But I don’t actually have a husband earning twice my salary so I have to, you know, live on my salary.”

“Seriously Trill, you need to save money. I had no idea you were living that way. You need to have at least one year of your income in a non retirement account. You do have a retirement account, don’t you? I mean, you’re not getting younger.”

That way? You mean the way you lived until a few years ago? “Yes. I have a retirement account.”

“Whew, Trill. I love you but I can’t take care of you when you’re old.”

“Gee, thanks, but that’s okay. I’ve got a few boxes in mind for retirement. Nothing elaborate, just a modest little fridge box.”

“Trill, you’ve got to do something with your life. If you’re not going to get married you need to save money and get a better paying job.”

“Okay. Thanks for the advice.”

“Really Trillian. You can’t keep on this way.”

Uh, yeah. I know. I’m not actually 7 and I’m not actually an idiot and I’m not actually happy with my life. Thanks for the support and understanding, Friend.

I can deal with the bigger issues, the “Trill, do something!” commands.

But what’s really annoying the crap out of me is the “do it this way” and the “no, I believe it’s pronounced THIS way” and the “don’t wear that, borrow my_____ ” and the general condescending attitude and bossing around I’m getting from my friends with children. Even if they’re wrong, I have learned to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to argue or quibble or split hairs over whether or not the ingredient is indigenous to Brazil or Argentina because it doesn't swutting matter!!! But what does matter is offending and hurting someone over an issue which doesn't swutting matter. Correcting and directing and generally mothering a grown adult is rude and disgusting behavior. Even if that grown adult is stuck in a phase of life she should have moved on from several years ago.

If this were an isolated incident with one friend I would write it off to too much motherhood, not enough adult interaction. Or a nitpicking nature.

But.

This is happening at a staggering rate with all of my friends, female and male, who have become parents. It hit home to me when I realized they do not talk to or treat people who are married the same way. I notice they only talk to and treat me this way. Until I stopped to notice that aspect, and then took the time to wonder why they treat me differently, I didn’t connect the dots to get the full picture they see of me. I thought maybe my skills of decorum and general intelligence had taken a dive. I've never claimed to be anything other than a socially awkward idiot, but I think I know how to handle myself in public. I think I know a thing or two about a thing or two, and certainly know when to keep my mouth shut. But their near constant remarks, thinly cloaked criticisms, made me second guess myself. It began to eat away at what little confidence I have. I said increasingly less and let them do all the talking. I let them tell me what to do, what to wear, where to go and generally boss me around. I wasn't very happy with that arrangement, but, they're the ones who are successful in life and I'm the pathetic single ugly loser so I thought the best and smartest thing to do was to listen to them and let them boss me around. I thought if I was more like them I'd be more successful. I was trying to learn.

But what I learned is that they are frequently wrong. They are frequently overbearingly opinionated on topics about which they know very little. But they're my friends and I accept and love them so, you know, I just kept quiet. And I certainly didn't want to treat them the way they'd been treating me, correcting them and bossing them. That's not me. Live and let live Trill. And I'm not one to play tit for tat.

And they're not meanspirited. They're just parents. They're in that phase of life. And I’m stuck behind them, single, financially hurting most of the time, in a job I should have left a long time ago, stagnant. They moved forward. They have all the benchmarks of adulthood. “Single” is now something they associate in terms of their children. Single is the next generation behind them. I’m single and therefor: Behind them. And so they treat me very, very differently than they treat the people who are keeping up with them on their trip though life.

My wrist is in a brace thing. It’s been difficult not to mention painful to type. My friends know what happened, they know my wrist is not functioning up to par.

And yet not one but three of my friends replied to an email I sent apparently for no other reason than to correct a transposition.

Okay. These are not people who in the past have been nitpicking jerks. One of them is a bit of a perfectionist. But since I generally avoid social contact with nitpicking jerks, hair splitting bores and anyone else who feels a need to tell everyone they’re right and therefore superior by pointing out someone else’s mistake, it’s safe to assume this hasn’t been an issue with any of these people until they became parents.

None of them stopped to assume that since in the years they’ve known me I have generally spelled, you know, okay, or at least decipherably, that I do in fact know how to spell perusal. Or that at the very least I know it’s not spelled preusal.

None of them stopped to think, “Gee, Trill’s wrist is sprained and yet she’s sending me an email. What a pal. What a thoughtful friend she is.”

None of them stopped to think, “Gosh, poor Trill, her wrist must be bothering her. She made a transposition.”

None of them replied to inquire about my health or general well being.

All three of them made either a sarcastic comment or simply corrected my spelling.

“Yes, friend, I meant perusal. Jsut a bti pianful ot tpye tehse dyas.” was my response to her.

Let me state loud and clear: These are not bitchy, mean people. These are generally thoughtful, nice, caring people. Who have become parents. Who spend their days teaching and correcting and generally bossing around young children. And they apparently view me as another of their children. Because I’m not one of them. Because I am single and broke and not keeping up with them in any aspect of life they have come to view me and treat me very differently.

It’s gone from pity to intolerance and lack of respect.

It took a while to happen. I never saw it coming. But now that I start adding it up, connecting the dots, that’s the conclusion I’ve drawn.

I don’t think it’s a conscious lack of respect on their part, but the intolerance is conscious. It’s not possible to berate someone for their lack of savings or transposition in spelling a word without realizing you’re berating them. And you cannot berate someone, especially a friend, without knowing you are showing a serious lack of respect and tolerance. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, are the cornerstones of friendship. What separates friends from just other people is that we have shared experiences, respect and tolerate each other. Without respect and tolerance I think we’re just people, not friends. So on some level it IS conscious.

What I’m wondering is if I were to somehow pull off a marriage, would they once again treat me as an equal, or at least as an adult? Or would I need to have children to actually regain their respect?

Do I put these friendships on ice until I get married and have children? What if, as it seems to be the case, I never marry and/or have children?

I mean, these are my friends. My real friends. Or at least they have been until the whole parenthood thing happened. Do I ride out their parenthood years taking their bossiness and constant “advising” as a sign that they care about me but are completely out of touch with my life and leave it at that? That’s the approach I’ve been taking.

When it first started happening I was more than a little surprised. So I’d fire back with an occasional comment and one or two conversations about the issue. I did stand up for myself, I didn’t let them walk all over me. They apologized, but apparently my objection to the way they talked to me didn’t really sink in with them. They went right back to correcting me and being very condescending to me.

And I don’t really mind - not in the grand scheme. Now that I think I’ve figured it out I realize this is a parenthood thing. And a me still being single thing. I don’t want to argue over it. I don’t want it to cause a bitter end to our friendships. But. I also don’t want to be treated like a child.

So I’m backing off a bit. Leaving them alone to do their parent thing. And so far they don’t seem to notice. Which is good. They’re not hurt or wondering what’s wrong or, you know, missing me. There was already a chasm between us. The married/single chasm is huge and cavernous. More huge and more cavernous the longer you remain unmarried and childless

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12:48 PM

 
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