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

 
Sunday, May 21, 2006  
Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody...

I just got paid but of course that means nothing to me, at least in the, "hey! I just got paid! Let's go nuts!" sense because my money goes to paying the many bills which crowd my mailbox every month and feeding the cat.

But hey, another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody blah blah blah how I wish I had someone to talk to, I'm in an awful way.

And that's really the worst of it, not having someone to talk to on a Saturday night. Or Sunday morning. Or 3 AM on a Tuesday. Well. That and it occurred to me I'd like a really good kiss. You know, a really good, serious, real kiss. I don't think about that often, it's not allowed on the regime of no feelings. But. Sometimes I think about kisses I've had in the past and how good they felt and how nice it was to share that lip locked physicality with someone who wanted to share it with me. I used to really like kissing. A couple of former boyfriends even told me I was a good kisser. Rock Star wrote a really bad song about my "addictive kisses." Yeah, I know, who'd a thought that? That was a long time ago, seems like a different life, someone else's life. It startles me sometimes to remember I used to have a life like that. A life that included boyfriends and kisses (addictive and otherwise) and going out on Saturday night or staying in on Saturday night and talking until 3 in the morning.

Now I work. I go to work and I work a lot of hours. And I come home and I work until I think I can fall asleep for a few hours. Then I get up and go to work. Sometimes I go out, you know, out. Socially. Last week I went out three nights. I know, easy there, Trill, you might hurt yourself. I would go out more but I can't afford it. (see above, crowded mail box)

And I find when I go out coming home is worse than if I'd stayed in all evening. The loneliness, isolation and despair is more obvious after spending an evening out in a crowd or out with friends who are all going home to/with their partners. Sure, going out is fun, until someone gets hurt. And that someone is usually me. When I get in the cab or walk home alone. And go into my compartment and it's quiet (the Zydeco is dying down, someone else must have complained, it now seems to stop around 9 PM) and the compartment is empty and Furry Creature wants a bite to eat and I think about something someone said earlier in the evening or how great or awful the band was and turn to talk to someone about it and then, oh yeah, that's right, there's no one there. Furry Creature consequently knows a lot about bands and my friends and the people I meet when I go out. So I rattle around all in a post-going out buzz on my own. It's a waste. A horrible waste. A waste of a life, a waste of energy, a waste of time. Those few hours out are fun but when I go home they magnify the emptiness in my life. And then reality hits and I realize the money I spent going out, while not great sums to most people, cut into the monthly budget and the rest of the month is going to be spent eating Ramen and peanut butter and using laundry quarters as my emergency bus fair. Yes. Sometimes it comes down to either doing the laundry or saving quarters for the bus should I need to ride if I'm in a hurry to get to work.

Welcome to the fun swinging single life.

I was okay with times like this when I was younger. The times between boyfriends was sometimes a relief. A chance to regroup, grow as a person, spend time alone doing what I wanted to do, developing myself, working on projects, going to school, it was good. I was fine with it. And I knew I could go out and eventually going out would produce a boyfriend or at least some interesting prospects. But those days are long gone. Now when I go out I sit and watch other women get boyfriends or interesting prospects. All the smiles and coy hair flipping in the world doesn't bring men my way. Unless I happen to be out with some of my attractive female friends. Who happen to be married. Yet men don't seem to be bothered, daunted by that. They see a table of attractive women and apparently think they've got a chance with at least one of them.

They get disappointed and sometimes angry to learn that they're right, they do have a chance with at least one of them, but that one is me. When my friends all talk me up and try to steer these men in my direction the men who were attracted to my friends either leave or become rude. "Her? Uh, no, I don't think so. Not my, um, 'type.' You're my type. And her, the cute one with the nice ass, she's my type, too. But not her." Yes. Men have said that. Not just one man, men, on several nights out in several different types of places. Those types of remarks don't hurt me anymore. I'm used to it. I anticipate them and spend my time building up interior defenses to paste on the attitude and look that says "it doesn't matter, I wasn't interested in him anyway, his words don't hurt me" and "he's a jerk and whatever, laugh laugh laugh.' (sob sob sob)

I did get hit on by an older man. An older married man. A much older married man. His wife doesn't understand him. They have an open arrangement. You know, until the kids are in college. Then they'll get a divorce. But until then he's trapped in a marriage with a wife who doesn't understand him and he's bored.

Yep. I've hit the point in my life where that kind of man hits on me.

Well. I mean, I've been hit on by men like that in the past. They're everywhere, in every corner of the Universe, lounge lizards of a bygone era, those men with that tired cliché of a line will hit on any woman they think looks either dumb enough or lonely (and desperate) enough to buy into or excuse the cliché. They frequently work in sales or are "in real estate." They frequently wear a huge watch and/or a gold bracelet. They're frequently named Roger. So much so that I've come to assume "Roger" is an alias, a code name used by married men incapable of getting a divorce and yet also incapable of putting in the effort required to have a marriage which isn't a sham. They don't really want a divorce any more than they want the relationship they claim they're seeking there at the bar. What they want is sex and will stop at nothing, not even tried old clichés to get it.

Those guys, Rogers, are usually not into sarcasm. So they usually don't appreciate my responses to them. "Of course your wife doesn't understand you, clearly you're a complex and sensitive individual with very deep needs, so many needs that you need more than one woman to satisfy and fulfill you." Or, "Oh, how nice you're sticking together for the sake of the children. So are you out 'bowling' or 'working late' tonight? Which lie did you tell them? Because of course lying to them about where you are and what you're doing and about the state of your relationship with your wife is better than having them have to deal with a divorce," and they really hate it when I use my mother's line on them, "Only boring people get bored." Yes, as you can see, I have a few barriers to intimacy, at least when it comes to men like that. They hate it when their bluff is called. They slither away and look for fresh prey. They go for the dumb one instead of the lonely one next time.

I sat there looking at the Roger of the week thinking, "Ya know Trill, maybe this is it, maybe this is as good as it's ever going to get for you. Maybe deep down in there somewhere he's not really as bad as he seems. Maybe his wife really is a bitch and maybe he really does love his children." And then I snap out of my desperation and go to the "ladies room."

But back home, alone, I sit there thinking, "I could have at least kissed him, got that out of my system. One kiss every five years isn't asking too much or hardly playing with fire." And then I think, "Oh swut Trillian, is this what it's come down to? You, alone in a tiny compartment with a cat contemplating whether or not you should have at least kissed that Roger because lately you've been thinking a kiss would be nice?" And then I think, "I cannot live this way. I'm too alone and too empty. I'm sitting here having this conversation with myself and a cat."

I fill my days and nights with as much activity as possible to avoid being alone. I work. I freelance. I volunteer. I have interests. I go places and do things. I have friends. I get "out there." I try, you know, I really try. And all of that is rewarding in a lot of ways. But. Then I'm alone. And ultimately that's the worst of it. I do have a fairly involved and "rewarding" life, but, what's the point if you don't have someone with whom you can share it, have a laugh, relax and enjoy the aftermoments, sit back and just have a good old snog?

People tell me I should embrace being single, that in many ways I'm lucky to be single, that I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want. Funny, I just never felt trapped in my past relationships, I never felt like I was being held back from doing what I wanted to do. People tell me divorce rates are high and a marriage is no guarantee of an end to loneliness. I mean, duh, of course not. But I've been pretty good at choosing men in the past, I mean, at least in terms of dating men who didn't trap me or isolate me or make me yearn for more. Even HWNMNBS with his special brand of self esteem bashing, even with him, even with the distance between us, I didn't feel trapped or lonely. He was always there for me and apart from my looks was extremely supportive and encouraging of me and my goals. And I loved kissing him. I've never allowed myself (or wanted to) get into a relationship which wouldn't be mutually satisfying or at least fun and rewarding on some level. I'm stupid but I'm not an idiot when it comes to relationships. Why do you think I've burned through almost 50 first dates and had very few second dates? It's not always them, it's more often a combination of us which just isn't right. I could have hung in there with a couple of those guys, the recent doofus, for instance, really liked me, but I would have ended up feeling alone or even trapped in relationships with them. I'm lonely now but I'm not too stupid or desperate enough to realize those relationships would make me even more lonelier. "Not everyone gets to be married," I'm told. Oh. Okay. Gee, really? Ya don't say. I realize this, too. And that's what's scary and depressing and makes the loneliness worse. I am all too aware that not everyone gets to be married, and that a lot of people spend their lives single and wishing they weren't.

But is it wrong to not want to be one of them? Is it wrong to feel lonely and empty and long for a relationship when you're the sort of person who wants that? Nature, biology, makes us to be paired up with a mate. And no, this isn't about my biological clock, though, I admit, that has been a factor in the past and I make no apologies. People are made to reproduce. It's normal to want children. Those of us who want them are not bad. We're normal. Survival of the species, all that? Ringing any bells from biology class? Reproduction is the most basic function any organism can master. A swutting gnat can reproduce for crying out loud. It's what organisms do. It's nature. I also happen to really like children and hoped I would have some with a man who also wanted to be a parent, with me. It's not working out that way. But don't tell me, "It wasn't meant to be" and expect me to think it's all okay because "it wasn't meant to be." I've got a uterus, desire and love to be a mother and it's oversimplifying, arrogant and stupid to tell me I either shouldn't want children or that "it wasn't meant to be." I realize that, okay? I'm not a complete idiot. I realize that. But it still hurts. I still yearn for children. I still feel sad every month when another egg goes to waste. On a very basic level it makes me feel like a failure as a human organism. On a deeper level it makes me feel sad and lonely. I accept what's happened to my life. But accepting my fate doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it. And for you guys out there who don't happen to have a uterus and like to make judgments or jokes about biological clocks: Shut up.

The point is that we're supposed to be paired up. That's the nature of things. Life is hard. We need help. Support. A partner. I realize that doesn't mean we all get to be married and/or have children. But for those of us outcast and alone, those of us who want a partner and a relationship, it's rough going sometimes. It hurts. It's scary. It's lonely. That's not to say we feel we're wasting our lives or that we're incomplete, just that we'd be better, less lonely and more well adjusted if we had someone to talk to (and kiss) now and then. This is basic stuff of life. Some people truly do not want that stuff, and that's great, fine for them, to each their own and good for them for realizing that about themselves. But for those of us who want it and don't have it and keep trying and still don't have it, it's rough going. Simply trying to accept it and become one of the people who doesn't want any of that isn't easy. You have to deny and squash all your most basic instincts, desires and feelings.

I need to find the guy who realizes I have issues and accepts them. I need to find a man who doesn't insult me or my intelligence. I need to find a man who needs a financial partner. I need to find a man who's wiling to kiss me from time to time. He doesn't have to love me and he doesn't have to want me to love him. Somewhere out there is a guy who's been bashed around by life and relationships, who's single and lonely and in need of a financial partner and someone to talk to at 3 AM. The problem is that, like me, he's probably busy with work and activities and his life. It's not until he goes home to his empty compartment that he thinks, "I could really use someone to talk to right now. A kiss would be nice, too. And a little help with the finances would be nice."

10:37 AM

 
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