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
Friday, January 13, 2006
You know the whole, “time I can never regain” thing - time unnecessarily wasted? Like watching a “reality” show or sit com? An hour of life which is forever lost...
I try to be somewhat careful about how I spend my time. I waste it when I want to waste it and I am aware I am wasting it. Sometimes I intentionally waste time. I’m pretty good at wasting time, in fact. Which is why I try to be careful, make wise choices in the way in which I waste time.
I don’t waste time watching much television. I have to watch some for professional reasons, but the rest of it is pure wasted time. Oh sure, I watch some educational television. One could argue me spending an hour watching the effects of extreme cold on humans in Denali is a waste of time because chances are very slim that I will in fact ever need to know how to survive in Denali. And what with global warming and everything I should be more concerned about surviving in extreme heat. So yeah. Television. A huge time waster. Seldom thought provoking or inspiring, often stupifyingly brain numbing.
Reading. Well. Yeah. I read a lot. I read because I’m curious or interested or confused or just because I like words or words formed into a good ripping yarn. You know me and words. It’s a tortured love affair. They throw themselves at me. I can’t resist them. It’s a problem. And possibly a symptom of brain damage.
I’m not obsessed yet I seek them and they taunt me. So, maybe I am obsessed. Unconsciously unintentionally obsessed. Hmm. Maybe that makes me plagued by them. That sounds better than being obsessed with them because it implies that I am a victim which, when it comes to words, well, yeah. I am mercilessly victimized by words. So for me reading isn’t so much a waste of time as a form of torture. Wait. That’s not right. See what I mean about words? Infinitely complex and fascinating.
I write them because I have to get them out of my head. I only post a small amount of the words I write. This is a waste of time, sort of, except if I don’t write them, expunge them from my head, I have problems. I can’t think or speak properly if they’re in there unexpunged. So for me, not so much a waste of time as a necessary form of mental health therapy. I don't put these words here to gain popularity, noteriety, money or really, anything. I have no real reason for it. I write them, lots of 'em, which I don't put here. I often think I'll stop putting words here. When I do people tell me they miss them. I don't understand why. But people tell me they miss them so I sometimes I put some of my words here.
I have no idea why you’re reading these words.
Wasting time?
Yep. You are. Right now, this second, you are wasting time. Don’t blame me. I’m not making you read these words. I like some of you a lot, but honestly, I have no idea why you would read these words. Sometimes I have words which are hopeful hints or suggestions, particularly on the subject of dating. But either you’re not taking the advice or men who need the advice aren’t reading because boy oh boy things are bleak on the man front.
Speaking of wasting time.
Time out: Guys, really, your online dating site screen names? Seriously guys, please, read these words. Hear my plea. A rude or offensive screen name is not a good or cool way to make a first impression. Nothing will make me delete email faster than a sexual, rude or ego driven screen name. Cutesy wootsy names generally ring alarm bells, too. Pooksie-pie this means you. Unless the rest of your profile checks out and your screen name is obviously ironic, please just stick with something innocuous. Stay away from adding Mr in front of a nick name, too. A lot of you do that. Apparently it’s a trend. But I, and most other women, do not want to meet much less date a guy who openly calls himself MrOneNighter. I mean, thanks for the warning, but you say you’re looking for a long term relationship or marriage. Um, do you see why we’re confused about you? MrOneNighter wants a long term relationship or marriage. I already have enough conflict in my life. Delete. What’s in a name? A lot. I innocently open my email in box and every day I assaulted with rude names in my from box. They aren’t caught in the spam filter because the domain is from the online dating site which I have on my “okay” list. All I’m doing is opening my in box and I’m insulted before I even open any email. Yes. It’s that bad. I have no idea why a man would think any woman would want to be sexually insulted by his screen name, why he’d want to make that first impression, but, a lot of them do this. Which leads me to believe there are women out there who are okay with this. None of the women I know are okay with this. But if these offensive jerks weren’t getting responses, they’d change their names.
See what I mean about wasting time?
Maybe people who only want a one night roll in the sack or nothing more than a sexual relationship online dating sites offer a trove of possibilities. Those of us who want something other than sex have to wade through all those people to get to the deeper end of the dating pool. Nothing new there, that’s been an issue since the dawn of dating. Sorting out intentions and all that. But I had high hopes that online dating would help eliminate having to wade through the shallow end and allow me to safely dive right into the deep end. I was wrong.
Oh sure, it’s easy to delete these guys without even reading their email or looking at their profiles, but considering that I have received 15 - 24 email winks, smiles or letters a day from men with sexually explicit screen names for the past week (it’s become so frequent that I kept count for seven days), it becomes a time waster. And speaking of wasting time, why are they contacting me? Nowhere on my profile do I mention anything about sex. I state that I am looking for a long term relationship or marriage. Period. So why are these guys bothering me? Why are they wasting their time and mine? Well. Ego, I assume. Selfishness. Ignorance.
So yeah. Words. Reading. Wasting time. I honestly hoped this blog would do some good, help those in need of help with online dating. But obviously I’ve failed. So it’s back to being about my mental health therapy and your wasting time.
Wasting time. You know. Like going on job interviews and not getting the job. No, I didn’t want that stupid job, really, not really, but still. Two interviews, phone calls, spending time figuring a new budget so I could afford to take a cut in pay...for a job I didn’t get. That’s life. And no, it wasn’t the right job for me and I would have been miserable there and it would have been nothing more than a different miserable job from my current miserable job. But still. What a waste of time. And no. I didn’t learn anything from the experience so be quiet about all the trite platitudes. I put real time and effort into that interview process and regardless of whether or not it was the right job for me I was rejected. They didn’t want me. They found someone better. Which in this case probably meant worse, or at least less experienced.
And no. It’s not good to be too good. Too experienced. Too nice. Too smart. Too understanding. I don’t think a person can be too much of those qualities. We’re supposed to be striving for experience, we’re supposed to be nice, we’re supposed to learn all we can because that all leads to understanding which is supposed to be the point to at least some of life. Wisdom and all that. Too nice? Too smart? Too experienced? Come on, that doesn’t make sense. It’s oxymoronic. Too inexperienced. Too mean. Too stupid. Too unsympathetic. That’s bad, right? So how can the opposite be bad? The opposite should be good. But apparently it’s not. I’ve had a lifetime of rejection because I’m too nice, too smart, too understanding, too experienced. I don’t think I’m too much of any of those things, but I keep hearing it in the form of negative rejection (as if there’s positive rejection, another term I’m taking to task for being overused, oxymoronic and stupid)
Wasting time.
Right. I control my life. I’m responsible for myself. I make decisions and choices. I roll with the outcome. If I choose to waste time that’s my choice and I’m responsible for the repercussions.
And then sometimes there are situations beyond my control which waste my time.
The usual suspects are coworkers.
I have to be semi-polite to these people because I work with them every day and I need my job. (see above, rejection) Being rude or inconsiderate won’t aid in my keeping my job. And I am too nice and too understanding to be rude anyway.
So when a coworker bent my ear with complaints about her unit manager, I listened. Offered an understanding and sympathetic, “gee, that’s too bad, sorry you’re having so much difficulty.”
This was taken as an invite to throw out a slew of racially slanderous accusations against some of our coworkers.
Extremely vicious remarks.
I have zero tolerance for that sort of thinking.
Which is what I told my coworker.
Who then accused me of being “just like the rest of the upper crust around here who pander to everyone except us poor white people as if you’re ashamed of being white yourself.”
Um. Yeah. Slowly back away from the bigoted neanderthal before it turns violent....
I was more than a little stunned by this outburst.
I would have walked away but the coworker was in my office.
I asked them to leave.
They went sputtering out of my office.
Okay. They’ve got a problem. And they tried to make it my problem. And wasted a lot of my time. And now I’m wasting yours in relaying the incident. Well. Actually. That’s not true. You’re wasting your time by reading about it. I have no power over what you read or how you spend your time.
Nothing will get solved or resolved. My coworker isn’t going to change. No one’s walking away enlightened or better or worse.
But my time was wasted with contemptible words. Because I was too nice to my coworker with their initial complaints about work? No. Because they were too stupid and too mean and too unsympathetic to realize their bigot opinions are unfounded and completely inappropriate for work or the situation.
And a huge waste of time. Time I can never reclaim. It’s gone forever. And completely wasted. I willingly waste enough time. I don’t need anyone else wasting more of my time on my behalf.
Men, employers, coworkers...it comes down to a lack of respect.
That trek to Denali is sounding better all the time.
Maybe it’s not a waste of time for me to learn about human survival in extreme cold conditions. No one will waste my time for me there and the male:female ratio is stacked strongly in my favor
3:00 PM
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Falling Lower.
Maybe my purse is the culprit. Dragging me down lower than I should be. Look at all this crap I didn't know I was carrying around all the time.
Sheesh.
I'm a mess. Literally. My possessions are causing me suspicion but there's no proof... 4:06 PM
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
I’m starting to wonder how low I can go. Is there a point, a place where I’ll crash and be unable to go any lower, or is low actually a bottomless pit with new, unimagined lows to attain?
It’s not a matter of failure. I can deal with failure. I deal with it really well, I think. You know, considering. Considering how far off track my life has careened and how I’m too far gone to get back on track much less catch up to where I want to be. Considering that I think I deal with it pretty well.
The thing I wonder is: How low can I go and how low will I go?
As for the can part, I believe everyone has the ability to sink to lows which on the surface seem impossible. We’re humans. We’re stupid. We’re capable of stupidity beyond reason. In fact we’re know for displaying a serious lack of reason and the consequential acts of stupidity. It’s what separates us from the “lower” forms of life in the animal kingdom. Apart from squirrels with their dare devil “I bet I can out run that big metal thing coming a me” attitude, take away our weapons and put us in the wild and our chances of survival are low.
But just how low will I go? Not how low can I go, not how low am I willing to go, but how low will I actually go?
I’ve been wondering this even more lately in several aspects of my life.
I met this guy. He’s been emailing me for a several weeks. After reviewing his profile I didn’t think we had enough in common to bother meeting in person. He persisted. He played the, “Hey, we’re both single, our friends are married, we both like music, we could at least hang out together” card. I still declined his proposals thinking there was no way we’d like each other enough to even enjoy an evening “hanging out” together. Finally he mentioned a band I sort of like playing at a small venue. He said he was going to the show. I already planned on going. (not with him) The day before the show my friend canceled on me. I thought, okay, go on my own or don’t go at all or, gulp, meet up with the guy. So in a momentary lapse of serious reason, I sent him an email saying, “Guess what? I’m going to that show tomorrow night, too. Maybe we can meet up for a drink.” He responded within seconds.
And that was how it came to be that I was sitting there looking at a guy who looks like the guy you conjure when you hear the words “aging Iron Maiden fan.” (No, it was not an Iron Maiden concert or cover band show.) He smells like pot. (and the place wasn’t even that crowded yet so it was not just a general ambient pot smell. It was all him.) And he peppers his speech with words like knarly, spliffin’ and rad. And I’m thinking, “You know, he’s a nice guy. Really. He’s nice. What more do I want? What more can I ask from a guy? Other women, other people can ask for more because they’ll get it. But apparently I can’t. And he seems to like me even though he doesn’t get my sense of humor. He continues to sit across from me talking about bands and music even though I mention a few topics other than bands. And I think, “Hey, he’s sticking around, he actually seems to like me. So maybe this is it, maybe this is The One. He seems to be able to tolerate me. Maybe I could eventually learn to tolerate him. Even though he smokes, even though he proudly boasts he only owns jeans and has turned down jobs which required him to wear something other than jeans. Even though he didn’t bother to shave. Or wash his hair. Is personal hygiene really such a big deal?”
Yep. That’s how it happens. You start reasoning away all the usual explanations and the next thing you know you’re dating an aging Iron Maiden fan who doesn’t own anything other than jeans, smokes pot and doesn’t groom himself on a daily or perhaps even weekly basis.
No, I’m not dating him. Yet. I haven’t seen or talked to him since that night we met at the bar. Which I don’t think even qualifies as a date. He’s sent me a few emails. He thinks it’s really cool how we get along so cool because he wouldn’t think a chick like me could be so cool. He thinks I’d be a cool old lady. Yes. That’s a quote. Keep in mind he rides a Harley and being a cool old lady is a good thing in his world.
I don’t mean to imply that he’s a bad person. He is honestly a nice person. He did confess to a couple of minor legal infractions. Little things, really, and a long time ago. He's grown up since then. He was honest about it. He can joke about it. He's thoughtful in his own way. He’s just, well, I mean, okay, look, here’s the thing: We have nothing in common apart from the fact that we both like a few of the same bands. This isn’t two worlds colliding and opposites attracting. This is a duck and a squirrel both interested in a piece of bread and then going back to their respective tree and pond never to meet again.
But then, what other prospects do I have? Oh yeah. None. Thanks for reminding me.
He’s not into conventional commitments and relationships, though he claims to be a one woman man. He has been in a few long term committed relationships. He’s had girlfriends, erm, old ladies, he’s capable of being a boyfriend, erm, old man. So maybe this is really more what I need. I would like an official husband because I want the financial tax and potential home buying benefits. But that prospect is looking bleaker by the day. Nobody wants me, or at least nobody wants me for their wife. So. Iron Maiden man, who for some unexplainable reason likes me, might not be so far out of my realm.
Heck, I could at least be dating a man. That right there would be a huge improvement, right? He is a man. Sure, the hygiene thing takes a bit of getting used to, and that jeans only issue could be a bit tricky at some of my work related functions, and the Harley and smoking things are hurdles for me, but he’s interested in me. That’s huge. In fact that’s monumental. He honestly wants to see me again. And he doesn’t use the “walks in the park, candlelight dinners and moonlight strolls on the beach” or “comfortable in jeans or tux” crap lines. This guy is real. I like that about him. He’s himself, like him or leave him, he’s who he is and he doesn’t have to shave, shower or wear undenim trousers for anyone. He’s very WYSIWYG. Even though he has no clue what WYSIWYG means. Well, he does now because I mentioned to him that's he's very WYSIWYG and ended up having to explain it. He thinks it’s cool that I “know shit.” Oh, and he likes cats.
He likes me and he likes cats. That’s good, right? I mean, what more do I want? It’s far, far away from where I thought I’d be. I never really even thought about dating a guy “like him.” Not in a snobby way, but in a "we’d have nothing in common" way. I thought I would never under any circumstances even consider dating a smoker much less an aging pothead, but now, you know, what’s the alternative? More nights home alone? Do I veer further of course and see this guy again, at least spend time with a man who's interested in me, or do I keep trying to get back on course and spend still more time, probably a lifetime on my own? It wouldn't be the sort of relationship I want or thought I'd have. Not a lot of laughter, no deep conversations, nothing in common, probably boredom and a lot of contempt for his habits, but, on the other hand, not alone. Selling out or realizing this is the best it's going to get for me?
How low will I go?
And then there’s work. I sold my soul to the payroll devil a long time ago. I need a job because I need a paycheck. Therefore I keep my head down and my mouth shut a lot of the time. I play the game as well as I can, just well enough to not be fired. Which is stooping pretty low when I bother to think about it. Personal integrity and all that. My financial reality mandates that I work at a job or jobs where I will bring in a certain amount of money in order to feed the cat and keep a roof over my head. Never mind that I am grossly overqualified for my current job. Never mind that I am grossly underpaid for my job. Never mind that I’m doing my job, my boss’ job and the jobs of several others. Never mind that I spend a lot of hours in the office when other people are out enjoying their lives and their paychecks which are much larger than mine. I have a job and that should be satisfaction enough for me. Or so I’m told. I’m told to remember all the intangible benefits of my job. I have been down so long I can’t remember what they are, but they tell me there are a lot of intangible benefits to my job so there must be something to make it all worth while. If not, I’d leave, right? I’d have found another job by now, right?
Well, listen up, folks.
I have found another job.
I’ve had two interviews and the salary discussion. An offer was presented. Though it was presented in such a way that I’m not certain I’ve been made an official offer. It went like this, “We have another candidate ahead of you. We made them an offer. If they decline we’d like to hire you.”
Yeah, I’ll try not to let that flattery go to my head.
Conventional wisdom and good personal financial management dictate that when you change jobs you move up on the income front. Oh sure, sometimes things are bad at work and you take another job just to get the heck out of a bad situation. Or an opportunity comes along which will offer personal or professional benefits which surpass a paycheck. But it’s rare that a person opts to take a job where they will be paid less money than they are currently earning. People don't usually purposely take backwards steps on their career path. I know it happens, that personal and professional benefit thing, but it’s rare. Most people aren’t stupid enough to willingly take steps backward in their professional and financial status. A person would have to be in a pretty low employment situation to willingly accept another job at a lower rate of pay. A rate of pay which would cause them economic difficulties and even hardship. A rate of pay which would cause them to have to move to a less expensive apartment. A rate of pay which would cause further economic stress factors like transportation fare because it’s not within walking distance (especially in from a less expensive apartment), like moving expenses because the lower rate of pay will not cover current living expenses.
One would assume that anyone who would take such financial backwards steps had been offered a job which provides worth while benefits or perks or just plain better management and coworker environments.
That’s the conventional wisdom.
But I’m not conventional. And so I’m considering taking a job at a lower rate of pay at a company known for a high rate of turnover because of their low rates of pay and apathetic management.
It’s out and away from my (needs a new nickname) boss and the idiocy of my current job. It gets me out of that place which has become not just a job, but a life sucking burdensome form of treachery.
It’s stupid for me to take a lower paying job. Stupid. I’m already underpaid. The people who want to hire me even said so. “They’re getting a bargain with you. We can’t pay you that much so we’d be getting a steal!” The person who will be my boss at this new dream job said, “If you’re desperate enough to want this job you might be happy here. Is it really that bad at (my company)? I’ve heard some things about (my company), but I didn’t think it was really bad enough for someone to take a cut in pay just to leave there.”
Yeah. They were some great interviews. Real ego boosters. Made me feel really good about myself and how I’ve spent the last years of my professional life. Really sets a good tone for my reputation at the new company. “Hey, did you hear the new girl they hired was so desperate she took a cut in pay for this job?!” Yeah. They’ll take me real seriously there.
And hey, if that other person turns down their offer I’m as good as in, baby! So here I am thinking looking for part time evening and weekend jobs to supplement my income of the other person is foolish enough to turn down the job offer. It's so great being in my position, knowing I'm second choice for a job which will pay me considerably less money than I am now earning, a job for which I am overqualified and underpaid. But it's luring me. The thought of giving notice and never dealing with my (needs a new nickname) boss and coworkers again fills me with such excitement and satisfaction that I find it difficult to focus or even care about the fact that I would be suffering financial hardship on top of my already difficult financial situation.
That's low. That's really low.
How low will I go?
I have no pride left to swallow so that's not an issue. Integrity schmegrity.
Friends have been telling me there's nowhere to go but up, they present strong arguments for their belief in this, and yet I keep finding ways to fall lower. Well, I mean, I'm not out there seeking new lows. I'm not actively trying to find new lows. I just seem to have downward momentum which I can't reverse. I know, I know, the second you start thinking that is the second you're doomed to fail. I know. And I have tried to be optimistic or at least hopeful. Well. Okay, I've tried to not be negative. I've tried to use the "there's nowhere to go but up" train of thought. And that's usually when I've been hit with something which takes me lower. The Universe gets wind of my efforts to take a positive stance and says, "Dare to think positive, do you? Who do you think you are? A normal person?! You're not. You're Trillian and you are put on Earth to serve as a warning and joke to the rest of the Earthlings! How dare you think positive thoughts? Well, we'll show you! Ha! Here's someone to shove you down a flight of stairs! Here's a year of debilitation with a broken ankle and foot! Here's someone to assault and mug you and steal your identity and all your money and max out your credit cards! Here's someone to make your work life a living nightmare, a new boss who knows nothing and covers up her ignorance with lies! And oh, this will teach you, here’s a date who’s drunk and poof! here’s an accident with him fleeing the scene and leaving you there to deal with the mess! Oooooooh, trying to persevere, are you? Trying to 'make lemonade' are you? Well bwa ha ha, guess again, you insolent fool, guess again. It can always be worse and we're going to demonstrate that fact by using you as an example. Down you go! Low, lower, lowest."
So I'm starting to think, "Hey, accept it. Embrace it. See the failure. Be the failure. Become one with the failure. Date the guy you don't want to date. Take the job you don't want to take. See these as positive steps in downward decline." When downward decline becomes the goal, falling lower becomes a positive step in the direction of my life path. Oh sure, it's not what I thought it would be, not what my parents thought it would be, they certainly didn't raise me that way. But, that's who I am. A strong argument for nature v. nurture. The best parents, the best schools, the best homes in the best neighborhoods, encouragement, resources, all of it, I had it. And yet I am failing. And falling.
And that's the only part which concerns me. My poor parents and a few of my friends who aren't so busy with their own lives that they realize I'm sinking lower every day will have to watch me sink to new depths. Dating aging Iron Maiden fan is not going to go over well with my friends. My parents will try to see what I see in him, they'll try to accept him, but they won't really understand. They'll worry. They'll wonder where they went wrong. They'll lose sleep. Oh wait. They already do all of that. Still. It's not fun to watch someone you care about sinking to some really low lows, making decisions you know are only going to lead to even lower lows. Decisions they know are lower lows. And I don't want to put my family and friends through that. Still. It's my life. It's falling down anyway. But. I don't want to cause any more worry and upset for my parents and friends. I don't really want to date that guy and I don't really want to take that job. But. They are positive steps down. They facilitate my falling lower. I can go lower, I will go lower, but am I willing to willingly jump off the edge and dive lower?
