Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
What they tell you: You don’t need any money because it’s a zero down payment, low income, low interest loan.
What they mean: You don’t need money for the actual mortgage, but before you can proceed to a mortgage you will need: Earnest money ($500 - $1,000 for a small place), inspector fees, attorney fees and some other fee I can’t recall at the moment.
I didn’t know this. I mean, I sort of knew it but I didn’t really. I mean, not in the bottom line, dollars and cents, I need this amount of cash for these reasons the second I decide to make an offer on a place, prior to even making a final mortgage agreement kind of way.
I’m not completely ignorant and I did the best homework I could, but still I wasn’t prepared to cough up $1,500 just to start the process. I thought I had a week or so to come up with the cash for those fees. But no. I don’t. Didn’t.
So. I lost the one place I thought I could actually afford to buy and might actually grow to like as a first home. I was literally a day late and a dollar short. Someone else had more earnest money and an inspector at the ready and I didn’t. So I lost the place I was considering calling home. It’s a cut throat world out there in the low stakes real estate market. It’s dog eat dog and every low income first time homebuyer for themselves.
My new best friend and real estate agent tells me not to worry. We’ll find me another, better place.
What he means is that I can’t stop trying because my real estate purchase is money in his pocket so I have to keep trying.
My landlord and current apartment management company tell me, daily, that I need to start packing because they want to show the place to prospective buyers and my lease is up March 31 and I’m just “in the way.”
What they mean is that they don’t care that I have a lease through the end of March, they’re going condo and stand to sell the place for a lot more money than my rent so me and my “legal rights” are insignificant.
My cat’s veterinarian tells me the Furry Creature is showing signs of stress and wonders if there’s something going on at home to upset him and reminds me that in his fragile health state I need to be extra sensitive to his needs and try to keep things calm and routine at home so he feels safe and in control.
What she means is that I’m being a bad pet owner and am carelessly forsaking the needs of a very sick animal in his time of need and compassion.
My boss tells me I can’t keep leaving work early (I’ve done this exactly twice in three weeks, and we’re talking an hour early) and that the office and the world doesn’t revolve around me and every crisis I have in my life and if I can’t get my personal life together how can I keep my career together?
What she means is that just because everyone else in the office routinely comes in late, takes long lunches and breaks to go to the gym and then leaves early, I am held to a different standard and if I’m not in the office until 7:00 every night the world as we know it will fall apart because someone else, maybe even her, will have to actually do something or handle a client.
My friends flippantly tell me how easy their real estate transactions were because they had money in the bank and spouses to help maneuver through the process.
What they mean is that I’m a loser single/zero and maybe I should just stay a renter like all the other single/zero losers.
My parents tell me I should quit and move home with them and try to sort out my life because they’re worried about me because I haven’t quite seemed like myself lately.
What they mean is that they are concerned that I am going to shave my head, get tattoos and stop wearing underwear and if those are my choices that’s fine but no daughter of theirs is going to screw up her life any more than she already has because they certainly didn’t raise her to be this incapable of handling basic life needs and they’re sick of me snapping at them every time they suggest finding a cheaper apartment or another job or a different city or better still, a nice young man to marry and take care of all this for me.
11:18 AM
