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, August 31, 2009  
Unemployment. Month 2.

Sheesh. Month 2. Month 2.

No closer, not one glimmer of hope closer, to being gainfully employed. Even the part time jobs I've applied to haven't panned out. Apparently the fucktard got the job instead of me.

I spent the last two days helping one of my neighbors pack for moving. She was laid off from the college where she taught for 12 years. She's been trying to find a job since May, had a few interviews, but no offers, yet. Her severance is running out and our property tax is due in October so she's doing a short sale on her condo and moving in with her dad. If the short sale doesn't happen she'll go into foreclosure. The movers arrived this morning and hauled away her hastily packed life.

She told me she regrets that she didn't put her condo on the market as soon as she was laid off. If she'd sold it in May or June she would have saved the money she spent on the mortgage. The end result would have been the same: Moving back home with her dad. All she did was spend money to prolong the inevitable.

In case you're keeping score that makes two empty condos on my floor. One in full foreclosure down the hall and now the one across the hall is empty.

Bleak. Things are bleak. I'm surrounded by bleakness. A neon sheriff's department foreclosure sticker plastered across a door greets me every time I use the elevator. And now my across the hall neighbor is gone, forced out of her home of 10 years.

I'm trying to take the advice of friends and family: Keep busy.

I'm determined to not fall into the clichés of unemployment. Some are easy to avoid. I've never liked soap operas or daytime television in general. I don't buy lottery tickets. I can't stand not brushing my teeth. Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty.

However. There are other clichés creeping into my life. I'm discovering why people adopt certain, erm, "behaviors" when they're unemployed.

Bras. If I'm not going out I don't like to wear one. This is a bad, bad, bad habit. My girls are full, ample, and I'm not getting any younger...a bra is not optional. And yet...it's so easy to just not wear one. Guilty.

Hoarding. I feel a need to hoard what I have, things I need when I'm working but can use sparingly, or not at all, when I'm not going to work. Make-up, for instance. Why use make-up when I'm not going to see anyone? I have to save every penny I can. So. I cannot afford to wear make-up. Guilty.

Hygiene. In that same vein, I find it scarily easy to not shower if I'm not leaving the house. I mean, why waste the soap and shampoo and conditioner? I know. I know how that sounds. I know. But. Every penny counts, every penny. Shampoo, soap, conditioner...they cost money. Every shower I don't take is a day of soap, shampoo and conditioner saved. Saved for when I really need it - should I ever really need it, that is. Guilty.

Booze. I haven't been drinking much. Can't afford it. Though. There's a local restaurant that has cheap pitchers of tasty sangria and an outdoor back garden. I confess I've spent a few afternoons alone with a book and a pitcher of sangria. I was starting to stink and needed a reason to justify spending the soap and taking a shower and get dressed. Guilty. But not very guilty - I'm not sitting around at home getting drunk and missing interview appointments because I'm drunk or hungover. And I'm not sitting around getting drunk and watching lame daytime television.

Television. I discovered Sponge Bob is on in the afternoon. Sponge Bob makes me laugh. People tell me to try to keep my spirits up. Sponge Bob lifts my spirits. One cool thing about being an unemployed insomniac is that I feel no concern or guilt about watching movies and television into the wee hours of the morning. When I was working I never allowed myself to watch movies or television when I couldn't sleep. Now I say what the heck? Why not watch Craig Ferguson? Why not watch 5000 Fingers of Dr. T until 2 AM? Why not indeed. Guilty.

Food. I try to stick to my regular diet, eat at my regular times. But. When you're home all day, and up most of the night, it messes with your stomach's clock. Plus. Now I know why people who are unemployed don't eat balanced meals. Right now is harvest time so fresh vegetables and fruit are relatively inexpensive. I'm buying all I can afford and freezing them. Yep. The hoarding thing again. And that's okay. For centuries people have celebrated the harvest by enjoying the bounty and storing up for the long, barren winter. But. Cereal and Mac and cheese are cheaper than fresh fruit and vegetables. Ditto peanut butter and bread. It's cheaper to eat high carb, high preserved food. Period. And meal times? Yeah. Not so regular. Guilty.



I try to be productive.

I try to have something to do, a reason to take a shower, put on a bra and get out of the house. Helping others, volunteering, is the obvious choice. More time at the animal shelter seems like a great way to put my unemployed days to good use. Guess what? I'm not the only one who's unemployed and looking for ways to make good use of my days. My offer of extra hours helping with the animals was met with, "Geeee, thanks, Trill, come by any time but we already have a full roster of volunteers...we don't really need you more than your regular volunteer hours." I went anyway, a few times, and even though there are more animals than ever arriving daily, there are more volunteers than ever, too. Sure, I like hanging out with the animals, but, what that makes me is a cliché. An unemployed loser hanging out at the animal shelter on days when she's not even scheduled to volunteer. And. Worse. I was kind of, um, in the way. *Sigh.* Even homeless cats and dogs don't need me.

I've been working on a book for several months. I know this "time off" could be a great time to focus on that book. And I'm trying. But the stress and anxiety of what's going on in my life make it difficult to write any words that aren't borne of my unemployment. My brain won't concentrate on anything that isn't job hunt or personal finance related. I try to paint and draw but so far I haven't tapped into a good vein. I find it difficult to get into that place. That place is elusive.

I can't let go and relax and let the creativity take over. Stress and anxiety. I don't feel like me. My job didn't define me, but...it was a big part of my life. It was my life, mainly. And I know that's sad, wrong. But. It wasn't my choice. I've wanted more to my life than work. But.

I'm single. No kids. I spent a lot of years pursuing education and experience in the pursuit of a career. It's what I like, what I do, my focus. It's the one area of my life where I have, and derive, confidence. I am good at what I do. I like what I do. I liked my job, my actual work. I didn't like my boss or many of my coworkers, but I liked my actual job. And it fueled me, inspired me. When I was firing on all cylinders at work the synapses fired and blasted other parts of my brain which gave me all sorts of ideas apart from work.

Now I'm kind of synapse-less. Uninspired.

I derived pleasure, satisfaction and confidence from it. It was the reason I got up in the morning, where I focused my creativity, my talents, my brain, pretty much everything. It was what I did with my brain, with my life. Without a significant other or children, my job was the focus of my life.*

No, this isn't some grand epiphany. I knew my life was kind of sad in that respect. When my love life tanked I consoled myself that I had a job, a career, and that men, a relationship, didn't define me. There was more to me, more to my life, than being in a relationship. Work was my purpose. Unfortunately, other than my parents it was pretty much my sole purpose. I wanted more balance in my life, a man, travel, hobbies...but no man wants me, and I couldn't afford to travel, and while I have activities, hobbies, they're now either cost prohibitive or just don't fill up enough hours in my days. So now I'm just pacing around like a nervous cat. Out of my element, in a situation I can't control, unable to relax, unable to be me.

That's the biggest cliché of all. Guilty of investing myself in my career.



*One of my (soon-to-be-former) friends chastised me for this, "I knew something like this would happen to you. You have no man and now you have no job. You have nothing, you're completely alone and you're going to lose your home. If you had a man, a partner, this wouldn't happen to you. You might still lose your job but you wouldn't end up alone and homeless."

I know. Huh? Lots of families, couples, are homeless. Having a partner doesn't guarantee a roof over your head.

But I get her point. It is easier to manage the financial aspects of life when there are two capable adults who can work to earn a paycheck to keep a roof over heads. And she's been chilly to me ever since I apparently insulted her by questioning her lack of a job even though her kids are in school full time. She swore she was going back to work when the youngest was in first grade. When she didn't go back to work I questioned her as to when she was going to put that masters degree of hers to good use and help her husband with their expenses. There's been a cool breeze blowing between us ever since.

And now here she was calling me to point out how wrong I was for not getting married and having children and that a career isn't everything. In fact, in my case, it's now nothing. And there she was without a career but with a beautiful home, a great husband, and two great kids. (In that order.) She pointed out that she has everything that matters and I have nothing, and that I better use this time to work on myself and get my priorities straight and find a man. (Yeah. That'll solve everything.)

I found out from a mutual friend that she was "worried" that I would want to stay with them after I lose my home. I'd sooner live in a dumpster than in her little McMansion on the prairie but I didn't tell her that. Didn't see the point.

I didn't tell her anything, actually, but word spread about my "situation." She found out via the grapevine and called me to give me her two cents about how I fucked up my life by not getting married "like everyone else." I haven't spoken to this woman in over a year and there was no "hi, I heard about your job, I'm so sorry" preface, she just launched into how she knew "something like this" would happen to me because I don't have a man. Like "everyone else." I mean, I know she's right, but it's not as if I chose to be single, it's not as if I haven't wanted a man, a solid, healthy relationship. It's not as if I haven't tried everything I possibly could to meet a man and form a good relationship - or any kind of a relationship for that matter. And the worst part of this cliché aspect is that I know she's right. She has everything that matters and look at me: I have nothing.

4:08 PM

 
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