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
Saturday, September 05, 2009
On the heels of the unemployment rate hitting a 26-year high in August, 9.7%, we give a round of applause for the woman in Chicago who helped us climb to that pinnacle rate.
"Aw shucks, t'weren't nuthin'. All I did was lose my job," said Tricia McMillian, a recently laid off marketing professional.
"It's humbling to be part of something so big. I've never been part of something like this. It's scary but kind of exciting, too. I mean, this is national. I finally fit in - with a lot of people! It's nice to have something in common with so many people. I finally have cred! I'm part of a popular crowd. That's a first for me."
Ms. McMillian, who is single, admits she feels scared about her uncertain future. She's facing her unemployment on her own, without the emotional or financial support of a spouse or partner.
"Yeah, having to go home alone after losing your job puts an added sting into it. I definitely feel even more alone than usual now that I've lost my job. I worked a lot of long days and often went home and collapsed into bed. Alone. And that was okay because I was so drained from my job. But now that I don't have a job consuming me and my time being alone is a real slap of lonely and isolated reality."
But Friday's dismal announcement of the 9.7% increase and 26-year record gave the jobless single a sense of belonging.
"I feel like a loser because now I don't even have a career. But, on the plus side, I have a lot of peers that I didn't have just a month ago. I fit in, now. I have a whole new social category."
The social category of unemployed is not usually associated with romantic success, but Ms. McMillian finds hope in her new status.
"I've been 'me' for so long that maybe I became too comfortable, complacent. This new jobless status will breathe new adjectives into me. Insecure, afraid, desperate, poor, homeless...I mean, that's a whole new me! Since men weren't interested in the old me this might be exactly what I needed to boost my dating life!"
Ms. McMillian points to the ages-old source of confusion for nice, trouble-free women. Vice-president Biden's comment on the August employment figures, "Less bad is not good," resonates with McMillian.
"Less bad is not good. That's true. More bad is better. The more messed up a woman's life is, the more attracted men are to her."
She explains, "Men seem to love damsels in distress. You often see a really nice guy embroiled, head over heels, with a woman who has every kind of problem imaginable. Two or three kids, no job, emotionally volatile, drugs and alcohol, abusive step-father, violent ex-boyfriend stalking her...the more psycho and disturbing the drama in a woman's life, the more great guys seem to be attracted to her. It's baffling to us women who have our shit together. Well, now here I am! My shit is no longer together! Guys, come and get me!"
4:10 PM
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
