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

 
Thursday, October 20, 2011  
Can we talk about image and perception for a few minutes?

Apart from work, you know, professional realms, usually, mostly, I don't really care what other people think of me. Or, rather, I don't dwell on other peoples' opinions of me.

There are plenty of things I don't like about me, but, I'm "okay" with me. As long as I know I'm evolving and giving my best efforts, I accept myself - including my flaws. Doesn't mean I always like them, but I am very aware of them and I accept them.

Right.

Okay.

When it comes to my looks, appearance, when out and about outside of work-related arenas, I have made huge efforts in the past five years to do everything I can to just blend in. I want to be visually anonymous.

So, I don't get a lot of comments related to my image or whatever persona I might emit.


I have a lot of jewelry that I wasn't able to sell and I need to get rid of it and my nieces and a few friends have expressed interest in pawing through it. In an effort to make the pawing through of my jewelry more organized and easier, I wanted to put it in small, clear bags, like the kind they put extra buttons in on new shirts or suits. I had a few of those bags but not enough, so, I endeavored to procure some.

I asked my closet organizing friend if she had any, or access to any. She did not. But, upon consideration of my plan, she thought she could use some of those small bags, too, they'd come in handy in her closet organizing projects. We thought a craft store or office supply store would have them, and, she'd spring for the cost, so, off we went to try to find small zip lock bags.

We tried the craft store first. We looked in the areas we thought were the most obvious choices for small zip-lock bags. No luck.

My friend went off to look down yet another aisle while I hunted down a store employee. I finally found one who was putting yarn into sale bins. He was not the sort of person you'd expect to see working in a craft store stocking sale bins with yarn. College aged, hipster hair cut, expensive sneakers and jeans and a store smock with a name tag reading: "Lliam." Like llama or Lloyd.

"Excuse me, hi, I'm looking for small clear zip-lock bags, like the kind they put extra buttons in when you buy a new shirt."

Blank stare.

"Do you have anything like that?"

Lliam continued to look at me, thought for a minute and finally said, "How small? Like a dime bag?"


Okay.

As it happens, I know what a dime bag is. It doesn't matter why or how I know what a dime bag is, and, quite honestly, I don't remember how or when I came to learn about dime bags because I've never bought drugs. But, I estimate and place my knowledge of dime bags dating back to junior high school.

But. Is it now commonly accepted that everyone knows what a dime bag is? Would Lliam have said that to anyone inquiring about small zip-lock bags?

And let me remind you, we were in a craft store in the suburbs where a lot of suburban church lady mom and grandma types shop.

All of this was running through my head as I tried to think of the best way to respond. My initial reaction was, "Yes! Exactly! A dime bag!" But I caught myself before saying that out loud because it occurred to me that by acknowledging that I know the size of a dime bag I would be acknowledging that I know what a dime bag is and, ostensibly, that I have, um, "experience" with dime bags.

Okay, Lliam's a young hipster kid and maybe he just didn't think before he said "dime bag" or maybe he was having a little fun attempting to shock a patron in the suburban craft store or maybe he thought I looked like I would know what a dime bag is and would be "cool" about not getting uptight about tossing around drug culture vernacular.

So I just said, as dismissively and non-emotionally as possible, "Something like that."

Lliam quickly responded with, "Nah, we don't have anything that small."


Prior to Lliam's reference, the term or analogy to a dime bag evaded my conscience. It never occurred to me, never entered my mind, never thought about it. My only reference was the little bags they put spare buttons in when you buy a new shirt or suit.

But now all I could think was, "Dime bags. We're looking for dime bags." Which made me laugh. A lot. Because it was me, being, you know, me, and my friend who is a white suburban mother with a fledgling closet organizing business, out looking for dime bags at the local suburban craft store while suburban mothers and grandmothers and Sunday school teachers shopped for yarn and fake flower arrangements and construction paper and doll house decorating items. And the surreality of that held my humor attention for a long time.

I found my friend and burst out laughing the second I saw her. The surreality of us shopping for dime bags was even more obvious (and funny) when I saw my friend looking at cupcake decorations. My friend doesn't look like a suburban mother with a fledgling closet organizing business, but she doesn't exactly look like the stereotypical person who would be out shopping for drug dealing supplies, either. (I know, I know, all sorts of people are drug dealers, there is no stereotypical drug dealer, but, you know what I mean. The absurdity of my friend and I needing dime bags is obvious...and funny.)

Of course at this point my friend was oblivious to the conversation I had with Lliam and why I was bursting in a fit of giggles. And I knew if I told her, in my state of hysterics, I'd loudly blurt out "DIME BAGS!!!" for all the store to hear, so when she asked me what was so funny I giggled out, "I'll tell you later, they don't have the, heee heee hee, um, teee heee, um, bags."

My friend said, "Okay, I'm going to get these cupcake decorations and we'll hit the office supply store."

Something about her innocently saying "cupcake decorations" out loud put me in another fit of giggles which I tried to stifle. Which made me even more self-conscious about the fact that I know what dime bags are, that Lliam the yarn boy thought I was looking for dime bags and that my giggling behavior could be construed as, um, well, you know. Drug induced. (To be clear, my friend was buying cupcake decorations, not actual cupcakes. No snack foods or Doritos were involved.)

Once in my friend's car I blurted out the conversation I had with Lliam.

Her reaction was akin to mine. "Dime bags??!!! Dime bags?!"

(She knows what a dime bag is, too, and I guarantee she has never done anything stronger than codeine after her wisdom tooth extraction. She wouldn't even have an epidural when she birthed her children.)

"I know!!! Even if I looked like the sort of person who would need a lot of dime bags, how funny that he'd just be so matter of fact about it right there in the yarn aisle of the local craft store. But when you factor in that it's me, hee hee hee, it's just silly!!!"  And that's when the conversation took a weird turn. I was still in a fit of giggles and my friend was quieting down.

Then she said, "It's not that silly."
 
Huh? Was my friend implying that I could pass for a drug dealer, or someone in the market for a gross of dime bags? What the...??? I realize my appearance doesn't scream, "Suburban mom of two shopping for cupcake accoutrements in the local craft store," but I don't think, or, didn't think that my appearance screamed, "low life, low rent drug dealer looking for dime bags."

But maybe my friend did?

"What do you mean, not that silly? Do I look like a drug dealer?!" I didn't mean to be defensive, but, I wanted to know what she meant.

She quickly back peddled "No, no, but, well..."

"Well what?"

"You just seem like someone who knows what a dime bag is, that's all."

"I seem like someone who knows what a dime bag is," I repeated her "explanation" back to her.

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with that. You just seem hip to stuff."

"'Hip to stuff.' Stuff like drugs?!" I said.

"Well, yeah, drugs and other stuff, just hip, in-the-know. Remember when I got that birthday card that said something about getting jiggy and I didn't have a clue what it meant? I asked you to explain it to me because I figured you'd know and wouldn't judge me for not knowing. It's like that."

That happened. Her brother-in-law gave her an innuendo-laden birthday card inviting her to get jiggy and she had no clue what jiggy meant (this was years ago) and I was her go-to source for pop-culture education. I chuckled, "Ha! I forgot about that. I still think it's weird that your brother-in-law gave you a card inviting you to get jiggy, by the way."

"No kidding, and can you imagine what could have happened if I'd asked someone other than you to explain 'jiggy' to me and why my brother-in-law gave me a card inviting me to do so? Things could have gotten really dicey, rumors could have flown. But you're trustworthy, nonjudgmental, and hip, so lucky me. You go to concerts and art shows and live in the city...you know...you're just more urban. That's all. You just seem like you know stuff like jiggy and dime bags."

She was desperately trying to put a positive spin on the dime bag issue.

Great.

So, yeah. Ouch. That hurt. Suddenly I was thinking more about my appearance, my image, than I have in the last five years.

Yes, except for job-related, job search-related occasions, I have been striving for anonymity in my appearance, but geeze, did I overreach and end up in drug dealer territory?

I mean, when I go out I'm clean, I shower and wash my hair and brush my teeth and wear clean clothes. Granted, the clothes are a couple years old because I don't have money for new clothes, and apart from some old concert and band t-shirts, they're very basic, generic clothes.

And yes, I've let my hair go a bit too long without a trim and color touch up (I only cut and color my hair when I have a job interview). I have a friend who's been great about doing it for me, gratis, but I don't like to overstep her generosity. So unless I have a job interview I don't trim or color my hair. So yes, my hair is a little too long and not exactly radiant and freshly colored, but it's not awful, either. I don't go out of the house with dirty, matted or dreadlocked mange.

And no, I don't wear a lot of makeup, but when I'm going out with friends or family I do put in the effort to wear makeup. MAF is great about supplying me with samples and discontinued makeup so, I  have and wear quite an impressive caliber of makeup, especially for someone who's been unemployed two years. (To say nothing of the fact that I have the benefit of a professional makeup artist as a close friend who has helped me perfect my application technique.)

So while I'm striving for anonymous, I'm not unkempt or, you know, "weird."

Or, well, I didn't think so.

But my friend's inference about it not being "that silly" for me to be looking for dime bags jolted me into a review of my appearance.

Huh.

Wow.

Okay.

Well.

Huh.

Nah, it's nothing, I was just being sensitive.

So off we went to the office supply store to find small zip-lock bags like the kind they put spare buttons in when you buy a new shirt or suit.

There was a children's clothing store next door and my friend wanted to see if they had a few things for her kids, so while she did that I went to the office supply store.

I scoured the aisles and came up with nothing remotely resembling a bag of any kind. A helpful store employee finally approached me and asked if I needed assistance.

So.

I said, "Yes, I'm looking for small zip-lock bags, the kind they use to put the spare buttons in on new shirts and suits." With thoughts of dime bags dancing in my head, I made sure to smile brightly and act like this was an extra-normal thing to want to buy. I tried to affect the tone and demeanor one might use when saying, "Yes, I'm looking for toothpaste."

The middle-aged employee said, "Hmmmm, yeah, I think I know what you mean, like dime bags, right?"

Okay.

Apparently dime bag is common vernacular amongst a wide cross-section of people and used freely in conversations and has absolutely nothing to do with my appearance or persona.

Which kind of surprised me. Not because drug culture references are taboo or shouldn't be demystified, but, I mean, well, I dunno, when was the last time you used the term dime bag in conversation unrelated to drugs?

But, because two people, two very different people, referred to dime bags, I felt "better" about my appearance. It's not me, it's them.

Whew. I was relieved to learn I didn't radiate some "I'm selling drugs and need small bags in which to conveniently package them" vibe.


The store didn't have them so I met my friend in the children's store.

We were out of ideas for resources for small zip-lock bags. We decided to take our search online and voila, we found them.

But.

Even though I'm reasonably certain I don't look like a drug dealer/user, the fact remains that two complete strangers felt comfortable enough to use the term dime bag within seconds of meeting me. Which means they instantly felt comfortable using the term dime bag to me, hence a) acknowledging that they know what a dime bag is and b) assuming I know what a dime bag is and c) I'd be okay having a conversation about dime bags.

That says something about my persona or vibe or aura or demeanor. I'm glad people feel open and comfortable just blurting out drug references to me, I guess. But I'm pretty certain those guys wouldn't have been so cavalier with the dime bag reference to someone like my suburban mom friend, for instance.

Why? Because she has a more respectable vibe? Or a more uptight vibe? Or a more naive vibe?

This matters to me because I've gone on a lot of interviews and come very close to being offered jobs (always the second choice, almost always) and so I'm concerned that I'm unwittingly emitting some sort of too relaxed, too "hey, whatever, s'all cool" vibe. And I'm really concerned that I look or seem like someone who knows what a dime bag is.

Hiring managers might view candidates as either, "seems like she knows what a dime bag is" or "seems like she doesn't have a clue what a dime bag is." And if I fall clearly in the first category that can't be good for my job hunt.

And that's why I've been spending time bothering to think about how people view me. And dime bags. On the one hand it's good that people feel comfortable enough to approach me and talk to me about anything. But, maybe that's a bad thing. Maybe it speaks to a level of disrespect.

I dunno.

I don't like to think about this stuff, and I really don't like to overthink this kind of stuff. Especially when I've been striving to attain bland anonymity in my non-work-related life. But I have to turn every stone in everything about myself because of my work-related life. Because I need a job.

What do you think? Is too easy-going and non-judgmental a bad thing? I used to think that line of thinking is akin to thinking someone can be "too nice" or "love too much." Ridiculous and saying more about the accuser than the too nice or too loving person. But now I'm wondering if more uptight, judgmental people get more respect and consequently, more job offers.

I know, I know, I'm way overthinking this, but it maybe there's a valuable lesson in there.

How would you feel if someone like Lliam or the guy in the office supply store dropped a reference to dime bags within seconds of meeting you?

5:27 PM

 
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