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

 
Sunday, April 07, 2013  
Remember when I asked for advice on a topic for a memoir symposium? I was asked, invited, to contribute to a group writing project. It has very (very) loose parameters. I just need to write about a real-life experience. That's pretty much the sum total of the project brief.

I had a lot of time to settle on a topic and write it.

So, this is why I'm not a real writer.

I cannot swutting choose a topic.

All your ideas were great, thank you. I thought I was too close to the material and some unbiased, outside opinions would point me in a good direction.

I've started at least 20 versions on as many topics.

I have dedicated evenings, set aside specific hours, and devoted time and thought to this. For instance, right now I'm supposed to be focusing on choosing a topic and organizing (yet another) outline.

I'm blogging instead because I'm thinking maybe writing about writing will give me some clarity and lead to an epiphany.

Mainly I just have to settle down and settle on a topic. The rest will fall into place.

I'm not staring down the deadline, but I am staring down my self-imposed deadline. I wanted the thing written by next week. 

This project is supposed to be fun. But it's also an honor and a privilege to be asked to join the project, and that's the facet that's causing the indecision. I want to get this right. And not look like an idiot. Which is unusual for me because I'm generally not concerned about whether or not I look or sound like an idiot. (I live on the assumption that I am, most of the time, an idiot, so why fight it or worry about it?)

Adding to the pressure are all the Twitter posts from the other contributors. They're posting excerpts and making comments about how wonderful, insightful and enriching the project is for them. And I'm sitting here with 20+ false starts and no decision on subject matter.

I'm starting to suspect the crux of the issue is that, while I'm open and not afraid to lay my soul to bare for the entire Universe to read, there is an emotional boundary that I'm not ready or willing to shatter. At least publicly. I know how that sounds, coming from me, here, but blogs are different. Part confessional, part rant, blogs offer catharsis. And anonymity. Sure, you know a lot about me. But you don't know me in real life. A blog is a cyber burqa that allows me freedom to roam openly in public while protecting my modesty. It's easy to say anything when no one knows who you are. I'm really just a coward who can't afford professional therapy. I still have no idea why you read it (but thank you), but you choose to visit, I presume of your own free will. (Whose crazier? The lunatic who writes their lunacy as catharsis, or the people who willingly read the writings of a lunatic? I'm honestly asking, not pointing fingers.)

This memoir project, on the other hand, is a different situation. People will read it as part of a group of memoirs written by some really, really good writers. Older writers, younger writers, people with some fantastic life experiences. Memoir-worthy life experiences. Inspiring, educational, sentimentally rewarding life experiences. Me? Not so much.

And that, I believe, is compounding the issue. I don't mind telling you that I'm a loser who couldn't find and keep a man, ditto a job, ditto a home, ditto pretty much everything else in my life. I don't care that you know that about me, in fact I'm glad you know that about me. And I don't really care who else knows that about me...but...the point of a collection of life-stories is to provide insight and inspiration. The sad reality about my life is that the only take-away, the only inspiration it spawns is: Do not do what I did. Yes. My life is a cautionary tale. And I'm okay with that, but in the context of a memoir project where all the other contributions are uplifting and sweet and joyous, or at least insightful and educational, my cautionary tales don't really fit in with the group. And that, of course, is the story of my life. Oh the irony.

In hindsight, now, I never would have agreed to participate in the project. I thought that I thought it through, I thought it would be fun (which is what it's supposed to be) but now I'm regretting that I accepted the invitation to participate. It's not fun for me. It's forcing me to look at my life, from start to now, to find one good life experience to share, and all I'm finding are cautionary tales, words of warning.

I'm trying a different approach. I'm working backwards, reviewing possible take-away lessons or positive emotional responses, and then selecting a life experience that spawned it. Seems like a good idea, right? Well. Not so much. 

"Pay attention in school, study hard, take initiative and work on extra projects, get good grades," seems like a decent, inspirational message, right? Normally, yes, it would be. Positive things will happen as a result. Usually. Except for me. Where did all that thirst for knowledge, extra credit assignments and good grades get me? Unemployed and homeless and a spinster. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for education and intellectual pursuits.

"Listen to your heart, set goals, follow your vision," is good advice, right? I think so. Except. That's exactly what I did. And where did it get me? Unemployed and homeless and a spinster.

"Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Be kind. Love unconditionally with compassion and gusto." Also very good advice. Except. That's what I do. And where did it get me? See where this is going?

How can I offer up any life experience as a positive, inspiring memoir when every aspect of my life is an abysmal failure? I haven't exactly triumphed at anything that matters.

When the invitation to participate was extended to me, I did think about a lot of this. But I didn't think it through as fully as I should have before agreeing to participate.

I'm honestly thinking about using the experience of trying to write about a life experience as my life experience. Not exactly inspiring, but certainly educational, the lesson being, "Don't bite off more emotional baggage than you can handle if you can't afford professional therapy."

12:27 AM

 
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