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<




Trillian McMillian
Trillian McMillian
Create Your Badge






Instagram






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
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Find State Officials
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Contact The Media
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State





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




























 







Archives
<< current
ARCHIVES
4/27/03 - 5/4/03 5/4/03 - 5/11/03 8/3/03 - 8/10/03 8/10/03 - 8/17/03 8/17/03 - 8/24/03 8/24/03 - 8/31/03 8/31/03 - 9/7/03 9/7/03 - 9/14/03 9/14/03 - 9/21/03 9/21/03 - 9/28/03 9/28/03 - 10/5/03 10/5/03 - 10/12/03 10/12/03 - 10/19/03 10/19/03 - 10/26/03 10/26/03 - 11/2/03 11/2/03 - 11/9/03 11/9/03 - 11/16/03 11/16/03 - 11/23/03 11/23/03 - 11/30/03 11/30/03 - 12/7/03 12/7/03 - 12/14/03 12/14/03 - 12/21/03 12/21/03 - 12/28/03 12/28/03 - 1/4/04 1/4/04 - 1/11/04 1/11/04 - 1/18/04 1/18/04 - 1/25/04 1/25/04 - 2/1/04 2/1/04 - 2/8/04 2/8/04 - 2/15/04 2/15/04 - 2/22/04 2/22/04 - 2/29/04 2/29/04 - 3/7/04 3/7/04 - 3/14/04 3/14/04 - 3/21/04 3/21/04 - 3/28/04 3/28/04 - 4/4/04 4/4/04 - 4/11/04 4/11/04 - 4/18/04 4/18/04 - 4/25/04 4/25/04 - 5/2/04 5/2/04 - 5/9/04 5/9/04 - 5/16/04 5/16/04 - 5/23/04 5/23/04 - 5/30/04 6/6/04 - 6/13/04 6/13/04 - 6/20/04 6/20/04 - 6/27/04 6/27/04 - 7/4/04 7/4/04 - 7/11/04 7/11/04 - 7/18/04 7/18/04 - 7/25/04 7/25/04 - 8/1/04 8/1/04 - 8/8/04 8/8/04 - 8/15/04 8/15/04 - 8/22/04 8/22/04 - 8/29/04 8/29/04 - 9/5/04 9/5/04 - 9/12/04 9/12/04 - 9/19/04 9/19/04 - 9/26/04 9/26/04 - 10/3/04 10/3/04 - 10/10/04 10/10/04 - 10/17/04 10/17/04 - 10/24/04 10/24/04 - 10/31/04 10/31/04 - 11/7/04 11/14/04 - 11/21/04 11/21/04 - 11/28/04 11/28/04 - 12/5/04 12/5/04 - 12/12/04 12/12/04 - 12/19/04 12/19/04 - 12/26/04 12/26/04 - 1/2/05 1/2/05 - 1/9/05 1/9/05 - 1/16/05 1/16/05 - 1/23/05 1/23/05 - 1/30/05 1/30/05 - 2/6/05 2/6/05 - 2/13/05 2/13/05 - 2/20/05 2/20/05 - 2/27/05 2/27/05 - 3/6/05 3/6/05 - 3/13/05 3/13/05 - 3/20/05 3/20/05 - 3/27/05 3/27/05 - 4/3/05 4/3/05 - 4/10/05 4/10/05 - 4/17/05 4/17/05 - 4/24/05 4/24/05 - 5/1/05 5/1/05 - 5/8/05 5/15/05 - 5/22/05 6/5/05 - 6/12/05 7/24/05 - 7/31/05 7/31/05 - 8/7/05 8/7/05 - 8/14/05 8/14/05 - 8/21/05 8/21/05 - 8/28/05 9/4/05 - 9/11/05 9/11/05 - 9/18/05 9/18/05 - 9/25/05 9/25/05 - 10/2/05 10/2/05 - 10/9/05 10/9/05 - 10/16/05 10/16/05 - 10/23/05 10/23/05 - 10/30/05 10/30/05 - 11/6/05 11/6/05 - 11/13/05 11/13/05 - 11/20/05 11/20/05 - 11/27/05 12/4/05 - 12/11/05 12/11/05 - 12/18/05 1/1/06 - 1/8/06 1/8/06 - 1/15/06 1/15/06 - 1/22/06 1/22/06 - 1/29/06 1/29/06 - 2/5/06 2/5/06 - 2/12/06 2/12/06 - 2/19/06 2/19/06 - 2/26/06 2/26/06 - 3/5/06 3/5/06 - 3/12/06 3/12/06 - 3/19/06 3/19/06 - 3/26/06 3/26/06 - 4/2/06 4/2/06 - 4/9/06 4/9/06 - 4/16/06 4/23/06 - 4/30/06 4/30/06 - 5/7/06 5/7/06 - 5/14/06 5/14/06 - 5/21/06 5/21/06 - 5/28/06 6/11/06 - 6/18/06 6/18/06 - 6/25/06 6/25/06 - 7/2/06 7/2/06 - 7/9/06 7/30/06 - 8/6/06 9/10/06 - 9/17/06 9/17/06 - 9/24/06 10/8/06 - 10/15/06 10/29/06 - 11/5/06 11/5/06 - 11/12/06 11/12/06 - 11/19/06 11/26/06 - 12/3/06 12/3/06 - 12/10/06 12/17/06 - 12/24/06 12/24/06 - 12/31/06 12/31/06 - 1/7/07 1/21/07 - 1/28/07 1/28/07 - 2/4/07 2/4/07 - 2/11/07 2/11/07 - 2/18/07 2/18/07 - 2/25/07 2/25/07 - 3/4/07 3/4/07 - 3/11/07 3/11/07 - 3/18/07 3/18/07 - 3/25/07 3/25/07 - 4/1/07 6/24/07 - 7/1/07 7/1/07 - 7/8/07 7/8/07 - 7/15/07 7/15/07 - 7/22/07 7/22/07 - 7/29/07 7/29/07 - 8/5/07 8/5/07 - 8/12/07 8/12/07 - 8/19/07 8/19/07 - 8/26/07 8/26/07 - 9/2/07 9/9/07 - 9/16/07 9/16/07 - 9/23/07 9/23/07 - 9/30/07 9/30/07 - 10/7/07 10/7/07 - 10/14/07 10/14/07 - 10/21/07 11/4/07 - 11/11/07 11/11/07 - 11/18/07 12/9/07 - 12/16/07 1/6/08 - 1/13/08 1/13/08 - 1/20/08 1/27/08 - 2/3/08 2/3/08 - 2/10/08 2/10/08 - 2/17/08 2/24/08 - 3/2/08 3/2/08 - 3/9/08 3/9/08 - 3/16/08 3/16/08 - 3/23/08 3/23/08 - 3/30/08 3/30/08 - 4/6/08 4/6/08 - 4/13/08 4/13/08 - 4/20/08 4/20/08 - 4/27/08 4/27/08 - 5/4/08 5/4/08 - 5/11/08 5/11/08 - 5/18/08 5/18/08 - 5/25/08 5/25/08 - 6/1/08 6/1/08 - 6/8/08 6/15/08 - 6/22/08 6/22/08 - 6/29/08 6/29/08 - 7/6/08 7/13/08 - 7/20/08 7/20/08 - 7/27/08 8/3/08 - 8/10/08 8/10/08 - 8/17/08 8/17/08 - 8/24/08 8/24/08 - 8/31/08 8/31/08 - 9/7/08 9/7/08 - 9/14/08 9/21/08 - 9/28/08 9/28/08 - 10/5/08 10/5/08 - 10/12/08 10/12/08 - 10/19/08 10/19/08 - 10/26/08 10/26/08 - 11/2/08 11/2/08 - 11/9/08 11/9/08 - 11/16/08 11/16/08 - 11/23/08 11/30/08 - 12/7/08 12/7/08 - 12/14/08 12/14/08 - 12/21/08 12/28/08 - 1/4/09 1/4/09 - 1/11/09 1/11/09 - 1/18/09 1/18/09 - 1/25/09 2/1/09 - 2/8/09 2/8/09 - 2/15/09 2/15/09 - 2/22/09 3/29/09 - 4/5/09 5/3/09 - 5/10/09 5/10/09 - 5/17/09 5/17/09 - 5/24/09 5/24/09 - 5/31/09 5/31/09 - 6/7/09 6/7/09 - 6/14/09 6/14/09 - 6/21/09 7/12/09 - 7/19/09 7/19/09 - 7/26/09 7/26/09 - 8/2/09 8/2/09 - 8/9/09 8/9/09 - 8/16/09 8/16/09 - 8/23/09 8/23/09 - 8/30/09 8/30/09 - 9/6/09 9/20/09 - 9/27/09 9/27/09 - 10/4/09 10/4/09 - 10/11/09 10/11/09 - 10/18/09 10/18/09 - 10/25/09 10/25/09 - 11/1/09 11/1/09 - 11/8/09 11/8/09 - 11/15/09 11/15/09 - 11/22/09 11/22/09 - 11/29/09 11/29/09 - 12/6/09 12/6/09 - 12/13/09 12/13/09 - 12/20/09 12/20/09 - 12/27/09 12/27/09 - 1/3/10 1/3/10 - 1/10/10 1/10/10 - 1/17/10 1/17/10 - 1/24/10 1/24/10 - 1/31/10 1/31/10 - 2/7/10 2/7/10 - 2/14/10 2/14/10 - 2/21/10 2/21/10 - 2/28/10 3/14/10 - 3/21/10 3/21/10 - 3/28/10 3/28/10 - 4/4/10 4/4/10 - 4/11/10 4/11/10 - 4/18/10 4/18/10 - 4/25/10 4/25/10 - 5/2/10 5/2/10 - 5/9/10 5/9/10 - 5/16/10 5/16/10 - 5/23/10 5/23/10 - 5/30/10 5/30/10 - 6/6/10 6/6/10 - 6/13/10 6/13/10 - 6/20/10 6/20/10 - 6/27/10 6/27/10 - 7/4/10 7/4/10 - 7/11/10 7/11/10 - 7/18/10 7/18/10 - 7/25/10 7/25/10 - 8/1/10 9/19/10 - 9/26/10 10/3/10 - 10/10/10 10/10/10 - 10/17/10 10/17/10 - 10/24/10 10/24/10 - 10/31/10 10/31/10 - 11/7/10 11/14/10 - 11/21/10 11/28/10 - 12/5/10 12/5/10 - 12/12/10 12/12/10 - 12/19/10 12/19/10 - 12/26/10 12/26/10 - 1/2/11 1/2/11 - 1/9/11 1/9/11 - 1/16/11 1/16/11 - 1/23/11 1/23/11 - 1/30/11 1/30/11 - 2/6/11 2/6/11 - 2/13/11 2/13/11 - 2/20/11 2/20/11 - 2/27/11 2/27/11 - 3/6/11 3/6/11 - 3/13/11 3/13/11 - 3/20/11 3/20/11 - 3/27/11 3/27/11 - 4/3/11 4/3/11 - 4/10/11 4/10/11 - 4/17/11 4/17/11 - 4/24/11 4/24/11 - 5/1/11 5/1/11 - 5/8/11 5/15/11 - 5/22/11 5/22/11 - 5/29/11 5/29/11 - 6/5/11 6/12/11 - 6/19/11 6/19/11 - 6/26/11 6/26/11 - 7/3/11 7/10/11 - 7/17/11 7/31/11 - 8/7/11 8/21/11 - 8/28/11 8/28/11 - 9/4/11 9/18/11 - 9/25/11 9/25/11 - 10/2/11 10/2/11 - 10/9/11 10/9/11 - 10/16/11 10/16/11 - 10/23/11 10/23/11 - 10/30/11 11/6/11 - 11/13/11 11/13/11 - 11/20/11 11/20/11 - 11/27/11 11/27/11 - 12/4/11 12/4/11 - 12/11/11 12/11/11 - 12/18/11 12/25/11 - 1/1/12 1/1/12 - 1/8/12 2/5/12 - 2/12/12 2/19/12 - 2/26/12 3/4/12 - 3/11/12 4/1/12 - 4/8/12 4/15/12 - 4/22/12 4/29/12 - 5/6/12 5/13/12 - 5/20/12 5/20/12 - 5/27/12 6/24/12 - 7/1/12 7/1/12 - 7/8/12 7/8/12 - 7/15/12 7/15/12 - 7/22/12 7/22/12 - 7/29/12 7/29/12 - 8/5/12 8/5/12 - 8/12/12 8/12/12 - 8/19/12 8/19/12 - 8/26/12 8/26/12 - 9/2/12 9/2/12 - 9/9/12 9/9/12 - 9/16/12 9/16/12 - 9/23/12 9/23/12 - 9/30/12 10/7/12 - 10/14/12 10/21/12 - 10/28/12 11/4/12 - 11/11/12 12/9/12 - 12/16/12 12/23/12 - 12/30/12 1/6/13 - 1/13/13 1/13/13 - 1/20/13 1/20/13 - 1/27/13 1/27/13 - 2/3/13 2/3/13 - 2/10/13 2/10/13 - 2/17/13 2/17/13 - 2/24/13 3/3/13 - 3/10/13 3/17/13 - 3/24/13 3/31/13 - 4/7/13 4/7/13 - 4/14/13 4/21/13 - 4/28/13 4/28/13 - 5/5/13 5/5/13 - 5/12/13 5/12/13 - 5/19/13 5/19/13 - 5/26/13 6/16/13 - 6/23/13 6/23/13 - 6/30/13 7/14/13 - 7/21/13 8/11/13 - 8/18/13 8/25/13 - 9/1/13 9/8/13 - 9/15/13 9/22/13 - 9/29/13 10/13/13 - 10/20/13 10/20/13 - 10/27/13 11/10/13 - 11/17/13 12/1/13 - 12/8/13 12/15/13 - 12/22/13 12/29/13 - 1/5/14 6/29/14 - 7/6/14 9/14/14 - 9/21/14 9/21/14 - 9/28/14 10/12/14 - 10/19/14 11/23/14 - 11/30/14 12/7/14 - 12/14/14 12/28/14 - 1/4/15 1/25/15 - 2/1/15 2/8/15 - 2/15/15 2/22/15 - 3/1/15 3/8/15 - 3/15/15 3/15/15 - 3/22/15 3/22/15 - 3/29/15 4/12/15 - 4/19/15 4/19/15 - 4/26/15 5/3/15 - 5/10/15 5/17/15 - 5/24/15 5/24/15 - 5/31/15 6/14/15 - 6/21/15 6/28/15 - 7/5/15 7/5/15 - 7/12/15 7/19/15 - 7/26/15 8/16/15 - 8/23/15 11/6/16 - 11/13/16 6/24/18 - 7/1/18 3/29/20 - 4/5/20 4/19/20 - 4/26/20 4/26/20 - 5/3/20



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.


< chicago blogs >





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, March 26, 2015  
Chicago resident Tricia McMillian recently completed a CTA hat trick while making her way to visit friends in another part of town. Ms. McMillian left work on Friday planning to take the Brown line to her friends' home for dinner. She stopped at a local grocery store to pick up a bottle of wine to take as a gift to her before boarding the "L" train.

"Little did I know that decision at the grocery would play a key role in my victorious CTA trek," Ms. McMillian enthused, "if I had bothered to go to the nice wine shop instead of the grocery for that bottle of wine the whole thing never would have happened."

She walked up the stairs to the train platform in Chicago's "Loop" and, as she reached the platform, a Brown line train rolled into the station. "It was as if on cue! I ascended onto the platform and the train rolled to a stop at the station. I thought for sure it was a Green line train, but nope! It was a Brown line train. And, there were empty single seats in the car positioned right in front of me! It was during rush hour, so that in itself was pretty awesome. I was feeling really pumped about that. I like the single seats on the Brown line trains. Everyone does. So there's hardly ever an empty single seat. Whenever I take the Brown line I always end up sitting next to college aged kids returning back to the DePaul campus," Ms. McMillian explained about her fortunate seating option on the train, "no big deal, but the Brown line is the only train that has the single seats, so it's kind of a novelty for me. I wish they would use those cars on other lines," the commuter comment, wistfully sighing.

The evening would soon take another serendipitous turn. Checking the CTA's "Bus Tracker" while at a prolonged stop at the bustling Belmont station, Ms. McMillian noticed only one #50 bus on the radar for her connecting stop. "The #50 bus is the chupacabra of the CTA. Some people swear it exists, they've seen it and even taken a ride on it. But most Chicago citizens have never actually seen a #50 bus, even though the route covers heavily trafficked parts of the city. I have a friend who has driven along that route daily for 12 years, and yet he has never seen a #50 bus. He's seen the bus stops, usually with people waiting, but he's never seen an actual #50 bus." Ms. McMillian, a marketing manager, noted that she is among the exclusive group of Chicagoans who have not only witnessed, but ridden on the #50 bus, and vouched for its existence. However, on this particular evening, it looked like the #50 bus would be elusive.

"When I checked the bus tracker and saw that there was only one #50 on radar for my connecting stop, and that it was going to be there in 23 minutes, I was certain I would have to take a cab from the L station to my friends' place," the commuter opined, stating, "we were still standing at the Belmont stop, a Red line was in the distance and some of the engineers are a little too nice about holding the train for people making a transfer at Belmont, so I figured there was no way I'd be at my stop in time to catch that #50. Especially that time of day. After 5:00 the #50 becomes even more elusive." But at the Paulina stop, the intrepid traveler checked the CTA's bus tracking application again and was surprised to discover the #50 bus was still 8 minutes from her point of disembarkation.

"It was still a long shot, but I only had four stops to go, and the crowds really thin out up on that part of the Brown line. Mostly exiting passengers, not too many boarding passengers. That speeds things up at the stations so I thought I might, possibly, make it to the station and down to the bus stop in time to catch the lone #50 bus," Ms. McMillian said.

"Unfortunately, one stop before mine, an elderly couple had difficulty boarding. That hindered the train's progress, so I figured I lost all chance of catching that #50 bus. I checked Bus Tracker again and saw the lone #50 bus was only 4 minutes from my stop. And we were still standing at the station while the elderly couple navigated the L car's entry doors. I resigned myself to having to part with cab fare," said the frugal commuter.

However, once the elderly passengers boarded, the Brown line's engineer accelerated, swiftly maneuvering the train along the elevated tracks. "He was really moving that train. It's as if he somehow knew the rare and elusive #50 bus was making it's way to the next stop on our route, that if he could get the train to the station fast enough some of the more deftly exiting passengers would be lucky enough to catch the bus," the excitement of the tension of the race evident in McMillian's expression as she recalled the night's activity, "I gathered up my bag and made my way to the exit doors, poised for a quick exit at the station."

When the train neared the station, Ms. McMillian checked the progress of the #50 bus on her smartphone again. The bus' status had switched to 'Due.' "Well, that's that," she thought dejectedly, "so close and yet so far...it was a long shot anyway..." Presuming she missed her opportunity to connect to her bus, Ms. McMillian slid her phone into her pocket with quiet resignation.

Once in the station, she exited the train and made her way down the stairs at a normal pace, her hopes for an economical bus ride giving way to hopes of a cab waiting at the station's exit.

Her erstwhile sense of urgency evaporated, the urban professional passed through the turnstile and meandered to the station's doors. "My only concern at that point was if there'd be a cab."

Little did she know that she was on the brink of her second victory of the night.

"I stepped out of the station and looked for a cab. But what to my wondering eye appeared? The #50 bus rolling up to the station! I couldn't believe it! I mean, it was as if it was a limo assigned to pick me up and pulled up specifically for me. I stepped out of the station, saw the bus pulling up, I walked to the designated bus stop as the bus eased up to the stop, the driver opened the door and I boarded, never having to slow or hasten my pace," McMillian explained with an air of awe and wonder.

"I swiped my fare card and made my way to the back of the bus. I texted my friends, telling them I was on the elusive #50 bus. They texted me back telling me how impressive my feat was," McMillian said of her #50 bus ride. After I texted them I realized I still had the CTA bus tracker app open, and I started to close it...and then thought, 'What if...'"

Ms. McMillian's "what if..." was another bus connection that would take her a block from her friends' door. "Normally I'd just walk the 10 blocks from the bus stop to my friends' place, but I guess I was feeling a bit full of myself and checked to see if there was a connecting bus even in the vicinity."

There were a couple connecting buses showing up on the CTA's bus tracker, but the time she'd have to wait for one was the time it would take her to walk the remaining 10 blocks of her journey. "I wasn't upset about that, I was still riding high on my victory with the #50 bus."

The #50 pulled to the stop closest to Ms. McMillian's friends' home and she exited at a street corner. While waiting for the light to turn so she could cross the street, Ms. McMillian heard a familiar sound. "I heard the beep beep beep of the handicapped access ramp on the entry of a CTA bus. I looked down the street and saw someone in a wheelchair struggling with the CTA bus access ramp. I knew if the crosswalk lights worked in my favor, and if the bus was delayed long enough, I might make it to its next stop in time to board. It would be a nail biter, I had to cross two intersections to make it to the next bus stop, but there was enough potential that I had to go for it."

"By the time the light changed to my favor for the first intersection, the wheelchair passenger was on the bus and the bus driver was pulling away from the stop. As soon as I could safely cross, I raced across the street. Traffic was heavy, there was no way I could cross against the light, so all I could do was watch the bus quickly approaching the stop."

Then, fate intervened once again. A car pulled in front of the bus, forcing the bus to slow down. It was enough of a slow down to cause the bus to get snagged by the light turning red. "As soon as I saw the bus stop at the red light, I sprinted across the street and down the half block to the bus stop. As I approached the stop, the bus pulled up. Once again, without changing my pace, I boarded the bus as it stopped at its designated stop."

It wasn't until she swiped her fare card for the third time on her journey that the magnanimity of her feat hit her. A train and two buses, no waiting for any of them, all perfectly timed for transfer.

A perfect CTA hat trick.

"You could never plan this, there are too many variables," Ms. McMillian waxed philosophically, "and I know there are people who will never believe me. But I have fare card swipe times as proof. The precise times of my rides plotted against the average speed and distance of the Brown line and buses will show how precisely timed my journey was and that I did, indeed, pull off a CTA hat trick."

Ms. McMillian attended her party that evening and regaled party goers with her feat of skill and luck on her way to the party. Many, themselves CTA riders, were impressed. Others, primarily the non-public transit rider, didn't understand the hullabaloo.

Said one woman in attendance, "I don't know what the big deal is, why all the fuss? She transferred from a train to two buses. Big whoop. What's a hat trick?"

But for Ms. McMillian, the quiet satisfaction that has settled over her in the days since her victory is indeed a big whoop. "A few months ago I was considering leaving Chicago. I've been thinking maybe I made the wrong decision to stay," citing the crime, high property taxes, and stalled job market, Ms. McMillian says she was starting to regret not moving to a less urban locale, "but now, well, now I'm taking this as a sign that I made the right decision to stay here. In all the years I've been riding the CTA I've never pulled off that kind of hat trick, it can't be just a mere coincidence it happened now, when I was regretting my decision to stay here. Right? It must be significant. It must be a sign. It has to be a sign."

6:57 AM

Monday, March 16, 2015  
In an effort to save money and make calorie counting easier, local professional woman Tricia McMillian is making her own 100 calorie packs.

"Costco was really the impetus," Ms. McMillian said of her growing supply of snack-filled sandwich bags. "I discovered these crunchy Veggie Straws. They're really good, especially with hummus. Costco offers the option of pre-packaged individual serving sizes, which is what I was buying because it's so convenient to take a small bag to work for lunch," McMillian said, gushing over the benefit of a serving of vegetables in crunchy straw form, "but on a recent trip to Costco I noticed they also offer a giant bag of loose Veggie Straws. The giant bag of loose straws offers a $2.49 cost savings over the single serving bags. When I realized that a little light went off over my head. I thought, 'Trill, you can make your own 100 calorie single serving snack bags.'" 

Citing the high cost of pre-packed 100 calorie single-serving snacks, Ms. McMillian admits her endeavor started as a way to manage her grocery budget. "I'm not made of money. Even though I shop in bulk and stay away from high-priced luxury food items, I was paying more and more and getting less and less on my grocery shopping trips. The stores can flash their '2 for $5' specials all they want. The reality is that you only get 4 - 6 single serving packs in those pre-made 100 calorie pack boxes. It's a rip off." 

The size of the snack items in the pre-made single-serving packs was another source of contention with Ms. McMillian. "The cookies and crackers in those pre-made snack packs are really small. They're doll sized, like something you'd eat at a kid-sized table having a tea party with a 3-year-old. Granted, they may be geared for children, so I suppose miniature Teddy Grahams are appropriate in that regard. But I'm a grown woman and I always felt kind of silly eating a cookie or cracker that was so small I had to contort my fingers kind of funny to eat them. I really doubt any adult is fooled by the smaller sized snacks. No one's going to think they've eaten 20 normal sized cookies after devouring the micro-sized cookies." Ms. McMillian said she thinks most grown-ups would rather have two normal-sized cookies than 20 micro-cookies, "unless they have some sort of food dysmorphia issue."

Ms. McMillian's cost-cutting efforts don't stop at the bulk food products. "I found store-brand zip lock baggies on sale for $1.29 and stocked up on them. That's a huge savings over the national brand. They're thin but they're airtight enough to keep snacks fresh and crisp. I mean, $1.29 for 100 zip lock bags versus $2.98? No brainer. Store brand is the way to go." And the "snack size" zip lock bags? "Don't waste your money," Ms. McMillian emphatically recommended, "unless you really need to save space, the smaller snack sized bags are overpriced and unnecessary."

While it may seem like a lot of extra work, Ms. McMillian insists it's time well spent. She uses the food label as a guide for the portions. "Take Veggie Straws, for example," the snack pack enthusiast explained, "the mega bag says it has 26 servings. So, I count out 26 zip lock bags. Then, I count out the exact number of pieces in the suggested serving size and place them in a zip lock bag. I then use that bag as a gauge for the remaining bags. Usually I end up needing a couple more bags, in the case of Veggie Straws I typically get 28 to 29 snack packs, 2 to 3 more than the label says are in the bag."

Her home-made snack pack enterprise started with the Veggie Straws. Once she worked out the details and mastered creating her own Veggie Straw single serving packs, McMillian set her sights on other DIY single serving packs. She branched into Teddy Grahams, Cheez-It crackers, almonds, and baby carrots.

She's most proud of her trail mix. "That was a real eye-opener. I thought I was getting a good deal on the Kirkland brand single serving trail mix packs," Ms. McMillian said of the Costco store brand trail mix bags, "18 single serving bags for something like $14. That's less than $1/bag. But when I found a great sale on almonds and raisins, I thought I might as well make my own single serving trail mix. I bought bulk dried cranberries and mini-pretzels and mixed them with the almonds and raisins and made the single serving sized bags. It took some effort to calculate 100 calories of the mix, but I think I figured out a fairly accurate ratio per bag, give or take 10 calories. All said and done I ended up with 36 bags of trail mix and only paid $11 for the ingredients. And...I didn't have to dig out and throw away the pesky chocolate candies I don't like. Score!" Buoyed by her success with traditional trail mix DIY snack packs, the cost-savings portion-minded enthusiast and former Girl Scout created more exotic trail mix versions suiting her personal taste. "That's the beauty of making the snack packs yourself! You save money and get exactly what you want. Dried pineapple, macadamia nuts and sesame crackers bought in bulk combine to make 20 single serving snack bags with a hula flair for 50¢ - 75¢ per bag. Might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I love that combination."

As she scooped dried apples, walnuts, raisins, almonds and Cheez-its into zip lock bags, the triumphant snack bagger enthused, "Cost savings and snacks personalized to suit my tastes? Win-win. I can't believe more people don't do this."

9:11 PM

Saturday, March 14, 2015  
In an attempt to bring some levity to her mundane an depressing life area woman Tricia McMillian decided to write her blog posts in the style of the popular satire newspaper The Onion.

"I dunno. I guess maybe I need to find that childlike joy I used to have over small things," Ms. McMillian, or "Trillian" to her blog readers said of her recent decision to modify her writing style. "Somehow I think my 'voice' will still come through. I mean, I'm kinda sarcastic anyway, so this isn't exactly a big leap.Writing in Onion style isn't exactly a stretch for someone like me."

When asked if her blog readers can expect any other changes to accompany the new writing style, Ms. McMillian thoughtfully responded, "Yeah. There will be post titles. I don't usually title my blog posts. That's going to be different for me. I'm looking forward to that creative challenge. That little voice in my head already makes up Onion-esque headlines as I go about my daily life, so it seems like it will be easy to make that adjustment...but deep down I think it's probably one of those things that will end up being a lot more difficult than I thought." Ms. McMillian added, "But I think readers will adjust easily enough to blog post titles."

Trillian noted that mimicking someone else's style is kind of lame and unoriginal, but she feels that adds to the irony of her life and subject matter. Said Trillian, sighing dejectedly, "Frankly, it's taking the easy way out. Mocking my boring and sad existence is one thing, but lamely doing so by copying The Onion's format just reinforces how low my personal standards have fallen. At this point in my life pride is merely a memory and a concept. I'm just trying to find a way to see the funny side of the crap that gets dumped on me."

As of press time Ms. McMillian was seen with a downcast distant gaze into a notepad with a list of topics scrawled and smudged with the still-damp water ring from the bottom of her double vodka tonic. 

8:36 PM

Monday, March 09, 2015  
I've been unwillingly partaking in a personal experiment. One of those types experiments that's all the rage on blogs and indie books. Someone tries something "risky" or "out of their comfort level' and relays the experience as if they've discovered a cure for cancer. Except in my case I wasn't setting out to prove something or learn something about myself and society or liberate myself from anything, and what I've learned won't cure or prove anything. 

I've been going without mascara or eye makeup for the past two weeks. And what's weird is that it's weird. I thought that at this stage of my life - the stage where I have given up on men, dating and given into the undeniable fact that I am ugly - going without makeup wouldn't be that big of an issue for me. After all, while I was unemployed makeup was a precious commodity, only to be used for special occasions like interviews. So, I was accustomed to not wearing makeup.

Or so I thought.

Apart from my semi-goth years in late high school and college I've never been one to wear a lot of makeup. And even in those goth years I wasn't as heavy-handed as most goth kids. I was more a hint of goth than full-on goth. Looking back on it, and looking at photos, I wore a "normal" amount of eye liner and mascara. It was just that I used black where the other girls at my high school were sticking to the more pastel or natural hues, so by comparison I was goth. If you were to see a photo of me back then you would not automatically assume I was into Fields of Nephilim and read a lot of Edgar Allan Poe.

After undergrad I went a little lighter with the eye makeup. Since then, depending on the occasion,  my eye makeup varies from just mascara to a full on smokey eye, and a lot of variations in between. But my bare minimum "out in public" makeup requirements were mascara and some form of lip color. (I don't often wear mascara on my lower lashes because they're thick and long and I end up looking like Liza or Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange.)

It's not just that I like how my eyes look with a coating of mascara on my upper lashes. This is not a brag, it is a statement of fact: I have long eyelashes. If I don't curl them once a week or use mascara to lacquer them upward, they stick out a long way in front of my eyes and kinda get in my way. As in, impairing my vision. 

A couple weeks ago I had my glaucoma test. The past few years my left eye has not passed the preliminary tests and is "preglaucomic" with steady but slow deterioration, while my right eye has been stable. This year my right eye performed very poorly, alarmingly bad. After much thorough examination and a few more tests, it was determined I am having another issue that skewed the right eye results. Fortunately, there are eye drops that should remedy the situation. (Very expensive prescription eye drops that are not covered by my insurance.) The eye drops have to be administered three times a day. Which means I have to use them during the work day. Which means eye makeup and mascara smudge all over the place (resulting in a true goth - as in Alice Cooper Show goth - look). I also have some "exercises" to do that involve my fingers prodding all around my eyes. Also resulting in smudged and smeared eye makeup.

So, I stopped wearing mascara (and the minimal eye shadow I sometimes wear to work).

Turns out that's weird for me.

I didn't realize how much I relied on mascara to make me feel "polished." I didn't think it would matter, I didn't think I would give it much thought.

There was no sobbing in the mirror while clutching my mascara, there was no soul searching, there wasn't much of anything other than the realization that my getting ready for work regime was a few minutes shorter.

I always wear sunglasses outdoors. Always. (Me and Bono.) It's the glaucoma thing. My parents were pretty easy going about health stuff - they didn't race me to the doctor or ER unless I really needed professional medical attention - but they were always very on top of the glaucoma situation. Both my paternal grandparents, all my father's siblings and my father all had glaucoma, most of them had early onset glaucoma. As of this writing all but 2 of my 12 cousins on my father's side have glaucoma. My father's grandmother was completely blind in her later years. We presume it was glaucoma-related. My mother's family is similarly afflicted, although my mother has so far dodged that genetic bullet. So. My parents were on top of glaucoma testing for us kids and were especially careful regarding eye care. My mother outfitted me in uv-blocking sunglasses long before Babiators hit the market. (It's a real thing, Google it or go to Whole Foods on a Saturday afternoon and check out what the kids in strollers are wearing.)

So, on the first day of no mascara, I put on my sunglasses as usual and headed out to catch the bus to work. I forgot I wasn't wearing mascara. Nothing was different. No one noticed. I didn't give it any thought. I forgot about it.

I got to work and set about my day as usual. Someone in the office asked me if I was coming down with a cold. I assumed they asked me that because I sneezed. "No, just allergies acting up," I responded. "Oh, yeah, itchy eyes and all that..." my coworker said. It was then I remembered I wasn't wearing mascara or eye makeup. Before going into a meeting my boss pulled me aside and asked me if I was okay. I asked her why she asked. She said, "You look tired and your eyes are kind of weird, like maybe you were crying last night."

Oh.

Well.

There it was.

Me - mascara = sick, tired, weird, crying aftermath*.

I went to the bathroom and took a look at my unmascara-ed eyes under the harsh florescent office light and saw what she meant. I looked tired, paler than normal, and generally "dull." And she was right, there was a "kind of weird" aspect to how my eyes looked. Difficult to articulate. Just not normal. Great. Two weeks of this? As if my appearance-based self-esteem weren't already less than zero...now this. Sigh. Whatever.

I put on another coat of lipstick and thought, "Nothing I can do about it." I made a point of putting in my eye drops at my desk with an exaggerated flourish so that people could see me administering them, hoping people would understand that I have an eye thing going on and there were no crying jag nights or illnesses or narcotic reasons for my "weird" eyes.

That should have been that.

But.

The realization that I have rarely gone out in public without mascara since I was 16 started nagging at me. I thought I wear makeup by choice. I choose to wear it when I want to wear it and because I want to wear it. Not because of ideals presented in women's fashion magazines. Not because of gender-based marketing. Not because the pretty, cool, popular women wear it. Not because my peer group wears it. And certainly not because men prefer women wearing makeup. That's what I thought. But now, suddenly, that's all called into question.

I started noticing women's eyes.

I noticed that there are plenty of women who do not wear mascara.  But most of the women I speak with, and with whom I share eye contact, wear mascara. Most wear mascara and eye liner, and many also wear eye shadow. Several wear false eyelashes (I can spot 'em, just like fake boobs, women can distinguish the real from the fake immediately.)

Lashes have been a big deal over the past 10 years. There are lash bars, lash extensions, myriad "volumizing" and "lengthening" mascaras, and Brooke Shields hawks a prescription medication for something that stimulates lash growth. (And has the side-effect of changing the color of eyes...which seems a little extreme to me...I mean, that can't possibly be okay, can it? ) And apparently the women I associate with are all on board with lash accentuation.

Funny how I never really noticed that until I entered a mascara moratorium.

And funnier, still, how I realized I felt stripped of a part of my female identity.

This is a harsh reality check for me. Maybe I'm not the feminist I thought I was. Maybe I do care more about my looks that I thought I did. Maybe I am succumbing to peer pressure. Maybe I am swayed by gender-based marketing. Maybe I do kowtow to male expectations and ideas about what women "should" do to enhance their appearance.

Lots of disappointed sighs lately. I'm disappointed in myself. I didn't think it mattered. I didn't think I would care. I didn't think anyone would notice, or, if they didn't, I didn't think I would care that they noticed. I didn't think I would be counting the days until I can wave the magic wand of black pigmented wax over my eye lashes.



*Crying Aftermath is, I think, the one of the best band names I have unintentionally conjured.

9:53 PM

 
This page is powered by Blogger.