The Key to Anti-Invisibility... and happiness! ...and life... and the universe... and my heart... and that chest in the attic.

All my life, I have tried not to be seen.  I hate attention.  I want only to sit in a corner and hold the spotlight that shines on everyone else, and let that same light blind the observer to the invisible hand behind it.

At this point my mother, who is reading this, is laughing, because she knows this is an outright, blatant lie.  Ever since I was an infant, I have been trying to shove Clarke out of the spotlight so I can get a little piece of it (which has gotten much easier in recent months, due to the fact that I now know a little bit of jiu jitsu, and if he doesn't get his butt out of MY spotlight, I can choke him out and stand over his unconscious body, absolutely sparkling in my own glory).

I will admit, despite the picture of my childhood I just painted (and referred to in present tense, which was technically not accurate, since I was referring to the past... mostly), I've mellowed in recent years.  Now that I've passed my teenage insecurity, and I honestly believe I'm worth looking at, I don't have to struggle so hard to be seen. 

Yes, when I was seven, I laid down in the middle of the wallball court during a game so they'd have to play past me... which I honestly don't remember doing, but my mother informs me I did.  Yes, as a teenager, I sat in the congregation at youth conference and glared up at the stand, where those lucky few members of the Youth Committee (including Clarke) got to sit, seen by all, while I was simply one of the masses, lost in a sea of faceless, nameless heads that the leaders were telling, "Even though we haven't personally spoken to you, know how much we love you!  Each and every one, as an individual!" 

Now, it's different.  Don't get me wrong, I still like to be seen, noticed, recognized.  In fact, that's probably one of the reasons I'm doing well at work - my boss notices EVERTHING I do right, and makes sure to tell me about it.  But, I don't NEED it, with a burning passion that causes me to want to pie the face of everyone who glows with the radiance of noticeability. 

So, how do you get attention and recognition - a good, moderate amount - without resorting to such obnoxious measures as skipping behind your 2 year old brother, singing, "RrrrrEH heh heh!" while your mother is attempting to take a video of him jumping in his dad's size 13 shoes?

The answer is really quite simple:

Be stupid.

No, I'm serious!  You can't play helpless ignoramus, but if you play mildly-but-not-incurably stupid, people will try to cure you!  Then you get all sorts of attention!

This observation began with my previous blog post, and the question, "Is Shauna even a name?"  Since that post, I have found out from about 5 different people that yes, Shauna is in fact a name... and learned how those people knew various Shauna's in their lives.  See?!  I got all sorts of attention, and my wonderful readers got to feel like they were educating me on something, which made me feel good, because it lets me know that this blog is being read by more than the 1 person I assumed I was reaching out to (who also happens to be my mother).  Brilliant!

DISCLAIMER: The following musings are not actually based in the previously mentioned situation or people involved, and, any resemblance you may see to yourself is entirely your own, because I'm not referring to anyone I actually know.  Just my own observations of life, and Person A is typically either me or the cosmic "him" of a person typifying your average human being.  So nyah.

Begin Musings.

This fact, that if you play stupid, then people will try to cure you, is based in one of the great paradoxes of life.  This is the fact that person A will reach out to person B, because person A needs it.  Think about it.  Why are we kind?  Because it makes us feel good.  If making somebody else feel good made us feel bad, would we still do it?  Maybe.  I'm sure some people would, and I'd like to hope I would, but I'd venture to guess that a greater majority of the world would spend their lives being jerks.  So, if Person A sees that Person B is kinda dumb, but A has the know how to fix that, don't you think A is going to share his knowledge?  I'm sure he would.

And both would benefit.

Granted, if you're just playing stupid, this isn't going to help you one bit, because when Person A tries to give you advice, you'll already know it, and you'll just feel like your own intelligence is being insulted, but you insulted it yourself, so you can't be too mad at Person A, even though you want to be.

So, clearly, the true answer is that you have to actually BE stupid.

Or, alternatively, you can grasp the true meaning of what I actually haven't said yet!  And that is that people see the world from their perspective, and if you want them to see you, you need to take a little jaunt into their world, instead of sulking in your own and wondering why nobody is Christlike enough to reach out to you.  It's a paradox I've been watching unfold for a while now, mostly in my own life.  I am seen the most when I'm seeing other people.  I have the most influence on people's lives when I look at them, and see what they need, instead of seeing what I want them to need so I can help them.  I like to help people, and I want to help them, but it's impossible if I'm helping them to help myself.  But then, why would I do it if it didn't help myself?  But then, if I'm doing it to help myself, I'm not helping them, and therefore not myself, so why am I doing it at all?

And the moral of the story is:  The only way to help yourself is to stop trying to help yourself, and trust that you will be helped if you stop trying.

Which brings me to another interesting thought.

Usually, if you want something, you have to try for it.  Put it as a clear goal in front of you, and measure out the steps to reach it, then keep tabs on yourself to see if you are on track.

The game plan usually goes:

1. Set goal.
2. Decide steps to reach goal.
3. Take 1st step.
4. Think about goal, and if step one kept you on track.
5. Take 2nd step.
6. Think about goal, and if step 2 kept you on track.
7. Etc. through steps.
8. Reach goal.

This time, it goes:

1. Set goal to be happy.
2. Decide that to be happy, you must focus on other people.
3. Focus on other people.
4. Focus on other people.
5. Forget why you started.
6. Focus on other people.
7. Keep focusing on other people.
8. You wake up one day, and realize how many people you utterly love, and how completely packed with happiness you are.

What was my name again?

So, I was sitting in class, and my teacher was looking at the roll, and called a name to say the prayer. 

"Samantha?" he called.

My head popped up.  "Me?"

No. 

No, my name is not Samantha. 

You may be wondering, how could I have forgotten this fact?  I mean, I know I occasionally have issues with memory.  Those who live with me have frequently witnessed the following scene:

"Bye!"
*Door closes*
*Door opens*
"Hi!"
"What did you forget?"
"Cell phone.  Bye again!"
*Door closes*
*Door opens*
"Hi!"
"Forget something else?"
"Yeah, I forgot my purse too.  Bye!"
*Door closes*
*Door opens*
"Keys!"
"Really?"

Still, memory issues aside, thinking my name is Samantha is a little much.  What could ever cause me to answer to it?

Well, I'll tell you... even though you never actually asked. 

I asked. 

And now I'm answering.

When I was in primary, my teachers could never remember my name.  They all called me Samantha.  I swear, it was never Savannah, or any other name.  Always Samantha.
So, I just started answering to it.
Then I moved.  There was a girl in my new class named Samantha.  You'd think they'd figure it out, since there was only one Samantha in the class, and it wasn't me, but no.  They stilled called me Samantha.

There was one moment where the teacher was actually talking to the real Samantha and I answered.

Yeah, that was embarrassing.

Since I've gotten older, people have gotten more creative.  In addition to being named Savannah, I also answer to the following names:

Shannon
Sabrina
Sarah
Susannah
Sylvia
Shauna (Is this even a name???)
Sandra
Jackie

Tell you what, if you can at least remember the first letter of my name, and call me something that starts with an S, chances are I've been called it before and I will answer to it.

In fact, a couple days ago at work, this lady I had talked to filled out a survey to say I was awesome  (Yes, I was quite pleased to receive those marks from a customer, in case you're wondering).  In her comments, she said, "I wish I could remember her name, but she was so wonderful!" 
Well... whatever. 
It was what I did, not my name that made the impression, right?
Then I had to call her back to finish up some business.  I made sure to say, "Hi!  This is SAVANNAH, calling with Tahitian Noni International."  She said, "Oh, I'm so sorry I couldn't remember your name for that survey!  I hope they know it was you I was talking about!"  I said, "Don't worry about it.  They know," then completed the business.  As we were about to hang up, she said, "Thanks again for all the great help, Stephanie!  I really appreciate it."

What did I say?

"You're welcome.  Have a great day."

And that, my friends, is why you can now address me as "Your Majesty."

Clearly, I am paying rapt attention.

Turnpikes.  180 year old toll roads.  Yep.  We needed them!  How could we have gotten by without them?  This was a vital piece of the Transportation Revolution, built along the National Road, also known as the... holy cow, my teacher's shirt is almost as shiny as the top of his head!  His head is so shiny I can watch the power point presentation on it... backwards and strangely curved, but clear nonetheless. 

Oh, right, transportation. 

Steam boats.  Another vital piece of the Transportation Revolution.  They blew up a lot.  No, seriously.  The Captains were nuts and would drag race their steam boats.  Hey, that picture of an exploding steam boat is very nicely painted.

Moving on.

Communication revolution.  Back in the 1820's a person from the 21st century traveled back in time, read a newspaper headline that said, "Thanks to the Transportation Revolution, communication has never been so fast!  Now a person in New York can speak to someone in New Orleans, with virtually no delay at all!  It only takes two weeks!"  The time traveler pulled out his new Droid X, looked at it with contempt, and thought, "Why did I ever give my heart to you?"  Then he promptly threw it in an exploding steam boat.

Holy much bad grammatical oops, Batman.  My teacher just said "It made things much more cheaper."

The girl next to me is playing this "Plants vs Zombies" game.  Right now sunflowers, corn cobs (which have been stuck in planters with no stalks), and melon looking plant are shooting and launching their produce at an onslaught of zombies.  Shortly before that the plants were floating on lilly pads in a swimming pool, while zombies swam towards them on ducky float toys.

I'm hungry.  3 minutes of class left.

OH MY GOSH THE ZOMBIES JUST CAME OUT OF THAT GIRL'S COMPUTER ON AN EXPLODING STEAM BOAT!!!!!!  WE'RE ALL G

I learn something new today!

So, while babysitting my one year old niece, I attempted to get my homework done.  While reading about England in the 12th century, my textbook informed me that knights didn't kill each other in battle.  They tried to only take prisoners that they could hold for ransom.  They were a gentle bunch, bound together in Christ-like love.  This was news to me!  I was under the impression that knights did any number of heinous things to each other in war.  I mean, we're talking 12th century, here.  This is the same exact era as the Crusades, in which they may have been "bound together," but there certainly wasn't anything Christian about their behavior.

Sorry, but I don't buy it.  After long and philosophical thought that took all my powers of reason, I came to the conclusion that people trained for war (ie, knights) are a violent bunch.  Yep!  You can all applaud the sheer genius that conclusion required. 

Knights stabbed each other, whacked each other with morning stars (e.g. "spikey sticks"), and as we all know from the ultimate authority on medieval tournaments, A Knight's Tale, hid spikes in their lances during "friendly" jousting tournaments.

Besides, if my one year old niece has the disposition to bludgeon me with a metal serving spoon while simultaneously snuggling her little cheek against my chest, I highly doubt the warriors of the Crusades had the disposition for "brotherly love and kindness" in the heat of battle with each other.

Sorry, textbook, but the primary source, quoted from a monk who lived in the time period being discussed here, which blatantly contradicts such well-researched evidence as Heath Ledger's performance or my own philosophical observations about the violent behavior of toddlers (no, really!  She grasped me around the neck with both of her hands, and then laughed as I made gagging noises!  She's a homicidal maniac!) is far from sufficient to convince me.  Really, textbook.  Get some reliable sources.