Friday, February 25, 2011

Random Shit #6

I’ve found that every year I learn more, see more, experience more and grow more. This has made it so that I get more and more amazing as time goes on.


It makes me excited to see what I will become in the years that follow. I will be honest, I am approaching (gasp) 30. I’m not afraid (might be a lie). If the past 28 years have proven anything, I know that the next 30 will be kick ass!! Especially when you consider about 15 of those years were wasted being too young to do anything worthwhile.

I’m not worried about getting older. Most of my heroes and favorite people didn’t become their magnificent selves until their mid 50’s. I think growing old will be awesome. There are so many milestones to look forward to.

30’s: I may reproduce. It’s a scary thought; however, I would LOVE to see what a mini Savannah would be like. I will train her to be just as fanatical and spunky as I am. Ok, you’re right, I’d better let this gene line die with me.

40’s: This is where I make my millions. The trajectory I’m headed on right now is Crazy Town, but only poor people are crazy. Rich people are eccentric.

50’s: At this age I will stop dying the front of my hair. But only the front. I’m hoping to take after my mom (sorry mom) and get a nice gray early on (which I’ll continually dye so I wont know when it hits) but at 50 I will stop dying the front and have some sort of Grandma Rogue thing going for me.

60’s: Hellooooooooo Senior Discount!!!

70’s: By this age if I haven’t started to lose my marbles, I will pretend to have. I intend to go to sporting events and streak across the field naked and claim I was confused and just trying to find the bathroom. It is also finally socially acceptable to ask blunt, rude, and inappropriate questions. I will do this at all times.

80’s: If the shenanigans of my 70’s haven’t gotten me placed as a ward of the state I hope to be this guy.

Rock on Dude!!

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Second Chair

I am amazing at playing the violin. Did you know?

I’ve played since 4th grade. (Which, as we all know, is the optimal age for greatness) I was so amazing that by 6th grade it was decided that the world wasn’t ready for my talent and I should take some time off.

I was heartbroken not to have played the whole year so while registering for my 7th grade classes, I signed myself up for Orchestra class knowing full well I no longer owned a violin nor did I have permission to do so.

The first week was a little chaotic, but I managed to convince my teacher that I did own a violin which I continued to forget to bring to school, as I worked my master plan to manipulate a new violin out of my mom. (Note: I was a devious child and I apologize to my mother for always getting what I wanted. Please curse me with "having children like myself" because I already know all their tricks.)

I started out the year strong and dedicated many hours to practice. The end of the year did not finish quite as strong, and during the summer months my violin regretfully did not see the light of day.

But by 8th grade I was back in all my glory. I played such masterpieces as Ode to Joy and Beethoven’s Faux Symphony with such precision and exuberance my teacher was speechless… speechless…

My practices had really picked up the pace as well. I remember spending at LEAST 10 minutes a week with the instrument out of its case. If that isn’t dedication, well, I don’t know what is. No really, I don’t know what is.

All my efforts lead me to advancing all the way to SECOND to last chair!! My dedication had really paid off for me. This meant I was located in the very back of the whole orchestra, the whole room really. Victoria and I assiduously focused on our musical talents. Not a day went by that the teacher wouldn’t commend us for discussing, throughout class, in quiet whispers with one another, how we might better our performance. At one point we felt we might be better violinists if we were to sit on a tower of chairs. Our teacher felt opposite. I think that through the combined efforts of Victoria and myself, we were really able to soar with our musical talents.

The payoff finally came. Orchestra performance night. I. Was. Stoked.

I was dressed in my finest black and white combo, sitting up straight, bow in position, as I took my skills to a whole new level. The notes on the page meant nothing to me. I’d never seen them before. I didn’t need them. I was greater than them. I looked straight ahead and smiled as I moved my bow back and forth, back and forth following the myriad of other bow movements in front of me.

At that point I found my true potential. One had only but to appear to have talent to receive a standing ovation. A lesson I put into practice many more times in my future.

Yet tragically, my violining went into hibernation.

Don’t fret, Savannah always makes a comeback. About 3 years ago I was forlorn when I received the news that I was waitlisted for grad school. I NEEDED to learn. I had been out of school too long and my brain was shriveling, (I felt it) I needed to stuff some new knowledge in there.

Solution: Take violin lessons! It is a proven fact that adults can play instruments better than children. Why would one torture a 5 year old to learn such a difficult endeavor when we all know that old dogs learn the best tricks. I bought a shiny new violin and top notch gear. I took classes and practiced. I practiced!! I must say that my ability far surpassed that of my 8th grade self. As I knew it would. It is ALWAYS a good idea to start up instrument lessons as an adult. It’s so fulfilling playing The Snake Dance and Mary Had a Little Lamb as a 26 year old.


On an unrelated note: I have a mint condition Carlos Wallin for sale. Cheap.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Awkward Conversations

The other day as I was walking down the street and I heard a man say to his friend,

“I wasn’t sure when the right time would be to ask her about an open relationship”

Well, I thought to myself, that is a very valid question

I mean if you think about it, when and how you approach the subject is crucial to obtaining the desired outcome. If one thing goes wrong in the delivery, bam, you’re doomed to a monogamous relationship. And we just can’t have that, now can we.

This has to be a highly thought out conversation. I assume it would have to go something like…

“Baby, I love you, and I think our sex life is off the hook. I was thinking that we should share the wonderful thing we have together with other people.”

As I was thinking about this it made me wonder how other awkward conversations are broached…

The swingers: “Sweety, Don’t you think it would make our love life more meaningful if we included other people in our bedroom activities?”

Choke Me Chicks: “Ok, so what I want you to do is simple, just put your hands around my neck and squeeze until I almost pass out. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!”

The Sadists and Masochists: “I think it would be so awesome if we both came up with special words we had to use while we had sex so that we don’t accidentally kill each other.”

The other freaks: “Honey, I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind putting on this clown suit and taking this Twinkie…” Well you see what I’m saying.

These are just things I wonder about…

I wonder how that guy’s open relationship conversation worked out for him.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Hobbies and Interests

Everyone is well acquainted with my love of the Hula Hoop. I am frequently taking a class, talking about the new trick I’m learning, and generally showing anyone who will watch as I perform whatever new, amazing thing I can do. I also have other hobbies; reading, writing (as evidenced), traveling, tennis, watching TV, wake and snowboarding and trying new hobbies (the hobby of other hobbies).

But these are all regular things that people are generally interested in doing in their spare time.

I also have other, bizarre interests which I still consider “hobbies” and I’d like to share with you these little things that make me happy.

A) Open Houses: I cannot resist the urge to look through other people’s homes. I love to see floor plans, criticize their decorating style and get ideas. I will pick up flyers for homes for sale, just to see what they have to offer. An Open House sign decked out with balloons is like a Christmas tree with twinkly lights to me.

2) Cleaning extremely dirty things: You know when there is clearly visible grime on something and you know that you can take a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser to it and it’ll be gone? That is such a rush!! The other day I saw some shower mold and I had to resist the urge to put on some rubber gloves and whip out the bleach. Let’s get this clear, it’s not because I’m some sort of snob that is above shower mold, because I’m not, but when I know that I could make it clean, the feeling is indescribable. (author's note: I have immense jealousy for the soul that got to clean said mold) There is something about the transition from dirty to clean that I find thrilling.
%) Touching things: This is not a perverted hobby so just get that out of your head right now. Sometimes an uncontrollable urge comes over me where I just have to touch things to know how it feels. I may be diagnosable… or I’m a 4 year old… I haven’t decided. These things I must touch are usually paintings, fabrics, or surfaces, but they are always plants, and on occasion, people. While sitting on a bus in Hawaii I just HAD to touch the man sitting in front of me. I couldn’t get off the bus without doing it so I concocted a plan. When I stood up I touched his shoulder as if by accident, but then as I was “apologizing” I was distracted and hit my head on the lowered ceiling of the bus. As I stumbled to try not to look like a fool, I turned around and ran right into the pole in the middle of the bus. I then slinked away with as much dignity as I could muster. Suffice it to say I’ve tried to learn my lesson about giving in to my urge to touch people.

8) Eating: like really EATING!! You may think this is more of a necessity than a hobby but I disagree. I get so excited about what I’m going to eat, I plan for it, and, sometimes, when something is especially delicious, I do a little dance while I eat it. I start planning what I’m going to eat for my next meal as soon as I finish my current one. I have always felt like a fat girl trapped in a skinny girl's body. Sometimes, you eat something so amazing it’ll change your life. Last night I had a life altering encounter with a dessert. I don’t even know what it was. It was indescribable. If delicious is a noun, that’s what I ate. I ate delicious. I think it was made out of magic. Take note of the powdered sugar coating my body from the previous doughnut I had consumed…

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Happiness and Homesickness

Are oil and vinegar. I believed. One cannot possibly be happy in their current location, while wanting to be in another.

I had a friend, Amanda, when I was young that would go home early EVERY time we planned a sleepover. Things would be going fine and we would be having fun, but then in the middle of the evening she would become miserable and call her mom to pick her up. It was hard for me as a kid not to take it personally. My mom explained that she was just homesick and had a hard time being away from something that was comfortable to her.

As I grew older I experienced this, as everyone does, but it was never too big of a problem. I’ve always been independent and didn’t feel like I needed my home. I would only become homesick when I was at an awful place where people were unkind to me. I went to Disneyland with a different friend’s family when I was 12. Her stepdad was so dreadful it made Disneyland the unhappiest place on earth. I would have given anything to go home and end that trip.

This lead me to believe that if I am feeling homesick, it’s because I am not feeling happy. But it’s not true.

The two are not mutually exclusive.

As I found once when I created a bread dipping debacle; oil and vinegar, if mixed well enough with a fork, can blend together. (I’m sorry I ruined your oil Lara but really, the vinegar is the best part)

I am all sorts of happy, giddily so, here in New York. Things are going better than I thought they could in such a short amount of time. I have made many friends in different circles and have plenty of things to do. I am no longer lost everywhere I go and things are starting to become familiar to me.

Yet I miss home very much. I miss spending time with people who have known me for a long time. I miss having inside jokes and knowing where I stand with people. I miss driving down the street and seeing places that I’ve known since I was a child.

However, that doesn’t take away from how happy I am. Sure, it’d be nice to be on the inside of a joke once in a while, but that’ll come. I’m not in any way forlorn. As a matter of fact I’m 180 degrees opposite. I understand now that Amanda was not miserable at my house; she just missed the comfort she felt of sleeping in her own bed with her mom in the next room.

I am happy and homesick… And that’s just fine.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Church of Running

This evening I laced up my scriptures, put my hymns in my ears and headed off to worship. I have participated in this religion for about 3 years, and was baptized during a grueling 3 day ceremony. I’ve worshiped in various locations and at varied intensity. At times I was so zealous I partook of the sacrament on a daily basis. At other times my faith was faltering and I visited its holy grounds once every few months. Now that I’m feeling settled, I have rededicated myself to my religious devotion. I decided to explore a new church building today and I was rewarded with a profound spiritual experience.I took the subway to the Brooklyn Bridge and began services with a prayer. I gave my invocation by reaching up to heaven, and then touched the ground. With knees bent and arms folded I prayed for my safety. I ended my prayer by evoking the strength within me and I began my worship.

While at church I saw other disciples assiduously involved in worship. Some were so involved in their prayer they had no awareness for those surrounding them. Yet many made a point to acknowledge other members studying with them and sharing their gospel. Warm pleasantries were shared with a nod, smile or wave. Everyone took comfort in knowing the other was there with a common belief and a higher purpose in mind.
This Hondo was filled with the spirit of the devoted bearing their testimony. I stood up, enlightened and empowered with the burning in my bosom, and contributed to the congregation. I gave witness to my firm conviction in this doctrine by bearing my soul to the parishioners. While deep in Kensho I felt the presence of a higher power and felt absolution.

I gave my benediction in similar fashion to how I started. Then I sat, legs folded, contrite, grateful for the blessings I have of health and happiness. Thankful for the experience. I felt redemption.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Keepin' It Real

I debated calling this post “I’m going to be a great mom” but I don’t know what the appropriate font is to express sarcasm.

I firmly believe that kids just need to know the truth at all times. The stork/when-two-people-love-each-other-very-much nonsense baffles me, animals do not go to a magical farm, I struggle with the jolly fat man, and don’t even get me started on this Tooth Fairy business.

Now I will be the first to admit that I do not, in fact, have children and shouldn't formulate any opinions or protocol for these situations. It may be a measure of protection parents use to shield their children from the horrors of a world without money for the disposal of discarded body parts. I imagine it’s much like taking your old car into the Tear-a-Part auto place and receiving a check for $20.

I still don’t get it.

So when kids ask me questions, I tell them the truth…

Which brings me to Norman. He was my beloved turtle of 7 years before I sent him to live in my uncle’s pond (not an analogy for him dying). He is still alive and thriving. My uncle sends me pictures and updates on Norman and his posterity. Norman, being a water turtle, ate goldfish. He was the cheapest pet a person could own; for $1.00, I bought him 10 goldfish that lasted 2 weeks. $2.00 a month was all it took to care for the little guy.

On one such occasion I stood in the checkout line, baggy full of goldfish in hand, as a small child admired my booty (as in pirate, not the beautiful specimen I carry on my backside)

“That’s a lot of fish you have there!” He exclaimed in delight. I’m sure he was imagining how amazing my house must be to need so many aquatic creatures to fill it. “What are you going to do with all of those fish?”

I took pause, looked at the boy’s father as if seeking permission, (although I would have said the same thing no matter what) leaned over to look the boy directly in the eye and said, “I’m going to feed them to my turtle” (I may or may not have added an unnecessarily menacing tone)

The boy looked accosted and mortified, “no, you need to get them their own tank so they can swim around!” He looked on the verge of tears.

I was unaffected by his emotion, “But then my turtle wont have anything to eat.” I looked up at his father to make sure I hadn’t crossed a line as I remembered this wasn’t actually my own child. Father smiled in approval at my “Circle of Life” lesson.


After a bit more discussion of fishes and their role in my turtle’s life the boy seemed satisfied and appeased.

Before leaving he waved at my bag of fish, saluting them at their noble duty, and wished my turtle luck.

My parenting skills are definitely in question, but I make an excellent ‘Life Lessons’ teacher.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Random Shit #5

Here it is, Your moment of Zen...

Sunday, February 6, 2011

So Far We're Happy Together

While my ipod was shuffling the other day I happened upon a love song that I’m rather fond of and it made me think.

There are a lot of love songs out there, but what the market could really use are some I-like-you-a-lot-but-we-haven't-been-dating-long-however-I'd-like-to-see-where-this-goes songs.
This inspired me to write one…

So Far We’re Happy Together- By The Turtles
(Play it in the background, it works sanz a couple of spots, but I’m too lazy to fix them)

Imagine me and you, I do
I think about you off and on
It hasn’t been long
To think about the girl you just met
It can’t be wrong
So far we’re happy together

If I should text you up, invest my time
And you flirt back with me
I’ll lose my mind
Imagine how today could be, so very fine
So far we’re happy together

I can see me likin’ nobody but you
For the time being
When you’re with me baby the skies’ll be blue
For the time being

Me and you and you and me
I have to say I like you lots
But just hold on
It’s not been long
So we’ll just see
So far we’re happy together

I can see that so far you seem awesome
But just hold on
It may be that you are actually quite weird
So just hold on

Me and you and you and me
I have to say I like you lots
So I will see
As of now I am not bored
Of you just yet
So far we’re happy together

Me and you and you and me
I have to say I like you lots
So I will see
Those things I think are cute right now
Might turn out to be
Beyond unbearable

So far we’re happy together
I hate this weather
So far we’re happy together
Let’s see where this is headed
So far we’re happy together
Happy together
So happy together

(ok so there are a few spots that it doesn't work, but I'm too busy to be creative enough) Just love it for what it is

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Random Shit #4 (but after writing this it actually turned out to be substancial)

For some reason I always feel like I should keep this quiet... As if not saying it out loud will protect me from humiliation if I fail… I’ve recently come to the realization that NOT voicing my desires will only succeed in them NOT coming to fruition. So, I’m going to put it out there and you can all watch as I become crazy successful.

I want to be a writer. But not a writer, I want to be a story teller. I want to take all of the stories in my head and put them on paper and have other people read them. I don’t really know if I’d ever consider myself to be a writer. Writers are amazingly talented people who are some sort of profound and incredible. I just want to tell stories.

I’ve always written. I wrote my first chapter book in 5th grade. And it was good.

Believe it.

I always have some sort of story running through my mind, or I’m narrating my actions to myself or on paper. I often wonder what normal people do with all the space in their head if they’re not using their imagination every waking moment. I can’t imagine all the brain power I’d have to learn new information if I wasn’t constantly distracting myself in my alternate world.

I can stare right at someone (my boss?) as they give me important instructions and all I’m thinking is what story I could write about a world full of people with wings. I bet their wings would be beautiful like a peacock, yet functional. There would be a conflict, of course, maybe between the people with wings and the people without. And where would they live? I imagine it would be someplace high. Like a city in the trees, or the tops of the mountains… Wait, what were you saying I needed to finish by noon?

It’s a real problem. Maybe I should just be honest with people when it happens. Like, “Hey, sorry I wasn’t listening, I was picturing what an aerial fight would look like between a two people with wings and how to describe it in a book.”

Or better yet I need to be in a position where I can live in this fantasy in my head and write them all down. Maybe other people are the problem because they make me live in reality and listen to their nonsense about paperwork and deal with obstinate state workers. If I had TIME to live in my imagination, well, let’s face it, I’d never have enough time because I wouldn’t want to leave. My imagination ROCKS and you only wish you could go to there.

But I digress…

So ultimately I want to be a story teller.

Actually, let me digress a little bit more before I get to my damn point already…

I have always wondered just how psyched new authors must be when they publish their first book. In fact, I think it would NEVER get old every time one of my books was published. I imagine (are you surprised) just what it must be like to walk into a book store and see your book, that you wrote, from your head, sitting there on display. So, much like an athlete who pictures themselves winning the gold medal at the Olympics (you know, to make it come true) I created what I think it looks like to see your book in print.

Whenever I go to Barnes and Noble, I go to whichever book is being spotlighted (usually the newest, most IT book at the time) I pick it up, place it over my head and as I move into what can only be described as a lunge position I say, “This is my book” as loud as I dare.

Oh, it’s silly and impractical, but I consider it envisioning my future…

So, my point (although I feel I’ve made several) these books will have a book jacket, right? Well, because I am such a restless person who wants to travel everywhere and live in unusual places, (I WILL live in a tree at some point and no one can stop me) I want my book jacket to reflect that. I imagine it will say something like.

Savannah lives with her husband and dogs (kids? we’ll see) on Earth.

No state or country, just Earth. I will also accept Planet Earth.

I decided this long ago when I first realized that being a “writer” would allow me to live on a boat as I sail around South America, so I was tickled and delighted when I bought this product and learned where it was made. It felt like a sign…
Look for my book about people with wings in your local book store…