Thursday, February 23, 2012

Noah and his Ark: We Were Screwed From Day 1

As a child, my biggest issues with CCD (Sunday School for those below the Mason Dixon), were the stories in the Bible that made NO LOGICAL SENSE. I always had questions and I always demanded answers: "How come Jonah didn't die from the acid in the whale's stomach? Can God make a rock too big for him to lift? Why does the woman have to be the rib, and of course, be the one to mess everything up with an apple? And how did Noah get all those animals to come two by two- even beavers? There are no beavers in the Middle East!" (These sessions always resulted in "we will talk with your parents after class"... Lovely there goes TGIF for a month).

But as I think back to those days of questions, the Noah one sticks out. This is not because I am currently inundated (no pun intended) with flood history for my thesis but because I swear that everywhere I look, everything is in two. If it's not a "buy one, get one free" bagel sale at Kroger, it's my creepy neighbor with twin poodle-looking dogs in jackets on leashes, or even my cats book-ending me on the couch as I write this. Everything is in "two." And that does not eliminate the obvious: people. As humans, we are drawn to others. Unless you suffer from some rare body odor, herpes, a skin condition, or a general hatred for other 2-legged mammals, you're drawn to someone else. We are always seeking the companionship of another. I think this principle was set up by Noah- every one must come two by two in order to survive. But what if you are someone who decided to put on the life vest, grab a sandbag, and tell Noah- I'm not coming. Divide everyone else up. Leave me here with Lisa Patton's Storm Tracker radar. I'm good.

First off, I'm pretty sure that my Mother is already reaching for the phone as she reads this for an intervention, horrified that I could harbor that kind of thought. She has images of me having multiple cats, collecting newspapers, watching the Price is Right in the morning in a moo-moo with my martini in a Maxine Cartoon mug. I like to throw in "The Villages" as my home and I think I'm living the dream. Nevertheless, you don't hear people saying "I want to be alone. I don't want a partner. The buddy system isn't for me." But there are those, like me, who think sometimes the "Noah Theory" is pushed just a bit too hard on 20-something year old women. (Ok, almost 30 but don't remind me).

There are some things that I just don't think Noah's "theory" would support:

- I wear a mouth guard when I sleep. I also wear those little dots of Proactive on my face at night with a big "Mulan-style" bun on the top of my head. If an intruder were to break into my apartment at night with the intent of attacking me, he'd take one look, say, "Yeah, um, sorry about that" and walk out the same door he just smashed through.

- I have never been able to, am not able to, and never will be able to wear a white shirt. Not that it's physically impossible or that I don't look good in one (obviously I do) but I won't even leave the house before there is toothpaste or coffee on that thing. If I make it to lunch? You can forget it. But that's me. I spill things- a lot of things. And they always wind up right on that white shirt for all to see (and lovingly judge). Or as cream cheese smears on my steering wheel.

- I use WebMD as my own personal source of medicinal advice. If it says I have prostate cancer, than I do. I'm a hypochondriac. Or at least I think I am. I don't know, maybe I just have a brain tumor or something that makes me think I'm a hypochondriac.

- I dance around my apartment in my pajamas to my favorite songs. I can't cook and use the stove for storage. I listen to my music way too loud and don't care. I think sugar is the base of the food pyramid. I've been known to bite people who try to wake me up. I drink too much. I curse too much. I'm easily bored. I'm consistently picky and rather hard to please.

I'm not gonna make the ark. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in the next year or so. Because I'm not ready to board it just yet. I want to wear my Proactive dots (that will obviously give me a rare form of skin disease according to WebMD) with my messy hair, standing in a kitchen where nothing is cooking, listening to really loud music, looking at my reflection and seeing a stain in the middle of a white shirt. I'm not ready to give that up yet.

The ark looks safe, warm, and inviting. But with a little life vest (perhaps also known friends and new shoes?) and a few sandbags to hold you down (a dream job? a little Nashville apartment?), the water isn't that bad either.

Catch me on the next go around Noah.

(And is it just me or do people ALWAYS get sick on ships? Always! I'm not going near that thing. You put animals and humans and everything else on a ship for 40 days and 40 nights and someone's spreading something. I'll take my chances in the water. Swine, SARS, Avian- whatever. Let them have it and share it in their sets of "two.")

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