A discussion erupted at work tonight as to whether or not animals go to heaven (only in the Bible Belt is this an appropriate workplace conversation). For the record, I love animals and can't imagine that heaven is anything but a place where dogs, ponies and penguins gambol about in a field of rainbow and marshmallow awesomeness.
However, because this is the Bible Belt, and the Bible contains no references to penguins or rainbow/ marshmallow awesomeness, my theology was met with some resistance. The entire debate eventually devolved to the point where I said, "Everything with eyelashes gets to go to heaven. If you buy a snail Latisse, St. Peter has to give it a pass."
In my defense, I work graveyard shifts and it's easy to get punch-drunk. And to recover from my weird-ass, punch-drunk wisdom, I reverted to one of my major, recurring real-life lies.
That was a totally acceptable statement back in the sorority house.
The myth of my sorority house started innocently enough-- it was a little, teeny lie that popped out before I could stop it, right after I started working in the ER.
*Cue the flashback*
I made the mistake of telling a patient that her shoes were "totally presh," and responding to the bemused stares by saying, "What? Abbreving things is super fun."
An eavesdropping doctor heard that display of genius-ness, and quipped, "Miss the sorority, kid?"
To which I immediately replied, "ADPi 'til I die!!!"
(Side note: not sure why I decided to lie about being an ADPi, except theirs was the easiest slogan to remember, and I know for certain that they're a real sorority).
The doctor looked at me, shook his head, and said, "You know, a lot more about you makes sense now."
What, exactly, about me needed to "make sense?" Can't a girl enjoy working 11-hour shifts in five-inch stilettos? Is it so wrong to wear argyle tights and feathered headbands in the workplace?
Evidently, no, those things are not OK, unless at some point in your life, you passed a candle around and pledged undying devotion to the Sisterhood. And if you have, then, hooray! You get a pass to be as ridiculous as you want! Run around the ER like you're Natalie Portman in Black Swan, so long as you're wearing sorority letters while you do it!
My truth-bending brain latched onto this concept immediately. Here, here is a lie that can excuse your weird behavioral traits. It's better than blaming things on your mother!!
I can't always write off my inane ramblings as a side effect of my upbringing, nor can I credit my mother with my affinity for ballerina skirts and things made from ribbon. It's almost magical, to realize there's a lie that automatically saves you the trouble of rationalizing your quirks, that even at your shrillest and most demanding, you're excused.
Upon further introspection, I realized that even before I consciously settled on a carte blanche excuse-lie, I'd actually been exercising the theory for the better part of my life. In elementary school, I told everybody I was new to this country (so, so much more on that later). By Junior High, I brushed off my oddities by reminding everyone that my mysterious, older boyfriend in Virginia loved my quirks. College: "I used to be a dancer" was the prevailing logic.
I didn't have an excuse in high school. Teenagers can be as weird as they want without logic or reason. Ah, to be young again...
Also: I'm not trying to diss the Greek system in any way, shape or form-- I really have no problem with it. I've had a great time at fraternity parties, and I'm a big fan of the show Greek on ABC Family (though that could stem from my unnatural addiction to that channel).
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