The Rantings. Ravings and Musings of a Girl Named Maya

     Ok, rough title…but seriously, I can’t remember the last time I was up at this hour (5:15am) unless it was coming home from some topdollar party. I am NOT a morning person, strictly a B-type personality. Yes, I can admit the sunrise is beautiful but to tell the truth, I’d much rather be in bed sleeping. Some kind of microorganism in my body has made it impossible for me to sleep through the night past and if it wasn’t the on-off temperature of my body, it was the increasing light in my bedroom because, yes this is Denmark and at this time of year, the sun starts rising before 5am. My bedroom is apparently its target for all its so-called morning glory.

     So, here I sit at my dining table, tapping away at the keys of my laptop, droopy-eyed, while shoving some sort of porridge in my mouth and gazing at a cat in a window of the apartment building across the street playing I-can-catch-the-fly-on-the-other-side-of-the-window. This sucks!!!! I have to be at work in 4 hours and last for 10 more and I sure could use those hours of sleep. Darn it all! Instead, here I sit whining out my misery to a world that is, guess what, SLEEPING…lucky bastards!

So now I am going to try to make it back to bed and find my spot in it while ignoring all the thoughts that of course insist on runnning through my head at this unholy hour: How will I do my hair for the galla party tomorrow? Can I remember the lyrics to the parody of I Know Him So Well that I am going to sing with Michelle? What am I going to have for lunch? Can I make it to the doctor’s office today? Is the platypus some big joke on nature?

And, to sum it all up, all I can say is: YAWN!

Ok, maybe stating that romance wasn’t dead was too optimistic…i gotta get rid of my romantic notions, not living in the P’s anymore…

I’m an even greater dud at techno stuff than i thought. Never thought it’d take me 4 hours to download songs from 2 mp3s to my computer. Why is it that computers never seem to do what you want them to???

Can’t believe i spent 5 hours working on perfecting a pair of glasses and having it go wrong at the very end. I hate ophthalmics!

It’s cooooold! It’s cold when i wake up and have to roll out from under the covers, it’s cold when i bike to and from work….and I must live in one of the coldest apartments in Copenhagen. Beautiful but cold. Sounds like the SNow Queen to a T. Remind me again why I chose to move to a cold Nordic country.

I groan at the thought of all the fixing-up and preparing plus post-party cleaning that’s awaiting me this weekend because of my birthday party.

Ok, I’m gonna be a QUARTER OF A CENTURY OLD! More groaning….

Wish I could win the lottery. Just 5000 kroner will be fine. Maybe I should actually buy a lottery ticket first though.

Another good friend picked up and left the country. I’ve said goodbye to too many people in the last 2 years. I need someone to just stay put.

Sleepy……

I’ll be Miss Sunshine tomorrow. Today’s run its course.

That’s it. The Lament of Maya for the Day. Small things. Sounds ungrateful.

Nah, I love my life and I appreciate it. Maybe I just feel the human need to complain out loud every so often.

Yup, definitely gonna be Miss Sunshine tomorrow.

"I just wanted to tell you that you have really great breasts…very natural, too. I just wanted you to know."

—as stated by Weird Friend of yours truly’s newest suitor.

Some people don’t take alcohol too well. Or they are just plain weird. But it was one of the better comments of the sort that I have heard in all the Saturday nights of my life. Need I mention that  New Suitor was sufficiently and painfully embarrassed by the all-too-honest outburst of his friend? The hiding of his face in his hands while shaking his head and mumbling, "No, no, no" seemed to indicate so.

     I thought autumn had come some time ago. But yesterday it did in all it’s wind-blown glory. I saw the red leaves falling and the grey sky above me, I felt the cold wind rush right through me as I pulled my woolen jacket tighter around me, I heard someone tell me "It’s really autumn now, isn’t it?" and heard myself reply "Yes, with a capital A."……and I knew.

     The season has changed.

     And I have changed.

     The mirror doesn’t show me the same girl anymore.

     Saturday night….all dolled up….out at a club….2 guys wanna join me and a girlfriend….generous guys at that!…free drinks the whole night…champagne, bacardi, vodka, beer and some other yummy drink that I still have no idea what was…I try to fend off the shorter of the two who’s VERY drunk and trying to convince me that we should spend the rest of our lives together….I clearly think otherwise…hmmm, his friend is tall and cute and English….apparently we have a lot in common….hey, he’s nice….really nice….really REALLY nice….i end up sweet-talking him into dancing after another hour of drinks….he’s sweet on me too….great feeling to connect mentally and physically with another person of the opposite sex….gosh, he’s cute….ok, long night….have to get home sometime….he has to watch over his now completely-out-of-it friend…..passionate goodbye (darn!)….i get home on my bike….good thing I only live around the corner…..hey, have to call my baby bro back in the P’s ’cause it’s his birthday!….Happy Burpday, Phantom….concentrating pretty well on the conversation….answering reasonably well too…..then he puts my dad on….i start with a happy summation of my night out minus a few passionate details that jealous dads don’t wanna hear about….all of sudden drone on about still not having a steady boyfriend, not that i care, as i am careful to point out….finish off by yowling my tired version of the "Piña Colada" song in my dad’s ear and then hanging up…..zzzzzzzzzzzz.

I woke up this morning realizing it was probably a bad idea to talk to my dad after having so much to drink (though I was only a bit buzzed and not drunk like the small drunk guy I left at the club) and while still being high on kisses from the cute Englishman. Confirmed it being a bad idea after a text message from my bro saying that the parental units were laughing their heads off after I’d hung up because I was, as they put it, "drunk". I beg to differ. "Buzzed" is not the same as "drunk". If I was drunk, I wouldn’t even have been capable of calling them at 4:30 am. Note to self: DO NOT CALL PARENTS AFTER A NIGHT OF CLUBBING AND DRINKING. And especially do not call long-distance.

I mean, who the hell would call their parents when they’re tipsy anyways??!!!! Okay, ME, apparently…….. Cheers, Pops!

     Three months on my two-wheeled mode of transportation and I feel like one of the Hell’s Angels….on a bicycle, yes, but just as cool. I guess I’ve fallen into the whole biking-wherever-I-need-to-go scheme and if you ask, it’s working out great!

     I can sleep longer in the mornings or just be generally lazy at getting out of the apartment knowing full well that most of the places I need to get to can be reached in 10-15 minutes on the bike. I can move two big bags of groceries home in less time and with less effort than it would’ve taken on my own two feet. Okay, so this requires a certain amount of balance if I want to avoid the embarrassing act of tipping over but I think I’ve managed quite well so far. I can weave in and out of shortcuts that I couldn’t take with public buses or even a car. Some of these shortcuts might not be quite legal but that’s beside the point. The point is that I save time and effort. (No comments on that one please!) Best of all, I have an easy and quick way of getting home after a night of partying and clubbing. Ordinarily, I would have either have to wait in the cold, surrounded by drunks/weirdos, for either the nightbus (that comes every 45 minutes or something so if you miss the first one, you have a boring waiting period ahead of you) or a cab (which is expensive and whoever heard of cabs being available when you actually need them?). With my bike, all I have to do is sober up enough to find out where I left it, remember to attach my bike lights if I want to avoid a 500 kroner ticket and off I go. The trick is staying on a straight route on the bike lanes and trying not to weave from one side to the other. A bit of a challenge when you’ve had, say, a generous mixture of wine, vodka and tequila in a smoke-filled environment. I’d like to take this time to mention that I’ve always made it home safely, in one piece, and without ever running anyone over. I might’ve crossed the wrong places at the wrong time but I’ve never caused any injury to anyone….I think.

     I’ve gotten so fond of biking and the convenience that comes with it that I haven’t gotten a new bus ticket in ages. See, I’m saving money as well! Even with the ever-present cold (and strong!) danish wind, I still think it’s worth it. Bike on! Nerdy as that may sound….. And yes, you CAN bike in a miniskirt and stilettos! Come to Copenhagen and see for yourself!

What makes a single girl, drained from several weeks of hard work AND socializing, go running out to the clubs and pubs on a Saturday night when the first person rings her up to go partying? It’s beyond me, really it is. The call of the night apparently is too strong for me to resist. One cup of java and all fatigue is forgotten.

I’m glad i did though. Fun night and there was always someone to pay for my drinks (enough of a reason to go clubbing, i think!). Typically, unusual and sometimes comical events seem to happen around me anywhere I go. Probably why i always have entertaining stories to tell. Maybe a daughter of mine will hear about them one day. Or not.

Somehow this one thing seems to beat all funny incidents in the life of Maya last Saturday. This guy and I were getting, well, friendly and we were on the dance floor when he ran into some friend of his that, for some reason unknown to date, was carrying around a hammer and a small saw. Not exaclty what I’D choose to carry to clubs but hey, different strokes for different folks. Guy shop talk isn’t my cup of tea so I joined another friend on then dance floor until my guy would be done with his little boys’ conversation. He seemed to be gone for way too long and was nowhere to be found by the bar. Remember the part about comical things culminating around me? He had gotten THROWN OUT of the club because his buddy had, for fun, stuck the saw and hammer in the back pockets of his pants for the whole world (and, apparently, the security guys) to see without my guy noticing since he had had one tequila shot too many and pfffffft—-out on the streets he went! Great, just great…my drinks-and-smooch provider booted out. Oh well, just another night in the Life of Maya.

It’s almost sad that all these "fun" things seem to happen to me but nah—who’d want a boring life anyway?

"If i try to save him, my whole world could cave in, it just isn’t right…

But he’s so beautiful, a beautiful disaster.

And if I could hold on through the tears and the laughter, would it be beautiful..or a beautiful disaster?"

     Kelly Clarkson sung this song some time ago. Heard it recently and the words just caught me. How many times have we wondered if the people we love and the relationships we’ve had or are having are really beautiful or just a beautiful disaster? Sometimes the bitterness of it all catches up to me. It makes me wonder how things that are supposed to be so perfect can be so devastating at the same time. And it makes me sit there with the knowledge that there are so many things i can’t change and no matter how much I analyze them (which i shouldn’t) or try and suppress them (which i, maybe, should), some things are meant to be a certain way. And that’s just the way it works out.

And it leaves me with a big choice: will I allow my life to be beautiful…or a beautiful disaster?

I was biking down the tree-lined boulevard behind my apartment this morning, rushing as I always do since I seem to be chronically 10 minutes late every time I need to leave for work and it hit me. A new chill to the wind, leaves falling all around me….autumn has just started in Copenhagen.
This was a startling realization….how could summer have ended so quickly and autumn started just like that? Raised in the tropics as I was, I was used to one season only: eternal summer, More or less. Last year seems a blur to me but I don’t remember the seasons changing as fast. Or maybe I’m just too preoccupied with my new life these days. Last year, I was struggling to rebuild my life. This year, I’m much more settled into the scheme of things. Kind of like the seasons….each one brings new things to adjust to.
Hopefully, I’ll never be too busy to notice the changing of the winds and the coming of a new season. Life happens, after all, when you’re making other plans.

     I just finished Sophie Kinsella’s book of the same title last night. It only took me 4 hours to read about the life and secrets of Emma Corrigan and boy, was it a good laugh all the way! I literally burst out laughing during several instances, most likely causing my roommate to wonder what kind of a sicko I really am, laughing all by myself in my room in the midnight hours. The book got me thinking of all the marvellous and not-quite-as-marvellous secrets ALL of us harbour because, let’s face it—who’d want to blab to their friends that they secretly hate thong undies but wear them anyway because everyone else says they’re supposed to be sexy though they’d secretly prefer the comfortable cotton granny panties instead?

     I’ve been mulling over whether or not I have any embarrassing secrets that I keep safely hidden away in the unreachable recesses of my brain, so far away that even the Spanish Inquisition could not get at them. Somehow my boss’s reaction to my indignant insistence that it IS possible for me not to tell my colleagues if I was dating anyone keeps pushing its way into my consciousness. Okay, to be perfectly honest he guffawed and bellowed, “You’d NEVER be able to keep your mouth shut about anything like that!”. Hmm, I’d like to think that I CAN hush up when need be. I mean, I’d never tell a friend’s secret or anything like that. I like to be open about my life but luckily (as another colleague commented), I don’t say everything that pops into mind. I wonder how many secrets I can dig up…..

     I hate mornings. Okay, this isn’t a big secret. Anyone who’s tried to call me at noon on a Sunday to hear me answer with a groggy "H’lo?" would know that.

     I hate the scar on my tummy. I pretend I’m tough sometimes and that I can deal with it but in the end, vanity has me consciously tugging at the hem of a too-short blouse everytime.

     I really, REALLY miss my daddy and mommy soooooo much. And sometimes I’m almost willing to drop everything and fly back home to the 2 people I’m perfectly sure love me, no matter how crazy I get.

     I secretly feel guilty about not trying hard enough in the first real relationship I had. I was quite young back then and a whole less experienced but I still think about it sometimes and realize I could’ve tried harder.

     I hate the theme song from Jerry Macguire. I know most of the world thought it was really great at the time but I hated it even back then.

     I hate politics. It’s dirty, it’s tedious and it’s the same scum over and over again.

     I don’t think I’m very good at my job and have an innermost fear of losing it.

     Well, I really don’t love my job that much and would much rather have studied acting which I wanted at 16 but had to take a more “practical” course instead. And as a grown-up, I still have to be practical. I gotta eat right?

     I don’t read newspapers. I glance at the headlines occasionally but I prefer to hear it from other people. The news always seems to be full of depressing information that I don’t need and for the same reason, I don’t watch televised news either. Call me an ignorant if you will.

     I’ve always though the Danish language on air or on television sounded absolutely idiotic. No offense to the Danes, seeing as I’m half-danish.

     I hate the fact that I don’t feel attractive up here. Danish guys just don’t look at girls the same way the rest of the world does. I’ve never met a race of more passive men! No wonder all the guys who run after me on the streets are of all other nationalities than Danish.

     Okay, I hate the fact that I seem to feel the need to be affirmed by the opposite sex. I always thought I was better and more confident than that!

     I’m hurt that my bestfriends sometimes aren’t that good at communicating with me. Sometimes I feel I’m doing most of the effort. I know I was the one who left and that we all have our personal lives but I don’t feel like an email or a text message a month would kill anybody. Friendships have to be maintained just like romantic relationships….if the people involved feel they’re worth keeping.

     I’m afraid that the life I was allowed to keep in an accident nearly 2 years ago was only on loan for a little while and soon it’ll be time to collect…..

     I seriously don’t want to run into a recent Ex and his pregnant wife when I return to the P’s. There are some painful memories you just don’t want brought up.

     There is a guy at the center I work in that I know isn’t worth starting a relationship with but is somehow strangely appealing so I just want his body. Staring at his ass when he walks by the shop can brighten up any dull afternoon. Hopefully, he won’t notice my staring. It could be seriously embarrassing.

     I sometimes wonder if I need psychological help or if everyone feels this way sometimes.

     I’m a technical ignoramus. Anything that has to do with technology or instruments, I’m impossible at. Which is why my being able to set up my printer by myself is a huge accomplishment.

     I don’t remember over half of what I learned in college and sometimes I wonder how I got that top 7 place in the board exams. Back then, my mind was like a sponge. Now it’s more like a sieve—can’t keep anything in.

     I thing certain Arab men are attractive. Those who like baths, anyway. I hope I don’t end up marrying one, though. The whole Muslim thing just wouldn’t work with me.

     I still don’t fathom what DOMs see in me.

     I deeply resent people who tell me to shut up when I’m singing. It was one thing if I’m singing badly but when they tell me to shut up just for the heck of it, I completely lose it and sulk for the rest of the day.

         I sulk. Takes a while to recover and I always do but still, immature sulking is in my nature

     I sometimes wonder if there really isn’t more to life. I mean, you study, you get a job, you scour the playing field and eventually find a mate, you get married, you have kids, you have grandkids, you die. Sounds kind of boring. I know it’s the journey along the way that’s supposed to be the grand enchilada of it all but still, there are days when I seriously wonder what the hell we all are doing.

     Seems like I had a good number of secrets anyway. There are even a few of them I had no intention of writing down but out they came anyway. My boss was right, I really CAN’T shut up. It is therapeutic to get all of it out. Just like in the book, I feel better already after telling my secrets. I guess that’s why I’m generally open about my life. It’s no good to keep everything inside. Just like acid kept in a bottle, the acid eventually eats the container from the inside. Good thing I have the gift of gab. I’ll always have a story, or rather, a secret to tell. Maybe next time I’ll write about my dirty secrets… Now wouldn’t that be an interesting story?!