Fast forward, I’m standing still

Its an age-old joke, or juvenile remark rather, "What, are you on your period?" And no girl is ever amused by that. Especially not when you’re twelve and having your preiod is the most embarrasing thing you could possibly imagine. So the response is likely to be aggressive, thus "proving" that you in fact are on your period.

I never understood what people  meant by PMS. I never felt any different that week. But over the last year or two, its been sneaking up on me. I am grumpy. I start crying for no good reason. I become paranoid. I pick up on signals that aren’t being sent. And I send out emails and messages that don’t make sense the next day. It’s getting a bit embarrasing, but I’m not really sure what to do about it.

After finally identifying raging hormones as the cause of my irrationality, I did some research. And this is what Wikipedia had for me;

While most women (about 80 percent) of child-bearing age have some premenstrual symptoms,^[1] women with PMS have symptoms of "sufficient severity to interfere with some aspects of life".

Common symptoms; Abdominal bloating, Abdominal Cramps, Breast tenderness, Itching of the breasts, Stress or anxiety, Depression, Appetite changes and food cravings, Trouble falling asleep (insomnia), Joint or muscle pain, Headache, Fatigue (medical), Acne, Swelling of Breasts, Trouble concentrating, Body temperature increase, Worsening of existing skin disorders, and respiratory (eg, allergies, infection) or eye (eg, visual disturbances, conjunctivitis) problems.

Some miss work every fourth week. Some need "reassurance therapy". And all because of a little change in hormone levels.

Luckily, I am not one of these women. But I do sympathize with those who have been exposed to the Maria Menstrual Mess over the last year. I didnt mean to yell at you, and I probably didnt mean to cry over that thing that didnt happen and I most certainly didnt mean to panick over things you didnt say. Disregard half the messages you receive from me during this period. But not this one.  

To me, some things only happen in the movies. Even simple things. Perhaps some things are just American, and thus can’t happen in Norway. A lot of these things relate to romance ..

A few things repeat themselves. One of them, ice skating.
I went ice skating with my friends today in Bryant Park. In the dark. It was freezing outside but the rink was lit up and music was playing. And I kept thinking I should have been there with a boy. One of us should have been really bad at skating, and we’d be holding hands. And I’d twirl and swirl towards him and we’d kiss. Because that’s how they do it in the movies.

Another one is painting. Painting always leads to sex, that we know. A little splash here, a dash there, and suddenly you find your face covered in paint and the next thing you know you’re making out with a really cute boy. Because that’s how they do it in the movies.  

Oh, and when you’re standing under a lamp post and the first snow flakes fall.

People always claim that spring is the season for romance and falling in love, but I think I prefer the winter. When everyone is covered up and huddle close together, when the mystery remains, when the weather plays tricks on you and the unexpected happens. And .. when its too cold to go outside so days and days can be spent in bed, with coffee and newspapers. I might curse the cold in the mornings, but .. Winter ain’t that bad.

Every Sunday morning I lie in bed and do absolutely nothing until my back gets stiff and tells me it is time to move. Even though I dream of eggs and bacon and the blackest black coffee, my kitchen is always empty and I leave the house empty.

And then I start walking. Somewhere along the way I get a coffee, and continue walking to whatever sounds my iPod chooses for me. Today I was exceptionally happy with its choices. Last Sunday I walked East and South, today it was West and North. If not along the Hudson River, at least parallell to it, exploring every little corner of Tribeca. And every Sunday I am amazed by the places I find, that I haven’t seen before, even though I’ve been here for months. The boutiques and cafés spring out from nowhere, the choices are endless. When I reach one of the many city parks, randomly placed at a cross roads, Neutral Milk Hotel’s "Oh Comely" is the perfect choice for watching the pigeons fluff their feathers to protect themselves from the cold wind. And then I walk again. Past the boutiques, past the warehouses and then to boutiques again. After a good hour of walking, I turn around and go back.

Even though choices are limitless, for Sunday brunch it is one out of two. Petit Aubelle today. Tin-Tin, eggs and coffee. And I rediscovered Paul Auster, the New York trilogy this time. Chapter two of City of Glass is the perfect second chapter. Poor Peter Stillman.

And now, I’m back where I started. In bed, doing nothing, but this. Waiting to share my solitary Sunday with solitary friends, and a dash of Brazilian jazz.  

I am writing this because and just because. Because they tell me to. There are no pressing issues.

I am still waiting to catch up with my life, which has been set a pace I can barely keep up with. I appreciate the speediness however. It keeps less pressing issues at a distance. Like longing and loneliness. I’ve been at home by myself two nights in a row and I am starting to miss things which I dont really care about. I am wanting to get in touch with those who there are no room for in my future.

Life has been good to me lately. Work is busy, and on-and-off interesting, the books that I am reviewing are either intriguing or annoying, but equally fascinating. The friends that I have made and continue to make are still around and I expect them to be for a while. Even as annoyances are surfacing, we enjoy each others company.

One friend in particular has reentered my life and given me more fun that I could have imagined. We’re each others humour-therapy, each others somewhat sane-but-crazy companions in this crazy-crazy city. I hope it becomes a permanent arrangement.

Several old friends are coming back to the city. Well, they’re here for the first time during my stay. I am not sure if that makes any difference. It’ll be interesting to see them in a different setting.

And what else .. I am still looking for someone to watch movies with me on my laptop and who’ll rub my back and feet. A few adventures - some maybes and some almosts - have borne little fruit. Perhaps there’ll be some, or one, certain(s). When dozing off, I like to imagine what my online dating profile would look like. I am sure it would make you laugh as hard as I do.

And that is it for now. Forced blogging, forced sharing - in that case you can’t expect more than this. More will follow when I catch up - or when I give up doing that.

This was supposed to be an entry on the ridiculousness of American bureaucracy. About queuing up outside the embassy, about queuing up inside, in front, behind, waiting, waiting, waiting .. About having to stand through your interview like a criminal, guilty until proven innocent, for then to be denied entry into the US for choosing the wrong letter for your visa but have your rejection letter say something completely different.

Instead I think this is an entry about doing the right things for the right reasons, or the right things for the wrong reasons, perhaps. Seeing my future roll away from me like the tide rolling back out to sea, I question why I am doing this. I know the obvious answer. For my career. For the experience. For leaving London. But why? Its not going to last, and as an intending immigrant having to prove she isnt one, the finishing line is visible ahead of me.

I knew why I wouldnt do it. And I also knew that other alternatives were out of the question. This or nothing. If I lose this, what is the nothing that I will be facing? I would have to create new alternatives. Possibly exciting ones, but I’d rather not go there.

This doesnt make sense to you, does it? It doesnt really to me either. Some things you just know .. Or just feel. And like that, I know that this is the only right move for me to take, even if it should turn out to be the wrong thing for the wrong reasons. It could have been anywhere, it could have been anything, but right now, its just this. In five months, it will be something else.