My Day In Stockholm

I didn't think I was going to blog while on holidays but what the hell, it's free. It's my first day (Sunday not Monday) and I'm confused. Very confused. I think I blog to avoid my problems.

Do I look gay? A guy asked me if I knew where any good gay bars where. I assume he addressed me in Swedish, I had my headphones on so didn't hear much at first. Whatever it was I didn't understand but obviously he spoke English. I don't really mind. Thinking about it now do I look that cool? At first I thought he might be chatting me up - fat chance! Oh well.

I've been more impressed that I haven't been mistaken for a man. It's nice to know my "femininity" can withstand the pressure and challenges of international travel and borders. Or maybe the top I've been wearing for almost 2 1/2 days is tighter than I usually wear. Not to sound up myself but my tits look pretty nice in this t-shirt. However it may be the new bra I'm wearing underneath. I think it may be my new favourite.

I also feel young again (I do dress like a child). That young man looking for a gay bar asked if I was a student. A lot of people on my flight were international students - if not Swedes coming home. From what I overheard in the immigration line there was only one other person who was a tourist.

I've got my notebook in front of me. I wrote some of this while I was having dinner at Restaurang Al Forno, a pizzeria. I'm not going to transfer it all but I do find this bit funny: My hostel is in a great location - even though I have no idea where I am. I don't have much sense of this city. I was thinking how on previous holidays if they were new places I still had a movie image and idea about them, not so Stockholm. So it's all new.

I got here, (eventually), in the morning. After paying off my hostel bill (and checking email - hey I said it was free!) I went for a walk around. My sense of direction is terrible. Actually it's just opposite to the map. I can work things out but I do it back-to-front. I did it looking for the hostel and again looking for the meeting point of some tours. I wanted to do a combination tour of the city with bus and boat parts but they weren't operating today. I was just in time to join the Old Town Walkabout. That wasn't too bad. It was nice to have a few things pointed out. I still want to do a bus/boat one.

Tomorrow I should brave the trains and buses. Trains seemed easier but when I got to the central station I read a sign that said the blue line is out of service and there are replacement buses. Oh cruel world! I'm just afraid to ask which is really silly. I scream tourist and so far people have all spoken English and been friendly enough. (There's an Australian working at the hostel. I'd know that accent anywhere). I just feel like a dick.

Yeah I'm surprised how horny my thoughts were on the plane. Mostly thoughts about oral, my forte, although I was receiving it in my thoughts. I've come to a conclusion - definitely a pun as I'm on my knees begging to come, just once, please God! - that the stimulation I need is mental. New things, exploring. If I'm stimulated mentally then I tend to feel happier and when I'm happy I'm more likely to be horny. See that's what I was trying to get at. Excuse me though, I am all over the place tonight. And to clarify I feel stupid not knowing how to do things here.(I'm not on the look out for a real dick).

They Should Know (It’s Not A Joke)

I am so mad. Yet also very embarrassed. Tonight was the worst night I’ve ever had at work, and I’ve had to unclog shit. I don’t know how to set the scene. Well just my usual long winded style I suppose. (She wrote long windedly).

Basically this guy, one of the parking inspectors, said something that really offended me. Not to me, but about me and I overheard him. Okay so I was cleaning the elevators, a job I don’t relish, and I was in number 1 which is the only one of the three that goes down to the lower basement. So when the elevator was headed there I knew it would be the inspectors coming up for dinner. They’re usually jolly to me in a group and they may have said "hello, good evening" that sort of thing, I don’t remember. One of them yelled out to the others still outside that I was in there and I had work to do. In response one man said, “The cleaner can wait.” In a tone that was indifferent at best, rude at worse and in no way a bloody “joke.” You see that’s how they tried to explain it to me when I was caught bawling my eyes out.

I am embarrassed that I cried, and worse cried so much, but it was like the last straw. It told me that I don’t count, my time isn’t as important as theirs, my work isn’t as important. Basically I’m nothing. Well I freely admit I feel this way about being a cleaner. It just shits me because as much as I hate my job I do it very well. I’ve put in so much unpaid overtime that I could scream at how unfair it is. I didn’t cry in the elevator. It almost surprised me that I did but once I started I couldn’t stop - not for long anyway - I'd think about it and start again. You see it was nearly 9, my “finishing” time, and I already knew I was going to have to do overtime to get the job done. So that comment was just hurtful, like my time means less then theirs.

To be fair to them they did notice my crying – yea I’m no longer invisible! A man who said he was the team leader asked what was wrong. I told him. And sure it might not sound like that bad a comment but I was SO offended. Which I told him. I told him how hard I work and how much unpaid overtime I do to get things done properly. And he said he knows and they can see that. (Yea finally, acknowledgement! Yes I am being sarcastic). This guy said he’d talk to them. He asked who it was but as I’ve said I only overheard him. Once they were in the elevator they all looked the same to me. These generic middle aged men. There’s a greyness about them that’s reflected in the uniform and their hair. Even if they’re not middle aged the uniform seems to age them. What was I saying?

No I remember. I didn’t know who had said it. The team leader said he’d talk to them. In fact he did as I went back to vacuuming. Before he talked to them he asked if I’d like to sit down for a few minutes - compose myself again I guess - but I said I just wanted to finish and go home. I also mentioned that I have been stressed lately and had a headache. He wanted to know if he should let Spotless know but I said it was okay. I reckon he or someone will tell them anyway.

When I got home my dad was so pissed off. (I think at first he thought it was a sexual comment or threat). He’s going to complain even if I don’t. I might. I should. Then again because I am stressed, and well, super sensitive about my job maybe I did over react. I do think I cry too easily. No, it was rude. My mum said “quit.” How can I when I’m going overseas on Saturday to one of the most expensive places in the world? I want to spend big and enjoy baby! Seriously though, in these times how can I leave without another job to go to? [That’s your cue ABC3. *wink*] At work I thought maybe I could change floors. And man was I glad to be going on holidays. Never mind my anxiety about the trip I want to get away from work.

I hope Friday isn’t too embarrassing. It should be dealt with but....yeah I’m just embarrassed. The team leader said that guy should/would(?) apologise tomorrow if he saw me. As I don’t know which one it was I’m going to be even more tense if someone actually stops to talk to me. I wonder what Spotless will do? Saying my feelings were hurt seems kind of lame to me but my parents think I should make it official. [And quit!]

Okay as I’ve said numerous times already I am embarrassed I cried so much but I do think those parking inspectors should know how I feel. I do believe that. In some way I felt I was crying for all the cleaners who’ve been treated like shit. Whenever I see them my heart goes out to them and yet I’m too scared to say anything to them for fear of coming across condescendingly. Just look at my own experience. People might acknowledge me but often they just walk by. I don’t know which I prefer.

Why Is It?

Why is it I can't see how pretty I am unless I am drunk?

Why is it I don't get drunk more often?
(Why do I keep getting drunk at work? Merely temptation of something deeper?)

Why is it easier to blog this nonsense rather than get something useful done?

Why is it I can bare my soul online and still no one cares?

Shit. Why is it this time I got drunken remorse and not euphoria? I know, because I finished work early and tried to get the train but it never showed up. Got a slow tram home instead, after missing a couple of better trams. The drinking made work a little blurrier. That might help.

Dickhead!

Oh damn. I wanted to visit the Icelandic(k) – not my joke – Phallological Museum (http://www.phallus.is/) but now that I’ve looked it up on the map and the Lonely Planet Guide I think it’s too far away. [I don’t drive]. See I knew this would happen. This is why I was meant to research a bit more before going on holidays. Who knows, maybe I’ll manage to get there but fuck it’s like the other side of the country. Not even like, it IS the other side. What annoys me is I read that it used to be in the capital but when the guy who runs it retired he took it with him to Húsavík, meaning The Bay of Houses. Shit, the more I read the more interesting it (the location) sounds. Next time perhaps. It‘s actually near a national park that you can do volunteer work in. That was going to be my original plan for going to Iceland. So I wouldn‘t be doing it totally alone, and volunteering is nice too of course! But I missed out on booking the date I wanted to do and the only free one was in June, too early for me and it would have been too rushed. Anyway, I tell myself if I enjoy Iceland this time I will come again. I could still try the ‘‘Conservation Holiday‘‘ route. I don‘t mind doing something useful on my holidays. You can go whale watching up there too. I‘m going to email the museum after I post this. See if they think a day trip is doable. I‘m going to show my ignorance of distance and travel in a foreign land. Yeah for me! I wonder if they‘ll get back to me. Or better yet if they‘ll pick me and drop me off. Wouldn‘t that be nice? Hmm. Silly girl.

P.S. The museum does not have human specimens, yet. (I thought I'd share some, below, at least). From what I've read online - always a reliable source - there are a couple of people willing to donate once they've died, (obviously). The photo on the left is from the museum. The collection is of animals from Iceland.

Phew!

I had a mild heart attack tonight when I was checking my email. I had one that said my application had been rejected. I thought it was referring to the ABC3 Researcher job but it was for a Media Monitors one. One I’ve tried to get a few times before and really didn’t expect to get this time. You got to try anyway, right?

God, ABC3 when will you get back to me? I’ve got one week to go before I’m off to Sweden. The job is supposed to start in September but I won’t be back until September 9. Well I reckon if they want me they can cope. It’s only a nine month contract – my baby! – but it would be so fantastic to get it. Oh Amy don’t set yourself up for a fall.

Amy Did A Bad, Bad Thing

I got drunk at work tonight. (Not the brightest idea). There’s been some wine in one of the fridges since last Friday when they were having a wake for a colleague. It was quiet when I was cleaning the kitchen area so I went for it. It felt good but I may have over done it. I was so warm at work and didn’t give a fuck if I worked overtime without pay, that’s what usually happens with my overtime. Damn it!

Alcoholism seems to run in my family (mum’s side) probably all that thwarted writing ambition – lucky I have blogging, eh? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my initials are A.A.

I was meant to read up on Reykjavík tonight after work; I’m going to be there in two weeks, sweet mate! I’m excited (in my drunkenness). At this rate I’ll be ready for The Runtur. I hope someone asks me along!

Married Men

I clicked on that heading in my profile to see who else shared that Interest and apparently no one else does. What a whore I am! I don’t believe it. Considering some of the blogs I’ve seen how that can be an accurate statement is beyond me. People are cheating all over the place. And why not? Married men are so easy to fuck. So willing, and so damn keen. I’m only teasing.