teyla

What can I say? This was going to be a happy, "I kick ass" kind of blog entrance. But now it's not. When I finally take the time to update, I'm back to the same self-pitying, loser me.

I had it all going, really. I finally got my driver's license, on Januari 10. After three tries I finally made it. I graduated from the Swedish Rescue Service Agency on January 25, and just a week later I got a job as a chimney sweep. Guess how long I lasted? Three weeks.

The worst thing is that I loved it. I seriously wanted to work there until the day I died. The guys were so damn nice to me. When we worked overtime at the chocolate factory, we drank beer, stole some chocolate and played poker on the internet. They called me Dory, after the fish in Finding Nemo, because I had no sense of location. Now, why joke about that if they think it's so serious they later fire me?

I always got the impression that they would keep me if I wasn't a royal fuck-up. They said to me that I was doing a good job, and always made me think that my flaws could easily be fixed. Yes, they told me to get better at some things, but never did they threaten to fire me if I didn't. When they fired me they said they had really high demands, but they had never made that clear. They actually said that they had never fired anyone. Now, that turned out to be a lie. Or was it a lie that I wasn't the first one to be fired? Who the fuck knows?

No wonder I felt they cheated me. The last Monday (I was fired on Thursday) I was feeling down and paranoid, feeling that I just would fuck things up. The guy I was working with told me to cheer up, that I hadn't killed anyone's cat or messed someone's living room up with soot and ash. That I could make as many mistakes that I wanted, that I was on my way to learn and that I wouldn't be working alone until summer anyway. That I couldn't be expected to be excellent at dealing with customers since I never had had a job like this before. His only worry was my driving. Not driving forward, mind you, but backwards

We also made tools for me that day. "Soon you will have your own tools to work with" they said. The next day the boss was there and asked me about my broken fridge. They said that I would move to my new apartment (one of the guys had a cousin who was going to rent out her apartment) in two weeks time, but that I needed a new fridge before then. "She will be able to rent it for one to two years, so by then she should have found a place of her own" they said. Two days later - FIRED. As soon as they said "We want to have a talk with you" I knew I was fucked.

Is it so weird that I hate them now? Normal people don't act like this, and I just don't get it. I wasn't the one bringing the future up. It was they who always talked as if they wanted me to stay, the most extreme examples stated above. My only explanation is that something happened, something they didn't want to tell me. Maybe they have hidden motives. Otherwise - I just don't fucking get it.

There was no way I could say everything I wanted to say. My voice didn't even hold after a while. I went out to the car, got out on the highway, and I cried and screamed all the way home. Their words were echoing in my head. Not enough social skills? Fuck you, I've been social handicapped for 20 years, but not anymore. I'm not afraid anymore. I have fought my way up and gotten so fucking far, I'm damn proud and if it's not enough for them, it will be for someone else, so fuck them. But I didn't think like that then. I truly felt worthless, felt that there wasn't a point in trying since I would never be able to give what was asked of me, that I might as well die. The thought of spending the night alone in my cold apartment was more than I could stand. I just wanted to get home.

But I managed to get to the store to get pizza, candy and a movie, and then I just got my shit together. Litteraly. I packed all my stuff, took down the pinup posters, the anarchy flag, the Boys don't cry poster and all the others shit on my walls. Then it was all empty, but I didn't care. I had already left.

I had chosen to work the next day, I just wanted to say farewell, I guess. Not to those bastards, but to the rooftops. It was truly depressing, knowing that this was it. At least the supervisor fell down from the roof, got hanging upside down and fell down into a flower bed. But alas, I wasn't outside to see it. We had lunch, and they bought me pizza. As if that would help.

I just left with my head held high, with my life packed in a backpack and two enormous paper bags. It felt good, actually. I felt like a god damn fucking bohemian, sitting there on the train station, fired, dirty and - free. Somehow it felt good to be back to being a slacker, dressed in a mini skirt and a leather jacket. It's so much easier being punk when you don't have a job.

But really, this sucks. I can't begin to explain how much it sucks. They didn't even give me two weeks notice as the law requires, so I didn't have a chance to look for a room to rent (The apartment belonged to the firm). Now I'm back with my parents in the fucking woods, three hours away from Stockholm. I have no friends here so I'll just have to play with myself, ha ha. I'm looking for a new job, but it isn't easy when you've had a kick in the guts like that. I know I'm not worthless, but what if everyone else thinks that? And all my friends got hired after their internships, the bosses bought them presents and what do they have that I haven't got? Fuck it.

At least I'm not broke, but I will be if I continue shopping like this. I've bought LOADS of Gary Oldman movies. Too bad you can't get hold of Chattahooche in Sweden. Gary as a Korean veteran who ends up in a mental asylum, full frontal nudity too... My god, I'v such a perv.

Rest in peace, chimney sweep...











Now, I didn't sign up for plumbing!



My so called home.



Women's lib day was... Interesting.



On the central station waiting for the train that will take me away to... Nothing.