Hedgehog's secret project revealed

 Warnings: This post will contain some butchering of the English language, massive uses of tumblr speech, and general use of language that might make people cringe.



Dun dundun duuun!!!

So now I can finally tell everyone about my project without feeling all ArghI'llJinxIt.

BOY AND I ARE GETTING MARRIED! I am all excite and happy and bouncy and a quivering ball of stressed out nerves, because planning and sorting and planning and schedules and stuff.

I had no idea there were so many things that need to be sorted for a wedding. It's crazy! And it's driving me batshit. Boy and I aren't even having a big church wedding with a massive party and things. It's just a small city-hall-paper-signing thing with a slightly larger party afterwards, and yet there are so many things to plan. New things keep popping up, even though I actually got a planner when I started this thing.

Remember, when you're getting married, unless you're planning to elope, there are like a hundred things you need to do and plan and make arrangements for. I only know the Swedish things, but it's enough. Feel free to send me a message with Things to Plan from other countries. I am always in the business of gaining new knowledge.

So far my List Of Things That Need Plans consist of

Guest list
Clothes (my dress and Boy's accessories)
Food
Invitations
Rings
Decorations (candles, table cloths, flowers etc)
Location
Places for people to sleep
Impediments Check
Transportation
Marriage Registrar
Cake
Beverages (wine, non-alcoholic drinks)
Place cards
Plates, glasses, cutlery

I will have missed something, but meh.

*ded*

Fat confusion

Yesterday I read this really confusing article about the need to lose the pregnancy weight within one year after child birth or there would be health issues. I read the article in a news/tabloid type paper (again, confusing) and they referred to Diabetic Care magazine, and for the life of me, I can't find ANY references to such an article. Or an existence of such a research.
(Turns out that the paper referred to the wrong magazine and has since then removed the article from their site. I did find another article, which I will link to below, that talks about gaining weight post partum, not keeping the weight gained).

And this is seriously pissing me off.

Not only are people hounded about their weight on a regular basis, now women who just went through massive amounts of pain, nausea, sleep pwning, and sleep deprivation have to work out to lose weight, because apparently new mothers have to lose the weight or it will be bad.

Didn't we already have the whole discussion about stress dieting and  the good things about keeping a level weight? Didn't researchers debunk the whole FAT IS NOTHING BUT BAD myths? Didn't we already find that ALL BODIES ARE BEAUTIFUL?

Leave people alone already.

"Fat" is a noun, representing a part of our bodies, in most cases crucial for muscles and brain matter to function properly.

"Fat" is an adjective, representing a person who is bigger than the norm dictates bodies to be.

"Fat" does NOT mean lazy, ugly, stupid, or disgusting.

New mothers have enough on their schedules, with all the diapers and feedings and sleep deprivation and other things new parents do, in addition to healing from child birth. They do NOT need some doctors/advertisers/fashion police shaming them into adding exercise to their lives.

This article talks about health risks associated with gaining weight post-partum and same risk factors if women don't lose their "excess weight" post partum. As far as I can tell, it's a relatively small study, conducted at one research center. I will never have kids, so this doesn't apply to me, but I'm curious to see the developement of these findings.

Hedgehog's secret project (mostly NailFail, though)

First out, MarchNailFail. Feel free to laugh. I know I am.

Thing is, every time I try to make myself cute and pretty, something goes wrong. Not always in the terribly, horribly wrong way, but always wrong in some fashion (pun intended. Que laughter).

This time it was my nails.
I have been biting my nails for as long as I can remember. (I have also always been insanely jealous of people with pretty nails. I even tried to bite off this one girls thumbnail when I was in elementary school, but that's a story for another time.)
I have also tried a huge slew of ways to stop biting my nails, from looking at bacteria cultures to using nasty tasting nail polish, and nothing works. It has gotten better, and now I only bite my nails when I get nervous and/or stressed. Some might argue that nail biting is healthier than pulling at the joints in my fingers, which is another lovely habit of mine, but I tend to disagree when my fingers are aching from exposed quicks and there's blood shed involved.

 Aren't they just wonderful?

Which leads me to last Friday's HulkRAGE and decision to try SodaCansTurnedFakeNails (link found here). The idea is amazing, but sadly, I did not consider that aluminium cans are FLIMSY.

So this is what I started out with. I ended up using the Burn Lemon Ice can, just to test it out. Oh, and get some acetone or fake nail remover before attempting this. Gluing aluminium to skin is a very bad idea. I did not have acetone or nail remover. Pain was abundant.

Two of each size and time to glue them on

My nails looked like this for about three minutes. Then I needed to go to the bathroom. Did I mention that aluminium (it's aluMINIUM, not aluMINUM. Stupid spell check) is flimsy? It bends very easily. And it's sharp. Nail glue does not bend, but it will take part of your nail with it if you're unlucky. Like I tend to be. I managed to break off or bend all the nails, save the pinky nail you see in the photo, on both hands in less than five minutes. It hurt. HURT, I tell you.

So I gave up and got some gel nails at the store.

And look. An almost-photo of Boy.

Speaking of fail, my poinsettias are just now turning red.

On to part two of this post - The Secret Project.

It has been launched and in a couple of days, I will be able to reveal what it is. I just don't want to get ahead of myself just yet. I am just so EXCITED!!!

TW: Sexual relationships

TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY: sexual abuse, rape, non-con, abuse

First of all, I want to make it extremely FUCKING clear that I do NOT condone sexual assault, rape, or force/violence of any kind in a sexual relationship, or any kind of relationship. This post is pure speculation and is in no way encouraging any type of force or coercion when it comes to sex. I will persecute anyone encouraging rape/abuse/assault.

SAFE 

SANE

CONSENSUAL

Those three words ALWAYS apply to any relationship, EVER.

Secondly, if you have been subjected to sexual assault, rape, or any other kind of abuse, there is help to be had. You are not alone. You might not feel like it, but you are precious and beautiful, no matter what has been done to you. You are needed in the world.

Thirdly, I have been sexually assaulted. I have been raped. I have been physically and mentally abused. I will not accept any comments to the contrary. I have experiences of abuse and rape, and I still want to have this post out there, because it is important.


On to the actual post.

This post was born from watching my favorite anime, Junjou Romantica. The first episode of that anime starts off with a scene that I felt really queasy about the first few times I watched the show. It had me thinking about my own experiences with an abusive boyfriend, who would consistently coerce me into having sex and who could turn violent at the drop of a hat.
It wasn't until a later episode of Junjou Romantica that my bad feeling vanished. It also gave birth to a kaleidoscope of questions.

Misaki and Akihiko are in a relationship. Misaki is 19 and Akihiko is 28. Misaki is generally unsure about himself and his feelings towards Akihiko, and Akihiko is angsting over being forceful towards Misaki. The scene that made the turn around for me was the two of them sitting in a Ferris Wheel cart and Akihiko is almost crying because of guilt. Misaki can't understand why Akihiko is feeling guilty, so the older guy explains that he feels like he's assaulted Misaki, to which Misaki says that he never saw it like that.

This exchange really had me thinking.

When I was at university, studying to become a teacher, we would have seminars about bullying and harassment. In one of them, we talked about how if someone feels like they've been harassed, then they have been. The assaulted person's experience is the important one and the correct one.

Isn't this true for sexual assault as well? If you don't feel like you have been abused, if nothing has been broken within you, if you haven't experienced any sort of damage, be it physical or mental, is it still assault? If you don't feel like something's wrong or scary, is it still assault? As someone who has been subjected to sexual assault, I would say no.
If the assaulted don't feel like they have been assaulted, yet the assailant feels guilty about what they've done, I really can't see how it can be assault. Of course, if you were unconscious, drunk, or drugged it is always assault/rape. Safe - Sane - Consensual demands clear headed consent from all parties. Alcohol, drugs, and/or being unconscious has no place in this equation.

After going through what I did with my ex-boyfriend, I still enjoy it when Boy gets forceful, because I KNOW that he will stop if I tell him to. I never feel threatened or abused with Boy.
I find it frankly insulting when people try to tell me that my experiences are wrong, like, as a rape victim, I should feel threatened when someone gets forceful, even though I enjoy it with Boy. I LIKE rough sex - on my terms. Being rough does not mean being violent, however.

I have talked about how I see the difference between pain and hurt before, but here it is again.
To me, pain is a sensation, like warmth or cold. It's something that adds to your experience.
Hurt is negative. Hurt destroys part of you. Assault is hurtful. Rape is hurtful. Abuse is hurtful.

I am in a healthy relationship with a man I love and respect. Fear mongering very nearly broke this peace for me a few years ago, when people couldn't accept that I wasn't afraid anymore.

Remember, every person is unique and sees the world a bit different that you do. If someone is happy, truly happy, the way they are, it is not up to you to decide what is right or wrong. We are all different. We all have different experiences. Discussion is encouraged. Trying to push your beliefs on someone is not.

Celebrate diversity and stay curious. 

And the ice is melting

Days like today make me believe that there is a cure for depression, even though I know there isn't. Days like today make me remember why I chose to live so many years ago.
Days like today make me remember why I see the world as a beautiful place.

Days like today make me want to cry in happiness and shout in joy.

Today is a perfect day.

The sun is shining. Spring is underway. The strong winds bring a promise of Summer in the soft tendrils of warmer air floating on the firm breeze.

I have finally reached the end of my Getting Sterilized Journey. Two hours ago, I found out that the procedure was a success and the tubes are completely closed.One decision made and executed for no one's pleasure and gain but my own. Time to take on the next. But first, ice cream.

Chocolate ice cream with chopped strawberries, raspberry syrup, and sprinkles.

My soul friends are doing good. One friend is finally finding much deserved equilibrium and my heart sings for her success in life. Another friend got accepted to the university she really wants to study at, and my third soul friend is well underway of making their dream come true.

I just love this feeling of laughter and joy racing through my body. I wish I could preserve it, make it last longer. It makes me see the world in perfect clarity.

Everyone should have perfect days in their life.

TW: Realization

This is a kind of sort of companion piece to a post a made a while back about phobias. Trigger warnings apply for phobias, abandonment issues, self-loathing, and anxiety.


I spent most of yesterday afternoon catching up on one of the, in my opinion, best anime ever made - Hakuoki. I had to stop watching it for a while, because I wasn't feeling well and my depression was dragging me down every time I encountered anything sadder than Big Bang Theory. That said, I absolutely LOVE this anime. The characters are amazing, the art work is beautiful, and the plot tools are stunningly executed. The voice actors do a great job portraying the iconic characters of the Shinsengumi (at least in the Japanese dub. I refuse to watch Japanese anime in any other language than Japanese).

It also made me think about many things, but mostly about belonging. Today, many people live and function only as individuals. A single entity, focusing only on themselves and how things can benefit the lone human. As someone who has never really belonged to a group, I find this way of thinking to be very lonely.

And that's when I discovered that the one thing I fear above all other things is to be lonely.

I don't mind being alone. To sit on a corner, reading, and have no one bothering me. To work on a project by myself and have no one else injecting themselves in my space. There is, however, a great difference between being alone and being lonely. I can be perfectly content being alone with something I enjoy, and I can feel desperately lonely in a room filled with people.

I fear being abandoned more than I fear death or injury. Avoiding the feeling of being so lonely is something I will do absolutely everything to avoid, and this certainty is mainly what has caused me so much pain and stress.

The feeling of not being good enough has caused me to hate myself. It is the reason why I have worked myself into a place where my mind and body could no longer function and shut down in order to save my life. The fear of being abandoned was about to kill me, though not directly.

This fear is what has made me stick with toxic relationships in the past. It has birthed a fear of conflict and an extreme sense of guilt associated with making others feel uncomfortable.

To find that one hand reaching out to me through the darkness of my reality has made me realize that I have people around me that care. To laugh and argue with people I love and respect has taught me that you don't have to always agree with or cater to someone else in order to be friends.

The fear, just like depression and anxiety, will never fully go away, but logically, I know that people who leave me when I don't meet their expectation can leave. I don't need them in my life.

I only fear death because, just like Hamlet said, "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil".


The whole soliloquy for those interested:

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

Should I be happy?

How do you accept a compliment if you don't know if it was meant to be a compliment?

This issue is something I have been wondering about since yesterday and I still can't figure it out. Maybe it is because I am learning to accept compliments. Maybe it's because I am learning to love myself just the way I am. Maybe it's a combination of both.

It all started last Friday, when I got a lap full of over happy woman trying to hug me despite my best efforts to keep her from choking me. She was going on and on about how I must have lost weight and how good I look and comments similar to it. I was too shocked to get out a coherent reply, and even if I had, I don't think she would have understood me. I just didn't feel like she was complimenting me.

Then yesterday morning, some of my coworkers and I were discussing Boy and how, because he is much taller than I am and has much longer legs than I do, he walks much faster than I do. This has lead to a drastic improvement of my cardio and I no longer get winded to the point of asthma when I am walking with him. One of my coworkers piped up with that it also looked like I have lost some weight, and all I could come up with as a reply was an awkward "I might have. I don't own a scale". Again, I don't know if it was meant as a compliment or just an observation.

I can deal with it if it was just an observation. If that was the case "you have lost weight" would fall into the same category as "you have a shirt on" and there would be no fuss about it.

If it was meant as a compliment, the comment would actually make me a bit angry. Complimenting my weight lost is like telling me that I am reaching a, in the eyes of the beholder, much more desirable state than I was in before. It's like saying "You're actually smart" and thinking I'll be grateful for you noticing.

I know I weigh more than the BMI scale says I should. I have had no less than three doctors being amazed that I, with a BMI over 30, have no physical problems related to weight. I was born with three defects (chronically inflamed windpipes aka asthma, severe migraines, and a serotonin deficiency), but aside from those, I am a poster girl for perfect health.

Me, the Poster Girl. I love that hat.

Even if the last comments about my body were meant as mere observations, I would still like to know how to gracefully respond to compliments I don't feel are compliments. I might end up in a similar, but unrelated situation in the future.

Social Media Tourettes*

*Today's post is inspired by this post over at STFU Parents, which incidentally happens to be one of my favorite amusement rides on the Web.

I understand that Tourette's Syndrome is a serious problem for those living with/suffering from it, even though I in no way can understand what it is to have this affliction, and I am in no way belittling them or poking fun at their problems. I just think it is very fitting to use the name of said infliction to describe the inability to control the urge to share way too much information with everyone and the Devil's uncle. After all, Tourette's Syndrome is characterized by tics that the person cannot control, be in physical and/or verbal.

Now on to the actual post.

I don't understand some people's need to scream for attention (says the woman running a blog. No, the double standard is not lost on me), especially if your demands make you sound petulant or whiny. I seriously doubt that telling Facebook, instead of say your children or significant other, about your problem will solve said problem. I can appreciate the way complaining can be enjoyable at the moment, but you really don't have to make it into a comment thread linked to your Facebook post, especially if you're the only one writing in said comment thread. Complain, whine, bitch, and then fix what's bothering you. That's how I do it, and it actually works. Most of the time.

I also understand that with the ever increasing part social media plays in our lives, more and more people feel like they're not even there if no one comment on or like their posts. Trust me, I know the feeling. I would feel completely worthless if no one responded to my diary posts when I still had a LiveJournal account. My life revolved around getting comments on my posts and playing the hipster with my "Do Not Share Outside Friend Circle" cries and "Woe Is MEEEEE" updates. I really was very annoying back then, and I appreciate those who stuck around so much. Not saying I can't be annoying now as well. I am just saying that it was worse back then.

Sadly, it seems that this constant need for attention has bled through from real life to the social medias, and once again we're faced with the one simple truth that might make your life and the lives of people around you a drag for many year to come - The Internet is FOREVER. Everything you post online will stay online. You can't possibly know how many times a post you make will get the copy-pasta bowl. You can't know where your post might be shared or who might save your pictures to their computer. The post over at STFU Parents is a prime example of how this works.

Person A makes a post on Facebook.
Person B finds it funny and annoying enough to share it with the owner of STFU Parents.
The Owner posts it on her site after saving it on her computer.
Countless readers share the post with their friends.
Some might save it to their computers.
Even if Person A asks the Owner to remove the post, the post is now forever spread across the Internet.

Exponential export has nothing on the power of the Copy And Paste.

You might find the quote you read or your baby's first firm turd to be something everyone needs to know about. You might think that vomit and having sex with your Idol or making Comment Thread One Person Conversations is something to be shared with the world. Not everyone shares your opinion and if nothing else, some pictures are cute in the moment, but do you want everyone to see you dance naked on a bar?

Just as people living with Tourette's Syndrome can acquire tools to make their lives easier, there are ways to control The Urge To Over Share.

Just don't post things you don't want the world to see. Everyone in the world. Forever.

TW: Stepping Back

Trigger warnings apply for mental health, social anxiety disorder, depression, self harm, and self hate.


Today it's been exactly one year since my sick leave started. At the time, my mind and body would rebel against the simple thing of moving the 15 feet from my bed to the sofa in the living room, and they would scream at me when I went to the kitchen to get coffee.
I was totally drained, both physically and emotionally, and I had a serious case of the tremors in my hands.

It took six weeks of concentrated self-care for me to even be able to set foot outside my apartment. By then I was able to go to the grocery store and to the doctor's office, but it was slow going.

I started taking anti depressants in mid May and my well being improved drastically. I was no longer living in a perpetual fog. I could see things around me in new clarity and I could finally not give a flying rat's wing about things that didn't immediately impact my life. I was far from doing well, but I finally knew that things would work out in my favor.

It took the better part of late May to mid August for me to work out tools and tricks I could use to make my life easier and less stressful. The most important one was to enforce a One Week Notice rule for all events that required me to travel anywhere or make plans. Other tools I developed are

 - Figure out and apply things that make me calm, such as soft blankets, plush toys, music, and baking.

- Starting a blog. Talking about what is happening in my life, be it verbally or in text, is surprisingly relaxing. Try talking to a pet or a plush toy if you don't feeling like sharing things out loud to other humans.

- Puzzle games keep my mind alert. Realizing that I am intelligent and applying said intelligence in a pressure free way helps me stay calm.

- Do NOT look at things you can't do anything about. For almost eight months, I refused to watch the news, read newspapers, watch news related youtube clips, or engage in anything depressing I could not do anything about.

After figuring out some coping tools, I started on a quest to find out who I really am. Not who others think I am, or who I should be. I want to find who I really am, and so far I have found that I am a highly intelligent, spontaneous, goofy, and positive woman who loves reading everything from children's books to university level school literature. I love anime, supernatural themed TV shows, and plush toys. I am gray-asexual. I am very good at math and I can make physicists start to question their profession (mainly because I ask complicated questions based on no physics education whatsoever). My way of thinking is somewhat rare and can at times make me seem slow or to over-simplify things. I am very bad at explaining my way of thinking. I am an introverted person who likes to socialize, in short bursts, and I am also extremely curious.

I have also come to realize that my emotional maturity got halted some time mid-puberty, which has led to much heart ache on my part. It has since re-started and now I no longer suffer from extreme moods. This feeling of tranquility is nothing short of awe inspiring.

I found my spirituality in Shintoism and I am in no way ashamed of loving the Japanese culture. In the same way, I am not ashamed of loving Shakespeare, Eddings, Anne Rice, or Sherrilyn Kenyon.

In this past year I have risen from a self-loathing, self-harming shivering wreck drowning in exhaustion, into a woman who can stand on her own, but prefer the support of my friends. Despite my social phobia and my depression I -know- that I am a vital part in my own and other people's lives. My phobias and depression is no longer something that is happening to me. They're part of my life, part of who I am, and I am finally learning to incorporate these things in my life.

I am no longer Someone's Daughter, Someone's Sister, or Someone's Girlfriend.
I am Me.

I don't look like a supermodel, I dress almost exclusively in dark colors, and from time to time, I will appear childish. I have my quirks and ticks and issues.

I am Me and I am finally at peace with who I am.

TW: Veni Vidi Avicii, part 2

Trigger warnings apply for mental health and Social Anxiety Disorder.


And here does the tale of Hedgehog in Stockholm continue.

On Saturday morning, Boy and I got up at around 8 am and went down to the amazing breakfast. I was having some serious shakes from the panic attack the day before and I drank three mugs of coffee without even thinking about it. After a serious attack, my mind remains nothing but white noise and fragmented images for several days and I get so exhausted by the simplest of things. This time was no different. I was, however, very excited about the upcoming visit to Old Town and having lunch with my uncle.

Sign outside the fire station next to the hotel. The lamp says "Fire Station" in Swedish.

It was nice sitting down at Texas Longhorn Steakhouse and having lunch with uncle Stefan. As a side note, I swear that man is a ninja. After some not-so-serious discussion about the virtue of actually paying the bill, he managed to swipe said bill with a speed Formula1 racers would envy. Not that it'll hurt his wallet, but still. The man is also so seemingly confident and moves with a certainty I envy. He talked about himself as "vain" and "snobbish" in the same way I would say "I'm wearing a black shirt". It was great!
After a filling lunch of steaks and fries, Stefan went back home and Boy and I headed out into Old Town's cobble stone alleys.

I LOVE Stockholm's Old Town. It is such an amazing place. Narrow alleys, steep stairs, tall stone buildings. Small shops nestled in between iron gates and old signs.

 Store window at the SciFi Bookstore. If you look closely, you can see a MineCraft Kreeper and Lucius Malfoy's cane.

Some of the buildings date back to the 13th century and the cobble stone squares and wrought iron wells have seen much of Swedish history, from bloodbaths to coronations and the theorized beginning of the Swedish kingdom. If the weather had been less chilly, I could have strolled around this area all day. I absolutely adore this place. As it were, a cold wind was coming from the harbor and the sky was hidden by steel grey clouds, so we only walked around for about three hours.
Sadly, because of anxiety induced tremors in my hands, I didn't manage to get any good photos of the streets this time, so I'm borrowing some from a google search.

The Royal Palace (17th century building) marks one end of Old Town.

During our stroll, we visited two candy stores, of which one was a candy factory as well, one sci fi book store, two souvenir shops, a grocery store, and a store selling Bukowski plush toys.

Finally back at the hotel, Boy and I took it easy at the hotel, drinking tea and eating chocolate and rock candies. My sister and her girlfriend had spent the day at Skansen, but since it was still cold outside, many of the animals were in their indoor homes, so she was a bit disappointed.

Saturday evening had me seriously questioning my grasp on reality. I don't think I've ever seen so many weirdly clad people in one place since I went to see Dir en Grey at Fryshuset many years ago. Avicii apparently performed on both Friday and Saturday nights and Saturday evening was even more noisy than Friday. Also, so many young people don't seem to grasp the concept of February in Sweden. It's cold. Yes, even at night, it's cold. Your right to complain about being cold is null and void the moment you decide that a leather mini skirt and fishnets is enough coverage while being outside.

I crashed into sleep at around midnight, to the startling sound of someone having a -really- good time down the hall, and slept really bad. I woke up several times and my head ached badly.

I was a real Grinch on Sunday morning and it did not improve over the day. Sleeping poorly, fast food restaurant clerks that seem to ignore the word "fast", and having to sit facing the wrong way on the train destroyed my whole experience. Sister and Girlfriend snapping at each other did not improve my mood.

We finally got home at around 6.50 pm and I could pretend to be a deflated sack in my arm chair, killing monsters in Atlantica.

All in all, I had an amazing time, and I was relieved that it went so smoothly, anxieties and ticks and all.

TW: Veni Vidi Avicii, part 1

 Some trigger warnings apply for mental health, social anxiety, drug use, and alcohol.

First of all, I want to send thanks to the two of my uncles who made all this into a Thing To Do. We met up with one of them in Stockholm, but I'll tell that story later on.

This past weekend I was in Stockholm, and I was supposed to go and see Avicii live, but circumstances kind of made that not happen. All in all, it was a great weekend, even though there was one instance that very nearly ruined it.


We (Boy, my sister, sister's girlfriend, and me) left Trollhättan around noon Thursday 27 February and the train was so packed with people, it was hard to breathe. All four of us had to stand up for the first forty minutes of our journey, and I felt like I had been drenched in something cold and sticky. The train to Gothenburg was fifteen minutes late, so as usual, I started to fret about food and schedules and making the next train departure. People who know me take this in stride, usually, and I do try to control my flailing urges. Traveling with three people who are more or less low on blood sugar is an experience. A very trying experience. It didn't get better with the complete lack of knowledge of the concept of HURRY UP the lady at Burger King exuded. We made the train with just minutes to spare and had to eat our food on the train instead of at the station.

There aren't that many things a legally adult person can do on a train without the rest of the passengers frowning or complaining, so I entertained myself with flash games on my phone, napping, and terrorizing my sister and her girlfriend with my camera. I managed to capture this really nice photo, though.

 

 That's my sister on the left and her girlfriend on the right.

After much getting lost and wondering where we were going, we finally got to Columbus Loft Hotels, and let me tell you, you have not lived until you've stayed in a hotel where the stone steps in the stair case have been worn down by use and the doorways taking you from the staircase to the different floors have actual wrought iron doors.

Courtyard outside the entrance to the hotel

 Hallway on the second floor. Our room was on the third floor.

We had an actual KEY. None of that slidey card stuff.

Wine cellar slash breakfast room in the hotel basement.

We were greeted by a very nice lady when we checked in. My overall impression of the staff of this hotel is one of utmost professionalism, care for the guests, and welcoming feelings. I was very impressed by every staff member we encountered. 

The beds were very comfortable and I slept like I was dead the first night, despite people making a racket in the hallway. I suffer from motion sickness while riding on a train or flying. I absolutely have to face the direction train is traveling if I want to avoid feeling sick. As it were, I was only stuck with reliving the motion of the train, but that vanished as I slept.

The next morning, Boy and I woke up at 7.30 am and went down to breakfast. And what a breakfast. Perfectly brewed coffee, yummy fruit juices, home made jams and preserves. Home made granola to have with yoghurt or sour milk. I had ciabatta bread with smoked turkey, cheese and veggies, soft boiled egg, coffee, yoghurt with granola and strawberry jam, and Brie all three mornings.

Bread baskets and home made jam

Boy and I also met up with a gaming friend that morning, and my jaws ached from laughing so much once he left to get his hair cut. Meeting friends you've only talking to online can be awkward, but I didn't feel that at all. It was great!

Isn't he just adorable?

After breakfast, Boy and I just hung around at the hotel, watching standup comedy, reading fan fiction, and chilling. I took a nap, then we fled the room so the over-enthusiastic cleaning crew could do their job. Two cups of coffee and about ten cookies later, we made our way back to the hotel room to get ready for meeting Uncle Stefan for dinner.

This is when things started to get uncomfortable. We had tickets to go and see Avicii that night. Now, I am not that fascinated by this DJ and I really feel that DJs belong in clubs, not in a regular concert venue. My opinion is that their skill gets lost in a regular concert setting. DJs belong in dimly lit, sparkling strobe light clubs, people dancing and generally not giving a hoot as to what they look like. Maybe that's just me.

My sister was her regular going-to-be-late self and I was completely freaking out. I cannot handle being late. I just can't. My anxiety hits almost panicky heights if I think that I am going to be late.

Suddenly, I had a lap full of overzealous woman demanding beer and change in music and to check her Facebook, and she was just all over the place.  I am thoroughly impressed by the guy manning the reception and the way he refused to give in to this woman's general rudeness. It didn't help that she belonged to our party. I felt embarrassed to even be associated with her. Sadly, it didn't stop there.

 

We went to a restaurant named "Hjördis" (same name as my paternal grandmother), a really nice little place with delicious food and good wine. And this woman was flailing, poking, stealing drinks from everyone at the table but me (only because I managed to move my wine glass out of her reach), and cursing. It went so far as it triggered a panic attack in me just as we were about to leave. I have no memories of anything between waiting in line to grab my coat and standing outside the restaurant, crying into Boy's shirt. I know someone brought me my coat and I remember my sister and my uncle petting my shoulders as I cried. Boy and I went back to the hotel, and the others went to the concert. I enjoyed a nice cup of tea and some cookies before my exhausted mind grabbed me by the proverbial collar and dragged me into dream land.

TBC with stroll through Old Town and the trip home.