It’s a feeling which I get from time to time. And it’s like this: I have just finished or am finishing a task (the mileage may vary from personal, like cleaning my toaster, to professional, like wrapping up the latest n’ greatest hack). The dominant emotion pondering the outcome of my hard work is satisfaction, or something close. This emanates from judging the results (always based on arguable personal quality standards) as good, excellent, magnificent, exceptional, what ever. I feel good with what I see or hold before me. And the next moment I am empty. I think what’s the point?. What’s the fuss all about? Why do I spent my time and energy on this? It’s not necessarily that I have an alternative in mind, a better way to fill my hours (even if I had the choice, not something very likely). Even if it’s good, it’s nice, fuck it!. It’s not that I am better, or the world is better, or my problems have suddenly gone away. Does it matter at all that I did it?. No, not in my eyes. I could not even be here tomorrow to use it, feel happy about it or something. I don’t get angry. Just feel hollow. And then I turn away. I don’t discard it or bury it. I just leave it be. Maybe after five weeks I’ll be at it again. Or maybe so in five minutes. But it’s draining… that feeling.

On art perception,
On running and existence,
On god and thanksgiving,
On happiness, moments and life,
In words… thank You.

Then it all goes away, the trouble, the things… not suddenly, but timely. Dare say periodically. And although one would never seek all the trouble again at that point, he is equally mystified and entangled. Because now he is, kind of, empty, but not relieved. Empty is also sad. You can not fight emptiness. You just wait the period to wrap around? Perpetual self-pity. Dead-end.

I’ve posted anything. It’s almost a month a and half. I am puzzled and deranged lately. No clear mind to perform the act of blogging :-). I am still hopeful for the new year. A happy and healthy new year for everyone out there. My best wishes to all of you. And may God shed some light and wisdom on our moron political and market leaders.
Whatever, have a happy new year.

Today is the 14th Month anniversary of the day I joined the Greek Army (in exact the infantry) for doing my army service, mandatory for Greek male citizens. This anniversary also means that I am finished with it. I am again a civilian. The Army and its officers do not anymore have anything to do with me. I am only supposed to be called again only in the sad occasion of a war.

During these 14 months I served, I was located and transfered in chronological order in: Korinthos (the training center) 2 months, Athens (training again) 1 month, Rhodes - Kalithies (first transfer to an active military base) 7 months, Athens (second transfer to the Greek Army General Administration) 4 months.

This day isn’t for me especially exciting. Luckily I had a huge leave on the last 45 days and although I was typically still serving, I had a very smooth and lengthy period of rehabilitation as a citizen. But never the less to know that you don’t have to go in uniform again, owning and being responsible of arms and operations, doing patrols and guarding buildings, taking part in military exercises, and in any way not being able to avail yourself and time and skills according to your conscious, or not, being, is certainly a huge relief. And to be honest I still feel that I have not detached myself from the modus vivendi that the army injects into you. Even if the army is a willing suspension of ones freedom, it is still a loss of your freedom. And living “not-free” for 14 months (13 in effect) is not for the faint of heart. It engraves permanent markings on your psychology and existence. At least I had the chance to go through it rather older that usual, at my 28. Imagine what all these would mean for a man at his 18.

Anyway here I am again “free”, in a rather ironical meaning. Am I happy? not exactly. Am I in joy? not exactly. Am I relieved? certainly.