Hero was kidnapped.
Humans, especially the teenager kind, can get lost, wallowing in the misery of not knowing what to do but knowing it's definitely going to suck because hey, everything sucks and this is pointless anyway so aaaAAARRGGGHHH!
It's not a pleasant time to go through and there is always the real danger of staying in that awful mood forever, just doing things for the sake of moving.
And I was kidnapped out of it.
It was the beginning of 2011 and the end of a long and tiresome National Army Service which made the 9 months it lasted seem like eons.
For the last month and a half I had somehow found myself as an Clerical assistant to the Sergeant responsible for the training and management of all officers-in-training.
Most of them we're good kids while some did try to prove their manly superiority to me as I was a lowly soldier. A subtle reminder that my good will was all that stood between their paperwork ever going anywhere quickly fixed these situations.
Left me with a sick feeling though, pulling power is never pleasant.
Anyhow, as Army time goes this was the good life and what's more when I found the courage to approach the commander in chief
(A terrifying man, just picture the traditional Hollywood psychopath, all cold smiles and meat cleavers hidden in the bathroom.)
I was rewarded with 3 extra days of leave, trembling with fear, I 'forgot' to remind him that there were supposed to be 5 but I was happy for anything at that point. My service was over at the 11 of February 2011.
A week away.
Happily I took the bus back to my Village/Town (it varies at times) Sitia, in the northeast corner of Crete.
(Note: At the time it was simply my home but now, as an adult, I am convinced it is the most beautifully formed part of this world that I have seen so far.)
And then it hit me.
This was it...
Every day they chatted about going to the coffee shop until, yes, they agreed to go to the coffee shop (This would traditionally take hours), and when there, faced with the prospect of crushing silence the usual topics came up
Hey, don't get me wrong I'm all for a lively discussion of penis size.
They usually went like this.
Mine is as big as this beer bottle! Really?
Well mine is like one and half beer bottle!
I don't know about you guys but mine is three hands tall.
Is three hands bigger than a bottle?
IS that your hands or mine. Because If we presume that...
And on and on.
But when that is your main line of conversation and it repeats a few times a day it can get old.
The other national pastime was commenting (I swear it was the same ones everyday) about the natural advantages the passing girls had.
And finally sport.
The danm* sport.
Needless to say I was horrified. This was what I had to look forward to.
And crushing 9-5's which would surely suck my very soul out.
THE END
PS: That concludes the first part of "The Journey" Saga. I shall be writing quite a few of these with other general articles between them. I promised to a great Reporter that I would write it all down so I would not forget the trip itself and the lessons learned on the way.
*( My spelling of damn as danm is done on purpose... Long story that one ^_^)
As again, I absolutely LOVE feedback from you guys so go ahead and use that comment box.
If you thought this was mind numbingly boring just go ahead and say so!
In the case that indeed, you were bored here's a joke.
What is the most famous Sottish Bird called?
Answer: Shwan Connery!
Be grateful it wasn't a pun...
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Humans, especially the teenager kind, can get lost, wallowing in the misery of not knowing what to do but knowing it's definitely going to suck because hey, everything sucks and this is pointless anyway so aaaAAARRGGGHHH!
It's not a pleasant time to go through and there is always the real danger of staying in that awful mood forever, just doing things for the sake of moving.
And I was kidnapped out of it.
It was the beginning of 2011 and the end of a long and tiresome National Army Service which made the 9 months it lasted seem like eons.
For the last month and a half I had somehow found myself as an Clerical assistant to the Sergeant responsible for the training and management of all officers-in-training.
These boys were, like us, were simply conscripted
but had opted for a cushier life as officers. For 6 months they would actually be paid even but they also got the bonus of another half year of service. (I had the option to become one and thank all the gods that I didn't)
Most of them we're good kids while some did try to prove their manly superiority to me as I was a lowly soldier. A subtle reminder that my good will was all that stood between their paperwork ever going anywhere quickly fixed these situations.
Left me with a sick feeling though, pulling power is never pleasant.
Anyhow, as Army time goes this was the good life and what's more when I found the courage to approach the commander in chief
(A terrifying man, just picture the traditional Hollywood psychopath, all cold smiles and meat cleavers hidden in the bathroom.)
I was rewarded with 3 extra days of leave, trembling with fear, I 'forgot' to remind him that there were supposed to be 5 but I was happy for anything at that point. My service was over at the 11 of February 2011.
A week away.
Happily I took the bus back to my Village/Town (it varies at times) Sitia, in the northeast corner of Crete.
(Note: At the time it was simply my home but now, as an adult, I am convinced it is the most beautifully formed part of this world that I have seen so far.)
And then it hit me.
This was it...
No more school left, no more army, no more excuses.
I had to face up to the following facts:
a) Chronic laziness had left me with useless Grades.
b) I hated (and do) the concept of working for a living
c) Life would be tolerable If I was lucky...
But I would never be a Hero.
My life had officially begun and by all the Gods did it suck!
Mistakenly I sought solace from my fellow young males.
My friends had acquired ritual.
Every day they chatted about going to the coffee shop until, yes, they agreed to go to the coffee shop (This would traditionally take hours), and when there, faced with the prospect of crushing silence the usual topics came up
Hey, don't get me wrong I'm all for a lively discussion of penis size.
They usually went like this.
Mine is as big as this beer bottle! Really?
Well mine is like one and half beer bottle!
I don't know about you guys but mine is three hands tall.
Is three hands bigger than a bottle?
IS that your hands or mine. Because If we presume that...
And on and on.
But when that is your main line of conversation and it repeats a few times a day it can get old.
The other national pastime was commenting (I swear it was the same ones everyday) about the natural advantages the passing girls had.
And finally sport.
The danm* sport.
Needless to say I was horrified. This was what I had to look forward to.
And crushing 9-5's which would surely suck my very soul out.
But as I think I mentioned before I was kidnapped out of it.
The most amazing, one-in-a-million thing happened.
I took a chance.
And I became the Hero of my own life.
THE BEGINNING
PS: That concludes the first part of "The Journey" Saga. I shall be writing quite a few of these with other general articles between them. I promised to a great Reporter that I would write it all down so I would not forget the trip itself and the lessons learned on the way.
*( My spelling of damn as danm is done on purpose... Long story that one ^_^)
As again, I absolutely LOVE feedback from you guys so go ahead and use that comment box.
If you thought this was mind numbingly boring just go ahead and say so!
In the case that indeed, you were bored here's a joke.
What is the most famous Sottish Bird called?
Answer: Shwan Connery!
Be grateful it wasn't a pun...
Our Thinkersoup Pages.
Thinkersoup - Homepage - Facebook - Twitter -Google+
