The Madness That is Me
Day 1 - 3.45am, early Saturday
It's nearly 4am on a Saturday morning. And where am I? Well plastered in front of a tv set. Intently watching football. That's right, it's the world cup... like never before. I'm what you would call a football fan, but I myself am suprised at my dedication to the game. My quest is to watch every single match that is aired live, if its physically possible. By my calculation I'll only miss 4 matches that are shown at the same time ( I can't spell simeltaneously!)And even then there is already a plan at the back of my head to find all the replays. Why? I keep asking myself (as I sit here in the cold during half-time). It feels good this watching of football. It feels right. It feels wonderful... to be accurate. Since my head isn't the least bit near an answer, the answer has to be this: It's all about heart. I am watching this tournament based on feeling only... it's the magical high, it's the heavy breathing, it's that emotional roller coaster. The next 29 days are gonna be filled with football. I will function at all other activities in autopilot. Yes that includes working I am afraid! All energy, all focus will be on the telly that will be showing footie. All emotions.... will be on german pitches worldwide! Emotions. My my my "rollercoaster" is an understatement. I am gonna be screaming high and I am gonna be crying in the pits... no doubt! Friends think I am joking when I say I cry over football... sigh... they are gonna be in for a small suprise. In fact, I think my mum is kind of happy that I won't be home with her for most of the matches. My emotions have painted the house many many times a seething red and an aching black. This again is a question I cannot answer. How can football make a grown woman cry? That's just it. Watch football like I do and you realise that it is an investment of heart, body and soul. It's a sacrifice on the altar of football. It's a sacrifice I am only happy to partake in. And the second half begins...
Day 2, 4.32pm
So, like I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning until 7am at least.
Body was so pumped with adrenalin that I could feel the sheets getting wet ;)
So first manifestation of football fever has arrived - sleep deprivation.
Of course this will only accumulate in weeks to come... when the nights are full of magnificent matches and my days are a blur... When off days shall be spent sleeping and laundry will accumulate and floor will develop a thin layer of muck (not that it hasn't already).
Sleep is an odd thing. They say you can't sleep a lot suddenly and expect to make up for lack of hours days before. They say the body will take its toll and the face will get haggard and withdrawn. Well I am not going to disagree with medical research. But I will say this... the tired body and haggard face I will wear like a proud football injury... :)
I woke up this afternoon, half an hour before my alarm rang. This usually upsets me. But not today. Because waking up meant football would come faster and waking up meant I could stretch and cuddle among my pillows, luxuriating in the remnants of my dream.... lets just say there were plenty of Italian men and plenty of shed jerseys on the floor...
4 hrs... 12 mins to kickoff...
Day 2, 10.49pm
So the inevitable has happened. The other footie manifestation has reared its angry head.
Dissapointment.
Sigh... didn't think it would happen on day two. No England didn't lose but but but they played like shit la... it was like so lousy and so un-world cup like.
They say that if you dun have expectations, then you won't be dissapointed. How not to have expectations at the world cup? It's silly. The entire world cup is about expectation.
It sounds childish really doesn't it? A lil kid dissapointed when the gifts under the tree are lousy. The lil brat upset when no one wants to say anything kind about her new doll.
Ah babe... yucky yuck yuck this feeling.
Day 2... 4.50am
Babe... My heart has dropped into my stomach and my stomach has dissolved. Am hollow.
Empty babe... what if Ivory Coast equalise?????????
Emptiness is filling up babe... he is blowing the whistle! Sigh
Elation! It's overwhelming me... ah! I am happy.
It's nearly 4am on a Saturday morning. And where am I? Well plastered in front of a tv set. Intently watching football. That's right, it's the world cup... like never before. I'm what you would call a football fan, but I myself am suprised at my dedication to the game. My quest is to watch every single match that is aired live, if its physically possible. By my calculation I'll only miss 4 matches that are shown at the same time ( I can't spell simeltaneously!)And even then there is already a plan at the back of my head to find all the replays. Why? I keep asking myself (as I sit here in the cold during half-time). It feels good this watching of football. It feels right. It feels wonderful... to be accurate. Since my head isn't the least bit near an answer, the answer has to be this: It's all about heart. I am watching this tournament based on feeling only... it's the magical high, it's the heavy breathing, it's that emotional roller coaster. The next 29 days are gonna be filled with football. I will function at all other activities in autopilot. Yes that includes working I am afraid! All energy, all focus will be on the telly that will be showing footie. All emotions.... will be on german pitches worldwide! Emotions. My my my "rollercoaster" is an understatement. I am gonna be screaming high and I am gonna be crying in the pits... no doubt! Friends think I am joking when I say I cry over football... sigh... they are gonna be in for a small suprise. In fact, I think my mum is kind of happy that I won't be home with her for most of the matches. My emotions have painted the house many many times a seething red and an aching black. This again is a question I cannot answer. How can football make a grown woman cry? That's just it. Watch football like I do and you realise that it is an investment of heart, body and soul. It's a sacrifice on the altar of football. It's a sacrifice I am only happy to partake in. And the second half begins...
Day 2, 4.32pm
So, like I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning until 7am at least.
Body was so pumped with adrenalin that I could feel the sheets getting wet ;)
So first manifestation of football fever has arrived - sleep deprivation.
Of course this will only accumulate in weeks to come... when the nights are full of magnificent matches and my days are a blur... When off days shall be spent sleeping and laundry will accumulate and floor will develop a thin layer of muck (not that it hasn't already).
Sleep is an odd thing. They say you can't sleep a lot suddenly and expect to make up for lack of hours days before. They say the body will take its toll and the face will get haggard and withdrawn. Well I am not going to disagree with medical research. But I will say this... the tired body and haggard face I will wear like a proud football injury... :)
I woke up this afternoon, half an hour before my alarm rang. This usually upsets me. But not today. Because waking up meant football would come faster and waking up meant I could stretch and cuddle among my pillows, luxuriating in the remnants of my dream.... lets just say there were plenty of Italian men and plenty of shed jerseys on the floor...
4 hrs... 12 mins to kickoff...
Day 2, 10.49pm
So the inevitable has happened. The other footie manifestation has reared its angry head.
Dissapointment.
Sigh... didn't think it would happen on day two. No England didn't lose but but but they played like shit la... it was like so lousy and so un-world cup like.
They say that if you dun have expectations, then you won't be dissapointed. How not to have expectations at the world cup? It's silly. The entire world cup is about expectation.
It sounds childish really doesn't it? A lil kid dissapointed when the gifts under the tree are lousy. The lil brat upset when no one wants to say anything kind about her new doll.
Ah babe... yucky yuck yuck this feeling.
Day 2... 4.50am
Babe... My heart has dropped into my stomach and my stomach has dissolved. Am hollow.
Empty babe... what if Ivory Coast equalise?????????
Emptiness is filling up babe... he is blowing the whistle! Sigh
Elation! It's overwhelming me... ah! I am happy.
posted by Gypsy at
4:42 pm
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