Alarm Clocks and Soccer

THURSDAY: After almost as many nights spent here as in the USA in the past week, I now conclude that it was easier dealing with the jet lag going back home. Simply because by the time I woke up in the morning in the states, it was already daylight in Germany. As opposed to waking up at 6 AM this morning in Germany and wanting to die. Why would I be insane enough to wake up at 6, you ask? To skype with the boy. But he had fallen asleep and seemed near death, so since I probably looked the same, we agreed that it was a bad idea, and both went back to sleep. I made the mistake of setting my alarms for 30 mins and an hour later. That was stupid. As a result, the next time I looked at the clock, it said 9:50. AWESOME.

TUESDAY: At least in the anecdote above, I set my alarms again. Today I was not so lucky. Let me begin by saying that I was in bed, head on pillow, eyes closed at a reasonable hour last night, namely, a little after 10. So when I wake up at 6, eight hours of sleep should be enough to tide me over until the next night, right? WRONG! My alarm goes off at 6, I fuzzily remember that Erik was going to try to stay awake (to skype) until midnight, but that it wasn’t likely he’d be up (due to a late-night tangle with the laundry he had on Sunday night, resulting in a mere four hours of sleep). I open my computer in a daze. Surprisingly, I’m lucid enough to sign out and sign back in to Skype (to “refresh” my contacts list). I lie back onto my [monsterously huge] pillow, and grow even more out of it, and when 6:26 rolls around and still no Erik, I close the computer and bury my face into my pillow. THREE-AND-A-HALF HOURS LATER... I wake up again, and see that it’s 9:47. AWESOME. Although this time, I didn’t shoot out of bed and get ready in a whirlwind. My body was not capable of such involved and complicated maneuvers. I promise you, if anyone had seen me lurch out of bed or try to put my shoes on, they would have thought I was drunk. I got almost 12 hours of sleep! Why was I having so much trouble!?!?

Although, I DID enjoy dreaming about Rothenburg after I fell back to sleep again, even though I was riding around in a self-propelled mining cart on tracks, as the small baby I was carrying was giving me lip, and generally being rude to me.

And this morning, it was once again rough getting up. I tricked myself into getting out of bed by promising myself Rockstar. Little did I know, I didn't really mean it. But at least I got up on time! :D

I was finishing dinner Sunday night when I finally remembered that USA was playing Brazil. OOPS! So I sat down to watch in the 20th minute. My roommate Mary hung around sporadically, rotating studying (for a humongous test she had today, Wednesday) and watching the game. I was having a grand ol' time, yelling at our players to be smart(er), and yelling at Marta and her minions to quit whining and being jerks. Mary had been in her room for about the last 10 minutes in OT, so when I started yelling in exuberance over our super last second goal (!), she ran out to see what the deal was. THAT GAME WAS SO COOL!!! Well, scratch that. For the vast majority of the game, it was frustrating. I was watching in German, so what I think the deal was with that penalty kick was that the refs all simultaneously fainted before the kick, and when they came to, our goalie Hope Solo was celebrating and Brazilians everywhere were whining, so they made up a nonsense call and said Solo left the line. (Anyone, PLEASE correct me if I'm wrong.) Which is RIDICULOUS, she shuffled directly to her left, and NEVER left the line. Even the people at work on Monday were telling me it was bogus, and that in the men's games they allow the goalie to cheat soooo much more than what Solo did at that point. But anyway, in soccer, the ref is Supreme Ruler of All that is Breathing, Green, or Spherical, so when Marta (grrrr, smolder smolder smolder) made that goal, I wasn't too pleased. And I was even angrier when, two or so minutes into OT, a Brazilian player, WHO WAS CLEARLY OFFSIDES, passed to Marta who scored. I was supremely upset with soccer. But hey, it's not over til the fat lady sings. And I was urging our ladies on so intensely, eyes riveted to the screen in the final stoppage time, hope rising with every yard that Carli Lloyd and Christie Rapinoe ran closer to the goal, and I couldn't have torn my eyes away if I wanted to, when Rapino hit that beautiful cross (or whatever the soccer-literate call a kick across the field) to the far post, and BANG-BANG. Header into the net by Wambach. Just like that, and we were tied! And THAT'S when things were exciting. Goals happen so rarely in soccer, that goals are practically precious. And all the waiting and pent-up emotion and appreciation for how tough it is to score all collide and all the fans lose their collective minds. THAT'S why we americans find soccer fans all over the world to be crazy fanatics. And we can't stand all the waiting in between goals, and we just wanna see somebody MAULED!! Well, not really. But I know for Erik, that's probably why he'll never truly like the sport. All the running running running running and nothing to show because the game ended 0-0, and that's alright, because both teams did a MARVELOUS job setting plays up and getting situated, and it was a beautiful overall attack and it was a good try. Yeah, but who wins?! Well, that mentality aside, I think the thrill of finally making that goal, or seeing an excellent goalie in action (my position, at one point in my brief career as a fall recreational league soccer player) is enough to keep me interested. In soccer, that is.

Which is why I'm completely pumped for our game against France here in a couple minutes. I've also got it good, because the games here in Germany are broadcast on normal programming, so I am available to watch it. I've got it even BETTER in the sense that since I'm in the same country where it's taking place, so all the games happen at reasonable hours for me, as opposed to the games at the men's world cup last year, which took place during work, and I'd have to keep the gametracker thing up on my computer. And I could read a sentence ever two minutes about what happened. So enthralling. Wooo. But HERE, I can watch it! On TV! After work! YAAY!

And here I leave you. U-S-A! U-S-A!