‘Yay’ness vs. Euphoria [pg. 20 of The Story]

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I’m in a weird head space: Miley Cyrus keeps singing about the climb; I’m eavesdropping in on a conversation between a boy called Santiago and the King of Salem sitting in the Plaza [The Alchemist]; and I see macaroons everywhere. It’s the lack of sleep I tell you.

I’ve never really cared much about sports, asking out the final score is probably my biggest display of enthusiasm. But Sophie wouldn’t have any of it. She played the “Come on!” card on me, and even came to my doorstep to make sure I watched the Spain vs. Holland 2010 Football world cup finals.

Apart from realizing halfway through the game that the Spaniards were the ones in the navy uniform, and mistaking the penalty score for the score at one point… I was doing pretty well.

At long last, the Spaniards scored. My hands came together as if to clap, an audible gasp escaped me, my heart skipped a beat.

Somehow, in the course of sitting through those 100 odd minutes my body experienced physiological change. I was euphoric. Well, as euphoric as my normal range of emotions would allow. Contrasted to my usual mere ‘yay’ reaction in the aftermath of a game (this is without watching the game) and it didn’t even matter which side won.

Watching the Spain team go up to the podium to receive their award, I thought of the long hours of grueling training, the hard work, the perseverance, the protein bars… It’s the hard work and possibility of having a dream come true that makes life exciting… and it’s definitely worth getting excited about.

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In the streets of Sorrento, Italy. Previous FIFA world cup.


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