No, I’m not referring to the gaffe during the Greece v. Russia game this afternoon. I’ll leave the post-mortem to the hand-wringers and bloggers in Europe who must be either dead drunk by now or texting congratulations to each other.  Isn’t it just like the inept to take pleasure in the mistakes of their betters?  

But I digress.  Tonight, I’ll leave my knife in the drawer because I’m not complaining about Saturday’s dismal performance.  In fact, the game didn’t interest me at all.  It was so lackluster that I fell asleep a few times.  But what troubles me is the cruel blow that Nikopolidis dealt me today.

Martina, my BFF in Germany, posted a series of pictures showing said goalkeeper in action and I suddenly realized that the cornfed men of my sturdy Midwestern world would no longer suffice.  I cannot live with the predictability of the blue collar man or the vulgar pretensions of the white.  I am ruined.

And Antonios is to blame for my misery.   Before the revelation,  I was resigned to mediocrity.  My world was narrow and expectations limited.   Who has time to dream anyway; the pressures of life suffocate them.  But now it’s too late.  I’ve started dreaming and plotting and envisioning, and I can’t seem to stop!  It won’t be long before I bust out of my cell…

What’s to become of me?  I can feel that question bubbling up like a canker sore, the last vestiges of the Calumet mindset nagging at me.  Doesn’t life have to be laid out like a grid before you, each step carefully constructed and every contingency preplanned?  What if the sky should fall in?  Shouldn’t plenty of worry and anxiety be factored in?  There’s nothing like despairing over a future that will never be realized to make you feel like a true Midwesterner.

Everything has changed now.  Nikopolidis broke my heart from its confines and I don’t know where it’s headed.  But for the first time in my life, I don’t care.



  1. Martina Says:

    Dearest europeanized K !

    If we do not have a good dose of fantasy, of rich imagination, of beautiful dreams in our lives, then we will become ‘burned out’ by the harsh boredom of reality-as-we-perceive it. We are also challenged by the question “What really is real?”
    I adore your taste – he is sophisticated and – being greek – for sure difficult and moody – but since when we like easy and predictable men?
    Hugs, M
    P.S.: jump over the pond and we´ll go for an expedition !

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