The magic of prime numbers

I am not very good at turning a prime number of years, but slowly getting better.

I started my nineteen in complete silence. I had class in both morning and evening and practical lessons afterwards, trained in the dojo, called my parents who were on a trip and went to sleep.

I started my twenty-three in a room carved in the office of an industrial ship, surrounded by people who stopped respecting me the exact moment I stopped being able to comply to their expectations.

I started my twenty-nine with so much rage I ripped off a page of my diary after I wrote it. Two days later I was surrounded by amazing people, dancing to Irani music and watching Eurovision whenever the local WiFi would allow. My two readings of that season were Euclid and David Goggins.

I am... excited about the thirty-one, in many different ways.

I am exhausted by training, my thesis is sucking on my life force in exchange for the best pages I have ever written and the cake is cooling down in the fridge. Which is fun, as it is going straight to the grill in the morning.

My thirty-one come with the reality check that most people around me could be my nephews, but I am still a student. I see them pass by, have great (and terrible) times, grow and find their place in the world. I see them gain confidence as the semester goes and the weather improves.

I also see them go.

Along the years, I estimate to have had... around a thousand and two hundred students under my wing as a Fadder (a monitor in a student association). Some became great friends, some even asked me out the day before leaving... and I barely remember their names or faces. Not only that, I also cannot remember new names and faces the way I used to, since that space is already full.

Given that almost all we do in this life in this time is digital, I find myself wondering what I am doing with my own life. What the meaning is of all I post, and what good it brings to type all this in special occasions (yes, the open window includes the post in January 2). 

Every time my birthday gets close I wonder if my writing takes more away from me from your standpoint than it gives you to read it. If someone will see me, want to approach me, read this stuff and back down. If I would do better with the ladies by sheer force of selfies and good vibes).

(Nobody get this wrong, I am convinced of what I do and why I do it. You who must know it already do).

I have been living in the other corner of Europe for eight years. Eight years and I still don't call this place "home". Eight years getting up every time I fell and doing so as a better man. Eight years meeting people, with the sword of Damocles hanging over my social life, knowing at every turn they will all be gone with the summer breeze. And then it starts over. And then I start over.

This was fantastic during my master's degree. But it has been six years since and I have not stopped growing. I never stopped getting stronger. But it has never stopped weighing. Like a huge backpack hanging over my shoulders.

It has also been eight years without spending my birthday with my mother. Sometimes there were friends (they always call), but hugging the telephone does not cut it. As lovely as it may look sometimes.

I feel like this is holding me back big time somehow.

It is nothing new that spending my teen years studying and chasing validation condition to getting max grades instead of socializing and learning to interact with people has come to bite me in the rear. But I want a break, I want to be in peace, surrounded by people I love, my family, my best friends, a partner who will bring something new to my life. A social life... I just cannot seem to kickstart up here.

The output of all this mess is that I don't think any of you reading this has ever seen my best version. Happy Cavill, serene Cavill, the Cavill who has no idea where he is going but he knows he will get there, the one with more bars than a baker working in jail, with an IQ over 150 and the only goal to use it for everyone around him to be happy and laugh. The Cavill a younger GG created to inspire him whenever he doubted himself. My pride hurts a little that you couldn't meet him, because he feels incredible and is absolutely fantastic. If only he was my type.

"Cavill, are you sure you are not romantizicing your melancholic loneliness?"

The other way around, I acknowledge it. It is imperative to look forward, but so is being aware of where your feet are. Oh, does tripping fall when you don't know where you are, am I right?

I have no idea what I want from my thirty-one. Except my own people.

Well, and getting DOCTOR written in my passport, but that is a) inevitable and b) the entire reason I am still here.

You know? When I designed my thesis plan I knew this would happen. I was aware during the entire process (and still am) that I would feel lonely. That I would doubt myself and everything around me. This is not the sign of an existential crisis, it is a sign that I need a break, let go of some steam and brace myself for what is coming.

"This is what you asked for; heavy is the Crown."

Until then, I never throw a free compliment, if I tell you I love you you better believe it.

La magia de los números primos

Cumplir un número primo de años se me da fatal, aunque cada vez menos.

Los diecinueve los celebré en completo silencio. Tenía clase mañana y tarde, prácticas después, entrené en el dojo, hablé con mis padres que estaban de viaje y me fui a dormir.

Los veintitrés los empecé en una habitación hecha en la oficina de una nave industrial, rodeado de gente que dejó de respetarme cuando dejé de poder hacer lo que querían de mí. 

Los veintinueve comenzaron con tanta rabia que arranqué una página del diario después de escribirla.  Dos días después estaba rodeado de gente increíble bailando música iraní y viendo Eurovisión cuando el WiFi del edificio nos dejaba. Mis dos libros de ese día fueron de Euclides y David Goggins.

Los treinta y uno... me emocionan de muchas maneras distintas. 

Estoy reventado de entrenar, la tesis me está consumiendo a cambio de las mejores páginas que he escrito y la tarta está enfriándose en la nevera. Gracioso, porque va directa a la sartén nada más me levante.

Los treinta y uno vienen con el mazazo de realidad de que la mayor parte de la gente que tengo a mi alrededor podrían ser mis sobrinos, pero aún soy estudiante. Los veo pasarlo genial (y fatal), crecer y encontrar su sitio en el mundo. Y cómo ganan confianza y seguridad conforme el semestre avanza y el tiempo va mejorando.

Y cómo se van. 

A lo largo de los años, calculo que he tenido... alrededor de mil doscientos estudiantes a mi cargo como monitor. Algunos se han convertido en grandes amigos, otros me pidieron salir el día antes de irse... y no recuerdo el nombre ni la cara de casi ninguno. Y no sólo eso, ya no puedo recordar nombres y caras como lo hacía antes, porque el espacio de esos nombres y caras sigue ocupado

Siendo que casi todo lo que hacemos en la vida en estos tiempos es digital, eso me hace preguntarme qué estoy haciendo con la mía. Qué significa y qué aporta todo esto que tecleo con la ventana abierta en ocasiones destacadas (sí, el post del dos de enero también tenía la ventana abierta).

Cada vez que se acerca mi cumpleaños me pregunto si lo que escribo aquí me quita más a vuestros ojos que lo que os da. Si habrá quien me vea, quiera acercárseme, lea estas cosas y se lo calle. Si me iría mejor con las damas a fuerza de selfies y buenas vibras.

(Que nadie se equivoque, estoy convencido de lo que hago y de por qué lo hago. Los que tenéis que saberlo ya lo sabéis).

Llevo ocho años viviendo en la otra punta de Europa. Ocho años y sigo sin llamar "hogar" a este sitio. Ocho años levantándome cada vez que me he caído y haciéndolo como un hombre mejor. Ocho años conociendo a gente, con la espada de Damocles pendiendo sobre mi vida social, sabiendo a cada instante que todos ellos se irán con la brisa del verano. Y volverá a empezar. Y volveré a empezar.

En mis años de máster, eso fue fantástico. Pero han pasado seis años y no he dejado de crecer en todos los aspectos. No he dejado de hacerme más fuerte. Pero nunca ha dejado de pesarme. Quiero pensar que a la tristeza se le llamaba "pesar" porque se siente como si llevaras muchísimo peso a la espalda.

También ocho años sin celebrar el día de mi cumpleaños con mi madre. A veces ha habido amigos, siempre se acuerdan de llamar, pero abrazar el teléfono no es lo mismo. Por adorable que parezca visto desde fuera. 

De alguna manera creo que todo esto me está frenando muchísimo, en todos los aspectos de mi vida. 

No es nada nuevo que echar la adolescencia estudiando, persiguiendo una aprobación condicionada a sacar dieces, en lugar de socializar y aprender a relacionarme, me está pasando factura. Pero quiero descansar, quiero estar tranquilo rodeado de gente a la que quiero, mi familia, mis mejores amigos, una pareja que me aporte algo. Una vida social que... no me sale arrancar aquí arriba.  

El resultado de todo esto es que no creo que casi nadie que lea esto haya visto mi mejor versión. El Cavill tranquilo, alegre, el Cavill que no sabe dónde va pero sí que va a llegar, el que suelta más barras que el panadero de la cárcel, con un CI mayor de 150 y el único objetivo de usarlos para que todos alrededor estén bien y se rían. El Cavill que un GG más joven creó para inspirarlo cuando dudara de sí mismo. Y me duele un poco en el orgullo que no hayáis podido conocerlo, porque se siente increíble y es un cañón de tío. Ojalá fuera mi tipo, me lo iba a pasar increíble.

"Cavill, ¿no estarás romantizando tu nostálgica soledad?"

Al revés, la estoy reconociendo. Mirar para adelante es esencial, pero saber dónde tienes los pies también lo es. Cómo duele un tropiezo cuando no sabes dónde estás, ¿verdad?

No sé lo que quiero de los 31. Excepto a los míos.

Bueno, y ponerme DOCTOR en el pasaporte, pero eso es a) inevitable y b) la razón por la que vine hasta aquí.

¿Sabéis? Cuando diseñé el plan de mi tesis, sabía que esto pasaría. Durante todo el proceso fui consciente (y lo sigo siendo) de que iba a sentirme solo. Y a dudar de mí mismo y de todo lo que hay a mi alrededor. Y no es la señal de una crisis existencial, es la señal de que necesito un descanso, desahogarme fuerte y prepararme para lo que viene. 

"This is what you asked for; heavy is the Crown."

Hasta entonces, recuerda que nunca me sobra un piropo, si te digo que te quiero te conviene creértelo.

Bitter, Sweet and Grateful

The year two-thousand and twenty four of our Lord started on a rough note, with pain, regret and unhealed grief. But it was fun to navigate the darkness.

I have not done this alone - I never trust "self-made" people, they hide something. It took me some effort to accept that I needed help to get better and moreso to ask for that help. But Baby, did my life turn for the better when I did. I am happy to say I have turned into my best version so far, and proud to tell myself and everyone that this is only the beginning. 

There is so much to see, so much to do, so much to feel, an endless stream of possibilities before my very eyes. So much so that it hurts to try and consider it all. 

But you cannot consider it all. That is half of the point - there is way too much. 

But that is not necessarily a bad thing, is it?  Would you be able to take it if you could consider it all?

The year two-thousand and twenty four of our Lord has been an intense parade of contrasts, beauty and also horror, cold and warmth, ridiculous highs and some considerable lows too. I clenched my teeth and basked in the sunlight, ran from myself and also taken myself head-on many times. I have faced my own contradictions as well, and sometimes I won. And sometimes I lost miserably. And all those times I learnt something about both them and myself.

Does it still count as a victory if you lose but get something more important in exchange? Does it matter? Or is this just me facing the ambiguities in the way I express my relationship with the world around me?

And if it is, why not have some fun and picture what this year has been this way?

The year two-thousand and twenty four of our Lord started with me learning to be comfortable around someone, who left shortly after. I was thankful when that happened - not about her leaving, of course, but all the experiences we shared. That encounter healed a part of me in a way only a few people know.

The next months were dark. Local winter is ruthless on our little monkey brains. During those, I found myself balancing depression, Impostor Syndrome (in capital letters out of respect) and, interestingly enough, Peace and Quiet. And a beam of sunlight every now and then. 

You really do not know what the dark takes away from you until you live it. So... Grossly incandescent.

I have been surrounded by great people, but some of them surprised me in very bitter ways. An old and very close friend phoned me and cut me off her life on a random Saturday. The same day, another close friend discovered me my current favorite café in town.

I found a friend's friend I was into and asked her out. It was an immense amount of fun, then she said there would definitely be a second date and proceeded to never call me again.  

I took on this problem that got me stuck for weeks on end, hoping for a strike of inspiration that would help me get through it. It never came. Instead, an absolutely unremarkable day I sat down as I always do, scribbled some identities, looked into my own research and ended up solving it. 

Stuck for weeks, pulled myself out by just showing up and doing my thing. Talk about inspiration.

I have spent this year surrounded by a lot of amazing students. Together with the IC, we ran two rookie periods and helped hundreds of students find their way across this beautiful country. Built bridges and bonds, created immense opportunities and formed friendships along the way. I also left the IC by the end of it.

I have been lied to. One of my dullest nights turned into a blast when we went out as a group and there was this single (her words) girl, whose boyfriend I only learnt about when another friend slipped up at four in the morning. Then the night was no longer a blast. But then the walk home, getting my mind clearer, the Sun rising... I slept wonderfully that night.

On these last few months, I have been so stressed I dislocated my jawbone, but I have also been so in peace I managed to get off sleeping aids for a good while. I sleep with teeth protectors to not grinding them to dust, and forgot them on my way to vacation - the two weeks since I did I have gotten the best sleep so far this year.

I had this good and very close friend whose birthday was coming. We had been vibing in a very sweet way the past few months, I enjoyed and valued this friendship. The whole birthday evening had this strange, tense energy, but it was genuinely fun. Alas, I was so uncomfortable I started to doubt my own intentions. 

(For the record, that was a mistake: if you know your intentions, question them, but do not doubt them).

We made another plan, some days later, the circumstances around which are the reason I have just said that I "HAD" this good and very close friend. 

(ADVISORY BREAK: This is not a rant, I am just using the theme of "heavy contradiction wherever you look" to go around the year two-thousand and twenty four of our Lord).

I have also been phoned randomly on the loneliest days of summer, taken out and had incredible days out of the blue. Came across my best local friend twice... the two exact times he came to town without a plan or notice. We fed those pesky seagulls and laughed endlessly in the middle of my loneliest days.

"And what about work?" - This post is not about work. It was, overall, pretty good, though. I like it.

I reconnected with two very good friends who live far away and lost my Grandpa on the same weekend. He was a good man, his memory lives on. 

I have dedicated myself to less things and enjoyed them much more. Dropping some hobbies gave me that mental space back that I can allocate into the rest instead of worrying about not engaging enough with all of them. That little idea really took me far: drop the weight and run.

My take from this huge roller-coaster of a year is: I have regained my curiosity. I am endlessly excited about the future, whatever happens I find myself thinking how I will handle it and getting ready in the best way possible, not only to survive it, but to enjoy it. Many people I have talked to refer to this as "childish", but let my answer be the closing to this page.

My curiosity is not only child-like - children know by instinct things we adults deny for comfort.

It is also ancient. It is primal, it is wild; it is battle-worn and deeply scarred - it hurts sometimes. I have been to Hell and back and it came and went on my shoulder.  And it is alive and kicking.

 

I am alive, ladies and gentlemen.