Changes

Hey guys! No, Internet is not crazy. It’s me, Juande. It’s been a while.

I know I have been lost for quite a long time, I don’t usually use Facebook and don’t know the e-mail addresses of most of you in order to write from time to time, but I was just wondering what you might be doing and if you still were alive and kicking.

It seems the talkative Spaniard you knew has turned into quite the silent boy that doesn’t want to know anything about his old fellows.

Naaaah… me being a curious, talkative Spaniard hasn’t changed; it’s just that I am busier now. Changes are changes.

And speaking of changes… You know what? As I recline in the seat of the train to Granada I start reminiscing. I realize that it is so stupid how things have to change so drastically while others remain intact as time goes by.

Not so long ago, Granada was a place full of hippies playing guitars in the streets, of beer pong and quizzes in Poe, Hannigans and the such; it was a place full of Spaniards drinking in a huge, open place called “Botellón” or wasting 20 euros in Pub 69’s shots for a hell of a night, full of Kapital craziness, García Lorca Park and Paseo de los Tristes strolls, Mirador de San Nicolás and Sacromonte nice sunsets, Morocco tea and friends… lots and lots of friends.

There are now laws in Granada that ban playing music and singing in the streets, eating in the streets, carrying alcohol, etc. People here have turned selfish and materialistic, much more than they used to be, everything is much more expensive now (Kapital is now 10 Euros to get in, double what it was before), the botellón mob has lost its soul and are now just a bunch of heavydrinkers who make you feel more comfortable organizing parties at home. And, no, it is not just that I am growing up… I don’t think that thing applies to me.

I once believed in Granada’s godly religion, in making every single thing me and my people did special, in sharing moments, only good moments, with everyone, keeping those bad for the really close and insisting friends. I once believed in the good nature of going tapas, partying until dawn and meeting people, much more people than that.

Some things change and some don’t. I don’t think you really understand how sadly… but Granada is one that has.

Not so long ago I was a guy obsessed with the idea of going to China to study Chinese and thus finishing my career to look for the best place to start a nice and comfortable life doing what I wanted to do. I have risked a lot in this, given the kind of education I received and the idea of “united family” my family always had. I have risked friends, girlfriends, job opportunities, travelling opportunities and, well, just all the opportunities to do many things else that I haven’t just for the sole reason of going there and learn the language and the culture.

I should have gone to China two years ago and, firstly, bureaucracy issues and, lately, a certain important death inside my family had me in the very first place where I started… always, just here. And I have so many times toyed with the possibility of just surrender and start working in whatever makes me feel right, here in Spain, that I laugh at the thought of having sacrificed all those opportunities for nothing, just for a mere case of bad luck. Even now I am hesitating quite a lot. But I think that just the way I sacrificed those things, the way I always mourned those things I lost and the way I am miraculously still standing up and willing to sacrifice even more things shoots inside my head with the words “Naaaah… not now, it’s too late”. The brainprints all those people and experiences I lost left in me don’t deserve a failure.

I once was stubborn enough to see things going away from my hands just for the uncertainty of a desired dream.

Some things change and some don’t. It seems this one hasn’t… yet.

Not so long ago, I told a person somehow special to me that I was going to tell everything I had just achieved so far to fuck the hell off. I preferred to do that instead of seeing how all the people I considered important ended up moving to a different country and a different life in which communication with me and some other friends was only possible once a month and, on top of that, often reluctantly; before everything I once had and was free to enjoy was suddenly crumbling and turning into dust in the palm of my hand, not knowing what to do to avoid it nor being able to ponder which one of those things was of top importance to me… not even feeling like wasting my life waiting and not doing what I should.

I did it… well, most of it… and I am now happy to everything I have now achieved and take the place of old friends, personal features of my personality and parts of my life that once were called “myself”. However, I miss those things so much, so so very much it is very painful to think about it and to think about how fucked up it is to live experiences and people to which you eventually have to say goodbye in order to move on.

I once was very passionate and caring for the people I loved, but also aware of when I had to let those things freely go, never to forget about them and about the little piece of life we shared.

Some things change and some don’t. It seems that is one that hasn’t.

Not so long ago, I loved. It seems quite strange given how cold I have always been in that very matter, but I have come to realize I am one of those stupid guys who really truly love someone when we have lost her. And I did, and I am such a pussy I have never told her.

And maybe, just perhaps, this letter is also a letter to that someone I always treated with such a cold distance and silence I ended up losing all by my stupid self. I finally grew up tired of desperately looking for stupid things that don’t really exist, that don’t really make a difference and that are really not that important in the face of someone who was offering me a (at that time, believing not enough) everything she had. Yeah, I am happy to be free of that now, and I enjoy feeling much more positive about the people surrounding me.

I once was a stupid, greedy bastard.

Some things change and some don’t. I am glad to have the feeling that this is one I have learned from and has now changed.

And it burns my fingers as I write about all this and I think it is not called pain, hate nor any stupid, dorky and emo thing. I think it is called rage, rage and bliss. Rage to live the best I can, to avoid making the same old mistakes of the past now that I am prepared, to value true friendship for its true value, rage to lose because sometimes I win, bliss to win because losing must be a long-term winning… and, in the long-term, I feel I won.

I once was a ruckus, a talkative Spaniard, a party hunter, a player, a Chinese learner, a smart-ass, a cock-top, a geeky dancer, a dork, a teacher, a friend, a non-received email, a non-received call, a guitar player, a piano player, a basketball player, a football hooligan, a caballero, a passionate and caring boyfriend, a lame retard, a pain in the ass, a non-fulfilled promise, a good job done, an eating monster, a photographer, a love counsellor, a funding institution, a tour guide, a stupid, greedy bastard…

Now that I sit back in the chair of this train and start reminiscing, I realize…

Some things changed because they had to, because I was not able to avoid it… and some didn’t because, finally, I was able to… well…

to change.