My best wishes for 2015 to all of you

The intention of these words were to remember Christmases past like every year. They also tried to take some photos from nowadays and to drink a toast to that sane hypocrisy. However, I haven’t been in a good frame of mind these last few days, so I haven’t been able to show my Christmas feeling. And although the purpose of this post was to be cruel about these holidays (everybody is happy and kind), I didn’t give up hope and wanted to believe in Christmas carols. Unfortunately, HIS last day was Christmas day. Connecting the dots and crossing the T’s, a hugely significant date for an extraordinary man, who not only inspired me, but changed my outlook of life.

One day we will be together again.

 

 

Daffodils (I wandered lonely as a cloud) by William Wordsworth.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils. 

I don't give advice... you're probably right

As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never really taken the numerous world leaders seriously. After all, those type of people are classed as psychopaths by many experts in this field. Nevertheless, I’m rather sorry for their followers, who put their half-truths before their lives and their families.
Recently, at one of those exciting meetings, where I tried to show the clown in me, I met a good lad in his early twenties and we were exchanging views about endangered languages like Catalan or Maori (believe it or not). I'm not sure why, he shared with me some of his worries that were upsetting him because of one of those brainwashing activists (partaking alcohol loosens the tongue). However, I didn’t know what to tell him and even less how to advise him. In fact, I realized that he really wanted to be part of the establishment and be the ideal convert that he had become moulded. So, the only thing that came to mind was for me to tell him  he deserved to live a real life, but who am I to judge?

 

Ibuprofen works better than paracetamol for a splitting headache

PAINKILLER

Lay your comforting hands on my head,

Give me your breath not only in bed.

Embrace this tormenting brain

And crush its exhausting pain.

 



Talking about the weather

(I’ve been trying to hide some of my opinions for many years, but sometimes they chase me and come true; that is my penance. When I was a child I was told: Don’t ask that! Don’t speak like that! Don't talk to me! And finally: You don’t say anything. The plan is perfect. The machinery has been working for centuries and only needs a little holy oil)

It’s a dull day.

Some words leave scars; your silence, too.

 



Is love an art?

Eric Fromm shakes you up with this question and knocks you out with this answer: Love requires knowledge and effort. Is this a recommendation or an observation? The author shows us how to learn about this kind of art, but before that, he analyses three mistakes we make in love.

First of all, Fromm focuses on the general view of love, where most of us look for being loved than being lover and we accept several stereotypes about men and women, who seem to be more lovable (there were two doors, one pink one blue…).

Secondly, love is presented like an object, a product, an attractive package available in our contemporary culture, where everything is bought and sold, but depending on the possibilities or potential of every human commodity (the supermarket of love).

And a further failure is about the lies of love, where the idea of being in love is confused with the beginning of falling in love, so we try to maintain that intensity forever; but, it has an expiry date (young love).

Finally, Eric Fromm gives us his prescription for being a master in love, where as in any art you have to learn the theory, put it into practice and consider your art the most important thing for you. However, all of us know what makes the world go round.

 



Slip of the tongue

I have a problem, well more than one, but one of them is to solve a family matter with my partner: the number of SOCIAL RELATIONSHIPS, where I’m compelled to keep/get/be/stay in touch with them. With my friends or your friends, with my colleagues or yours, with your extended family or mine, with our wide circle of acquaintances or also, the friends of our friends – they are good people, too.

I feel sorry for all of those people that suffer loneliness, but I feel asphyxiated on several occasions. Mind you, it can be that I’m not a social animal. In fact, I prefer to spend my time with my nuclear family (assuming that its radiation is frying my brain) or on my own than listening to the “experts” who have the solution for this country or if they are more ambitious, for the world. Although, having a lucky day, the debate could be which team will win the league this year or about the last clever gadget that we need to have to be more connected; if we aren’t still (a good plan for my very little free time).

By the way, how much time would I need to attend Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or other services that my dear mobile phone supplies, apparently free of charge? Or Apps like the fantastic whatsApp! So useful and necessary to be involved in superficial relationships that I don’t know, certainly, I don’t know how we lived without them some years ago.

Seriously, to be honest, I’d like to be more in contact with friends, relatives or even strangers and not always keeping myself to myself. However, it is becoming harder to maintain a fluent relationship with all of them, when you have other interests, worries or responsibilities – Eat the chicken Andreita! Probably, this is a symptom that in my twenties went away a long time ago and I don’t want to waste my time repeating the same things; I had a whale of a time.

 

Cheers!

 

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And, most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

                                                                                                            Steve Jobs (1955 - 2011)  



Instruction manual

Written words on pages of paper make a BOOK; that is to say a physical book. Do you remember those rectangular objects that occupied some places in your home, giving colour and filling empty furniture? You look like as if an express train had hit you. Probably, you also forgot how they work and for this reason, I think that this video can help us to develop successfully that activity called How to read a book.

Heaven help us!

 

Oddly enough, when I was a kid, I’d read several newspapers every day, which were the seeds of my passion for another fiction: Literature. Maybe, this is the explanation for my taste in simplicity, without running rings around the same thing with long descriptions; although, lately I’ve been tolerant with a little embellishment. My love for books was increased as a printer (was I working for a printing company by coincidence? I know that you don’t believe in that) and far from looking for other alternatives in my leisure time, I enjoyed choosing a book from my bookshelves or the public library. As a result, those sheets of paper that cut my hands like sharp blades at work, also gave shelter to my chaotic mind.

Reviewing the bravest of the brave

Babe, the Brave Pig is a 1995 children’s film with equal doses of comedy and drama. The film is set in Australia, at the same time, directed by Chris Noonan and based on the novel Babe, the Gallant Pig by Dick King-Smith. The main characters are real animals and computer-animated puppetry, who adopt human roles in a fenced society. The events take place on a farm, where our hero gives us a lesson of humanity (?) and strength, breaking the unfair rules of the establishment; it is clearly reminiscent of Animal Farm by George Orwell.

This fairy tale begins when Babe is separated from his mother and is bought by a farmer, who will be as bold as him, deciding to participate in a sheep-herding contest with a sheep-pig. As the plot evolves, we realize that Babe is looking for his place on the farm and inspired by Ferdinand (a duck who usurps the rooster’s role to save his life) and his adoptive mother (a sheepdog), he rebels from this barnyard society, where everyone has their role to play, being useful and not only the Christmas dinner. What is striking about this film are the staggering special effects, which make us believe that the animals are speaking and thinking like a C1 student, coupled with its magnificent soundtrack, which intensifies Babe’s highs and lows. On the other hand, although the simplicity of the script hides a powerful message, the ending is totally predictable and the humans’ performances are appallingly overacted. Actually, I would say that the acting has been done as in a pantomime to make people laugh.

To sum up, “Bravebabe” is an inspirational film, which I would thoroughly recommend to you. It is well worth seeing, but forgetting your prejudices of adulthood and becoming the child you were once upon a time. If nothing else, you will be happy when you see the grand conclusion and realize that you have to follow your dreams, even persevering with the difficulties that you have to face in achieving them.

 

 

 

Parlez-vous français?

Regardez le ciel. Demandez-vous : le mouton oui ou non at-il mangé la fleur? Et vous verrez comme tout change… Et aucune grande personne ne comprendra jamais que ça a tellement d’importance !

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NsenElX8KaE

Artistic expressions?

These words remind me of many conversations with an art critic, who tried to explain to me the difference between an artist and a craftsman, without any success, when I was working as a printer (every week I had to print some catalogues and reproduce the work exactly like the paintings, above all the colour, for exhibitions in galleries). Frequently, his assessment didn’t coincide with mine and when he reached an orgasm with works so abstract that my limited mind couldn’t understand, I tried to imagine how many limited people would be involved during the opening ceremony, such as politicians or businessmen, who probably were the only ones that would understand the meaning of art: $

Nevertheless, on the subject of films, my capacity to feel emotions is a little broader and if I had to choose one film to give the label of ART, without any doubt, it would be: The bicycle thief by Vittorio De Sica, which in comparison to Hollywood with its power and glamour, the latter is only entertainment.

 

 

 

Even so, after having seen the film again (on this occasion in Italian), having been looking for data and reading a compendium of articles about this masterpiece, I’ve decided to do my review for another understated film. In fact, it competed for the best film among my most intimate circle of friends, with an overrated war blockbuster called Braveheart, during the year they were launched. The chosen work is a thought-provoking family film named by us “Bravebabe”.  

¡Endeluego vaya saltabalates illo!

 

Look at where you are!

When I was faced with a mock exam to practice my speaking, the topic that I had to talk about was SPACE MISSIONS. – What do I know about space missions? Anyway, after my absolutely ridiculous performance, I decided to look for some information as regards to this deadly dull subject. Everything was extremely boring or overcomplicated, however, while I was surfing the internet, I found this impressive and overwhelming video, which showed me what we are exactly. But, carry on with our normal lives.

 

Yeah, you made me feel shiny and new like a virgin touched...

A deep sleep

Most of us have, at some point in our lives, experienced the joys of travel and on some occasions something deeper. Connected with that profundity, I’d like to mention that nowadays there are many people who go on SPIRITUAL JOURNEYS, probably looking for the “Nirvana”, the meaning of life or simply to understand themselves. Some examples of this are the pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela or to Mecca. For this reason, I’ll try to tell you one of my journeys to my grandparents’ village, where I discovered new exciting places and interesting people. Certainly, too often, it seems we glamorise places that are far away and unknown, and step around those that are to hand and superficially familiar:

 It was a wet morning of February or March, in the first years of the 80s, when I decided to leave the charming whitewashed house of my grandparents, where my family had slaughtered (chopped up the body of) a pig, without any compassion; unbelievably, their love for imitating the Texas Chainsaw Massacre with animals, was compatible with their love for pets. With the smell of boiled onions (used to make black pudding) still in my nose, I was wandering around the village, where, although I would have been only seven or eight years old, I knew my way around like in my own neighborhood. Anyway, I went up the main street until I arrived at where the council was building a viewpoint and when I got to the highest place in the village, I found a vacant looking man, who would have been in his early thirties, sitting quietly and doing something suspicious.

Today, I still remember his deep black eyes and his shoulder-length hair. He was very handsome: with a Roman nose, thin lips and tanned complexion; although, it could have been coated in dirt. He looked like a Christ of Easter: not very tall, but with an athletic body. His rough hands and his miserable face were covered with bruises.

At that time, I didn’t have any embarrassment, therefore, I asked him about what he was doing there. At first, his reaction was to hide away from me in the building works and I was sufficiently foolish to follow him to discover his small secret.

“It’s a puppy,” he said.

His quiet and trembling voice, with an accent so familiar to me, was sufficient to show the magnetism of this taciturn, naïve and truly emotional man. From that moment, we didn’t say anything. I was miles away, stroking the little dog and smiling at nothing.

Some years after, I discovered he was an eccentric man, who garrulous people said was mad and thus, made fun of him. However, I admired him (but, in silence) and respected him for having resisted the village idiots and facing the hurt of a brainless mob.

http://www.ted.com/talks/clint_smith_the_danger_of_silence

Y quedan, allá lejos, por las altas eras, unos agudos gritos, velados finamente, entrecortados, jadeantes, aburridos:

- ¡El lo… co! ¡El lo… co!

                                                                                          Platero y yo by Juan Ramón Jiménez

Travelling, travelling

It is generally recognized that travel broadens the mind. However, I have a perception that every year millions of people travel to other places for vacations, spending billions of euros, looking for a kind of entertainment to fill the gap in their ordinary lives and incidentally justify their vanity.
 

As for the ambiguity between TRAVELLERS OR TOURISTS, being honest, I couldn’t find any difference nowadays. To my way of thinking, all of them are people who appreciate the journeys like an experience that meets their expectations. Some of them look for monuments and museums, others geographical features and traditions or all at the same time. Therefore, in the 21^st century, with excellent communications and globalization, the romantic image of a traveller associated with an explorer is ridiculous; most of them are people who try to get away from it all (work, studies or homework). For this reason, if we want to define this activity with the negative connotation of a tourist or the positive view of a traveller, I agree with some of our classmates that it is simply an exercise of semantics.

The Mountains of the Moon

With these words, I’ll try to provide answers to questions that we've been asked to write about this film, which I’ve seen for the umpteenth time:
 

My friend Sir Richard Burton is an adventurer, who is obsessed by the need to understand and take part in the costumes and languages of the world, viewing his TRAVELS as purely knowledge-based; probably for this reason, he feels a strong affinity towards the slave medicine man. He adapts and mixes with the natives and enjoys it immensely in every place, representing a human explorer and free of moral pretensions. However, Burton’s character doesn’t contrast well with Victorian society, as he has no respect for authority or religion and isn’t conventional in any way. His outspoken opinions and writing about sex or his view of the world offends Victorian morality.
On the other hand, our unfortunate Speke is the traditional English gentleman of the Victorian Era and who wants to be famous or is persuaded to be famous at any cost – Lowry, Lowry!

In the beginning, both are fellow explorers, but with many differences in personalities. However, as time passes, their feelings become more compassionate and more caring about each other; although the disagreement causes their ultimate separation. Burton feels betrayed by Speke and his attitude of passivity is probably his way of dealing with Speke’s new fame and apparent devaluation of their friendship.

Certainly, Speke was proved to be correct, but at that time he doesn’t have concrete evidence and Burton feels strongly that he needs more proof, before he can say one way or another. In fact, in Livingstone he finds an ally, who is of the same opinion.

There is a scene in the film that struck me in particular, when a sculptor interrupts Burton and his wife, while they are packing (Isabel is an intelligent woman, who admired him before she married) and asks Burton if he can help him to mould Speke’s face, where we can see the love with which he caresses the sculpture and the certainty that Burton knew his friend better than anyone else in the world.

To conclude, Burton shows in his final speech that for him discovering new or important features are not the only objectives for him, people are equally as important, their cultures, rituals, celebrations and languages. Needless to say, we should aspire to do the same in today’s world.

My outlook for this year

LEISURE TIME, FREE TIME AND HOBBIES are activities that I won’t have time to enjoy during this course, especially being in Emilio’s class "again". In fact, I can’t imagine my spare time without the Language School; I think that I really enjoy learning with a degree of masochism. Joking aside, I love learning English. It is for this reason that I try to read and listen to everything in this beloved and hateful language and because I would like to be completely fluent: speaking from the soul, from my heart, without fear of making any grammatical mistakes or mispronunciations.
¡Qué graciocillo! (lol).