English class

This year has been different.
For the last four years, I've been learning several languages in the EOI' schools, and I'm quite proud of it.
I like a lot learning languages. For me it is a real thing to do in life...You know, the typical "I'm going to do it when I'll be older”.
There is another reason. When I was a twenty years old Economics student, I tried to know what to do in life. A good professor, Santiago Roldan told some of us about "Técnico Comercial del Estado" and it seemed perfect to me: official career, into the "Diplomatic Corps" travelling around the world...Perfect!! Yes, a lot of study to do but it was ok for me; I was studying deeply at that time. But one more thing: I needed to speak perfectly two languages, in fact the more languages I'd speak, the better. That was a really “cold water shower" for me. I hardly spoke French!
So, I didn't do it.
Then I chose the second option of a good work and there were no languages involved in it, but likewise I began with some English classes.
Now I’m old enough, as I told you at the beginning of this essay, to do what I didn’t do when I was young. Now it is useless, but anyway I’m enjoying doing it, and when I’ll fall sleep I’m going to dream that I am “Técnico Comercial del Estado” and doing a good job around the world.
I always thought I didn’t like writing but I’m not so sure now, because right now I’m doing it in a language that is not mine and it can be pleasant…
On the other hand, during this course, I’ve learned about computers. I usually use computers, but I hadn’t ever done a Blog before. After all, it has been a good experience.

Urban stories

I think, an urban story is a type or a sort of uncanny story....
One of the differences is the audience to whom it is directed.
Another difference, probably the most important, is that uncanny story can have a good ending, while an urban story can never have a good ending because the intention is to give a lesson: common sense, moral, good behaviour... the typical "grandmother's tale" but modern, present-day.
All this explanation is done before my research in the internet...but I'm so sure of it!
You'll tell me!

put oneself into someone else's shoes

I like this expression and I like its meaning too.
These days I'm worried about empathy, I mean the lack of empathy.
First I have the responsibility of explaining what empathy is. It is defined as "feeling or expressing emotion for another". It’s the ability to understand the feelings, the needs and problems of others, putting oneself in their place and answering in consequence.

Nowadays people are concerned about their own life and nothing else but gossip. On one hand, “Hola” “semana” “whatever”….there are a lot of magazines explaining people lives. On the other hand, there are TV programs talking about famous or not so famous people, or also the reality shows, all these kinds of Big Brother shows. Besides, even the news bulletins have this sort of gossip style!

In our daily life, we have friends, colleagues, acquaintances, neighbors, partners, fellows. Most of the time, routine takes place over us; we are not able to “see” them. We should talk with all these people around us as people used to do some time ago, trying to put a little of empathy in our relationship with all of them. I’m sure we will be happier than now.
At least we should try.

I’m going to put myself into someone else’s shoes.

awake continuation: BLACKBIRD

Blackbird lyrics. Paul McCartney

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your life,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.
All your life,You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird, fly. Blackbird, fly,
Into the light of a dark black night.

Blackbird, fly. Blackbird, fly,
Into the light of a dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your life,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
You were only waiting, for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting, for this moment to arise.

awake

It is five o’ clock in the morning. I've been awake since three. I’m tired but I cannot sleep any more so I’m going to write some words.
Just now, there is a little bird singing. Every time I hear it, I remember Romeo and Juliet’s dialog after their first love night “Es el ruiseñor(nightingale) no la alondra(lark or skylark)”….I’m going to search this dialog in English because it could be a good exercise, a good reading exercise, besides it is the original language of Romeo and Juliet.
Is the Shakespeare’s language easy to read? I have no idea and I’ m going to check up on it…some day.
I like this bird because it makes me feel less alone and it’s a sign the night is ending and obviously a new day is coming. Let me tell you that when you are awake all night without nothing to do, the night becomes endless. Probably, next day, it's going to be a sunny day or not, but for sure with people, not only the bird and me.
Now I realize, I really need to know if it is the nightingale o the lark who sings when the day is coming and which one of them sings in the middle of the night.
Ok I have an investigation to do. Bye
I found it! In a fantastic web “pájaros de nuestros campos”or "pájaros de España"www.usuarios.com/ib305742. Now, I am a little disappointed because I think the bird that is with me through the night is a blackbird(mirlo).
On that web, there are pictures of the birds, some of them with a real sound of birds singing.
I’m not like Romeo and Juliet
¡What a pity!
See you

Romeo & Juliet act 3 scene5

Juliet
"Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fear-full hollow of thine ear.
Nightly she sings on yon pom'granate tree.
Believe me, it was the nightingale.
Romeo
it was the lark, the herald of the morn,
no nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stand tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
.........

Done. Very nice.

reality bites

Nowadays all of us want to have a degree.
The dream of all parents is their children should have a career.
When I think about it, I always remember a German industrial man I knew in a classmate’s house.
They were a large wealthy family of eleven and at that moment the five older sons were studying in some kind of University
The German was horrified about that. He told to the father in a perfect Spanish that this was a terrible mistake.
The father of my classmate told him everybody in Spain was trying to give this kind of education to their children, and the German was more and more horrified.
I can’t remember the total explanation but the idea: A healthy society needs people graduated in intermediate craft degrees not only university doctors : Technicians, mechanics, farmers, electricians, carpenters.
I remember thinking he was right, and I still do.
I know it's not so easy, I know.
Because in our society, a university degree is synonym of culture and that is a half truth: I have to recognize that I know narrow-minded students and very cultivated and open-minded electricians.
Since then, a lot of changes have happened in our society. For example, nowadays there are a lot of recognized intermediate studies and they are working successfully.
I think it’s just what he meant.
What do you think: Was the German right?

About butterflies

I have always liked butterflies and I still do.
Besides, for me butterflies have a magical meaning. They live only one or two days and they grow from a caterpillar…very special. They are so beautiful and light, so colourful and …whatever. I like them.
The thing is some years ago a friend of mine told me about Mrs E. Kübler-Ross, who was here in Barcelona to give some conferences in Sta Madrona Nurse’s college and my friend told to me how special Mrs Kübler Ross was.
A sunny summer day I was reading a book, if I remember well, from Sanchez Drago, and suddenly there it was! Elisabet Kübler-Ross and butterflies were together. The writer explained that E. Kübler Ross realized that when children have the intuition they’re going to die, they draw butterflies. They did it in the extermination Camp and they are doing it in Hospitals.
Since then, I’ve been reading all books by her.
I recommend you to do it.
A piece of advice, if you are sensitive you should have a handkerchief…

Elisabeth Kubler Ross : On Death And Dying

THIS WRITNG IS NOT MINE. I GOT IT FROM INTERNET

Elisabeth Kubler Ross : On Death And Dying

This is the world-famous best-seller by the woman who popularized the field of thanatology as a subject for general social commentary. Written in plain language that anyone can understand, this important book can help families understand what's going on as death of a loved one draws near. This was Elisabeth Kübler-Ross' first book on the topic. It is still considered a classic. It is required reading in many academic settings, including medical and nursing schools, theological seminaries, and popular psychology courses.

The book introduced the author's seminal "stages of dying" or "stages of grief" model which is still widely quoted. According the Kübler-Ross model, there are five stages that a dying person goes through when they are told that they have a terminal illness. The five stages go in progression through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. This model has been widely adopted by other authors and applied to many other situations where someone suffers a loss or change in social identity. The model is often used in bereavement work. Not all workers in the field agree with th Kübler-Ross model, and some critics feel the stages are too rigid. Other authors, such as John Bowlby, developed models with different numbers of stages. Regardless of whether you feel the stages are absolute, the book is a "must read" for anyone seriously interested in death and dying issues.

real uncanny story

When I was a child an uncanny story happened. I remember very well, actually all in my family remember it.
We were all on the beach in a sunny morning in our summer’s holidays. My parents were with their friends and all children playing together in the sea, having a great time.
Suddenly my father realized that the little finger ring fell off from his finger. He knew the ring was too big for his little finger, but it was the only finger he could wear it because the ring was too small for him. The ring was from his mother, she died when my father was seven months old and he never knew his mother.
The ring fell on the sand and in front of all people there, it disappeared. They tried to take it inmediatly sliding theirs fingers into the sand, but it wasn't there.
My father was very sad and gloomy.
The summer ended and we came back to the city.
Next summer my parents and their friends were on the beach having a good conversation and suddenly Mrs Serra noticed something with her toe. Could you imagine? Yes, the ring.
Believe it or not that was what it happened.

Solduga (Cont)

Solduga pictures

Solduga

Once upon a time there was a little town called Solduga. It was just in a ledge of a craggy cliff of one beautiful mountain in the Catalonian Pyrenees. Solduga was in the mountain range of Boumort, situated in a very high place, and for that reason it had a beautiful view over the extensive valley that was on his feet.
One side of Solduga, the back, was the mountain, just touching the houses. In fact some of those houses had the mountain as one wall. The mountain was of tough stone with some holes that made natural caverns. A wall that made the town accessible only by the sides, and completely protected against everything you could think from the back.
The few families who lived there were very hard workers and their daily tasks made them busy all day. They were concerned with tilling, taking care of theirs cows, lambs, goats and farmyard animals. They were really busy. And day after day their busy lives were going well. No big problems, a peaceful life…
Winter was very hard there because the single road was a track full of snow and usually it had to be cut from the beginning to the end in each cold winter, and obviously nobody went there.
One beautiful day at the end of autumn, everybody was preparing for the winter. They were very busy trying to get a lot of meat when a couple of hunters arrived there. Children were very happy because nobody had been there for a long time and they ran into them, saying hello and asking them many things. But the hunters didn’t answer them. The hunters looked into themselves, and their faces were obscure, gloomy and serious.
Somebody called the children “boys, come back to home! Don’t bother the visitors! Come on!”
Pau, was a curious boy who didn’t take the parents advice: he wanted to play, and he followed the men. But he did it hidden; he didn’t want to have problems with elders.
One of the hunters talked:
· Fred, let me give a glance around here. I will find the best place to put the tent. Meanwhile, would you mind taking water from the fountain we saw at the entry of Solduga?
· Sure. Harry, what about putting the tent in one of those caverns
· That could be a good idea

Pau was so happy! New people to talk with. He was anxious to make contact with them.
Pau followed all movements they did and when they were sitting he leaved his hiding place and said hello to the men.

But the men didn’t answer. They didn’t even look at him. Pau started to feel very strange, very uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop walking towards them. He thought “what a bad-mannered couple…Why are they acting as if I didn’t exist…”

And when he was just in front of them he realized it: he didn’t exist. Pau was there, yelling in front of the two men trying to touch them to talk to them, to communicate. But there was no way no communication was possible between them, because they didn’t live in the same world. In that moment Pau realized he was dead as everyone in town

Suddenly Fred skipped about when Pau touched him.
· Harry, sad to his partner, I have feeling somebody touching me.
· Fred, please don’t do that to me. I’m feeling too much scared to bear your fear, please.

bitterness

Hi there!
Here I am ready to write a fantastic essay about …no idea
My first thing, I mean the first essay I wrote in this Blog had the purpose to get big reactions from everybody, but I recognize I didn’t like what happened. The reactions were criticizing my way of life, and excuse me, but this is not your business at all, you can criticize my essay but you are nobody to criticize me in my nose without asking you! No way!
The second one was a little thing without significance, and the third was very professional because I got information about war and I did it seriously. At least I did it more o less successfully
Then when the topic was “disasters” I tried to do it funny! But is not easy to do a funny thing in a foreign language…indeed it is always difficult to write funny things, but I don’t give up at all!
A friend of mine, professional writer, told me to do a thing like “mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios” ="women on the verge of a nervous breakdown", and I told her that I had tried it in my first essay and it didn’t work….Or did it, my friends???
Besides it’s easier to do an essay like this…with bitterness.
Are you ready to understand that I can write about flying ants without having problems with insects?