Christmas Actually

Christmas, Noël, Navidad, Nadal, Natal, Gabonetako, Weihnachten, Nollag, Natale, hope has many names, and many the stories to rationalize a feeling we don't quite understand, we confront the child inside constantly as we can't afford looking backwards when the world seems to be falling apart, being much simpler to admit that it is looking forward what we do when we decide to let go of our fears and prejudices, or maybe I am just too naïve, which is naïve enough...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, 
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, 
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash,

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little, old driver so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen 
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! 
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, 
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 
With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof 
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, 
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, 
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly, 
That shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
And filled all the stocking; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose, 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

Happy christmas to all and to all a good night

"Twas The Night Before Christmas" - Clement Clarke Moore 

Some things never change,

because Christmas actually... is all around.

MA CHÈRE ESPAGNE

Nous ne serons jamais sûrs si les temps qu'on vive sont bons ou mauvais, mais autant qu'on écoute cette voix nous ne pouvons qu'être bien reconnaissants de vivre là où nous vivons et respirons en écoutant le bruit mélancolique de l'en bien profonde de Cecilia qui réclame liberté à cor et à crit, et l'espoir que chaque fois l'avenir sera meilleur, et cette jeune fille et son drapeau de liberté, ne soient jamais oubliés.

Écoutez "MI QUERIDA ESPAÑA":

MA CHÈRE ESPAGNE

Ma chère Espagne
Cette Espagne vive,

Cette Espagne morte

Maintenant tu te trouves

Éveillée de ta sieste

Par des vers de poète.

Ils sont où tes yeux?

Elles sont où tes mains?

Elle est où ta tête?

Ma chère Espagne
Cette Espagne à moi,

Cette Espagne à nous

Ma chère Espagne
Cette Espagne en doute,

Cette Espagne certaine

Des autels immobiles

Des bandes noires

À glacer le sang

Qui est-ce qui a souffert ta faim?

Qui est-ce qui a bu ton sang

Quand tu avais la pépie?

Ma chère Espagne
Cette Espagne à moi,

Cette Espagne à nous

Ma chère Espagne
Cette Espagne blanche,

Cette Espagne noire

Peuple de parole

Et de peau amère

Mais doux c’est ta promesse

Je veux être ta terre

Je veux être ton herbe

Quand je me meurs

Ma chère Espagne
Cette Espagne à moi,

Cette Espagne à nous.

Original de Evangelina Sobredo Galanes (Cecilia), 1975

Bill Clinton's Back To Work

Are you wondering how well your performance on last exam was?

Are you still stroke by the second listening comprehension test?

Then stop racking your brains and keep reading...

Here's the audio as well as the transcript of the last listening comprehension test we did couple hours ago. It's not from an interview, as I rightly guessed due to its sound and tone, but from his latest book "Back to work" published last November this very same year.

Well here's the excerpt that concerns our work today:

INTRODUCTION

I wrote this book because I love my country and I’m concerned about our future. 

As I often said when I first ran for president in 1992, America at its core is an idea — the idea that no matter who you are or where you’re from, if you work hard and play by the rules, you’ll have the freedom and opportunity to pursue your own dreams and leave your kids a country where they can chase theirs.
 

That belief has a tenuous hold on the more than fifteen million people who are unemployed or who are working part-time when they need full-time jobs to support themselves and their families. And it must seem downright unreal to the growing number of men and women who’ve been out of work for more than six months and can’t even get interviews for job openings, as if they’re somehow to blame for becoming casualties of the worst recession since the Depression.
 

Work is about more than making a living, as vital as that is. It’s fundamental to human dignity, to our sense of self-worth as useful, independent, free people. I earned my first money mowing lawns when I was twelve. At thirteen, I worked in a small grocery store and set up a used-comic-book stand on the side. By the time I finished college, I’d made a little money doing seven other things. By the end of law school, seven more. Over the last four decades, nine more, not counting my foundation and other philanthropic work. Most of my early jobs didn’t last long. I didn’t like them all. But I learned something in every job—about the work, dealing with people, and giving employers and customers their money’s worth.
I came of age believing that no matter what happened, I would always be able to support myself. It became a crucial part of my identity and drove me to spend a good portion of my adult life trying to give other people the chance to do the same thing. It’s heartbreaking to see so many people trapped in a web of enforced idleness, deep debt, and gnawing self-doubt. We have to change that. And we can.
 

In these few pages, I’ll try to explain what has happened to our country over the last thirty years, why our political system hasn’t done a better job of meeting our challenges, and why government still matters and what it should do. I’ll do my best to clarify what our choices are to revive the economy and deal with our long-term debt, and I’ll argue that the looming debt is a big problem that can’t be solved unless the economy starts growing again. And I don’t mean the kind of jobless, statistical growth of the first decade of the twenty-first century, with stagnant wages, rising poverty, crippling household debt, and 90 percent of the income growth going to the top 10 percent. I want American Dream growth—lots of new businesses, well-paying jobs, and American leadership in new industries, like clean energy and biotechnology.

Unless we restore robust economic growth, we’ll be stuck in this economy for years, and nothing we do will solve the longer-term debt problem, regardless of how we try to do it.
 

In short, we’ve got to get America back in the future business.

Reprinted from "Back to Work: Why We Need Smart Government for a Strong Economy" by Bill Clinton © 2011 by William Jefferson Clinton. Used with permission of the publisher, Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc.

Amy W

Do you know whose eyes are these?

"Is this a lasting treasure
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?"

Yesterday, her first posthumous album was released, "Hidden Treasures" was the title chosen, a very good one as like many others before, some facts of her life eclipsed her true self behind, and so she remains an unknown celebrity, a hidden treasure, that is what she is.

It is now that you will surely think you want to really know her, and so as to do so you can read a lot of articles, books, and comments about her, and go on the internet which is swarming of video-documentaries pretending they can explain how her personality was, or on the contrary, you can simply listen to her own words in her own voice, beyond their meaning, observe her smiling, look her in the eyes and get through them, to her soul, trying to understand her honestly, without any sort of prejudice. I'd rather go with the latter. I guarantee you, it is absolutely worth it.

So I ask you once again, do you still think you know whose eyes were those?

     "She walks away,
The sun goes down,
She takes the day but I'm grown,
And in this grey, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own"