A movie review that i just wrote

Ratatouille

When I walked out of the movie, the movie has endowed with me with a deep, transporting pleasure and allowed me to fall in love with an unlikely hero, Remy, an adorable little rodent. The story revolves around this lovable rat who desires to be a great chef like his hero, Auguste Gusteau. With an exquisite sense of smell and taste, he was not contented in eating trash like normal rats, but rather he wants to savor good food and appreciate the art of cooking. Along the way, he faces obstacles and challenges, but he eventually he fulfilled his dream to become a good cook at Gusteau's, the former home to the famous chef that Remy had idolized.


A classic lesson to learn from the movie is that no dream is impossible, if you work hard enough and never stop believing you can achieve anything. It is an old axiom that everyone knows, but sometimes we need assurance and reminder that the impossible can become possible in life. The message is clear from the movie that as long as you continue to believe in and hold on to your great dreams, we can surprise everyone with your splendid accomplishments like Remy. The most captivating and catchy words are from the most feared food critic in Paris Anton Ego ,“Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.” Its ensures that not everyone is great but greatness can come from anywhere.

The story uncovers the basic moral lesson for us that there will be obstacles when pursing our dreams. The most engaging conflict occurs when Remy is reunited with his family and he has to choose between family obligation and individual ambition. We sometimes must decide whether to go our own way or do what our family tells us. We must also decide whether it's better to be respected doing things that make us miserable or to be disrespected doing things that make us feel happy. But Remy’s family’s acceptance of him being a cook in the end gives us green light that we can be true to ourselves and yet accept our family’s love in order to fulfill our dreams. We often face with difficult situations but the most important lesson learnt is do we give up pursing our dreams? The cruz is how determined are we?

Ikeda Sensei shared that determination to win is the better way of winning. The best time for its construction of our victory is in the midst of the struggle to achieve the goal we yield for. The determination to deal with challenges and overcome our self-overcoming beliefs will allow us to be undefeated in spirit in life. Our effort will ultimately become nutrients for the growth of our dreams.


In our practice, our desires, dreams are our catalysts for internal change, which will change our external environment and achieve the goals we set for. The determination we have will allow victory to build patiently, step by step that will eventually open a new road in our lives. Sensei shared that as long as we keep making efforts without allowing ourrselves to be defeated, the tree of dreams will continue to grow in our hearts.

Thus go catch the good movie and start by making a great determination, one that we will try hard to fulfill. And like Remy, let’s never give up on any of our dreams.

My Dream

Its has been 5 mths since I started work. Therefore its time to reflect what actually is my goals and dreams in life. I want to become a teacher, a rock solid teacher like Frank McCourt. I am thinking of doing specialization of customer service relationship since i am doing this line. I love to talk , I love to interact. Thus first i must polish that ability, the special element to be able to connect the student. I must take pride in in my current work and knock down walls and walls of obstacles in life and fulfill the dreams and goals in life.


My dream is to be the best that
I can be, inside and out.
Let my dreams come up and fly
My dream is to connect
My dream is to influence
My dream will come true
I can knock walls, obstacles
I need one thing
A polished me

Anyway i bought two rock solid books
-Gaudioso and Martin (The Buddha next door)
-Ben Orki ( Stardust)

The Death of the Moth

The Death of The Moth by Virginia Woolf

Moths that fly by day are not properly to be called moths; they do not excite that pleasant sense of dark autumn nights and ivy–blossom which the commonest yellow–underwing asleep in the shadow of the curtain never fails to rouse in us. They are hybrid creatures, neither gay like butterflies nor sombre like their own species. Nevertheless the present specimen, with his narrow hay–coloured wings, fringed with a tassel of the same colour, seemed to be content with life. It was a pleasant morning, mid–September, mild, benignant, yet with a keener breath than that of the summer months. The plough was already scoring the field opposite the window, and where the share had been, the earth was pressed flat and gleamed with moisture. Such vigour came rolling in from the fields and the down beyond that it was difficult to keep the eyes strictly turned upon the book. The rooks too were keeping one of their annual festivities; soaring round the tree tops until it looked as if a vast net with thousands of black knots in it had been cast up into the air; which, after a few moments sank slowly down upon the trees until every twig seemed to have a knot at the end of it. Then, suddenly, the net would be thrown into the air again in a wider circle this time, with the utmost clamour and vociferation, as though to be thrown into the air and settle slowly down upon the tree tops were a tremendously exciting experience.

The same energy which inspired the rooks, the ploughmen, the horses, and even, it seemed, the lean bare–backed downs, sent the moth fluttering from side to side of his square of the window–pane. One could not help watching him. One was, indeed, conscious of a queer feeling of pity for him. The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormous and so various that to have only a moth’s part in life, and a day moth’s at that, appeared a hard fate, and his zest in enjoying his meagre opportunities to the full, pathetic. He flew vigorously to one corner of his compartment, and, after waiting there a second, flew across to the other. What remained for him but to fly to a third corner and then to a fourth? That was all he could do, in spite of the size of the downs, the width of the sky, the far–off smoke of houses, and the romantic voice, now and then, of a steamer out at sea. What he could do he did. Watching him, it seemed as if a fibre, very thin but pure, of the enormous energy of the world had been thrust into his frail and diminutive body. As often as he crossed the pane, I could fancy that a thread of vital light became visible. He was little or nothing but life.

Yet, because he was so small, and so simple a form of the energy that was rolling in at the open window and driving its way through so many narrow and intricate corridors in my own brain and in those of other human beings, there was something marvellous as well as pathetic about him. It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zig–zagging to show us the true nature of life. Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it. One is apt to forget all about life, seeing it humped and bossed and garnished and cumbered so that it has to move with the greatest circumspection and dignity. Again, the thought of all that life might have been had he been born in any other shape caused one to view his simple activities with a kind of pity.
After a time, tired by his dancing apparently, he settled on the window ledge in the sun, and, the queer spectacle being at an end, I forgot about him. Then, looking up, my eye was caught by him. He was trying to resume his dancing, but seemed either so stiff or so awkward that he could only flutter to the bottom of the window–pane; and when he tried to fly across it he failed. Being intent on other matters I watched these futile attempts for a time without thinking, unconsciously waiting for him to resume his flight, as one waits for a machine, that has stopped momentarily, to start again without considering the reason of its failure. After perhaps a seventh attempt he slipped from the wooden ledge and fell, fluttering his wings, on to his back on the window sill. The helplessness of his attitude roused me. It flashed upon me that he was in difficulties; he could no longer raise himself; his legs struggled vainly. But, as I stretched out a pencil, meaning to help him to right himself, it came over me that the failure and awkwardness were the approach of death. I laid the pencil down again.

The legs agitated themselves once more. I looked as if for the enemy against which he struggled. I looked out of doors. What had happened there? Presumably it was midday, and work in the fields had stopped. Stillness and quiet had replaced the previous animation. The birds had taken themselves off to feed in the brooks. The horses stood still. Yet the power was there all the same, massed outside indifferent, impersonal, not attending to anything in particular. Somehow it was opposed to the little hay–coloured moth. It was useless to try to do anything. One could only watch the extraordinary efforts made by those tiny legs against an oncoming doom which could, had it chosen, have submerged an entire city, not merely a city, but masses of human beings; nothing, I knew, had any chance against death. Nevertheless after a pause of exhaustion the legs fluttered again. It was superb this last protest, and so frantic that he succeeded at last in righting himself. One’s sympathies, of course, were all on the side of life. Also, when there was nobody to care or to know, this gigantic effort on the part of an insignificant little moth, against a power of such magnitude, to retain what no one else valued or desired to keep, moved one strangely. Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it to be. But even as I did so, the unmistakable tokens of death showed themselves. The body relaxed, and instantly grew stiff. The struggle was over. The insignificant little creature now knew death. As I looked at the dead moth, this minute wayside triumph of so great a force over so mean an antagonist filled me with wonder. Just as life had been strange a few minutes before, so death was now as strange. The moth having righted himself now lay most decently and uncomplainingly composed. O yes, he seemed to say, death is stronger than I am.

The Gift of Magi

The Gift of the Magi
BY O. HENRY

ONE DOLLAR AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CENTS. THAT WAS ALL. AND SIXTY CENTS of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.There was clearly nothing left to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the look-out for the mendicancy squad.In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, the letters of "Dillingham" looked blurred, as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard.

To-morrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honour of being owned by Jim.There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 Bat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its colour within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the Queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out of the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly.

Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she cluttered out of the door and down the stairs to the street.Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One Eight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie.""Will you buy my hair?" asked Della."I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."Down rippled the brown cascade."Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand."Give it to me quick" said Della.Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch.

As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 78 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task dear friends--a mammoth task.Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically."If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit of saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please, God, make him think I am still pretty."The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was with out gloves.Jim stepped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.Della wriggled off the table and went for him."Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way.

I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you.""You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet, even after the hardest mental labour."Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"Jim looked about the room curiously."You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy."You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with a sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. I his dark assertion will be illuminated later on.Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table."Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped for long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise-shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"And then Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to {lash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit."Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled."Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy Your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men-who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

New Poem

Its been a long time since I blog. Have been busy with my new job and Soka Activites. Have been fulfilling this few months though as i have just finished organzing the FD 14th Anniversary. More work to be done towards the end of 2008.
Anyway i stumble upon an excellant poem that i like it very much.

An old man going a lone highway
Came at evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm vast and wide and steep,
With waters rolling cold and deep.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim,
The sullen stream held no fears for him;
But he turned when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.
"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near,
"You are wasting your strength with building here."
"Your journey will end with the ending day,
"You never again will pass this way.
"You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide.
Why build you this bridge at eventide?"
The builder lifted his old gray head.
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"There followeth after me today
A Youth whose feet must pass this way."
"The chasm that was as nought to me
To that fair-haired youth might a pitfall be;
"He, too, must cross in twilight dim –
"Good friend, I am building this bridge for him."

Will Allen Dromgoole

The Donkey

The Donkey
One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway, it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They each grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then,to everyone's amazement, he quieted down. A few shovel loads later, the farmer looked down the well, and was astonished at what he saw. As every shovel of dirt hit his back, the donkey did something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed, as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and trotted off.
The Moral: Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping stone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up!

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred.

2. Free your mind from worries.

3. Live simply.

4. Give more.

5. Expect less.

Story: Carrot , Egg and Ooloong tea

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and places each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots , in the second she eggs, and in the last she placed Ooloong tea. She let them sit and boil , without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes , she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and places them in a bowl.

Then she ladled the Ooloong out and placed them in a bowl. turning to her daughter , she asked , "Tell me what you see." " carrots , eggs and ooloong tea, she replied/

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the Ooloong tea. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter asked , " what does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each od these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. the egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior , but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside become hardened.

The ooloong tea was unique. After the boiling water, they had changed the water colour and taste. " which are you?" she asked her daughter. " when adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or Ooloong tea?

Think of this: Which am i . Am i the carrot that seems storng but with pain and adversity do i wilt and become soft and lose my strength?Am i teh egg that starts with a malleable heart , but changes with the heat? Did i have a fuild spirit, but after a death , a breakup , a financial hardship , have i become hardened and stiff?

Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am i bitter ad tough with a stiff spirit and the hardened heart?

Or am i like hte Ooloong tea? The tea actually changes the hot water, the very circumstances that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you like the tea, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation arounf you.

When the hour is at the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make your strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don necessarily have the best of everything: they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgetten past, you can't go forward in life until you let go your past failures.

I am too lazy to write for the whole summary of the 6 days trip . But this is my overall thought

On my way back home from my Japan trip, I bought the book ‘The Alchemist’. The book has particular deep meaning for me especially after my Japan trip. The gist of the book is about fulfilling one’s personal legends. It coincides my life long dream of visiting Japan. President Ikeda often asks the students,” What dreams do each of you have in your heart now?” Everyone has dreams at the current moment.

The story’s main character, Santiago, is a shepherd boy sets out to find his "Personal legend," or dream in life. Along the way, he faced all sorts of unexpected obstacles and runs into a variety of characters who have given up their dreams and settled for more a comfortable life. But his power of belief helped him continue to purse his dream throughout the journey and in the end he finally fulfilled the dream. Like Santiago, I too have a dream, my dream was to visit the brilliant kaikans in Japan and visit the magnificent Soka University with my girlfriend/comrade in faith.

In life, it is difficult for people to keep their own promise to their heart. ‘The Alchemist’ taught that there are many people who will give up their dreams, as people often believe in the world’s greatest lie, and that is, at certain point in our lives, we lose control of what is happening and our lives become controlled by fate. There are more and more obstacles until the dream becomes more and more far-fetched. The dream then often will be buried deep in our soul as the years go by.

I nearly believe in the lie too, as I was surrounded by worries, doubt, suspense and fear before I even went to Japan. My girlfriend and I were not sure how we are going to go there. We can easily go with a tour group, but this way it did not allow us to visit the Soka Centers and Soka University. We were also not ready to go on our own as we have no idea how to go from one place to the other. It was also my first trip abroad. Money was always a hindrance, as we really have to work our way to save up for the trip. Language was another barrier to us since neither of us is particular articulate in Japanese.

But ultimately there is faith, we have faith everything will go well, we also have the faith that we will able to fulfill the dream. The faith helped us to have the courage to confront the dream. The faith helped us to go ahead to explore and find our way to Japan. Thus my girlfriend and I are determined that we can definitely achieve our dreams. We decided to go on our own .

Like what is frequently mentioned in ‘The Alchemist’, when you want to something, all the universe will conspire in helping you achieve it.

Our trip was safe throughout; we never lost our way and fulfilled our dream of visiting all the kaikans that we want to visit. Everything went so smoothly for us that it became a real memorable trip. For the language barrier, we find that we can actually made ourselves understood by gestures, smiles, facial expression. One lesson learnt was if you are sincere, there is no language or culture barrier, everything will be clear and there will be no danger of being misinterpreted.

The journey to Japan also makes me realize as we often search through many places for our treasure and dreams, and where we least expect it, the real prize comes in the form of the journey itself. I realize the greatest part of the Japan trip was not only the all the wonderful kaikans that I visited but it comprises all the dearest members and friends that I have met. It also showed me one important lesson that Santiago learnt from in ‘The Alchemist’, the lesson of going confidently in the direction of our dreams.

Whether your dream is small or large doesn’t matter. But remember that you can never go any higher than your dream, so accept the challenge and have a dream. Michelangelo said that the greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, and that it is too low and we reach it.

Nihon Trip

Day 1 - 10/05/07

Places visited

-Kyoto

-Arashiyama

-Imperial Palace

-Gion

Summary

When we reached Kyoto, it was already drizzing, thus not a best start to our trip. I was still positive and in high spirits that everything will turn out to very well. ( It was indeed an awesome trip) We then have to carry our heavy luggage to find my accomodation place although it was raining.

The positive thing happened to us when a kind-hearted soul brought us to my hostel when at that moment we really lost my way in the bad weather. Thus the first thing that i learn in Japan is if you don know anything, please ask !, Like what Paulo Coelho mentioned in his book , 'Like a flowing river', although neither of both parties can speak the each other languages, we can made ourselves understood by gestures, smiles, facial expressions and the desire to share and ask. The simple desire to share something meant we can enter the world of language without words, where everything is always clear and there is no danger of being misinterpreted.

I realize that truth that the world is really interwined together, there is no culture or language barrier between people. A sincere heart can make you pierce through the other person heart without barriers.

Back to the topic that how i found the building. I was at first skeptical about the K House, my hostel. But it turns out to be really a cozy , comfortable stay for us. No wonder it was voted the best hostel in Japan in 2004.

Day : We followed our schedule and went to Arashiyama , it was recommeded by our friend, Tommy and she told us going to Arashiyama is a must. Thus although it was still raining , we made our way there. It was a beautiful and unqiue place whereby the " Romance train" is the highlight. The Romance train will bring u all around Arashiyama filled with nice scenery. We miss the walk to the Monkey park and bamboo grove though as it was not only raining but the weather is really frezzing us.

Night : We made our way somehow by bus to Gion after a trip to the Imperial place. We did see some geishas in Gion. My dear adviced me not to take pictures of them as they are also earning a living and not icons and have no obligations to entertain the tourists. It was really freezing that the night , all i can recall vividly is the 1000 yen for the dinner that we paid for three dishes in Gion. It was pretty cheap and most importantly , OISHi !.

My Recollections in NUS

My Recollections In NUS

Real Estate
It is never my first choice. NIE is my first
I realize it is not as simple to be a teacher
My friend just told me that it is about understanding the hearts of the students
How many people can do that?
Thus real estate is a stepping-stone for me
To learn to absorb,
Study is not about a piece of paper
Its skills and experience that prepares me to the next stage
Thus I never regret

Friends
4 years of friendship
The tie that links the intangible heart of one person to another
Friendship is the most beautiful and powerful treasure
But u know some will stay, some will go
People change, people are complex
How many will say, ‘ I will never forget about u’?
One, two, hard to say
But treating friends is always like a mirror to me
If u treats them sincerely, they in turn will treat u back fairly
It’s a matter of staying true to how u treat people well
No agenda, no hiding, no suspense
Friendship is determined by the way we live our lives
Thus when I live well, treat people well
People will embrace u back

Teachers
It is not easy to become a good educator
How many lecturers have gained my respect?
Only a few, Joseph, Ya, he is arrogant
But arrogant = confidence, confidence to affect people
Belinda, she is so dedicated about planning
For this point, I respect her love for her profession
Faishal, cause he is lenient to me in my thesis
Thus he deserve my mention
Any more, cannot think of any
Many are researchers
Why they teach?
To pass the knowledge
But knowledge is insufficient
The wisdom to inspire students is important

Student Division
Oh man, I will miss it
I will miss the comrades there
But the bond between good comrades never ends
Its different educational paths, different lives
But same goals and mindset
(Who, what, where, how )can separate the bond of Burno and Rossi in Eternal city
None

Books
Classics are great; they nourish me more than anything else
Eternal city
Crime and punishment
Count of the Monte Cristo
Les Miserables
Great and noble authors
I want to a conqueror
Every city there is a great author
Every city there is a great story
I want to conquer them
Time is the hindrance and No time is an excurse
I want conquer time as well to continue conquering books

JTC
It’s enormous happiness and joy when I signed for JTC
It’s a challenge that I fight for it
It’s a victory that I will embrace it
The road is long as I am still at the starting mark
There are three types of people in the world
One who is indispensable to others
One who presence does not really make a difference
One who creates troubles
I want to the one that creates value in the company
I want to the one that the company values my contribution cause I am irreplaceable
Can I do it ?
Yes I can!
Will I still remember my dream to become an educator?
Yes I will!

BOO SAN
My dear is the sweetest thing in my life
Who can replace her place in my heart?
It’s impossible
Why she loves me so much?
It’s unthinkable
What we can both achieve?
It’s unbelievable

Apple Tree

Apple Tree
A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it everyday. He climbed to the tree top, ate the apples, took a nap under the shadow... He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. Time went by... the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree everyday.One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. "Come and play with me," the tree asked the boy. "I am no longer a kid, I don't play around trees anymore."The boy replied, "I want toys. I need money to buy them.""Sorry, but I don't have money... but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money."The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily. The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was sad.One day, the boy returned and the tree was so excited. "Come and play with me" the tree said."I don't have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?""Sorry, but I don't have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house."So the boy cut all the branches of the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad.One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was delighted. "Come and play with me!" the tree said."I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?""Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy." So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time.Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years. "Sorry, my boy. But I don't have anything for you anymore. No more apples for you... " the tree said."I don't have teeth to bite" the boy replied. "No more trunk for you to climb on""I am too old for that now" the boy said."I really can't give you anything ... the only thing left is my dying roots" the tree said with tears."I don't need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years." The boy replied."Good! Old tree roots is the best place to lean on and rest. Come, Come sit down with me and rest." The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears.

This is a story of everyone. The tree is our parent. When we were young, we loved to play with Mom and Dad... When we grow up, we leave them... only come to them when we need something or when we are in trouble.No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they could to make you happy.You may think the boy is cruel to the tree but that's how all of us are treating our parent.

Limelight

Chaplin's Limelight

There is a scene in Limelight which Chaplin playing the part of Calvero, an aging performer encourages a young ballerina named Terry , who has lost all hope because her legs have ceome paralysed. He says to her:

Life is beautiful, magnificant thing! The trouble is you won't fight, you've given in , continually dwelling on sickness and death. But there's something just as inevitable as death, and that's life life life !

Think of the power that's in the universe moving the earth , growing the trees. And, that's tha same power within you !"

Life can be wonderful if you're not afraid of it. All it needs is courage, imagination and a little doe."

The Pretty Lady

The Pretty Lady

Once upon a time a big monk and a little monk were travelling together. They came to the bank of a river and found the bridge was damaged. They had to wade across the river. There was a pretty lady who was stuck at the damaged bridge and couldn't cross the river. The big monk offered to carry the pretty lady across the river on his back. The lady accepted. The little monk was shocked by the move of the big monk."How can big disciple brother carry a lady when we are supposed to avoid all intimacy with females?" thought the little monk. But he kept quiet. The big monk carried the lady across the river and the small monk followed unhappily. When they crossed the river, the big monk let the lady down and they parted ways with her. All along the way for several miles, the little monk was very unhappy with the act of the big monk. He was making up all kinds of accusations about the big monk in his head. This got him madder and madder. But he still kept quiet. And the big monk had no inclination to explain his situation. Finally, at a rest point many hours later, the little monk could not stand it any further, he burst out angrily at the big monk. "How can you claim yourself a devout monk, when you seize the first opportunity to touch a female, especially when she is very pretty? All your teachings to me make you a big hypocrite." The big monk looked surprised and said, "I had put down the pretty lady at the river bank many hours ago, how come you are still carrying her along?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This very old Chinese story reflects the thinking of many people today. We encounter many unpleasant things in our life, they irritate us and they make us angry. Sometimes, they cause us a lot of hurt, sometimes they cause us to be bitter or jealous. But like the little monk, we are not willing to let them go away. We keep on carrying the baggage of the "pretty lady" with us. We let them keep on coming back to hurt us, make us angry, make us bitter and cause us a lot of agony. WHY? Simply because we are not willing to put down or let go of the baggage of the "pretty lady". We should let go of the pretty lady immediately after crossing the river, immediately after the unpleasant event is over. This will immediately remove all our agonies. There is no need to be further hurt by the unpleasant event after it is over. It is just that simple.

Garfield Understand himself better

I want to move people , i want inspire people
There are doubts when she lose her confidence
She lost her insecurity and her assurance
I realise that i never change anything

The dark Sky mirrors the anguish within me
The sadness erupted bit by bit
Will the heart explore as u wait longer?
I realise no one is me and i am the only aid helper

Time ticks and a new feeling emerges
The theory of trust , the concept of suspicions
Least i understand myself better
in the theory of regret
I figure out what can i prove,
is i treasure her even more.

Nature and Life

I like this a lot .

" The house was no more than forty square yards, my yard a mere twelve square yards. People tell me ," It's so small , so humble". Even so there's room to sit down in my house. An though my yard was small, i can look up at the blue skies from it: It'd big enough for me to walk aroudn the think about eternity. The sun and moon also shine there. The four seasons come to see me. And i get great pleasure from the successive visits of wind and rain. snow and sleet. Small butterflies come to dance. cicadas come to chirp, birds come to play. Quietly viewing my yard, i can find almost the riches of the universe abound in its twelve yards."

My recollections By Ikeda Sensei

I decide to reread 'my recollections' by Sensei and i really felt closer to him after i read it. Those who wants to lend this book can borrow from me. Its hard and rare to get this book already. This book is like a personal diary written by Sensei when he is still in his youth. There are interesting essays about his family and his stuggle during his youth.

Some interesting excepts:
1)Sensei's parents had actually deserted him someone when he was young in order to ward off possible misfortune. His parents had previously designated someboby to find him after they cast him away- all part of the arrangement to avoid bad luck.

2)Sensei used up all his pocket money to buy candy for everyone. That money was his mother hard-earned money as their family was very poor that that time. His teacher knowing that he had squandered away the money actually gave him some pocket money. Rather than showing gratitude, Sensei used the money to hunt for a souvenir for his mother. Later when he told mother of all the happenings , she told young Ikeda ," Don't ever forget that teacher."
I felt the incident was warm and show us what is gratitude. Sometimes we live in a world when the warm, human element in education tends to get lost.


I have decided to know what to do after my thesis.
Time to learn visual basic.
Time to learn a proper piano score beside canon in D.
Time to plan Japan trip
Dear told me to pluck lavender from Prague, mmm ok i promise one day will do it.

Story 4: The shoe story

Question : If u are catching a train and while running to get on the train, one of your shoes slipped off and fell onto the tracks, what will u do? To continue boarding the train or to pick up the shoe lst.

Answer: Remove the other shoe and threw into the tracks toward where the lst one landed.

Why: This is what Gandhi did in one of the incident on one of his tours. When asked why he did that, he replied," At least now if a poor person find the shoe lying on the track, he will end up with a good pair of shoes he can use." He believed such selfless actions was he able to truly live as a human being.

Thesis ending. D-Day over!

What is my thoughts for today ?
My mind is enguffed with only one thing - Finish my thesis . It will be a relief for many of us after today. However, there's always a question , whats next . My year have not really started and i am surprised that March is already on its way. I am really looking forward to this year , year of suspense , year of challenges and year of hope. Year of suspense cause i did'nt even know which job scope or company i will be venturing into. But I can imagine myself wearing shirt and pants again coming this May, no more slacking , no more sleeping late and waking up , not more tutorials , no more listening to MP stories. I will definitely miss school , miss studying. Year of challenges and hope because there are many things i want to achieve. I am not scared of making mistakes , i am scared there are lack of opportunites for me to learn .

幸福的道路

幸福的道路

我望着远方 感到一片彷徨
为何人生 总没方向

走在创价的道路上 生命燃起了希望
是你们给我 活着的力量


你 陪着我成长
好让我 看到属于我的光芒
我永远不会忘记
请你相信
所以，我献身于广布
要和你，跟随着先生的脚步
潮着前方的光芒 就是幸福的道路


这一路会是多重障碍
不要轻易就被打败
要相信当乌云散开
会出现 彩虹~

( 是）你 陪着我成长
好让我 看到属于我的光芒
我永远不会忘记 请你相信

所以 我献身于广布
要和你 跟随着先生的脚步
潮着前方的光芒 就是幸福的道路

幸福的道路

Books, Books

Fighting with dissertation karma today, i just cannot managed to finish my conclusion today. I have been doing the conclusion for two weeks .Oh dear ! What had i been doing ? I must finish and perhaps time to move on to another things ..................job, planning project, marketing project , planning assignment ............Gakkai .......... time to replan my timetable !

I have the urge to finish all Jostein Gaarder books. He is the author of Shopie's world. Great author. I want to read , finding good books to nourish myself , to hit my 50 books a year target. What good books can everyone recommend to me ? I am desperate for books !

'Life is like a huge lottery in which only winning tickets are visible ' From the Orange Girl - Jostein Gaarder.

Finding a good book will be a winning ticket to me.

Story 3: What Bradley owed

One morning , Bradley put a little piece of paper on the mother's plate for mother to read.

Mother owes Bradley:
For running errands $3
For taking out the trash $2
For sweeping the floor $2
Extras $1
Total $8

His mother smiled and put $8 and another piece of paper on Bradley's plate.

Bradley owes mother
For being good to him Nothing
For shirts and shoes Nothing
For his meals Nothing
For taking care of him Nothing
Total Nothing

Bradley sat looking at the paper, without saying a word. After that , he pulled eight dollars out of his pocket and placed on his mother' s hand. He then hugged his mother tightly.

Story 2 : What is compassion ?

In harper lee " To Kill a mocking bird" , Atticus Finch offers his daughter some invaluable advice. "If you can learn a simple trick," he says ," you get'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view....until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."

Trying to put yourself into another's place , to share for a moment his or her feelings , is often the starting point of compassion. But there's more to true compassion than just emotion. To help someone, you usually have to do something, not just feel something. Compassion takes the name of action. Its means exerting yourself and bestrowing some effort for someone else's sake.

" A bone to the dog is not charity." " Charity is the bone shared with the dog , when you are as hungry as the dog." Sincerely helping someone brings the real satisfaction.

Chinese Year New

I enjoy going back Malaysia to see my beloved grandmother who is 72 this year and all my cousins and nephews. The advantage of having a enormous house in Malaysia is everyone can gather together and mix around. ' The fact that i can only see some of them once in a year'

The picture above is my nephew. The minute i entered the house, this little boy keeps jumping onto me and keep pestering me , her mum says he is closer to me compared to her husband. One interesting fact is her husband is my cousin who is the same age as me . Thus my dad will start the same old nagging again ' U see u see , people is already a papa to two children , then u neh , still like a small boy.' I am always a small boy in my parents eyes , its invitable that we are always small children to our parents even when we have already grown up.

Can u see spot my Ah mum in the photo . And and small boy who jumps onto the chair to get himself to the photo.

Story 1: Believing in the impossible

Story

"Alice through the looking glass" - Lewis Corroll
The dialogue between Alice and White Queen taught us to 'Believe'

'I can't believe that!' said Alice
'Can't you?' the Queen said in a pitying tone, 'Try again: draw a long breath , and shut your eyes.'
Alice laughed.'There's no use trying',she said ' one can't believe impossible things.'
'I dare say you haven't have much practice,'said the Queen.'When i was your age, i always did it for half-an-hour. Why sometimes, i've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.'

Life is constantly telling us to believe, believing also justify our existence and our strengthen our willpower to fight for something.

Valentine Day

So how did we celebrate for valentine day ? This is the lst time that we did not really celebrate our valentine day cause i have to work.

But nevertheless, the little time we have together, the special lunch Dear cook for me and the surprise gift that i give her makes our valentine day even more special than previous year.

Anyway everyday we can always say 'Sarang Haeyo' , not only valentine day.