hahaha yes Mitu and Michael told me people like Mitu and I are called FOB - fresh off boats...

my dear friend Mitu just wrote an update on how disgraceful and closed minded some of her American are to other culture and her painful experience with them at a conference.

just adding in my 2 cents ramble...Mitu's post provoked the thought of how people react to the deterritorialization of culture, ideologies and politics.

It is kind of funny and ironic that my experience is the other side of the coin. I am coordinating a Women's Centre in Canada this year ,going to the most left-wing university in Canada,doing developments studies which happen to habour a lot of social conscious and liberal minded fellows... Therefore, all the retreats and conferences that i went to this year was all vegetarian catering!:-P ...i remember how my international students friend often make joke about it and how they are "discredit" vegetarian food . My Arab friends "love" meat and disgusted by a all vegetarian dinner while the Canadian people eat them just fine!

It makes me think of how the politics of globalization really play out vividly in our everyday life... these cultural preferences, values and norms which shape the way we interact no longer be bounded by the territorial states or nations...to me it really starts to come down to individual attitude and transformation depending on how much and which ways they are influenced in a globally interactive world. Food and cultural preferences are also no longer just about the taste but also the statement of one's politcal values,reaction to more opening world. In my school for example , it is common that Canadian people who are regular guests at international potlucks and who are vegetarian are also left-wings, more liberal, more of those development or cultural studies majors, who travels somewhere other than their countries or have friends of other ethno-groups rather than their middle class white - apart from those vegetarian because of religions. Of course i dont want to generalizae... just an observation...Now i do not think Canadian is so much different from American. In many ways there must be some truth in the joke that Canada is the Junior America, not wanting to offend any Canadian here...there are Canadian here who living on fast food and soon going to heaven with diabets just like in the States... but the fact that there is also a large proportion of young people who increasingly become vegetarians and more cultural accepting to new choices means more than just the need for some new exotic tastes, but also the extent to which food has become politicized and reflect an every day effort on an individual level to change the world.

globalization and borderless community bring different choices but i think to see those choices as positive or negative depends not on personal attitude but also psychology... For some people being offered something is a bless, for others is an invasion that make them feel threatened... thus the issue is how to promote a kind of cross-cultural learning that make people feel save and inclusive rather than being divided,contested and fragmented in an open space.

Being able to sit together and eat together is really so much more than just about being courageous to try the food you never had before ; it is about being willing to share your politics/valuesand listen to that of others; its about crossing the line of your race, gender, priviledge and identity of fate, to form your own community,social circle and individual identity. I never underestimate how much i have grow and evolved through the endless blasting and yummy potlucks since i came to canada.

While yummy potlucks and food politics have been something that cheer up and question my life in canada the last two years, red tapes have been a pain in the ass.

any paper work here cost $$...And the fact that i am international student from a developing country gives me have through more bureaucratic experiences. Like now i am planning to go study abroad with a canadian institution. I happen to be the only international student in the group and i cant find an insurance company because vietnamese insurance is not qualified internationally, whereas canadian insurance does not suport travel plan for non-canadian. There comes my nick: nationless gypsy woman.

like many international students here, i have a hard time finding fulltime jobs in the summer or apply for internship on the academic fields of interests... there are hundreds of development internship out there and the only and always reason i am disqualified is because i am on a study permit visa. Many international students end up doing underpaid illegal jobs in restaurants, whereas more intellectual and career benificial jobs are reserved for canadian citizens. For those fundamentalists who resist globalisation and migration with the argument of job flight, they should not be that freaked out because there is the parallel process of institutionalized legality that preserve the privilegde of certain national groups.In Canada this has been changing over the years with the recent rule allowing international students to work in Quebec and Montreal.But elsewhere the conditions on international citizens are still very enforcing. What ironic is the same kind of restriction does not apply for citizens of developed countries when they come to the socalled third world. For better or worse, nationalism is the very dominant pivotal drive no matter how globalising and opening a country may boast itself to be. While people are continueing expanding their mind beyond their countries borders, their priviledges are very proportional to the position in the ranking of work citizenships which are determined by their countries of origins.

I took a great develoment studies course on social movements and did some readings on how citizenship was used as a tool of creating racial line in history from Aparthied in South Africa to British immigration law in the 50s. Even in the time of rapid globalisation and regional integration, the notion of class of citizenships still seem to persist that requires radical institutional changes.

at the end of the year when u rush to sell ur books and throw theories into brain trash, the common thing that is left with you is the recognition of symbiosis relations of individuals and institutions, and the illusion of the conflation of the two. It made me think of how often we attacked or challenged individual thoughts,habits and lifestyles, we turn friends and beloved into strangers and the hostiles. Our individual relationships being broken down not by the stubborn different choices of food but the very different institutionalized ideologies that are internalized and embedded in us...

but in short, all of this just means that we can never stop being awared of how our everyday events represent the very spectrum of our values and politics, while at the same time being politicized and depoliticized by larger structure and processes that we are unconscious of. There is no bad, narrowed or stupid people; there are only unconscious,unawared and fearful individuals blinded by imperfect,chaotic and ideological centered rather than human centered institutions.

If you happen to go study abroad or live in another country like Mitu and I, you may be required to go through all the orientation and the common cross-cultural building and cultural shocks workshop... but no matter how cultural rich and aware , no matter how open minded and adaptive you are, you will at some points recognize,feel and react very strongly and emotionally to this mentality of "we" and "they" that are imposed on you ; you will be reminded you are a guest, you are "the other"... and you will at some point, like me, feel frustrated because no matter how hard you try you are not part of the circle, you feel excluded....sometimes it is sad, other times it is a inspiring experience for your personal growth... but you always have the power the change as long as you have the will, at least i believe so.

i like to hear comments!you agree, disagree or my thought process has rocketed out of the loop at 5 am with 2 exams to go and dark circles under my eyes tired of looking for jobs hehe.



p.s if u havent been to a potluck really you are missing out so much!

Hey, can someone help me?
I need someone to help managing the website.
IT wont be much work, just design and upload the photo gallery. My wonderful nepali tig friend who used to helped me with this website stuff are busy and so am i. Need help desparately!!!
If someone could help, email me or just drop a comment for this update, will get back to you extremely quick!
Thanks

You walk out of your bed and immediately caught in a chilly breeze.Yes,you hear it,A chilly breeze!In the middle of summer!! A chilly breeze like a metal arrow shot onto the smooth honey skin – so smooth and hot the kind of skin baked in the tropical solar oven, attacks your sensation of touch. Trembling uncontrollably, you look no better than a frightened little chicken experiencing its first winter out of the warm shell.It is not winter yet.A fool of you nature’s playing in the middle of summer. A witchy switch from 35 celcious degrees to a 28 of the same standard could blow you into this ultra shock. Shocked, certainly you are. Life is a bar of chocolate.Naïve, greenhorn, babyfaced, you are unready to taste other favours of it other than the easy tasting yet boring sweetness.Well, it is not true. You did taste bitter chocolate.You are ready but not to do it alone. But its time you got out of your bed and put your two feet on the floor. The room floor of summer is as bare as your feet. Your favorite Guatemala carpet was sacked to its tranquil retirement in a box full of other winter sacked,in your sister’s room which is no different from a storage.You feel the ground on your feet shaking a little bit. It scares you. Earthquake in your home? Weird,this is not Kobe! Or is it the elec-emo current that makes it shaking? Whatever it is, thanks to gravity, you are not floating .



Stepping out of your bed – the bed chocked with teddies and dolls and lions and and mute souls and 3 pillows filled with blue stars and red moons – out of your child-world you are stepping toes by toes .Standing in the coconut tree style - streight and vigorous,dazed and dumb -next to the bed with your two feet on the floor, your black eyeballs cant help turning back and scanning your hole. You are in split mind. What to bring to your new journey and what not. Every single object that the black lightening balls touch opens up a story, an image, a sound reminding you of places,faces and graces of yesterday life.To you they are all sacred.Even more sacred is the different feelings and love that you have for them.Pressing your feet on the floor, the black balls of fire scanned around one more time, packing up all that they grasp into a 3D unlimited invisible box. The sacred box of precious childhood was neatly packed and placed confidentially somewhere in your mind. So well organized, you feel your feet strong and steady on the floor. Its time to let them move.



She can not move anymore. Your girl friend returns to bed. It is a new bed, not the one she used to be pampered at nights by the sweet dreams of friends and day gossips, of guys with red roses or he ,whom she never met,with long black hair,making his prince charming walk in a summer rain.It is not the bed she used to be scared by nightmare of black beasts in teacher covers or mommy with green ghost eyes scolding at her for late home coming. She is lying on a strange and random bed of hospital. It is a white bed covered by a white sheet,on which put a white pillow.She doesn’t wear her silky pijamas of eye-catchy,sophisticatedly mixed colours. Instead, they put her in a white gown. White is the colour of favorite of doctors who are oddly faithful to the love of cleaness. White is the scary colour of separation,blank,emptiness, zero and shock for the visitors like you. She would have loved white colour. She dreamt to be a doctor and strived to get a scholarship to fly her life to magnificent Paris where she would make herself an educated woman. Her name would be changed into Dr. XYZ followed by this and that degrees between the two brackets. In the white blouse, she would cure human’s physical pains and kill away moaning and screaming of broken spirits. She was living a beautiful summer dream. Her summer dream could be a life time magic. Or her summer dream could be a showery rain. That kind of rain showers quicker than anyone could ever imagine. It ends when it has just started. Unfortunately,she is not chosen to see the magic. Fortunately,she is settled with the sweetness favour of chocolate. Unfortunately, she wished she could taste more favour, no matter how disgusting or terrifying it might turn out to be.In two days time, she will have to go, the doctors tell her mom. She will get out of the bed and maybe she will float. What sacred thing would she bring into her journey? Not her glasses, it would remind her of stressful of schools and late nights sitting up working for a broken dream.



Her friends,the boys and the girls and you,will continue their journeys. Everybody chooses his road. All the roads are different. She has her own road too. The only difference is she doesn’t choose it. But they wont say her road is shorter than theirs. It is just she spend time at this Earth station shorter to spend time at her next XYZ station longer. They are destinied to stay here longer. But their gravity is not endless, they will be floating, one day. Everyone must get on their train when it comes.



For them and you, her moving to the next station at the age of 18 is like the weather drops to minus celcious degrees in the middle of a tropical summer. It shocked her world of friends - the naïve guys and girls enjoying their 18th summer with life turning plans,overflowing energy and dreams.They are not prepared to taste this kind of favour. It is overwhelmingly bitter.



You suddenly want to be in your island to trace your thoughts into words and craft the words onto the sand. You stand there, not like a coconut tree, but an oak of harsh accumulated heaviness. You feel like all the words you craft into the sand make the beach thicker and heavier.All the thoughts you press onto your heart weigh your whole body down and prevent it from standing up in a straight and vigorous shape. You stare motionlessly at the words on the sand wishing to let ago all your inner jute bags of sand .The elec-emo current rushes from your head to your toes and all the way round.Misteriously, the waves come and take away with ease everything it could reach and grasp from the sand. Zig zaged,rough and variegated,your words on the sand are disturbed, destroyed and carried away pieces by pieces.You black balls keep staring motionlessly as if the blood frozen in your vessels. Not frozen. You are just being crippled under the affect of the dizzy intensity of the blood rushing and elec-emo current.



Suddenly, you find yourself jumping in the frightful violent waves. As your back turns red in the blazing hot summer sun and the whipping of the waves, you rest your back on the old retiring waves near the coast, letting yourself floating on the edge of the colossal navy blue carpet. Another moment, you stand up on your bare feet, spread your thin and firm arms,swallow the ocean breathe into your throat ,stretch your chess against the wind from the open sea, your face rise up to the bright sun. Your whole body swim in the ocean of lights. Like an immeasurably high coconut tree, you stand up straightly and vigorously.

To Phuong 1 Am 1 July 2003

Simon Hattenstone
Monday June 30, 2003
The Guardian

The crowd is gathering outside Eyestorm, a tiny gallery off Regent Street. Camera crews, snappers, local workers and passersby. "Who are they waiting for?" people ask as they stroll past. "Pele!" whispers the crowd. "Pele? Really? Pele?" So the crowd thickens. It's 32 years since Pele retired from international football, but everybody still wants to shake hands with the world's greatest.

Eventually the car draws up to a muffled roar. Pele steps out. It's the first time I've had a lump in my throat before an interview. He is 62, and has barely changed over the decades. As a kid he looked eerily mature. Now he looks eerily young. The hair is still a natural dense black, he is tidy and trim and surprisingly small. His feet, clad in smart leather shoes, look tiny. Eamonn, the photographer, says how come big Bobby Moore couldn't get to grips with Pele.

But he couldn't. Nobody could. The records are repeated again and again - more than 1,200 goals scored in professional football, 90-odd hat-tricks, three World-Cup winner medals. Perhaps he's even better remembered for the goals he almost scored in the 1970 World Cup finals: the audacious shot from within his own half; the dummy he played against the goalkeeper, sending the ball one way and running the other; the header into the bottom corner that resulted in Gordon Banks pulling off what is often regarded as the greatest save ever. He had everything as a player - pace, poise, strength, balance, and the most incredible vision. But he was more than a player. Somehow, he seemed to embody innocence, goodness and, for so many years, incorruptibility.

He is being herded into the gallery to open an exhibition of Pele photographs. Ralph Gibson shows Pele with his head pressed against a ball which in turn is pressed against a wall; William Klein has montaged seven Peles into one group shot; British artist Marc Quinn has him with a silver ball balanced on his head. In the most interesting picture, by Tierney Gearon, Pele is casually eating breakfast and stroking a dog while a semi-naked pregnant woman (Gearon herself) talks into the phone. But, on the whole, this is business masquerading as art. The photographs are commercial images that will doubtless appear in myriad marketing campaigns. Prints are priced from £500 to £10,000 a pop.

Here at Eyestorm the old football world and the new one merge uneasily. Pele is all warmth and charm, while his business partners, who own the image rights, are cold and calculated.

Pele is shepherded from one camera crew to another. He looks lost but gives as much time as he is allowed. We are kept waiting till the end, having been promised the only "proper" interview. Anisa, who is doing work experience at the Guardian, is with us. She has cerebral palsy and gets around, at a crazy pace, using a frame with wheels. Pele notices her taking a photo as he is marched to yet another interview. He stops, asks for Anisa's camera, calls someone over and asks if she could take a photo of the two of them together.

He rejoins the press corps who want to talk about his golden moments. Does he wish that he had scored the goal when he dummied the keeper? "Listen," he says, "I scored a lot of goals in this World Cup that people don't remember. This play, every place I go people talk about it. If it was a goal people might not have remembered it." And his smile lights the room up. He is asked about his mastery of the bicycle kick. "The bicycle kick is not easy to do," he says. "I scored 1,283 goals and only two or three were bicycle kicks."

Anisa and I finally get our turn. She is 16, has no right to remember him, but like so many teenagers she's a massive Pele fan. She sits next to him on the sofa. He takes her hand as he talks to her. There are few people who have such an effect on others - Princess Di, Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandela. To be touched by Pele is to be blessed.

He was born Edson Arantes do Nascimento, and often talks of Pele in the third person. It's as if they are two different people, and Edson is Pele's representative on earth, I say. "Yes, I feel like that. I used to go out and people said Pele! Pele! Pele! Pele! all over the world, but no one remembers Edson. Edson is the person who has the feelings, who has the family, who works hard, and Pele is the idol. Pele doesn't die. Pele will never die. Pele is going to go on for ever. But Edson is a normal person who is going to die one day, and the people forget that.

When he was eight years old he was playing football, and one boy started to call him Pele. He didn't have a clue why. The word had no meaning, so he presumed it was an insult. "I said, 'Why are you making a joke about me, why d'you call me Pele? And every kid started to tease me. Then I fight with him. I say my name is Edson. Then all the kids from the school start to call me Pele in the classroom. So I fight in the classroom. I get two days' suspension. Then my father, who was also a footballer, had to go to school because the director called him." Soon enough, his parents were calling him Pele.

The separation of Pele and Edson seems to have kept him grounded. It allows him to celebrate his genius without sounding horribly arrogant. "I think of Pele as a gift of God," he says. "We have billions of billions of people in the world, and we have one Beethoven, one Bach, one Michelangelo, one Pele. That is the gift of God." All he can do, he says, is to try to be a good person, to repay God, and repay the people for their love, and honour Pele.

Has God always been important to him? "All my life I thank God. My family was very religious." It's incredible, I say, how many Brazilian people manage to marry such faith with such corruption. "Yes, there is a story," he says. "Jesus says to St Peter, 'Come with me because I want to set up the world.' So St Peter starts to talk with Jesus and says, 'Let's put the minerals in this country - you know, the gold and diamonds, we'll put it here.' Then Jesus says, 'Let's also put a beautiful beach here.' Then he says, 'Oh, let's put a big beautiful forest here.' Then St Peter says, 'Jesus Christ! Everything good you put in Brazil. What about the other countries?' Jesus says, 'Wait, you're going to see the people I put there!'" He belly laughs. "See! That is the joke!"

Between 1995 and 1998, Pele was Brazil's Extraordinary Minister for Sport and, amazingly, the country's first black minister. He tried to clean up football, but soon found himself under attack. Was he surprised? He shakes his head and says that there is a thin line between love and hate and when you confront corruption, you discover this. "I wanted to make a law to punish the presidents of clubs who don't use the money properly and then I became the big enemy. Everybody said, 'Oh Pele doesn't know anything about football.'" Did the criticism hurt? "No, because the majority of the people know who I am, and the people who said that it was better if the game stayed the same, if they start to say good things about me, then I would worry. I prefer to stay away from these people."

What was undeniably harmful was when his own company, Pele Sport and Marketing, was accused of stealing $700,000 (£425,000) belonging to Unicef. Pele sued his partner, Helio Viana, told the world that he believed Viana had stolen up to $10m from his company, including the Unicef cash, and closed the company. He admitted that he had been naive, but his critics said that he was too old for such a plea and suggested that his entrance into political life had been motivated by greed, not altruism (enabling him to win more contracts for his company); that a man estimated to be earning £18m a year - his face sells Mastercard, Coca-Cola, Nokia and, indirectly, Viagra (though he is quick to point out he is not impotent) - cannot be that naive.

But there does seem something wide-eyed and innocent about the man. I ask him why corruption is so much part of Brazilian life. "I think it's because they don't give space to the educated people, the people who have been to college. If you don't give education to people, it is easy to manipulate them."

Pele seems happy to talk about corruption. But his men in the background are becoming irritable. The man who owns image rights to the exhibition complains that we've not talked about the pictures. He says we have 10 more minutes, and suggests we spend them looking at the photographs.

I ask Pele about a lovely, enigmatic picture taken when he was 17 - he is on the pitch holding his head in his hands. He looks at the photo. "I didn't have a clue what happened. It all looked like a dream. I had no responsibility. I was just a normal player." When did he realise that he had a special responsibility? He reassesses. "No, at 17 I already had responsibility because I took care of my family, but in the football I was young, I wasn't experienced or the captain, I was just in the team."

He talks about the importance of family. He has been married twice, and has six children, two from his first wife, two from his current wife, and two out of marriage. Have any gone into football? "My son Edinho is a goalkeeper for Santos. I told him he was crazy - I used to kill the goalkeeper."

He seems much more interested in the photos of him in action than the new ones, and even more interested in the video showing classic action. He stops in front of it, and jabbers faster and faster in Portuguese to a friend, till he sounds like a combustible Brazilian football commentator. He really does look like a child now, standing there, fascinated and awed by his younger self. I ask him a question, but he's too engrossed to hear. "No, wait. I want to see Pele," he says. "It looks like yesterday."

The image rights people tell me Pele has to leave now. I beg another few minutes, and they allow me to travel the five minutes' drive to the hotel with him. Outside, he struggles through the crowd. All I can hear is "Pele! Pele! Pele! Pele!" and his response, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" He bangs on the roof of the car and we're off.

I ask him if there's anything he dislikes about himself, anything he regards as a weakness? "What I feel very weak about is what we started talking about downstairs. After I scored my 1,000th goal in the Maracana I started a movement for schools in Brazil." He made a speech saying that the only hope for the children lay in education. "That was my goal, but I've not seen this goal. I've not seen this prosperity. And this makes me feel very sad." He feels he could have done more? "Exactly. I don't know how, but I must continue to fight to do more, to do my best. I represent Brazil all over the world. Wherever I go I have to do my best, to not disappoint the Brazilian people. And that I've done. But the fight againstcorruption, no."

We drive away from the crowd. How does such adulation make him feel? "Good because people love me." He looks bemused and delighted. "It's fantastic, all over the world people respect and love me. It's unbelievable if you think I stopped playing more than 25 years ago."

"You know," he says, suddenly excited, "I recently discovered the meaning of Pele. Friends in Brazil have been trying to find the meaning for years and years and have looked all over the world, and they've just discovered in the Bible in Hebrew it means miracle!"

And he looks so pleased, as if it all finally makes sense.

Pele is at the Eyestorm Gallery,www.eyestorm.com.

from BBC news
by Oliver Woods
in Vietnam

Catfish farmers in Vietnam are becoming increasingly worried about the country's trade dispute with the US.

The row over dumping of the fish has seen export orders from the US falling.

About half of Vietnam's catfish exports go to the American market, after the fish is cut into fillets and steaks at local factories.

The dispute is the first bilateral trade row since the US lifted the trade embargo against Vietnam in 1994.

Important income source

Over the past 60 years, Vietnam's history has been one of wars and political change.

It's a period that has seen many Vietnamese leave the country to start new lives in America, Australia and Europe.

But now some of the descendents of these emigrants are returning to the country - and bringing fresh business ideas with them.

"I work as a teacher, but my basic salary is not enough for me to cover all the expenses of my family," says Leng Ob Yoi who lives in a home built on a raft of oil drums tethered to the river bed.

"So catfish farming is an important second income for me - it's a profitable business for me," she says.

Accused by the US

Like many homes along the Mekong, Leng Ob Yoi's home doubles as an open plan catfish farm, with four large fish cages set into the floor of the house.

"America's accusation that Vietnam is dumping catfish is incorrect," she says.

"Farming is cheap in Vietnam because production costs are less than in other countries."

"Other products like rice are also sold cheaply - but no-one accuses Vietnam of dumping rice, so why catfish?" she asks.

Livelihoods under threat

Bo Oui is managing director of a fish factory and says that by selling products cheaply, Vietnam is only doing what made American stores such as Wal-Mart a success.

However, at the other end of the country in Hanoi, American Chamber of Commerce director, Adam Sitkoff, takes the opposite view.

He argues the legal action started by American fish farmers can only benefit Vietnam.

But for most Vietnamese fish farmers and exporters, this dispute is still viewed as an attack on their livelihoods.
See also:


US hits out at catfish and chips


The newly aggressive line on world trade emanating from the US was again in evidence on Tuesday night, as the Department of Commerce took aim at Vietnamese catfish and South Korean microchips.
The decision to slap a 45% tariff on memory chips from financially troubled vendor Hynix comes at the behest of US manufacturer Micron, which alleged that the South Korean government was unfairly subsidising the company's exports.

Vietnam's catfish growers are also in the firing line for allegedly "dumping" the fish fillets - exporting below cost or below the price on the home market - in what will be the first test of a US-Vietnam trade pact signed 18 months ago.

Both countries are protesting vociferously. South Korea says it will go to the World Trade Organisation over the tariffs, and Hynix chief executive EJ Woo called the the US action "unjustified and illegal".

And Vietnam insists that its catfish are cheaper simply because costs are much lower there than in the US.

One on one

While the WTO's global trade talks remain bogged down, not least because the European Union, the US and Japan are unwilling to get rid of huge agricultural tariffs, US trade negotiators have been pushing hard for bilateral deals to open up foreign markets to US exporters.

The Vietnam deal is only one of a chain of similar pacts with countries from Chile to Singapore.

Tuesday's actions come just 24 hours after the US's International Trade Commission backed a complaint from a Tennessee TV maker that TVs made in China were being dumped on the US market, imposing an 84% tariff.

Similarly, Malaysian manufacturers are facing a tariff of 46%.

In the meantime, the US's own actions have come in for criticism in recent years.

Since coming into office in Jaunary 2001, the administration of President George W Bush has introduced swingeing tariffs on foreign steel - albeit with broad-based exemptions - and has upped agricultural subsidies by more than $60bn
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/2999434.stm

- What is your health goal for the month?

Chew 7 times before swallow
Dont eat while being at pc or study.
Eat on time
Drink more water
No or less coffee
Run 100 m in 16 seconds.

- Why did you choose this goal?

Cuz im doing really bad at running in PE. I dont think its becuz of my impossiblity to run fast but cuz i dont practise enuf. :p (ack!just conforting myself ;))

Cuz if not i think i will have problems with my tummy and digesting system really soon. And i dont like pains inside the body.

Life's been hustle bustle but i think i should spend time to take care of myself more . So one step is trying to eat with more conscience.

And cuz i love food, i want to have a good digesting system to enjoy as much and as *deep* as i can hehe. :)


- What actions/choices/sacrifices will you make to achieve this goal?

Lost a bit more sleep to finish study,read something and surf TIG. :p

When done with exams n summer come ill start running.

- Any message to other members who are participating in the Health Challenge?

I cant promise i can do this ...sounds bad eh :) Cuz i tried before but geeze its hard. But dont worry its just me hopefully :).Hope everyone win ur health challenge!

AND Eat more fruits n tofu ! Drink more fruitshakes n soy milk!

if u wanna have a yummy fruit treat, come over to Vietnam , ill satisfy ur taste. :P

Zluk n Gbye

anyone knows any cool links on massage tips,massage training lessons,guide one how to make a good massage and maps on all the muscle,places on the body to put ur fingers on make some pressure?

i need it urgently.Help plz!
Thanks.

-----
At this moment this photo means no matter what,keep faith.

Doha Siel, 5, lies in a Baghdad hospital bed with a piece of shrapnel embedded in her spine Thursday. Nine people were in serious but stable condition with shrapnel injuries at Baghdad's Al-Yarmouk Hospital, according to Dr. Jamal Abed Hassan. http://www.stopwar.org.uk http://www.internationalanswer.org/campaigns/emerg/index.html http://www.votenowar.org/pdf/landscape2.PDF http://www.supportunicef.org/forms/whichcountry_iraq.html http://www.savethechildren.org/owow/owow.shtml

DIARY FROM IRAQ - http://electroniciraq.net/news/343.shtml

" But even this silence was eclipsed by the scene I encountered when I walked into the hospital. The corridor was lined with empty beds (at least 20 beds on either side) awaiting war casualties. I spoke with a nurse on the vacant ward and she said she had worked all night in the emergency room of a regular hospital. There were many elders brought in with heart problems, most of which were a response to the stress of the situation. Thank you all for all you are doing to stop the atrocity of this war before more lives are claimed. I don't know how many people died in today's bombing. But it is too late to save them.

I don't know how many people have died in wars past. But I know it is too late to save them. I don't know how many people will die in the days coming from this war, but I know it isn't too late to save them."

STOP THE WAR!! Listening to Utopia Alanis M. we'd gather around all in a room fasten our belts engage in dialoguewe'd all slow down rest without guilt not lie without fear disagree sans judgement we would stay and respond and expand and include and allow and forgive andenjoy and evolve and discern and inquire and accept and admit and divulge andopen and reach out and speak up This is utopia this is my utopia This is my ideal my end in sightUtopia this is my utopia This is my nirvana My ultimate we'd open our arms we'd all jump in we'd all coast down into safety nets we would share and listen and support and welcome be propelled by passion not invest in outcomes we would breathe and be charmed and amused by differencebe gentle and make room for every emotion we'd provide forums we'd all speak out we'd all be heard we'd all feel seenwe'd rise post-obstacle more defined more grateful we would heal be humbledand be unstoppable we'd hold close and let go and know when to do which we'drelease and disarm and stand up and feel safe this is utopia this is my utopia this is my ideal my end in sight utopia this is my utopia this is my nirvanamy ultimate

Sunday morning.Reading a book about this guy and feeling inspired by his adventure,ideas,spirit,revolution,his romance,powerful warm eyes,affectionate smile,and so much more.

All about him Great Photos Time 100 Bio His quotes

The International Children’s Day of Broadcasting (ICDB) is all about children telling their own story, as reporters, producers, writers, hosts and directors for TV and radio programmes. ICDB is the largest broadcasting campaign for children in the world, having grown from humble beginnings in 1992 to encompass more than 2000 broadcasters covering just about every part of the globe. On the second Sunday of December each year, broadcasters open their studios and airwaves to children and the result is innovative, lively and challenging programmes that attract substantial audiences.
http://www.unicef.org/icdb/
The 2002 Radio Prize
OneWorld and UNICEF announce an exciting new initiative to encourage and highlight outstanding radio broadcasting for and by children. We are looking for examples of radio broadcasting that cover major children's issues with both sensitivity and dynamism. In particular, we want to highlight broadcasts in which children play a major role as presenters, reporters and producers. Entries can be from the International Day of Broadcasting and from programmes broadcast throughout 2002.