Christmas

Christmas should be a time to give each other true warmness and love. But now, Christmas is a code name for "presents". People used presents not only to show love now, but also show popularity, face and other faulse friendship. What then left is stress and tiredness.

depression

Perhaps you know what depression feels like. If you are like most college students, at some time during this your--more likely the dark months of winter than the bright days of summer--you will probable experience a few of the symptoms of depression. You may feel deeply discouraged about the future, dissatisfied with your life, or isolated from others. You may lack the energy to get things done or even to force yourself out of bed; be unable to concentrate, eat, or sleep normally; or even wonder if you would be better off dead. . . Maybe social stresses, such as feeling you don't belong or the breakup of a romance, have plunged you into despair. And maybe brooding has at times only worsened your self-torment.

You are not alone. Dpression is the "common cold" of psychological disorders--an expression that effectively descrebes its pervasiveness but certainly not its seriousness. . .
To feel bad in reaction to profoundly sad events is to be in touch with reality. In such times, depression is like a car's low-oil-pressure light--a signal that warns us to stop and take protective measures. Recall that, biologically speaking, life's purpose is not happiness but survival and reproduction. To this end, coughing, vomiting, and various forms of pain protect the body from dangerous toxins. Similarly, depression is a sort of psychic hibernation: It slows us down, avoids attracting predators, and evokes support. to grind temporarily to a halt and ruminate, as depressed people do, is to reassess one's life when feeling threatened. From this perspective, there is sense to suffering. Withdrawal may be strategic. . .

Winston Churchill called depression a "black dog" that periodically hounded him. Poet Emily Dickinson was so afraid of bursting into tears in public that she spent much of her adult life in seclusion. Abraham Lincoln was so withdrawn and brooding as a young man that his friends feared he might take his own life. As each of these lives reminds us, people can and do struggle through depression. Most regain their capacity to love, to work, and even to succeed at the highest levels.

-----From Psychology text book by David G. Myers

trap

Why do human have the ability to compare? It generates thoughts and sadness.
I dont' know whether it's because of me or my misfortune that cause my great depression.
whenever two Chinese are together (exclude me), I am the person who is kicked out of the conversation. They played arround and made fun of each other, I was like an air that is not exist there. I can suppress my hurt feeling when I was with Americans but I can't when I was with them.
Oh, I am always that kind of person, dull, quiet, and strange. A born outsider! But am I? Am I?
I said " see you" to them, but none of them said anything or looked at my direction. None! The first time, it hurt.

Carol

Her real name is Cara but I thought it's Carol at first.

It's the first school day since I came to America that I met carol. We played volleyball with two other girls in gym. Actually her first impression to me is pretty vague 'cause every girl seemed similar to me and she didn't talk much. I was surprised to see a tall girl walking toward my seat when I was in the homeroom the second day. She introduced herself and said I can eat with her at lunch. Lunch period may be the scariest part in the whole day. You should find a seat among so many Americas sitting in the long big lunch table. They were always talking and laughing and talking and laughing. They had their own group. Almost everyone. Only some loners, outsiders sat alone, reading a book or doing homework. Still seeing the ordeal of lunch on my first day, I was like have found a cove when heard those words.

In the next five days, I sat with her. Everyday trying to say something. As my schedule changed, I had my lunch in 6th period instead of 4. So, I part from her, too. I left her a note that informed her and expressed my gratefullness to her. After, I met her a few times in the hall way. We just said "hello'', smilling. Once We exchanged phone numbers but never call each other since. From the beginning of the second year, I didn't see her for a while. I thought she's gone to college. But then, I found there's a girl who looks just like her. We passed each other quite often but never say a word or give a smile. Is that her? Carol?

Anyhow, my thankfullness, appreciation to her will never change.

YC

I just knew that his parent had divorced for a long time.
No wonder his behavior is so queer. He lived on the fourth story in the same building with me. I often saw his slow, casual way of walking on the way home, two hands in the pockets, often wearing in grey and a black coat when it's cold. His hard footsteps remind me of some monster when he passed my door.

The first interaction wasn't a pleasant one. It's the one who killed my curiosity and pity and generated my great scorn on him. It's a morning when we both coincidentally would be late to school and made parent to drive us there. My dad happened to be ealier then them. So when we were in the car, his mom asked whether we can carry his son by the way. So he got on. But what made me angry is he spoke English to us, who just came to U.S, one can hardly understand a sentence and one just can for simple, slow talkings. A silence fell among us three. Of course, dad and I felt embarrased. Dad said ''oh'' or something with a reluctant smile. But I kept my face calm with surprise inside. He must be able to speak Chinese. I knew he speaks Chinese to his mom, of course. Does he hate China so much, like what mom had said? When we got school, I walked to him and asked in English,"Can you speak Chinese?" "Yes." I passed him and went into the building quickly. Then I know I wouldn't forgive him.
In my second year here, he happened to be in my composition class. I still remember my curious examine on him when he just closed his eyes when answering to the teacher's question. "How dare he?" I thought. In the next few days, I couldn't help to keeping an eye on him. Sometimes, he slept, crawling on the desk. Sometimes, he closed his eyes, sitting straight up. He surprised me when he talked so loud and fast, which I barely could follow, and caused others' laugh, agreements or disagreements. He shocked me when he laughed in a controled and crazy, true but careless way. It sounds like Jing Ju. But what made me excited is when his eye met mine intermittently and caused my heart to thump in my breast.

He is strange. Even the teacher said so. She told me that a Chinese usually writes essay in a poetic style and couldn't be easily understood. But that's not the case on him. He used big words and long sentences, which it's even difficult for Americans to follow. Haha, I was satisfied and somehow happy to know that.

Gradually, I hated myself when I looked at him, especially when he caught me. I knew clearly my irational feeling towards him is just a ephemeral thing. I knew he was hard to get near to. I knew he had formed his own way and was hard to change. But I've still been thinking how many days are left in the first semester. I still sometimes knit a picture using my incredible imagination that something happened.

Remember I have said that I feel old? But today, a friend, who claims she has the ability to judge a person by the first look, said I am the most innocent unexperienced girl. I can't deny it, 'cause I am from some view. How interesting to feel young and old at the same time!

Jenny,

I believe dreams will come true if we persue it. Just keep that faith, some day, it will come to you before you know it. Everyone will come through this period-fear, confusing, lost, suspect... to the indefinite future. I don't know whether I had come through or still in it. Maybe my chanllenge doen't come yet. Big chanllenges are always in store. Don't be afraid the unfortune you may come across. Face it, you will find they look much more scary than they really are. Then, my present to your 18th-birthday is useful to you sometimes. You will get yourself back, I believe. But it may take time and determination which both you possess.

Here is a extract from "Rebecca".

"I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial. We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end. "

It's not so proper to use in here. But, you know. And the picture is sun rising from the Atlantic ocean, a picture that I took in Bradley Beach on Thanksgiving. It is a new start.

Can you imagine a blind person can not only manage her own life but also enjoy it even much better than you and me? I happen to meet her. One night, I was asked to practice driving by some friend of mom. So, we drove to her house. We got on the porch and I saw many windchimes hanging around the roof, singing. After Uncle Hua rang the ring, the door opened. It was a woman, in her 50s I think, come to welcome us. She is Keven. To my big suprise, she speak perfect Chinese as if she has lived in China for many years. But she closed her eyes all the time. We came in. To my second big surprise, her house was filled with antics, Chinese paintings, masks, poteries, mini-instruments, ornaments, and many, many other things. I looked eagerly and praised, exclaimed all the time. Through the talking, of course in Chinese, I knew that she loves China and had gone to China 16 times. She bought many of the things on the walll, board. many of them were gifts from firends. She showed me her room and the sitting room which are also full of things. She served us hot tea and turkey-shape cookies she made herself. I wanted to ask more and know all about her, but didn't know where to start. After, Uncle Hua told me she graduated from Harvord and she can sing really well, she has lots of friends and is busy everyday.

I wondered how a blind person can appreciate art when she can't even see them, while many of us lives in a busy and never bother to look at sun-set? Shame to us !

A guy was pushed into me by accident in the hall way. I didn't look up but heard he refered me as "a girl" when I passed by. Suddenly, I realised that I am a girl who has just passed twenty not long. But inside me I don't feel that way. I feel I am in my 30s or even 40s. I looked around in the cafeteria that is filled with girls and boys, then know I am at the same wonderful period of life as they are. But how absurd is it?