puerlove

i dont understand this world

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 15:37:41 +0100

I dont understand this world. really dont.
people so greedy. human beings are mad. they dont know how to cherish what they own. they want more. but they will end up with nothing.
human beings are like animals, sometimes even worse than animals. sad.

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believe in

Sun, 16 Dec 2007 02:03:51 +0100

it is night again. myself only again.
i want to trust life. i want to believe in something.
something you appreciate, something sincere, something honest, something reliable, something trustworth, something beautiful, something understanding, something -- you would wish you can have it again if you have the second life.
too many sad stories, too many seperates, too many upsets, too many betrays, too much greed, too much devils --
a messy world, upset human beings. only hope mine is not going to be one.
my face buring, my eyes buring.
i want a true but nice, beautiful life.
follow the real dignity.
never compromise.

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Once Upon A Time

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 20:08:38 +0100

I like this little cute story. I think I seriously need to learn how to write, not like a 5 years old.

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time, there lived a young faire princess and her charming prince. The charming prince longed to win the affections of the princess, but she hid in her heart her growing affection for him.

One day the faire princess and the charming prince were riding upon the prince's trusty white stead, a brand new 1994 Geo Prizm with... a cracked windshield. The faire princess rode next to her prince. She sat only close enough so that the charming prince could reach with his right hand and rub her knee. He did this to demonstrate his affection for the princess and to remind himself that she was truly with him and it was not just a wonderful dream. As the charming prince's trusty stead crested a hill, the faire princess pointed out the nice sunset to her prince. The charming prince was directing his trusty stead with his left hand, rubbing the princess's knee with his right hand, attempting to watch the course of his trusty stead and glance up at his princess when he had a chance. He was a bit distracted. Distracted though he was, the prince commented that the sunset was indeed pretty and nice. Upon returning to the castle, the faire princess gracefully strode to a nearby window. Once again, the princess admired the colorful sunset. The princess called to her prince to fix his gaze upon the setting sun. The faire princess secretly wanted to be close to her prince and be held in his arms. She hoped that he would come and snuggle close to her, so that they could enjoy the setting sun together. The charming prince came to the window and saw the beauty of the sunset, but was even more transfixed by the beauty of the faire princess. The prince longed in his heart to be close to the faire princess, so he snuggled up to her from behind, his arms around her waist, his head upon her shoulder. As the prince snuggled close to her, the princess placed her hands upon his and they admired the colorful sunset together.

As the weeks went on, the charming prince wooed the faire princess with flowers and chocolates, warm hugs and tender kisses on the cheek. Her love for the prince grew and she could keep it secret no more. One day, the faire princess proclaimed her growing love for the charming prince. The prince knew well of the princess's growing love, but was very pleased that she could no longer keep it hidden in her heart. The charming prince and the princess soon after, shared their first kiss. It was a tender kiss, a loving kiss. The kiss was full of the passion and desire that the charming prince and faire princess had in their hearts for one another.

As the days, weeks and months went on, the love that the faire princess and the charming prince had for one another continued to grow. They shared their secrets. They shared their dreams. They even shared their hope for a lifetime of love together. With love the charming prince held in his heart for the faire princess and the love the faire princess held in her heart for the charming prince, they did have a wonderful life full of love together. And they lived happily ever after...

The End

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Karen Mok.

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 18:41:03 +0100

She is the one who sings the happy song you like---

http://www.sonymusic.com.tw/pop/karen/index.php

Karen Joy Morris, or Karen Mok Man-Wai, or Mò Wénwèi is a Hong Kong-based actress and singer. She is 1/2 Chinese, 1/4 Welsh (paternal grandfather), 1/8 Iranian and 1/8 German.[citation needed] Mok attended Diocesan Girls' School, Hong Kong (from primary to secondary) before attending United World College of the Adriatic near Trieste, Italy, and majored in Italian literature when studying in the University of London. She is the sister of the writer and producer Trevor Morris and the descendant of Alfred Morris, the first principal of King's College, Hong Kong. Mok speaks English, Cantonese, Mandarin, Italian, French.

Mok is often credited as Karen Mok in Chinese movies, but as Karen Joy Morris (her birth name) in Hollywood movies. She supplied the voice of Princess Kida for the Cantonese dub of Disney's Atlantis (2001). Mok performed in the international tour of the hit Broadway musical "RENT" as Mimi during the Hong Kong stops in December 2005.

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Luo Dayou -- singer-songwriter i like

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 18:36:02 +0100

Lo Ta-yu or Luo Dayou is an influential Taiwanese singer-songwriter who, during the 1980s, revolutionized Chinese pop and rock music with his melodic lyrics, his love songs, and his witty social and political commentary that he infused in his more political songs, often to the point that some of his songs were suppressed in Taiwan and China during the 1980s. He is recognized as a major cultural icon in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China.

Stylistically, Lo Ta-yu defies classification. His early music in particular shows strong folk roots, and many of his songs tap into native Taiwanese cultural influences. Some songs are reminiscent of 1950s American diner and soda shop rock, and others exhibit a 1970s lounge lizard growl. What captured the hearts of a generation, however, were his lyrics, touching on issues of life, attitudes, social responsibility, and the political problems of both China and Taiwan with an underhandedly critical strain of dark humor. The lyrical style is not particularly artsy or complex, but rather conversational; the cleverness comes in the meaning, not how the words are put together.

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Qian Zhongshu -- Yang Jiang's husband.

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 20:54:36 +0100

Yang Jiang's husband is Qian Zhongshu.

Qian Zhongshu (November 21, 1910 – December 19, 1998) was a Chinese literary scholar and writer, known for his burning wit and formidable erudition.

Among the general public, he is best known for his satiric novel Fortress Besieged (圍城. His works of non-fiction are characterised by their large amount of quotations in both Chinese and Western languages (including English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, and Latin).[1]. He also played an important role in the digitalization of the Chinese classics late in his life.

Qian Zhongshu did not talk much about his life in his works. Most of what we know about his early life relies on an essay written by his wife Yang Jiang,[3] Born in Wuxi, Qian Zhongshu was the son of Qian Jibo (錢基博, a conservative Confucian scholar. By family tradition, Qian Zhongzhu grew up under the care of his eldest uncle, who did not have a son. Qian was initially named Yangxian (仰先 "respect the ancients"), with the courtesy name Zheliang (哲良 "sagacious and upright"). However, when he was one year old, according to a tradition practised in many parts of China, he was given a few objects laid out in front of him for his "grabbing". He grabbed a book. His uncle then renamed him Zhongshu, literally "being fond of books", and Yangxian became his intimate name. Qian was a talkative child. His father later changed his courtesy name to Mocun (默存, literally "to keep silent", in the hope that he would talk less.

Both Qian's name and courtesy name predicted his future life. While he remained talkative when talking about literature with friends, he kept silent most time on politics and social activities. Qian was indeed very fond of books. When he was young, his uncle often brought him along to tea houses during the day. There Qian was left alone to read storybooks on folklore and historical events, which he would repeat to his cousins upon returning home.

When Qian was 10, his uncle died. He continued living with his widowed aunt, even though their living conditions worsened drastically as her family's fortunes dwindled. Under the severe teaching of his father, Qian mastered classical Chinese. At the age of 14, Qian left home to attend an English-speaking missionary school in Suzhou, where he manifested his talent in language.

Despite failing in Mathematics, Qian was accepted into the Department of Foreign Languages of Tsinghua University in 1929 because of his excellent performance in Chinese and English languages. His years in Tsinghua educated Qian in many aspects. He came to know many prominent scholars, who appreciated Qian's talent. Also, Tsianghua has a large library with a diverse collection, where Qian spent a large amount of time and boasted to have "read through Tsinghua's library". It was probably also in his college days that he began his lifelong habit of collecting quotations and taking reading notes. There Qian also met his future wife Yang Jiang, who was to become a successful playwright and translator, and married her in 1935. For the biographical facts of Qian's following years, the two memoirs by his wife can be consulted .[4]

In that same year, Qian received government sponsorship to further his studies abroad. Together with his wife, Qian headed for the University of Oxford in Britain. After spending two years at Exeter College, he received a Baccalaureus Litterarum (Bachelor of Literature).[5] Shortly after his daughter Qian Yuan (錢瑗 was born, he studied for one more year in the University of Paris in France, before returning to China in 1938.

Due to the unstable situation during the Second Sino-Japanese War, Qian did not hold any long-term jobs until the People's Republic of China was founded in 1949. However, he wrote extensively during the decade.

The old gate of Tsinghua University, where Qian Zhongshu studied and taughtIn 1949, Qian was appointed a professor in his alma mater. Four years later, an administrative adjustment saw Tsinghua changed into a science and technology-based institution, with its Arts departments merged into Peking University (PKU). Qian was relieved of teaching duties and worked entirely in the Institute of Literary Studies (文學研究所 under PKU. He also worked in an agency in charge of the translation of Mao Zedong's works for a time.

During the Cultural Revolution, like many other prominent intellectuals of the time, Qian suffered persecution. Appointed to be a janitor, he was robbed of his favorite pastime - reading. Having no access to books, he had to read his reading notes. He began to form the plan to write Guan Zhui Bian (管錐編 during this period. Qian and his wife and daughter survived the hardships of Cultural Revolution, but his son-in-law, a history teacher, was driven to suicide.

After the Cultural Revolution, Qian returned to research. From 1978 to 1980, he visited several universities in Italy, the United States and Japan, impressing his audience with his wit and erudition. In 1982, he was instated as the deputy director of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. He then began working on Guan Zhui Bian, which occupied the next decade of his life.

While Guan Zhui Bian established his fame in the scholar field, his novel Fortress Besieged introduce himself to the public. Fortress Besieged was reprinted in 1980, and became a best-seller. Many illegal reproductions and "continuations" followed. Qian's fame rose to its height when the novel was adapted into a TV serial in 1990.

Qian returned to research, but escaped from social activities. Most of his late life is confined in his reading room. He consciously kept a distance from the mass media and political figures. Readers kept visiting the secluded scholar, and the anecdote goes that Qian replied to an elderly British lady, who loved the novel and phoned the author, that "is it necessary for one to know the hen if one loves the eggs it lays?"

Qian entered a hospital in 1994, and never came out. His daughter also became ill soon after, and died of cancer in 1997. On December 19 1998, he died in Beijing. The Xinhua News Agency, the official press agency of the PRC government, labelled him "an immortal" - a term usually reserved for revolutionary martyrs

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Another book which makes cry every time i read -- We three

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 20:40:51 +0100

Darling, this is another book which makes me cry every time i read it. i know you will not like it -- you dont like me crying.

but it is really a great piece of art and great real story.

I hope we can have 60 years love together like Yang and Qian, his husband.

12th Dec 2007 London

We Three tells Yang Jiang's family story. The book is written in a unique style. In the first two parts, the author describes an extremely long dream. The scene of final separation is depicted naturally here. However, the seemingly calm narration cannot hide the author?s immense inner pain. Life is just like a dream. That?s what Yang Jiang tells us after experiencing such a dramatic life. The book records their over 60 years? family life, which was, from time to time, struck by poverty, political oppression and even vilification from some green-eyed people.

For many readers, Qian Zhongshu and Yang Jiang are known as a couple that represents the great achievements of modern Chinese literature. Their daughter, Qian Yuan, was less well known. This book just provides an interesting look into their lives. It reveals many real and detailed aspects of their life.

According to He Yan, a reader of this book and also a senior of Shanghai International Studies University, what attracts her most as regards to this book is the quality of realism.

?The description is quite detailed and the story is vividly presented. I can imagine their simple but happy days when studying abroad and hardships they went through and I can almost feel their heartbreaking sorrow when they saw that they were being separated by death.?

According to Luo Ping, Professor of English Language and Literature Department at Shanghai International Studies University, the book is a fascinating look into Yang Jiang?s life. ?We not only enjoy her simple and plain narration, which, however, radiates strong emotions, but also appreciate her mode of thinking and attitudes towards life.?

Indeed, there is a gentle sadness throughout the book. Through Yang Jiang?s recall of the past 60 years? life of them three, we saw a picture of the whole family helping and comforting one another under any difficult circumstance.

Here, let's taste the dreamlike beginning of We Three again.

One night, I made a dream. I took a walk with Zhongshu. We chatted all way along, finally even at a loss where we?d been to. The sun was set. Dusk was gathering, stretching far into the distance. Suddenly, Zhongshu disappeared. I looked for him all around, but there was no trace of him. I shouted, nobody answered me. I was left in the desolate outskirts alone, without knowing where Zhongshu had gone. I cried out his name, his full name. The shout was swallowed by the wilderness, even no sound was echoed. The thorough silence added to the shades of night and also my loneliness. Looking forward, the darkness was getting thicker. A sandy soil road was under my feet with the accompany of woods and flowing water. I cannot tell how broad the stream was. Looking back, it seemed that there were many houses located there. However, no sign of light was seen, I guess, it must be far away?

P.S:

Yang Jiang (Chinese), born 1911 as Yang Jikang (???), is a Chinese playwright, author, and translator. She has written several successful comedies, and is the first person to produce a complete Chinese version of Don Quixote from the Spanish original.

Widow of the scholar-novelist Qian Zhongshu, she has written a memoir called We Three, recalling her husband and her daughter Qian Yuan (1937-1997), who died of cancer one year before her father's death. Another memoir penned by her is Six Records from the Cadre School, a lyrical and humorous record of the difficult times faced by Yang and her husband when they were sent to work on farms in the late 60s and early 70s during the Cultural Revolution.

Sharing her husband's sense of humor, Yang has also rendered the picaresque novels Lazarillo de Tormes and Alain-René Lesage's Gil Blas into Chinese.

Her sister Yang Bi (1922 - 1968) was also a noted translator, largely remembered today for her version of Thackeray's Vanity Fair.

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the book i love -letters from Fulei to his son.

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 20:38:07 +0100

it is a shame i can not find the English version of this book for you Darling -- The letters Fulei wrote to his son, hundreds of letters, very very touching, talking about life, work, love, family, career, art ----

great writer and great individual! lot of love to his son, wife, family,very serious attitude about life and art, very displined individual as well.

every time i read the book, i feel deeply deeply touched.

So darling, just give you an overview about who is Fulei. Hope you can know me more through this.

Fu Lei (傅雷, courtesy name Nu'an 怒安, pseudonym Nu'an 怒庵, 1908-1966), was born near Shanghai and raised by his mother. He studied art and art theory in France from 1928-1932. Upon his return to China, he taught in Shanghai and worked as a journalist and art critic until he took up translating. His translations, which remain highly regarded, include Voltaire, Balzac and Romain Rolland. He developed his own style, the "Fu Lei style," and his own translation theory. Though labeled a rightist in 1957, he persevered until 1966, when, at the start of the Cultural Revolution, he and his wife committed suicide. His letters to his son Fu Cong, a world-renowned pianist, were published posthumously and have become a bestseller in China.

Retrieved from "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fu_Lei"

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Wind in the Willows --Kenneth Grahame

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 11:54:08 +0200

Chapter 1. THE RIVER BANK

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring- cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms.

Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.

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Fight

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 13:01:29 +0200

a big fight this morning -- about washing up, ridiculously.

sometimes I do feel very tired and stressed, after work, the trading business, study, housework, cooking, laundtry, washing up. I am trying to be supportive to him, to help him save money, to share the cost of living but I am not a robot.

I suddenly realized what I have done has not been appreciated by him at all. all I was rewarded is complainning. and he was saying then dont cook --- I cook a lot now because we can not afford to go out for dinner even on the weekend and I cook to give him good food and save him money -- all of this he is not appreciating, how sad I am! I am doing this and that without complaining but he is even complaining about such small things like taking my cups to kitchen ---is this so called mutual respect? is this so called love?

Life overseas is not easy for me as a foreigner emotionally already, plus big pressures from work, plus we dont see the security for future life economically, plus now, he is not willing to do anything for me and he is expecting me to do everything. Sometimes i really wonder how much more I can take on.

John, if you see this, I want you to understand, to love you is not an easy thing. I am doing the best.

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Our blog opened!

Fri, 28 Sep 2007 16:44:52 +0200

Hi darling, I opened this blog today for us only!

Everything happend because of puer, so I named it Puerlove!

I will be writing down some memories here and you are welcome to participate (dont laugh)!

28th Sep 2007

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