KtyL's blog

Although everything we use costs money, money isn't everything in our lives. There are many things that you can't buy with money in our lives, such as health or relationship. With more money, of course you can gain access to a more comfortable material life, but it doesn't mean you will be healthier. Not everything that makes us comfortable makes us healthy as well. Tasty, expensive food may not be as rich in nutrients as cheap ones. A "comfortable" life often means less exercise for the body. Moreover, usually one has to work very hard to earn lots of money, and the pressure coming along certainly won't do any good to one's health. What makes one healthy is not money; on the contrary, more money usually makes one tend to choose those life styles that are not so good for one's health.

It's also very obvious that money can't buy relationships. Your family and friends don't become intimate with you because of your money, but because of the time you spend together, the memories you go through together, and the feelings you share together. Those things can't be measured with money. If you lose opportunities of being with family when you're working hard to earn more money, you can't buy those opportunities back with the extra money you earned. Relationships can't be bought with money. If a person is willing to be your friend only because of the money you have, he or she is not a true friend you can trust.

We all agree that only with money can we gain basic living standards, but it doesn't mean with more money we will be happier. Many things in our lives require money, but there are still things that do not appear even if we have huge amounts of money. They require other things than it. Money isn't everything in our lives.

Nothing to be worried about.

"Bob," I interrupted Bob's endless chattering. "Thank you. Thank you so much. If you didn't speak up for me, I may have been taken as the suspect now! I'm so glad that I have a friend like you."

"Ah, it's nothing." Bob waved impatiently, but I can see that he was flattered. "But it's still strange that he has that portrait..." His voice nearly faded away, but I still heard it.

"Portrait? What portrait?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing important." Bob didn't look me in the eyes. "It's just -  well, let's put it in this way. The man showed me a piece of drawing, which he claimed to be the one indicating one of the kidnapper's appearance. Um...well, I have to admit that it did look perfectly like you. Almost like a photograph, I'd say."

I didn't reply.

"And then...well, that's why I let him continue asking things like your alibi. But... I have no doubt in your innocence at the first place! You see, although the portrait looked just like your identical twin, anyone can distinguish you and the person in the drawing. You have a mole on your left cheek, right? Well, in that portrait it was on the right side. That guy also said the girl was pretty sure that it was on the right cheek, according to the police. You have an alibi on March 22nd, and you are apparently not the person that girl saw. Well, what else can one conclude? You are definitely innocent."

"Oh, I... I see. Thank you, Bob."

1045 words so far...

The next part will end this story and reveal all the truth. Wish me luck so that I can hand it out on time...

When I finished my meal and went to pay my bill, I asked Bob about the strange man.

"Oh, I'm just about to tell you that. That guy claimed to be a detective. Funny, huh? That outfit of him, say, is just like that one of Dick Tracy's. Oh, that's not the point. He asked me whether I knew where you were on 8 PM on March 22nd or not. And you know what he was up to? "Bob lowered his voice to a hiss."It seems that he thinks you are involved in the kidnapping of Janet Cole."

My heartbeat speeded up a little. The kidnapping of Janet Cole...

Janet Cole, the 22-year-old college student disappeared on her way home on March 22nd. The kidnappers asked 200,000 dollars for releasing her. The police didn't catch them when they took the money away; in fact, no one saw how they got the money. It's just like the money vanished in the air, and the unconscious girl popped up at the same place. Because she had lost her consciousness, she couldn't give any information about the criminals. The investigation hadn't made much progress ever since the girl was released - at least that's what the police told the mass media.

But how come did I become a suspect?

I tried to hide my tension from my face. But it seemed that I failed.

"Now, now, dude, don't worry!" Bob noticed my nervous look. "You are absolutely innocent! Me and the others can prove it for you, I told that guy. You have a - What do they call that? Oh, alibi. You've got a perfect alibi. You, Tom, Richard and I- We had a nice chat here on that night. Richard took a picture of all four of us, remember?"

Yes, I remembered. Tom, Richard and me - we are all regular customers of Emily, and good friends of Bob's. That night we had dinner and a long talk together. Richard brought his new Polaroid with him and we decided to take a picture together. Bob took the photo and pinned it on the notice board behind the counter. On the photo there were signatures of all four of us and...

"Yeah, the date! Those bright little red digits on the bottom-right corner clearly show that you were with us on March 22nd, 8:30 PM. All three of us can prove it. And we have this photo. I remember that Richard even checked the date before taking the picture. Well, I showed the photo to our dear Mr. Detective and told him all these things. He seemed to finally understand and went away without arguing. At least he's a sensible man. You can't run about pointing finger at anyone and says that he's a suspect, I say..."

I didn't listen to what Bob was chattering on. Yes, I have witnesses, and a photo to be evidence. It was clear that I was here, miles away from the road Janet Cole always walks home, when the kidnappers got the poor girl. Nothing to be worried about...

783 words so far, and I have told about half the story in my mind. Maybe it will end up to be exact 1,500 words?

The story is very simple. Emma Woodhouse, the heroine of this novel, was a "handsome, clever, and rich" young woman. She was in charge of nearly everything at home, and had power over her friends. She thought that she was always right, as people around her agreed with her most of the time. After her governess, Miss Taylor, got married and moved away.With no one giving Emma proper advice, Emma started to get invovled with matchmaking for people around her. And her conceit eventually led to a devastating result. At the end of the story, Emma finally recoginized her fault, and got her own happiness: being married to Mr. Kightley, who has been her good friend and was the only one that ever told her she was wrong.

But to me, it seems like too many details were removed from this retold version. Maybe it was because I read too fast and become heedless, but I was really surprised when Mr. Kightley told Emma that he loved her. In all the previous chapters, Mr. Kightley had always behaved like a cousin or an older brother of Emma (at least in my opinion). The ending seems too abrupt to me, so I decided to find the original version to read again. There might be more description about how Emma and Mr. Kightley's feelings to each other change to love in the original. I guess so.

I was interested in this topic because I was fond of math ever since I had been in elementary school. But after listening to this lecture, something else caught my attention. Dr. Lam's lecture consisted lots of short stories. He showed us some jokes about people who knew nothing about math, and very interesting , these people were often described as women.

There is a strange prejudice agianst women saying that men do far better than women on mathematics. Maybe it's true that few women were outstanding in math and science before, but it was because of that women had hardly any acess to education in the past, and their achivements were rarely recorded. Even Sophie Germain, who made contributions in number theory that eventually lead to the final soluion of Fermat's Last Theorem, and had a great achievement in the elasticity of plate vibrations, were listed not as a mathmatician or a scientist, but a person of private means- a woman having no jobs and being unmarried- after her death.

Maybe there were much more women than we know having great acheivements in fields other than taking care of their own family, but never being recorded?

We can never know about it...

It was Saturday night. I left the jewelry store at six pm, and went to the restaurant, "Emily", to have dinner. I was a bit of anxious then, so I felt going to one of my favorite restaurant might help.

It looked like the business of Emily was better than usual that day. The whole place was filled with chatters and laughter coming from everywhere. Bob, the owner of the restaurant, didn't even have time to raise his head when I greeted him. I felt a little relieved when I found myself a table and sat down.

But I didn't enjoy the joyful atmosphere for even 5 minutes. After I made my order, I felt someone looking at me. And I could tell that it was in a very unfriendly way, like a predator kept an eye on its prey. Trying not to be noticed by any other people, I carefully looked around. Then I found him. A man in a long dirty yellowish coat with a hat, pretended to be reading newspaper. He sat not far away from me, so I could know in a quick glance that he was actually watching me over the edge of papers.

I was being watched. But why? I was both confused and nervous. But the man seemed to be more restless than I was. Just as I finished my drink, the man rose up and walked toward the counter. He talked to Bob for a minute. I saw he showed something to Bob, but Bob shook his head firmly. Then the man left the restaurant.

I finished my meal in a hurry. When I went to pay my bill, I asked Bob about the strange man...

Well, that's all I have written so far. I tried to made it a mysterious one, but right now it seems a little silly. Well, I guess that's all right. I still have plenty of time to work on it, and I will work hard. Or I think I will.