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    Whenever you do things you don't like, you will start to hate yourself a bit more. You will hate yourself for not being consistent. For doing things you know that you don't want to do, another stress is right there.

Do less

    This is one of the hardest things, especially for me. I'm doing too many things at the same time. In itself, doing many different things to figure out what works and what doesn't isn't that hard. {#blank#}2{#/blank#} .But at some point you need to

     let go of the things that don't work and focus on the things that work. And that's the hardest part, at least for me.

    {#blank#}3{#/blank#} .And if you always try to make everything work, you'll usually end up with nothing working at all.

Get rid of complicated things

    There are many complicated（复杂的）things in life. Complicated relationships, complicated jobs, complicated whatever. what all of these things do is that they steal our focus. {#blank#}4{#/blank#} 

Read books, not blogs

    Blogs consist of too much information for our brains to process. Blogs usually leave out the story our brains need. {#blank#}5{#/blank#} Don't believe me? Try it. What parts of this blog post do you remember? Probably none.

A. It's actually quite good.

B. Never hate to be yourself

C. Don't do things you don't like.

D. I always try to make everything work.

E. Our brains can make up a good story.

F. They also add an extra stress to our lives.

G. Our brains need a story to remember things.

    When I was eight or nine years old, I wrote my first poem.

My mother read the little poem and began to cry. "Buddy, you didn't really write this beautiful, beautiful poem!" Shyly, I said that I had. My mother poured out her welcome praise. Why, this poem was nothing short of genius!

What time will Father be home?" I asked. I could hardly wait to show him what I had accomplished. My mother said she hoped he would be home around 7. I spent the best part of that afternoon preparing for his arrival. First, I wrote the poem out in my finest handwriting. Then I used colored pens to draw a border around it. Then I confidently placed it right on my father's plate on the dining table. But my father did not return at 7, Seven-fifteen, Seven-thirty. My father had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. He would be able to appreciate my poem even more than my mother.

    It was almost 8 o'clock when my father burst in. He was an hour late, but he could not sit down. I can see him now, a big Havana cigar in one hand, the rapidly disappearing drink in the other, calling down bitter words on his employees.

    Suddenly, he paused and glared at his plate. There was a silence. He was reaching for my poem. I lowered my head and stared down into my plate.

"What is this?" I heard him say.

"Ben, a wonderful thing has happened," my mother said. "Buddy has written his first poem. And it's beautiful, absolutely amazing".

"If you don't mind, I'd like to decide that for myself," Father said.

I kept my face lowered to my plate. It was only 10 lines long. But it seemed to take hours. I remember wondering why it was taking so long. I could hear him dropping the poem back on the table again. Now was the moment of decision.

"I think it's bad," my father said.

    I couldn't look up. My eyes were getting wet.

"Ben, sometimes I don't understand you," my mother was saying. "This is just a little boy. You're not in your studio now. These are the first lines of poetry he's ever written. He need encouragement."

"I don't know why," my father held his ground. "Isn't there enough bad poetry in the world already? No law says Buddy has to become a poet."

    I couldn't stand it another second. I ran from the dining room, threw myself on the bed and cried.

    That may have been the end of the anecdote(轶事) — but not of its significance for me.

    A few years later I took a second look at that first poem, and unwillingly I had to agree with my father's tough judgment. It was a pretty bad poem. After a while, I worked up the courage to show him something new, a short story. My father thought it was overwritten but not hopeless. I was learning to rewrite. And my mother was learning that she could disapprove of me without ruining me. You might say we were all learning. I was going on 12.

As I worked my way into other books and plays and films, it became clearer and clearer to me how fortunate I had been to have had a mother who said, "Buddy, it's wonderful!" and a father who shook his head no and drove me to tears with his, "I think it's bad." In fact all of us in life need that mother force, the loving force from which all creation flows; and yet the mother force alone is incomplete, even misleading, finally damaging, without the father force to caution, "Watch. Listen. Review. Improve." Between the two poles of affirmation (肯定) and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true course.

    Art is considered by many people to be no more than a decorative means of giving pleasure. This is not always the case, however, at times, art may be seen to have a purely functional side as well. Such could be said of the sandpaintings of the Navaho Indians of the American Southwest; these have a medicinal as well as an artistic purpose.

    According to Navaho traditions, one who suffers from either a mental or a physical illness has in some way disturbed or get in touch with the supernatural—perhaps a certain animal, a ghost, or the dead. To break away from this, the ill person or one of his relatives will employ a medical man called a "singer" to perform a curing ceremony which will attract a powerful supernatural being. During the ceremony, which may last from 2 to 9 days, the "singer" will produce a sandpainting on the floor. On the last day of the ceremony, the patient will sit on this sandpainting and the "singer" will rub the sick or injured parts of the patient's body with sand from a specific figure in the sandpainting. In this way the patient absorbs the power of that particular supernatural being and becomes strong. After the ceremony, the sandpainting is destroyed so its power won't harm anyone.

    The art of sandpainting is handed down from old "singers". The materials used are easily found where the Navaho settle: brown, red, yellow, and white sandstone, which is ground（研磨）much as corn is made into flour. The "singer" holds a small amount of this sand in his hand and lets it flow between his fingers onto a clean, flat surface on the floor, with a steady hand and great patience. He is thus able to create designs of stylized people, snakes and other creatures that have power in the Navaho belief system. The traditional Navaho doesn't allow copying sandpaintings, since he believes the supernatural powers that taught him the craft have forbidden this; however, such reproductions can in fact be purchased today in tourist shops in Arizona and New Mexico. These are done by either Navaho Indians or by other people who wish to preserve this craft.

    It's such a happy-looking library, painted yellow, decorated with palm-tree stickers and sheltered from the Florida sun by its own roof. About the size of a microwave oven, it's pedestrian-friendly, too, waiting for book lovers next to a sidewalk in Palm Beach country Estates, along the northern boundary of Palm Beach Gardens.

    It's a library built with love.

  A year ago, shortly after Janey Henriksen saw a Brian Williams report about the Little Free Library organization, a Wisconsin-based nonprofit that aims to promote literacy and build a sense of community in a neighborhood by making books freely available, she announced to her family of four, “That's what we're going to do for our spring break!”

    Son Austin, now a 10th-grader, didn't see the point of building a library that resembles a mailbox. But Janey insisted, and husband Peter unwillingly got to work. The 51-year-old owner of a ship supply company modified a small wooden house that he'd built years earlier for daughter Abbie's toy horses, and made a door of glass.

    After adding the library's final touches (装点), the family hung a signboard on the front, instructing users to “take a book, return a book,” and making the Henriksen library, now one of several hundred like it nationwide and among more than 2,500 in the world, the only Little Free Library in Palm Beach County.

    They stocked it with 20 or so books they'd already read, a mix of science fiction, reference titles, novels and kids' favorites. “I told them, keep in mind that you might not see it again,” said Janey, a stay-at-home mom.

    Since then, the collection keeps replenishing (补充) itself, thanks to ongoing donations from borrowers. The library now gets an average of five visits a day.

    The project's best payoff, says Peter, are the thank-you notes left behind. “We had no idea in the beginning that it would be so popular.”  (317 words)

    Singapore's public transport system is one of the best in the world, so you should have no problem finding your way around like a local. There are three main forms of public transport that you would find in any other major city－trains, buses and taxis.

TRAINS

    Trains run from 6:00 am to midnight. Single trip tickets start at 80 cents. If you buy an EZ-Link card for $15, you can ride the trains and buses as you like.

If you need more information, just call Transit Link on 1800 767 4333.

BUSES

    There are several bus services in Singapore and fares start at 80 cents. Be sure always ask the driver the cost of your ticket as he cannot give change.

If you need help, just call Transit Link on 1800 767 4333.

TAXIS

    There are three main taxi companies－City Cab (6552 2222), Comfort (6552 1111) and Tibs (6552 8888). Booking can also be easy by calling the numbers listed above.

RENTAL CARS

    Driving in Singapore is a pleasure and if you like to travel at your own pace, renting a car is a good choice. Renting takes away the hassle of getting to places around Singapore. Just sit back and enjoy the city. It also means you'll get to see a lot more that a trains or a bus won't let you see.

    For car rental, call Avis on +65 6737 1668.

    It sounds almost too good to be true, but a new study on sleeping brains suggests that listening to languages while you sleep can actually help you to learn them.

    For the study, researchers played recordings of foreign words and their translations to subjects enjoying slow-wave sleep, a stage when a person has little consciousness of their environment. To ensure that the results were not compromised by foreign language words that subjects may have had some contact with at some point in their waking lives, researchers made up totally nonexistent foreign words.

    When the subjects woke up, they were presented with the made-up words again without their translations. The subjects were then asked to imagine whether this made-up word indicated an object that was either smaller or larger. This vague(模糊的)way of testing their understanding of the words is an approach that is supposed to tap into the unconscious memory.

    Unbelievably, the subjects were able to correctly classify the words in this way at an accuracy rate that was 10 percent higher than random chance. That's not a rate high enough to have them suddenly communicating in a foreign tongue, but it is enough to suggest that the brain is still absorbing information on some level, even during sleep.

    Researchers have long known that sleep is important for memory, but previously its role in memory was thought to relate only to the preservation and organization of memories acquired during wakefulness. This is the first time that memory formation has been shown to be active during sleep.

    In other words, our brains are listening to the world, and learning about it, even when our conscious selves are not present.

    The next step for researchers will be to see if new information can be 1earned quicker during wakefulness if it was already presented during sleep. If so, it could forever change how we train our brains to learn new things. Sleep learning might become a widespread practice.