We are seeking for qualified and experienced candidates to join our fast growing team for the following positions at Ratchathewi (Head Office), Pracha – Uthit (site), Pantai Norasing (site), Thepharak (site), and a few other incoming projects in Bangkok.

●Project Managers

—Degree in Civil / Structural Engineering

—Minimum 7 years' working experience in similar capacity, preferably in building construction.

—Ability to plan and execute works, keep deadlines, control cost and implement continual quality improvement

—Possess leadership attributes, good interpersonal and follow-up skill to motivate subordinates and develop team spirit

—Possess a valid driving license

●Accounting Officer

—Degree in Accounting

—Minimum 1~2 years accounting experience

—Knowledge of accounting packages & spreadsheets

●Account Executive / Finance Executive

—Degree in Accounting

—Preferably 3 years' accounting experience VAT, Withholding tax compliance & submission

—Knowledge of accounting packages & spreadsheets

—Expert at English and Thai (泰国语) spoken or written

—Ability to handle full set accounts

●Senior Admin. Asst.

—Minimum 5 years experience in Building Construction company is preferable

—Computer literate with knowledge in Microsoft Office

—Good command of both written and oral English compulsory

—Female preferred

●Site Supervisor

—Diploma / Certificate in Building or Civil Engineering

—Minimum 5 years' working experience in building construction or precast (预制的) concrete manufacturing

—Able to work independently and co–ordinate work effectively

    All positions mention above requires candidates with good command of both written and oral English. Interested candidate, please send your application stating full qualification, work experience and expected salary together with a copy of transcript and a recent photograph to the address below:

ASCE Construction Limited.

503/19E K.S.L. Tower (11TH Floor), Sri-Ayudthaya Rd., Thanon Phayathai,

Ratchathewi, Bangkok 10400

TEL: -02642-6272 , 02642-6120

FAX: -02642-6273

E-MAIL: asce_construction@hotmail.com

    Why not write in a foreign language? If people feel free to choose their profession, their religion, and even their sex, why not just decide which language you want to write? Ever since Jhumpa published In Other Words in Italian, people have been asking me, “Why don't you write in Italian, Tim? After all, you've been in the country 35 years. What keeps you tied to English?” Is it just a question of economic convenience?

    Certainly economics can be important. It was the factor that pushed Conrad to abandon his Polish mother tongue. If it is not possible to publish at home, or to publish there as one would wish to publish, then one is likely to go elsewhere. And if to publish elsewhere one has to change language, then some authors are willing to take that step.

    Something of the same logic has driven many writers from Africa, Asia to write in French and English in recent years. There is also the fact that people in Europe and the West are interested in the countries they grew up in. Just as in the nineteenth century, novelists like Thomas Hardy could “sell” their familiarity with peasant life to a middle-class metropolitan public, so these writers have interested us with stories that might seem common in their home countries.

    There is also a real internationalism in the decision to change language. If you have “a message” and if English is the language that offers maximum spread, then it would seem appropriate to use it.

    All these make sense. Critics tend to pay attention only to those who have made a success of writing in a new language. In April 2014, a New York Times article essentially listed young literary stars who had switched to writing in the main Western languages. At this point, the native English speaker almost begins to feel at a disadvantage for having been born into the dominant culture. Should we perhaps head for Paris, like Beckett or Jonathan Littell, just to be between two worlds? Or look for something more exotic(异国的) and have ourselves translated back into English afterward? However, one fact is that changing languages doesn't always work.

    I did write a novel in Italian. But after rereading it, I decided against it. My work lost power with the switch of language. My real subject matter still had to do with England and it was to my home culture that my books were addressed. The second language never seems to mean quite as much as the first. In any event, after my early experiment, I never went back to write in Italian. Changing language is not the only way to bring energy to your writing.

    Being an astronaut sounds cool, doesn't it? In space, they get to do some pretty amazing things, like floating (漂浮) in zero gravity(重力).

    However, there are also plenty of things that astronauts can't do because of their weightless environment(环境), and that's very sad. What's worse, they can't even let their sadness show -because it's impossible to cry in zero gravity.

    Of course, astronauts can still produce tears. But crying is much more difficult in space, reported The Atlantic in January. Without gravity；tears don't flow downward out of the eyes like they do here on Earth. This means that when you cry in space, your tears have nowhere to go — they just stick to your eyes.

    In May 2011, astronaut Andrew Feustel experienced this during one of his spacewalks. "Tears," he said, "don't fall off your eye...They just kind of stay there."

    Besides making your vision(视觉) unclear, this can also cause physical pain. Back on Earth, tears are supposed to bring comfort to the eyes. But that's not the case in space. The space environment dries out astronauts' eyes, and when tears suddenly wet the eyes, it can cause pain rather than comfort. "My right eye is painful like crazy." Feustel told his teammate during the walk.

    Since gravity doesn't work in space, astronauts need some extra help to get rid of the tears. Feustel chose to rub his eyes against his helmet to wipe the tears away. Another choice is to just wait — "When the tears get big enough they simply break free of the eye and float around," astronaut Ron Parise told The Atlantic.

    There are lots of small things — things like crying — that we are so used to on Earth, we usually take them for granted, until they become a problem in a totally different environment, like space. There, astronauts can't talk to each other directly. They also can't eat or drink in normal ways. They can't even burp (打嗝), because there is no gravity to hold the food down in their stomach. If they do burp, they just end up throwing up (呕吐) everything in their stomach, according to the UK National Space Center.

    Thus, perhaps it's only space explorers who can honestly say, "Gravity, you're the best."

    Have you ever wondered what the longest word in the English language is? Believe it or not, there's no simple answer to the question. You might think it would be as easy as opening a dictionary and looking for the longest word. However, it's far more complicated (复杂的) than that.

    Over time, many people have suggested many different words for the title of the longest word in English. How can that be? That's because the first thing that people have different opinions on is what should be considered a word. Some of the words were simply made up to be the longest! For example, there is one really famous long word that most kids know. It comes from Disney's movie Mary Poppins: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, which means wonderful. But since that 34-letter word was made up simply to be sung as a song in a movie, should it count?

    How about long words that actually describe something in the world? Scientists have come up with several possible choices. The name of a virus(病毒) totals 1,185 letters. There's also a protein(蛋白质) whose name totals 1, 909 letters. Should these win the title? "Not so fast!" say some people. Are these words ever actually used? Can they even be pronounced? And are they meaningful just because they are made up to be long?

    If you're wondering about some long words in common English, here are some examples. Those words include uncharacteristically (20 letters), deinstitutionalization(22 letters) and counterrevolutionaries (also 22 letters) Or perhaps the word "smiles" is the longest word in English. Sure, it has only six letters, but there is a "mile between the first and the last letters!

    Every person plans to run off to some tropical isle, but few do. Real life, family, work, and monetary limitations get in the way. Ian Fleming let none of these considerations stop him.

    After the war, Fleming set down his schedule. The first week of January saw him leave England and travel to Jamaica. The first week of March saw his return. He accepted his job at Kemsley newspapers without compromise—this portion of the year would be set aside for Jamaica or he would look elsewhere for employment.

    For 6 years Fleming traveled each winter to Jamaica, lounging in paradise, romancing women, chasing the sunset, but it was not until he faced the pressure of a married woman who was pregnant with his child did Fleming start the writer's journey which would change his life and popular culture forever. As Fleming waited in Jamaica for Anne's divorce to become final, he wrote the first draft of a novel, Casino Royale.

    Fleming's career as a writer deserves more examination than can be offered here, but suffice it to say, over the next 12 years, Ian Fleming transformed his elite existence, his arrogance, his style, and his acid wit into some of the greatest thrillers ever written. Fleming incurred the respect of authors as diverse as Raymond Chandler, Kingsley Amis, and Edith Sitwell. His fans included John, Jackie, and Bobby Kennedy, and his social circle included Prime Minister Anthony Eden, Evelyn Waugh, and Somerset Maugham.

    Fleming filled out the 12 years of Bond with great adventure journalism. Even in stories which had little action or pay off, such as his short non-fiction book, The Diamond Smugglers, the "Fleming-flair" ensured exciting reading. He wrote the "Atticus" column for the Sunday Times, proving a wonderful conduit for inside intelligence information, and clever rebukes (指责).

    Regardless of book sales or family obligations, Fleming managed to live the life he wanted. As the years passed, his passion for golfing increased so he took more time with it. Fleming's long-term fascination with America grew, so he traveled there more often.

    Ian Fleming's full life caught up with him through his heart. It may be that years of drinking and smoking took their toll, or that the butter-rich cooking Fleming loved was the culprit. Or maybe it was just genetics. Whatever the cause, Fleming's health declined in the late 1950s. This plus anxieties in the marriage increased Fleming's depression. With the success of Bond, the world came knocking at Fleming's door, and he had a harder time shutting those out that he did not want in his life.

    Nonetheless, Fleming fought the loosing battle of his weakening heart by throwing more fuel on the fire. He continued to drink and smoke, making some excuses but not many. He wrote books he wanted to read, and traveled the world with style and authority. By this time, Fleming had already earned his own fortune, created his own identity, and ruled his own literary empire.

    I was ten when my father first sent me flowers. I had been taking ballet lessons for four months, and the school was giving its yearly performance. As a member of the beginners' chorus group, I was surprised to hear my name called out at the end of the show along with the leading dancers and to find my arms full of red roses. I can still feel myself standing on that stage, seeing my father's big smiles.

    Those roses were the first of many bunches accompanying all the milestones in my life. Getting all those roses was wonderful, but they brought a sense of embarrassment. I enjoyed them, but I also felt they were too much for my small achievements.

    Not for my father. He did everything in a big way. Once, when mother told him I needed a new party dress, he brought home a dozen. His behavior often left us without money for other more important things. Sometimes I would be angry with him.

    Then came my 16th birthday. It was not a happy occasion. I was fat and had no boyfriend. And my well-meaning father furthered my suffering by giving me a party. As I entered the dining room, there on the table next to my cake was a huge bunch of flowers, bigger than any before.

    I wanted to hide. Now everyone would think my father had sent flowers because I had no boyfriend to do it. Sweet 16, and I felt like crying. But my best friend, Jenny, whispered, "Boy, you're lucky to have a father like that."

    As the years passed, other occasions—birthdays, awards, graduations—were marked with Dad's flowers. Those flowers symbolized his pride, and my success. As my fortunes grew, my father's health became worse, but his gifts of flowers continued until he died. I covered his coffin with the largest, reddest roses I could find.

    Often during the dozen years since, I felt an urge to buy a big bunch to fill the living room, but I never did. I knew it would not be the same.

    Then one birthday, the doorbell rang. I was feeling blue because I was alone. My husband and my two daughters were away. My 10-year-old son, Tommy, had run out earlier with a "see you later". So I was surprised to see Tommy at the door. "Forgot my key," he said. "Forgot your birthday too." He pulled a bunch of roses from behind his back.

    "Oh, Tommy," I cried. "I love flowers!"