Custom tattooed fish (纹身鱼) may be big sellers at markets, but an animal expert say it is a cruel and potentially lethal practice.

    In Laitai Flower and Fish Market near the Lufthansa Center in Beijing, four of over 20 fish stores sell marine ornamental fish that are tattooed using laser (激光) guns with beautiful images in order to make them more attractive to customers. Many people just love these kinds of fish, which gives them a unique visual impression. The price of these fish ranges from 50-100 yuan. Some customers are willing to pay an additional 100 yuan to have Chinese characters tattooed on to the fish. The most popular characters are “zhaocai” (attracting fortune) and “fu” (blessing). The color of tattooed fish won't fade away, and the fish can be cared for as regular fishes:

    But Ye Zhenjiang, a professor from the Ocean University of China, said “the practice would damage a fish's mackerel scale, which is its protective layer. Although I haven't done any research on the impact of the laser on mackerel scale, it is obvious that the mackerel scale may be infected or even destroyed under the exposure of laser,” Ye said. “It's like tattooing a human being's body, and it breaks the physiological balance of the fish and damages: the skin's protective surface, It may even cause death among fishes which have thin mackerel scale.”

    A specialist in aquatic(永生的) animal study surnamed Xu, from the Beijing Fisheries Research Institute, said, “We have no specific regulations to prevent fish from being tattooed. An official surnamed Bai from the Fishery Surveillance and Administration Bureau(FSAB), said there is no study showing that the laser threatened a fish's health. He said a regulation on small animal protection, to be passed in the near future, doesn't include regular aquatic animals. He said the institution is only responsible for aquatic animals that are on the verge of extinction. He said tattooed fish are mainly from south China's Guangdong province because Beijing does not have the laser technology to tattoo a fish.

    “It's too brutal to tattoo pictures or characters on fishes, even if it makes them more beautiful,” many tropical fish buyers told METRO yesterday. “We would never buy fish like that and we prefer them with natural beauty.”

    One day when I was 12, my mother gave me an order: I was to walk to the public library, and borrow at least one book for the summer. This was one more weapon for her to defeat my strange problem — inability to read.

    In the library, I found my way into the “Children's Room.” I sat down on the floor and pulled a few books off the shelf at random. The cover of a book caught my eye. It presented a picture of a beagle. I had recently had a beagle, the first and only animal companion I ever had as a child. He was my secret sharer, but one morning, he was gone, given away to someone who had the space and the money to care for him. I never forgot my beagle.

    There on the book's cover was a beagle which looked identical（相同的）to my dog. I ran my fingers over the picture of the dog on the cover. My eyes ran across the title, Amos, the Beagle with a Plan. Unknowingly, I had read the title. Without opening the book, I borrowed it from the library for the summer.

Under the shade of a bush, I started to read about Amos. I read very, very slowly with difficulty. Though pages were turned slowly, I got the main idea of the story about a dog who, like mine, had been separated from his family and who finally found his way back home. That dog was my dog, and I was the little boy in the book. At the end of the story, my mind continued the final scene of reunion, on and on, until my own lost dog and I were, in my mind, running together.

    My mother's call returned me to the real world. I suddenly realized something: I had read a book, and I had loved reading that book. Everyone knew I could not read. But I had read it. Books could be incredibly wonderful and I was going to read them.

    I never told my mother about my “miraculous” (奇迹般地) experience that summer, but she saw a slow but remarkable improvement in my classroom performance during the next year. And years later, she was proud that her son had read thousands of books, was awarded a PhD in literature, and authored his own books, articles, poetry and fiction. The power of the words has held.

    I grew up poor. We had little money, but plenty of love and attention. I understood that no matter how poor a person was, he could still afford a dream. My dream was athletics.

    By the time I was sixteen, I was good at baseball and football. My high-school coach was Ollie Jarvis. He not only believed in me, but taught me the difference between having a dream and showing conviction(信念).

    One summer a friend recommended me for a summer job. This meant a chance for money in my pocket — cash for dates with girls, certainly, money for a new bike and new clothes, and the start of savings for a house for my mother.

Then I realized I would have to give up summer baseball to handle the work schedule, and that meant I would have to tell Coach Jarvis I wouldn't be playing. I was dreading(害怕) this, but my mother said, "If you make your bed, you have to lie in it."

When I told Coach Jarvis, he was as mad as I expected him to be. "Your playing days are limited. You can't afford to waste them," he said.

    I stood before him with my head hanging, trying to think of the words that would explain to him why I dreamed of buying my mom a house.

"How much are you going to make at this job, son?" he demanded.

"Three twenty-five an hour," I replied.

"Well," he asked, "is $3.25 an hour the price of a dream?"

    That question laid bare for me the difference between wanting something right now and having a goal. I devoted myself to sports that summer, and within the year I was drafted by the Pittsburgh Pirates to play rookie-league ball, and offered a $20,000 contract. I signed with the Denver Broncos in 1984 for $1.7 million, and bought my mother the house of my dream.

    I'm not so sure I like my friends any more. I used to like them — to be honest. We'd have lunch, talk on the phone or exchange e-mails, and they all seemed normal enough. But then came Facebook and I was introduced to a sad fact: many of my friends have dark sides that they had kept from me.

    Today my friends show off the more unpleasant aspects of their personalities via Facebook. No longer hidden, they're thrown in my face like TV commercials — unavoidable and endless advertisements for the worst of their personalities.

    Take Fred. If you were to have lunch with him, you'd find him warm, and down-to-earth. Read his Facebook and you realize he's an unbearable, food-obsessed bore. He'd pause to have a cup of coffee on his way to save a drowning man — and then write about it.

    Take Andy. You won't find a smarter CEO anywhere, but now he's a CEO without a company to lull. So he plays Mafia Wars on Facebook. He's doing well — level 731. Thanks to Facebook, I know he's playing about 18 hours a day. Andy, you've run four companies — and this is how you spend your downtime(业余时间)? What happened to golf? What happened to getting another job?

    Take Liz. She is positive that the H1N1 vaccine(甲流疫苗) will kill us all and that we should avoid it. And then comes Chris who likes to post at least 20 times a day on every website he can find, so I get to read his thoughts twice, once on Facebook and once on Twitter.

    In real life, I don't see these sides of people. Face to face, my friends show me their best. They're nice, smart people. But face to Facebook, my friends are like a blind date which goes horribly wrong.

    I'm left with a dilemma. Who is my real friend? Is it the Liz I have lunch with or the anti-vaccine lunatic(狂人)on Facebook? Is it the Fred I can grab a sandwich with or the Fred who weeps if he's at a party and the wine isn't up to his standards?

    Allen Cook and his daughter Melissa were renovating(整修) her house, when they found a beautiful, heart-warming love story. "The envelope in the ceiling was old and yellow. It had never been opened, It was unbelievable when my son-in-low started reading it. In the letter she was talking about the baby she was going to have," Allen Cook said.

    The story began in May 4, 1945, the typed letter was written by a woman named Virginia to her husband, Rolf Christoffersen. At the time, he was a sailor in the Norwegian navy. The envelope was marked "return to sender" and never found its way to her husband. Allen's daughter used the Internet to find the phone number of someone named Rolf Christoffersen and gave him a call, leading her to his son in Santa Barbara, California.

    "Someone called me at my office. They just googled my name because I have the same name as my father. Melissa asked me where I grew up and I told her. She told me she had the letter," Christoffersen's son, 66 now, said. The younger Christoffersen wasn't yet born when his mother Virginia wrote the letter, but he said her words were very special to him. His mother, who died six years ago, wrote about her love for her husband.

    "I love you Rolf, as I love the warm sun, and that is what you are for my life, the sun about which everything else revolves around me," she wrote. Seventy-two years later, her words were finally heard by her husband. Christoffersen immediately called his father, who is now 96. And read the letter to him over the phone. "I was so surprised after all these years. I was very emotional," the elder Christoffersen said.

    The long-lost letter was finally received just before Mother's Day; it was another tangible connection to Virginia Christoffersen. "It's Mother's Day and reading her words reminded me just what a wonderful person she was and how much she loved us" her son said, through tears.

Last year, I baked biscuits for complete strangers to say "thank you". I'd had to call 999 because I found my husband unconscious on the floor. Within minutes, a police car arrived and soon my husband received medical care in hospital.

A week later, when I dropped off still-warm biscuits and presented a thank-you note at the police station, the policemen thanked me for delivering gifts.

I drove away feeling light and happy. Later, I realized that my natural high might have been more than it seemed. Research has shown that sharing gratitude has positive effects on health. People who express gratitude will increase their happiness levels, lower their blood pressure and get better sleep.

What about people who receive gratitude? Research has confirmed that when people receive thanks, they experience positive emotions. "Those are happy surprises," says Jo-Ann Tsang, a professor of psychology. When someone is thanked, he's more likely to return the favouror pass kindness on, and his chances of being helpful again doubles, probably because he enjoys feeling socially valued.

The give-and-take of gratitude also deepens relationships. Studies show that when your loved ones regularly express gratitude, making you feel appreciated, you're more likely to return appreciative feelings, which leads to more satisfactory in your relationships.

Nowadays, however, many people don't express gratitude. Our modern lifestyle may be to blame. With commercial and social media, everything is speeding the younger generation to feel they're the centre of the world. If it's all about them, why thank others?

Why not thank others? Just take a look at how many positive effects can saying "thank you" have on personal health—and the well-being of others.

If you aren't particularly grateful, I strongly suggest you learn to be. People who are instructed to keep gratitude journals, in which they write down positive things that happen to them, cultivate（培养） gratitude over time.