Most people know precious gemstones (宝石) by their appearances. An emerald flashes deep green, a ruby seems to hold a red fire inside, and a diamond shines like a star. It's more difficult to tell where the gem was mined, since a diamond from Australia or Arkansas may appear the same to one from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. However, recently, a team of scientists has found a way to identify a gemstone's origin.

    Beneath the surface of a gemstone, on the tiny level of atoms and molecules（分子）, lie clues (线索) to its origin. At this year's meeting of the Geological Society of America in Minneapolis, Catherine McManus reported on a technique that uses lasers (激光) to clarify these clues and identify a stone's homeland. McManus directs scientific research at Materialytics, in Killeen, Texas. The company is developing the technique. “With enough data, we could identify which country, which mining place, even the individual mine a gemstone comes from,” McManus told Science News.

    Some gemstones, including many diamonds, come from war-torn countries. Sales of those “blood minerals” may encourage violent civil wars where innocent people are injured or killed. In an effort to reduce the trade in blood minerals, the U.S. government passed law in July 2010 that requires companies that sell gemstones to determine the origins of their stones.

    To figure out where gemstones come from, McManus and her team focus a powerful laser on a small sample of the gemstone. The technique is called laser-induced breakdown spectroscopy. Just as heat can turn ice into water or water into steam, energy from the laser changes the state of matter of the stone. The laser changes a miniscule part of the gemstone into plasma, a gas state of matter in which tiny particles（微粒）called electrons separate from atoms.

    The plasma, which is superhot, produces a light pattern. (The science of analyzing this kind of light pattern is called spectroscopy.) Different elements produce different patterns, but McManus and her team say that gemstones from the same area produce similar patterns. Materialytics has already collected patterns from thousands of gemstones, including more than 200 from diamonds. They can compare the light pattern from an unknown gemstone to patterns they do know and look for a match. The light pattern acts like a signature, telling the researchers the origin of the gemstone.

    In a small test, the laser technique correctly identified the origins of 95 out of every 100 diamonds. For gemstones like emeralds and rubies, the technique proved successful for 98 out of every 100 stones. The scientists need to collect and analyze more samples, including those from war-torn countries, before the tool is ready for commercial use.

    Scientists like Barbara Dutrow, a mineralogist from Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge, find the technique exciting. “This is a basic new tool that could provide a better fingerprint of a material from a particular locality,” she told Science News.

    During my early twenties, to make my parents stop feeling angry, and simply to escape, I decided to live in my birthplace for a period of time, something I'd sworn I would never do. My parents were thrilled. They prayed that I'd come back triumphantly with a picture－perfect bridegroom. That was the furthest thing from my mind as I packed my faded jeans, tank tops, boots, and a photo of my freckle－faced then－boyfriend who was of Scottish descent.

    The moment I landed in Seoul, I was aware of how much I felt like a misfit. All my life I had tried to blend into the dominant culture and couldn't. And finally, when I was in a place where everyone looked like me, I still stood out. I took it for granted that I'd feel a sense of freedom. I thought I'd blend into the landscape. This was not the case. People stared at me with curious eyes. I became conscious of my American－girl swaggering body movements and inappropriate dress.

    Collecting my courage, I traveled to the demilitarized zone on my own. I touched the high barbed－wire fence that stretched across the belly of the peninsula(半岛), dividing Korea in half. I visited thousand－year－old temples and magnificent palace gates that had survived modernization and centuries of battle. I met with distant cousins who welcomed me with outstretched arms into their homes and related heroic tales about my mother and Halmoni (Grandmother) during the war. How Halmoni had led her young children out of north to the United Nation－backed south. How my mother, at the age of thirteen, saved the life of her baby sister.

    I listened with such an overwhelming thirst that when I returned to the States a year and a half later, I began to ask my parents and Halmoni (who had immigrated to the States some time after we did) all about the past. The past was no longer a time gone by, a dead weight. I now saw that it held ancient treasures. And the more I dug and discovered, the more I felt myself being steered toward a future I had never imagined for myself. I began to write. I didn't even know I could write. My family helped me knit stories into a book using Halmoni's voice. As her powerful words moved through me I was able to reflect and meditate on the ridiculous life I had fashioned for myself. I could feel my sense of self rising. This sparked a newfound awareness and excitement. I became a spokeswoman on Korean culture, traveling to various college campuses across the country. “Be proud. Embrace your heritage.” I said to young Korean American students wearing extra－large, trendy sportswear. But the whole time I was lecturing, I had very little understanding of what that self－concept meant. I was merely talking the talk. I hadn't yet fully embraced my own identity.

    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.

    Tim Ma's parents came to the United States from Taiwan in the 1970s. They opened a restaurant. It was not a success. They found success in America, however, in computers and engineering. In part because of their own experiences, Ma's parents hoped he would study to become an engineer or doctor. They wanted financial security for their child.

    Growing up, Ma considered many professions—writer, fireman, even president. But he had a sense early on… I didn't want to be an engineer. However, Ma did well in math and science classes in high school and he ended up choosing to study electrical engineering in college.

    Several engineering jobs later, though, Ma had a change of heart. He wanted to leave the engineering world behind and enter the restaurant business. It was in his blood. After all, his parents had owned a Chinese restaurant in Arkansas. His uncle also owned one in New York.

    His parents, Ma says, could not understand why he would want to leave such a good job to open a restaurant. They had worked long hours but their own restaurant still failed. They kept asking. Why?

    But Ma remained certain. He was going to do things differently than his parents. He was able to learn from their one major mistake as restaurant owners—they knew very little about the art of cooking. So, at age 30, Ma left engineering and returned to school—cooking school.

    Ma soon learned that he enjoyed cooking. In 2009, Ma opened his first restaurant in Virginia. It is called Maple Avenue. At Maple Avenue, Ma cooked, cleaned the ovens, fixed equipment and paid bills. He worked long hours, seven days a week. His long hours paid off. Ma opened his fourth restaurant last year, Kyirisan in Washington, D.C.

    Kyirisan's success is due to the creative menu and food, Ma says. But mostly it just comes from completely hard work. I think in this country you can create your own success, just by working hard. Not because you're smarter than anybody, not because you're more creative than anybody, just by working hard. And I think that's why a lot of people end up coming to America.

    I have never been a fan of the phrase, "No pains, no gains." I prefer the alternative version, "No pains, no pains!" When it comes to exercise, for example, I learned years ago that pushing through pain was more likely to lay me up with an aching back than to leave me feeling strong and healthy.

    But there are times when stressful situations actually do lead to greater happiness. A new study published in the Journal of Happiness Studies found that people who pursue (追求) goals that are tough to achieve feel more stress in the moment, but greater happiness in the aftermath particularly if they feel connected to others along the way.

    The researchers concluded that happiness increases when people develop greater competence in something and greater competence only comes when people keep on working through the stress-inducing phase of trying, fighting, and trying again to learn and grow. If the psychological needs to be autonomous or self-directed, and to be connected to others are met, the momentary stresses will be less acute, and the resulting happiness will be more lasting.

    This idea reminds me of another often quoted phrase, which I have heard in reference to challenging tasks, such as exercise —"Fill-in-the-blank-stressful-task is the worst thing to do, but the greatest thing to have done." In other words, suffering from the stress of an exercise class that leaves us feeling sweat-drenched shouldn't lead us to walk away from exercising. And if we can pass those stressful moments with a friend, colleague or family member who is trustworthy and supportive, all will be better.

    As I travel my positive path, I'm certainly not seeking out stress. But life will offer me plenty of it, whether I ask for it or not. My task is to choose wisely when and how to face it head-on, knowing that happiness awaits on the other side.

    Opened in September 2005, Hong Kong Disneyland is the second Disney Park in Asia. It experienced a difficult time upon its opening. The Park, as well as two themed hotels, was built on Lantau Island.

    The Park opened to strong competition in the form of Ocean Park. Hong Kong Disneyland is one of only two parks in Hong Kong, which has become one of the world's leading cities in recent years. It kept Chinese cultural traditions in mind when they built the Park to avoid a cultural backlash (抵制). Designers added to the custom of Feng Shui.

    Disney and Hong Kong announced the Park in 1999, and construction (建设) began in 2003. The Park had one of the shortest construction periods in Disney history. Disney actually announced that the opening of the Park would be brought forward, from 2006 to September 2005.

    The Park attracted 5.2 million visitors in its first year, below the expected 5.6 million. There was a lack of attractions, with Fantasyland opening with just one dark ride. Summer Passes were announced to increase the number of tourists. Autopia, Stitch Encounter and it's a Small World opened between 2006 and 2008 to offer more attractions at the Park.

    The number of tourists dropped in 2007 to just over 4 million, so Disney planned a big expansion (扩大) project to attract more tourists and bring the Park back to its normal level. In July 2009, the Legislative Council of Hong Kong passed a three-land expansion of Hong Kong Disneyland, and in 2010, Toy Story Land opened.

    These new attractions have certainly paid off, with the Park earning record profit (盈利) in 2013. In that year, over 7 million guests entered the Park.

    With enough room for a second Park and the promise of more attractions to come, it seems that there is indeed a great beautiful tomorrow for Hong Kong Disneyland.