Wednesday, November 14, 2007


A polite Japanese lady will cover her mouth when she giggles.

She will bow her head to hide her eyes when she is embarassed.

One could only imagine the crisis this creature faces inside the ladies' room.

She enters the cubicle, closes the door, pulls the latch and sits. Soon, the crowded washroom

reverberates with the sound of her urine splashing into the water at the bottom of the toilet

An unfavorable nuisance of modern life, you may say. A source of deep humiliation if you

happen to be a Japanese woman.

Her solution for years has been to conceal the noise. Not by a well-timed cough.

But by flushing the toilet whilst relieving herself. The familiar commotion created by the

gurgling cistern drowns out of her business.

Depending on the length of her stay, the toilet may be flushed up to three or four times.

And she may walk out quietly, without anyone knowing of the noise that she has made.

Her face saved.

Unfortunately, the water is not. With each flush, 10 litres of water disappears into the

sewerage. That's 30 litres a visit. And over 100 litres daily.

Now, multiply that by the number of women in all of Japan.

A self-conscious avoidance of shame results in a shameful loss of pure drinking water.

And water is now one of the most precious commodities in the East.

Over 70% of India's water supplies are contaminated. In New Delhi, the Yzmuna River is

deluged with 50 million gallons of untreated sewerage, 5 million gallons of industrial effluent

and 125 thousand gallons of DDT. Not in a year. But each hopeless day.

The mighty Ganges swallows the raw human waste of no less than 114 crowded cities.

Shanghai spends millions piping clean water to its vast urban sprawl from over 900 miles away

So too does Singapore and Bangkok. The Philippines and Indonesia inexplicably lose over one

third of all water pumped to their thristy cities.

Saudi Arabia's supply will be exhausted early next century. The next war in the Middle East

won't be over crude black oil, but crystal clear water.

India and Pakistan are almost certain to find themselves in a similar position as they attempt

to resolve the competition for the thick murk that flows through the Hindus river basin.

Hong Kong has the pleasure of possessing more Rolls Royce automobiles per capita than any o

other country. Yet you risk your life from drinking from the tap there.

Ironic then, that the source of life brings death. Bubbling with disease, fouled water robs the

lives of 25 thousand Asians daily. 10 million a year.

The majority of them small children too frail to fight.

The world bank estimates it will cost at least $128 billion in the next 10 years to simply meet

the basic drinking and sanitation needs of Asia.

An amount almost beyond comprehension.

The crisis is real. It will not go away.

It calls for us all to re-evaluate how we use the clean water that is available.

And for the more ingenious ones amongst us to find solutions.

In Japan, electronic gadgets are now installed in the ladies' rooms. Attached to these gadgets are

speakers. They emulate the sound of a flushing toilet.

Now there is no need for the timid women to flush any more than is necessary.

The Fuji Bank has installed this system and already reports a $70 000 saving on water bills

each year.

How can you begin to change things? The battle begins in your home.

Everytime you turn a tap, look at the stream. You wouldn't last three days without it.

More than food, or love, or wealth, you need water to survive.


>> Taken from "Principles of Marketing"
An Asian Perspective

Wednesday, November 7, 2007


it's his little glance that i remember tonight, i was still drained for some reason, a wounded pride or a broken ego. I cannot recall what was the real ground, really, all i know is.. that trivial glance was actually the beginning of the story about the love that never was.
when i was little,my idea of love and broken heart could happen only in a heading called relationship. I call it love if it is shared with somebody, broken heart if the love's not given in return. That was anyway, a product of juvenile thoughts. Not could happen in many different ways, even the love that never was. It never was because it only materialized and shared for a moment in the mind and perceptions. Not formally. Not in a relationship. Not in a commitment. Or.. if it really existed, it was matter between him and his feelings, me and mine, never between us.
strange...because though were not a pair, but we both have cared, we both counted the cost. We didn't share that love methodically by having affinity but somehow, love grew. Though it only exist in our dreams but we're both aware of each other's existence... and potentials that are not yet realized. It only ran in the mind but we still managed to create something rare and that's what made it special. We have seen each other at our best and worst in daily association and in practical living. We created a thought that our company could be sustained over a period of time w/o becoming repulsive or boresome if not with the opposite statute that we both steadfastly hold. So we just felt the magic for a while and in the next moment, feel the force of moving away. It injures... but loving him is a thing i couldn't change yet and maybe not in a long, long while. But this feeling is mine to keep, it will never become his.
Just a thought that if these things happened when I was little, maybe i cried. Maybe I remorsed and regret, maybe I died. Because those were the times when I cannot appreciate the many values in life. Those were the times when I wasn't ready yet to admit defeat, when I haven't yet felt the great desire to do something larger like getting hurt and mending it alone but still keeping those well-deserved peace of mind. Now, I put emphasis on the challenging times because if it's not for this, I'm not the one who I am now. The love that never was and the pain provide strength that proved my self-worth, my individuality and trademark of courage that gave meaning to my existence...and I'm proud I've been to that long, long way that others failed to see.
Now, I'm rechanelling all negative thoughts and emotions, for self-preservation, for moving on. The story of the little glance is very trivial to tell. But it's going to be kept through the years until new love chooses me again. That must be real, pure and genuine... The love that everybody longs for, the love that really exist, the love that lasts for a lifetime. Like a little dead leaf from an old tree, the little glnce will be forgotten, the love that never was will just pass by...


It was once announced that the devil was going out of business and would offer his tools for sale, to whoever would pay the price.
On the night of the sale, they were all attractively displayed, even so they were a bad lot.
Malice, hatred, envy, jealousy, sensuality - and all the otherimplements of evil were spread each marked with a price. Apart from the rest lay a harmless wedge-shaped tool much word and priced higher than any of the others.
Someone asked the devil, "What is that?"
"That is Discouragement" replied the Devil.
"Why do you have priced it so high?" the prospective purchaser inquired
"Because," said the devil, "it is more useful to me than any of the others. I can pry into a man's conscience with that when I cannot get near him with any other tool I possess."
"Once I get into his mind with Discouragement, I can use him in whatever way which suits him best. The reason this tool is so much worn is that I can use it with nearly everyone, as very few people knew it belongs to me."
It hardly needs to be added that the devil's price for Discouragement was so high that it never sold.
He still owns it, and uses it.


One day, an expert in time management was speaking to a group of business students, and to drive home a point, used an illustration those students will never forget. Here is how he made his point: As he stood in front of the group of high-powered achievers, he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time into a jar. When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, "is this jar full?"
Everyone in the class said "Yes" then he said, "Really?"
He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel in and shook the jar causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces between the big rocks. Then he asked the group once more, "Is this jar full?"
By this time, the class was onto him. "Probably not," one of them answered. "Good," he replied. He reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand. He started dumping the sand in and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel. Once more, he asked the question "Is this jar full?"
"No", the class shouted. Once again, he said,"Good!"
Then he grabbed a picture of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brin. Then he looked up at the class and asked, "What is the point of this full illustration?"
One eager bearer raised his hand and said, "The point is,no matter how full your schedule is, if you really try hard, you can fit some more things into it."
"No," the speaker replied. "That is not the point."
The truth this illustration teaches us is, if you don't put the big rocks first, you'll never get them in at all."
What are the big rocks in your life?
Time with your loved ones? Your faith? Your education? Your dreams? A worthy cause?
Remember to put these 'big rocks' first or you'll never get them in at all.
So tonight, or in the morning, when you are reflecting on this short story, ask yourself this question: What are the big rocks in my life? Then put those in your jar first.

Friday, October 26, 2007


I can hardly open my eyes - something tells me to carry on my perfect slumber yet the graceful zephyr effortlessly caught me on its hook and brought me back to wakefulness.
I hate cold mornings.
It wakes me up from my peaceful sleep - only to find out it's still hours early before sunrise.
As I sit on my bed, I felt a soft chill up my spine that made my stomach hurt a little.
It's because of this recurring feeling that my world would suddenly stop, shutting on its own, making my ears sound-proof - undisturbed from all the noises of the outside world.
This nostalgia would make me reel about uncertain thoughts of the past and haunt me into an endless whirl of melancholy.
It's because of these feelings that my mind would seem to be frozen and time would appear to be absurd.
I'm not so sure if this is a wonderful or a drastic feeling .
The answer to that question doesn't seem to appear in my episodic memory.
Billions of vague thoughts would zap into my brainwaves, questions left unanswered, actions left unexpressed - like a stone wall being put on my back.
Carrying this massive, invisible load is a stab in every breath I take, a whip to my wounded soul.
Somehow, I have beared the pain... I became numb and it made me feel invincible.
I went on through life like an actor on a stage, wearing a cheerful mask to hide a rotting flesh.
Thus, the monotony had actually consumed every bit of vitality left in my nerves and has dried up my bones.
Life can't get less boring. Everyday is just a habitual stupor and everything else will just be a blur of hazy images.
Maybe it was my fault to act this way- keeping a poker face on top of a heart that's being ripped into shreds.
Like a snow-capped mountain, I am fearlessly cold.
Like a startled ferret, I run hiding into my hole.
Isn't it ironic to be bold and coward at the same time? When you think big but feel less?
Who knows? A helpless heart may be lying at the insides of a hideous monster.
I feel a tingling chill up my spine again - but this time, the weather has nothing to do with it.