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I really don’t know, when every one looking scholarship there is a part that ignore scholarship, three days ago my friend told me about Indonesian university scholarship, he said that there were a lot of opportunity in Indonesian university scholarship. Indonesian University is the no one university in Indonesia. If you not get scholarship here you will pay your school in very expensive fee. but if you get scholarship here you are lucky, because you just pay your school fee at about $50 per semester and you will get $250 per month. It is good news guys. Lets try to get this scholarship.

Actually I don’t know what should I write about the scholarship in this woman diary.

In this woman diary I just want to tell you about my friend story related the scholarship.

Two days ago I met my best friend his name is Temon iskandar. He is Indonesian. I like with him because he is kind and clever. He is smart in many subject especially in chemistry. He told me that he want to go to japan because he want to study there. He said that he going to apply for Japanese scholarship. He explained me that Japanese scholarship is the scholarship which is given by Japanese government by Japanese ambassador in every country. But if  you want to get it you should able to speak in Japanese because Japanese language is daily language in your class.

In this woman diary I want to tell you about his information. He informed that there are several scholarship program: research student program, under graduate program, college of technology program, special training college program. He said that if you want to get more information you can go to jasso.or.jp. you can also get more information about japanese university and japanese ambasasador. I hope this information also useful for you, keep spirit and be better than before.

This day in this woman diary, I want to tell you about one story. It is about spiritual and love side.

That fall, before it discovered that the soles of both my shoes were worn clear through, I still when to Sunday school. And one time the Sunday school superintendent made a speech to all the classes. He said that these were hard times, and that many poor children weren’t getting enough to eat it was the first that I had heard about it. He asked every body to bring some food for the poor children next Sunday. I felt very sorry for the poor children.

Also, little envelopes were distributed to all the classes. Each little boy and girl was to bring money for the poor, next Sunday. The pretty Sunday-school teacher explained that we were to write our name, or have our parents write them, up in the left-hand corner of the little envelopes…. I told my mother all about it when I come home. And my mother gave me, the next Sunday, a small bag of potatoes to carry to Sunday school. I supposed the poor children’s mothers would make potato soup out of them… potato soup was good. My father, who was quite a joker, would always say, as if he were surprised, “Ah! I see we have some nourishing potato soup today!” it was so good that we had it every day. In this woman diary I also want to express my heart feeling

My father was at home all day long and every day, now; and I like that, even if he was grumpy as he sat reading Grant’s “Memoirs.” I had my parents all to my self, too; the others were away. My oldest brother was in Quincy, and memory does not reveal where the others were: perhaps with relatives in the country. Taking my small bag of potatoes to Sunday school, I looked around for the poor children; I was disappointed not to see them. I had heard about poor children in stories. But I was told just to put my contribution with the others on the big table in the side room. I had brought with me the little yellow envelope, with some money in it for the poor children. My mother had put the money in it and sealed it up. She wouldn’t tell me how much money she had put in it, but it felt like several dimes. Only she wouldn’t let me write my name on the envelope. I had learned to write my name and I was proud of him able to do it but my mother said firmly, no, I must not write my name on the envelope; she didn’t tell me why. On the way to Sunday school I had pressed the envelope against the coins until I could tell what they were; they were not dimes but pennies. When I handed in my envelope, my Sunday school teacher noticed that my name wasn’t on it, and she gave me a pencil; I could write my own name, she said. So I did. But I confused because my mother had said not to; and when I came home, I confessed what I had done. She looked distressed. “I told you not to“ she said. But she didn’t explain why. I didn’t go back to school that fall. My mother said it was because I was sick. I did a cold the week that school opened; I had been playing in the gutters and had got my feet wet, because there were holes in my shoes.My father cut insoles out of card board, and I wore those in my shoes. As long as I had to stay in the house anyway, they were alright. after you have read this woman diary, I hope you care about them and love them.