暂时封博

 海上            

 期待2010年的春天...

                     

新华社同样来的突兀。

阿Q地想想并不算完败，但教训还是深刻的。

所谓怕什么来什么，面试中最不想说数词，但偏偏每个问题都不得不说。再有一两个没听懂的诡异变位。

如果我说紧张，第一次真正意义的面试就去挑战新华社。。听似合理的借口罢了

提高实力才是关键。

........................................................................................

托福的杯具则没什么可意外的

首先完全不了解倒计时系统的运作

其次题目的难易全凭人品

最后英语学习的不系统导致英语思维的欠缺结果就是口语题的表达逻辑混乱。

讲两三句就不知道说什么了，即兴演讲最能分出思维的专业和业余。

.......................................................................................

此为这一天的总结。

Recovering...

这是标题党。当然标题本身是属实的。

据上海地震台网消息，从10月18日到11月7日，上海市松江区共发生8次地震，今天下午5时许震级为里氏2.5级。

寻常的远方，落寞的生活，奋斗啊奋斗。

当我以为所有天真的遐想或是火热的激情早已烟消云散的时候，本能命令耳朵提醒我也许心里有些许地方是不会随时间流去而淡漠的。

当时坐在图书馆的一层，从门外嘈杂的装修声和窗外呼呼的风声中我敏锐、准确而又淡定地捕捉到一股不同寻常的声波从四周的墙壁中传来，“哦，地震了”。这么小的等级是断不会往外跑的，只是勾起了些童年时的小美好。

生长于那座地震带上的城市，还是总有些事情可以炫耀的：

比如和傻哥坐在床上玩积木，地震了，天摇地晃，鞋都不穿就往厕所奔，幼小的我边跑边想呜呜活不成了。。可刚到门边，一切也恶作剧般地停止了。

比如又一次地动山摇，我四仰八叉地躺在床上睡得正香愣是没醒。。。

再比如我趴在地上包书皮，地震了，一激动剌破了手指头。。。。

以及曾经的流言恐慌啦、市民们的囤水囤粮啦、当医生的亲戚透露他们在秘密集训严阵以待啦等等。

之所以是小美好，是因为这些够激情、够想象力，还有一点小屁孩唯恐天下不乱的复杂心态。。当然，定是也没有什么严重后果的。

就好像。。再比如非典的时候，校医一夜之间咸鱼翻身，自己的心里也莫名开始悸动，开心地用84消毒液洗毛巾，手都掉了皮还浑然不觉。。。

贴上了小时候的标签，一切总是温馨而纯真的。

蓦。

回忆只是一瞬，然后继续看书，然后就淡忘了刚才的事情，直到晚上回来，习惯性地网上溜达溜达看到其他人的状态。

随便码几个字作为调剂。

吃东西去了~

中石油就这样突如其来的来了

头天晚上得知的消息

第二天精神涣散地起了大早,着急忙慌地同众人奔了过去

没发现简历上的低级错误,悲剧阿悲剧

中石油又这样悄无声息的走了

还是老老实实看书吧

god bless me

五星红旗迎风飘扬
胜利歌声多么响亮
歌唱我们亲爱的祖国
从今走向繁荣富强!

越过高山,越过平原
跨过奔腾的黄河长江
宽广美丽的土地
是我们可爱的家乡
我们爱和平,我们爱家乡
我们团结友爱坚强如钢!

 

五星红旗迎风飘扬
胜利歌声多么响亮
歌唱我们亲爱的祖国
从今走向繁荣富强!

 

越过高山,越过平原
跨过奔腾的黄河长江
宽广美丽的土地
是我们可爱的家乡
我们爱和平,我们爱家乡
我们团结友爱坚强如钢

 

五星红旗迎风飘扬
胜利歌声多么响亮
歌唱我们亲爱的祖国
从今走向繁荣富强!

 

歌唱我们亲爱的祖国
从今走向繁荣富强!

 

今天的口译课是最快乐的一次~

因为其中的内容有报菜名.......

我们伟大祖国的饮食文化真是博大精深,不知有多少杰出的翻译人才拜倒在她的石榴裙下...

阿拉伯语是一门赤裸裸的语言,不像英语,再不济一个"dumpling"也可以统称大多带馅食物了，而如果用阿语，那一定会令老外叹为观止而翻译自己则忍俊不禁。

如果说“宫保鸡丁”是“鸡肉块和花生米”还算通俗。。。

那么“用粘粘的米包住甜甜的东西做成的圆圆的球”元宵原来可以这么可爱。。。

粽子：用一种植物的叶子包住米，米再包住甜甜的东西或者肉。中国人在食物上花费的耐心真的不可理喻。。。

于是，我想到了两年前那段不堪回首的日子。。。

2007年10月某日，上海特殊奥林匹克运动会开幕前夕

刚上大二的我作为阿拉伯语翻译志愿者的一员第一次执行任务——接待埃及代表团晚宴。

尽管我们软磨硬泡，但是出于“国家安全规定”，宾馆拒绝事先提供晚膳菜单。于是只得硬着头皮..背着词典上了。

小小的我坐在一堆埃及人中间，第一道菜——西芹百合

好吧，之前所能想到的诸如西红柿土豆茄子辣椒菠菜萝卜等等人们喜闻乐见的食物算是泡汤了。

第二道菜——翡翠牛肉羹

在我费尽心机表达清楚这就是一盆 有蔬菜和鸡蛋的成分主要是牛肉做成的汤 之后，

一个老外用一种极其鄙夷的眼神看着我，然后拿起调羹蒯了一勺，伸出一根手指在里面搅来搅去——“牛肉？哪里有牛肉，我没看到..”我本来想告诉他不是所有的牛肉羹都能看见大块的牛肉，但是随即便想到我还要给他解释“为什么那个牛肉球（丸）咬起来不像真正的牛肉，并且还酸酸的”（因为牛肉丸是要掺面粉的，而且上面浇了茄汁），于是我就放弃了这一想法。

于是，接下来的对话就变成了这样：

“这是什么？”“肉，牛肉。”

“这是什么”“菜，蔬菜。”

。。。

记得那时，我觉得自己比餐桌上那些眉飞色舞的“智力上需要特殊帮助”的外国运动员们还需要关怀。。

咳，噩梦重现

下回如果遇到诸如“四喜丸子、溜肝尖，什锦果羹、釀皮子，佛跳墙、松花蛋，夫妻肺片、叫化鸡”之类的东西。。。我直接假装上厕所。或者。。

“Chinese food ,just eat and feel！”

每个人都有自己的倔强

我的学人生涯

我的生活

 

80年代的出生，90年代的成长

迷茫的日子，像稻草人一样度过，守望

 

牺牲了很多很多

在求学之路上起起伏伏

遗憾却不后悔

因为有最后的成绩

是真才实学

 

成就感是令人无比满足的

为学习而拼搏,也是为生活而奋斗

 

没有什么沉重的历史机缘

选择也可能非理性

只是不会轻易放弃罢了

 

草根的成功是最激动人心的

简单、真实、平凡

 

单纯的生活轨迹

更执著的坚守

奋斗的过程掺不得杂质

关乎信仰

有骨气的人生

 

我说学习绝不会有作弊绝不会托关系

因为我要快乐

我活我的生活

 

我要在成功的时候问心无愧

别人说：你真强，凭自己的努力得来

而不是：太好了，多亏有某某

 

即便是失败

我也要说：我尽了全部努力

然后换条路再走

这样才不会后悔

 

我想要全部的成就感，不想被别人偷去，也不想心里有鬼

至于本没实力的人，“成功”也是煎熬

赶不上别人的步伐，进退两难

 

也许是自私的不领人情

但这是唯一的坚守

关心我的人们不遗余力地想打散这信仰

因为潜规则，

归咎于“社会上的很多事”

还有人之常情

 

麦田里的守望者

黑暗中始终有盏灯为他点燃

这就心满意足了

 

也许终究有一天会妥协

耻辱。但一定是出于无奈

那时候青春不再。

 

可以后是未知的

至少我把握现在

我只想创造我的生活

用自己的手

自己的奋斗

 

 

9/11 as a Lesson, Not a Memory

Eight years later, the Sept. 11 attacks are pages in the history books to a generation that's too young to recall them.

By Eli Saslow

Washington Post Staff Writer 
Friday, September 11, 2009

VINCENNES, Ind. The students filed into their social studies class just after lunch and slumped into desks where they had learned about the Civil War, Lewis and Clark, and the bombing of Pearl Harbor. On this day, teacher Michael Hutchison said, the class would feature "another of those huge moments in our history." He reminded the high school juniors and seniors that he would be grading their notes. Then he dimmed the lights and played a video on the classroom TV.

Some students set backpacks on their desks to use as pillows, and others pulled the hoods of their sweat shirts low over their eyes. "Nap time," one of them said. Meanwhile, on the screen at the front of the room, a skyscraper burned. A woman screamed. A tower crumbled. A mother sobbed as she recalled her son's final words.

"There was a fire," one student wrote in his notes.

"People died and went missing," scribbled another.

"It was an example of 'terrorism,' " wrote a third.

Eight years later, this is an example of what Sept. 11, 2001, has become for a generation that's too young to remember much, if anything, about that day: It is an educational DVD, a 167-page textbook, a black binder of class handouts titled "A National Interdisciplinary Curriculum." In Room C215 at Lincoln High School, images of the collapsing Manhattan skyline are now a classroom "warm-up exercise." "Militant," "imploding" and "rubble" are boldfaced vocabulary words for students to memorize. Homework assignments and essay questions ensure that Sept. 11 will indeed be remembered by millions of schoolchildren, if with a new sense of detachment.

From the personal to the preserved -- this is the uncomfortable transition that time requires of all great tragedies. Anthony Gardner, whose brother died on the 83rd floor of the World Trade Center's North Tower, conceived of a Sept. 11 curriculum as a tribute to the victims. He partnered with two professors in Manhattan, who partnered with an education company in San Francisco, which partnered with a cadre of researchers and copy editors, who sent the final product to a handful of test schools nationwide last week.

One copy was mailed to Hutchison, 53, a longtime history teacher in Vincennes who has never visited New York City.

A former Indiana Teacher of the Year, Hutchison had been chosen to help roll out the curriculum because of his reputation for bringing multimedia history lessons to a school edged by cornfields near the Illinois border. On Wednesday, he stared out at 22 students who have lived about half of their lives since the 2001 attacks. What they remember of that day is now scattered snapshots. One remembered his third-grade teacher saying that a plane had crashed. One remembered an administrator locking the front door to the elementary school. Parents hurried into town to stock up on gas. Neighbors hung American flags. A brother talked about being drafted to war.

"You might have been too young to realize it," Hutchison said, "but I knew that we were seeing history made as I was watching on TV."

He distributed a handout that had come with the curriculum, and the students counted the pages in each packet -- "Seven, eight, nine! Seriously?" -- and let out a collective groan. The first two pages contained flight-path diagrams for the four planes that crashed on Sept. 11, followed by a 30-year history of U.S. relations with Afghanistan. Hutchison asked the students to form groups of four and create their own Sept. 11 timelines.

"This is going to take us forever," complained a boy in the back.

"Just try to focus until the bell rings," Hutchison said.

Over the next several weeks, if Hutchison continued to follow the curriculum, his students would eventually build their own Sept. 11 memorials, create maps of terrorist activity and debate the cleanup of Ground Zero as members of a fictitious town council. But at the end of their first day studying the attacks, Hutchison assigned a more basic task for homework: to interview somebody older about Sept. 11 and write an article based on their recollections.

"I'm going to select the two best, and those students will receive some major extra credit," Hutchison said. "So take this seriously, because it could be huge for your grade."

In the second row, a senior named JaLeah Hedrick looked up from her notes.

"Wait," she said. "Extra credit?"

"Yes," Hutchison said. "Interview a few people. It can be uncles, parents, grandparents -- anybody you want. Then write down whatever they can remember."

* * *

Anthony Gardner, who has never been to Vincennes, needed to remember everything. Long before he created the curriculum destined for Hutchison's classroom, Gardner, 33, taught himself to retain every detail of the terrorist attacks that changed his life.

On Sept. 11, 2001, he was a recent college graduate listening to Howard Stern's radio show while walking to work in New York. Stern interrupted one of his gags to announce that the World Trade Center had been attacked. Gardner immediately thought of his brother, Harvey, who worked on the 83rd floor of the North Tower. He called Harvey's cellphone but received a busy signal. He dialed again, and again, but never got through.

Gardner walked seven miles through Manhattan and took a ferry home to New Jersey. He searched for pictures of his brother and hung one in every room of the house. He found a video recorded at his wedding four months earlier and watched footage of Harvey laughing so hard that it jiggled the boutonniere pinned to his chest. "I had this unbelievable urge to see him," Gardner said.

Weeks passed, then months, then years, and still Harvey's body was never recovered. Craving a tangible connection to his brother, Gardner collected rocks from the rubble of the World Trade Center and filled a water bottle with wet soil from Ground Zero. He printed transcripts of news conferences, saved newspaper articles and spent six years working as the director of a nonprofit organization representing Sept. 11 victims.

"My family told me that it was unhealthy and obsessive," Gardner said. "Some things about 9/11 are still more clear in my mind than whatever happened this morning."

There was the moment a few months before the attacks, when the two brothers met for a quick lunch near the World Trade Center and idled at the base of the North Tower. Harvey mentioned the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. "Look at this thing," he said, gazing up the shimmering face of the tower. "They'll never take these buildings down."

Or the moment a few days after the attacks, when Gardner sat at his computer and created a missing-person flier. Name: Harvey J. Gardner III. Age: 35. Hair color: black. At the bottom of the sheet, under a photograph, he typed a physical description -- "Hairline receding" -- and then imagined how furious Harvey would be if he ever read it.

Or the moment later that first week, hope fading now, when Gardner stopped by his brother's house and sifted through toiletries, collecting a razorblade and a toothbrush to provide rescue workers a sample of Harvey's DNA.

Eight years? Could it really be that long? In that time, Gardner began a marriage, struggled to have children, celebrated the birth of a first baby, then a second, then a third. He changed careers three times and returned to school for two new degrees. And yet still he suffered from nightmares and wondered if he had post-traumatic stress disorder.

A few years ago, Gardner's oldest daughter asked him about Sept. 11, and he realized how vague the event must have seemed to her. She needed to remember, he decided. Everyone needed to remember. He helped form the Sept. 11 Education Trust, which conducted 100 hours of video interviews with survivors, firefighters, politicians and relatives of the victims. The videos formed the backbone for a curriculum intended to "remind everyone that 9/11 was a collective experience, affecting everyone, everywhere," Gardner said.

With the help of history professors at the Taft Institute for Government at Queens College, Gardner developed a seven-lesson curriculum intended for sixth through 12th grades. He spoke at a news conference in New York on Tuesday to mark the release of the curriculum, recalling eight anniversaries of the attacks. First it was mourned, then memorialized, then made into history for future generations and shipped to a high school in Indiana.

* * *

JaLeah Hedrick, 18, had never learned about Sept. 11 in school until she entered Hutchison's class this week, but consequences of that day surrounded her as she began her pursuit of extra credit. For Hedrick, Sept. 11 was the pledge of allegiance that Vincennes area schools had begun playing over loudspeakers every morning since late 2001. It was the "Threat Level Orange" that she heard each time she visited the Indianapolis airport. It was the way her grandfather, a World War II veteran, grimaced when he spoke of "those Muslims." It was the USA T-shirt her dad wore when he picked her up from school in an aging Pontiac with a red-white-and-blue license plate inscribed with the phrase "In God We Trust."

And now, it was homework -- due to Hutchison by 1 p.m. Friday.

Hedrick wanted to interview her grandfather Ed Hedrick, because he is a veteran and, she said, "an American hero." Other classmates were planning to interview fathers serving in Iraq or distant relatives who had worked at the Pentagon, but Ed Hedrick, 83, was the only person his granddaughter knew whose recollections of Sept. 11 might have the gravitas worthy of extra credit.

She rode a mile across town and sat across from her grandfather on his front porch. She pulled a blue notebook and a pink pen from her backpack and then looked at a class handout that provided a list of possible interview questions. "I have to ask you some of these for homework," she told her grandfather, her eyes still fixed on the sheet. "Where were you when you first heard about the attack?"

"I was sitting in that red chair over there in the living room," he said.

She nodded and then read the next question. "Did you continue to listen to the radio or watch TV?"

"Yes," her grandfather said. "I barely moved all week. I couldn't stop watching."

"How did it affect you?" she asked.

"Severe anger, for days," he said.

"What action did you want the government to take?" she asked.

"Well, I guess I wanted them to load up three or four of those H-bombs and send them over there. That's how I felt at the time."

"How has it affected your daily life since?"

"Not much. I don't think about it. They teach you not to think about ugly things when you fight in a war."

Hedrick had a full page of pink notes now, enough for a good start on the assignment. She thanked her grandfather and patted him on the knee. He stood up with her, a distant look in his eyes. "I was born into a war, I fought in a war, and now here's another war," he said. "You might not know it to look at me now, but when I was 18 they made me walk 25 miles with 70 pounds on my back."

"I know, Grandpa," Hedrick said. "I know."

He looked ready to tell her more, but his granddaughter was already heading into the house, the door swinging behind her. She had heard this story before. She remembered it. It was history. So she walked off the porch, carrying the class handouts on Sept. 11, and returned home to finish her assignment.