《闪灵》是电影史上值得记住的一部作品，也是恐怖片史上堪称经典的杰作。和日系恐怖的阴冷诡谲以及欧美系恐怖的血腥摄目相比，《闪灵》色调明丽，大酒店外的蓝天白云、绿树红瓦让人耳目一新；但是，它又毕竟是想以恐怖惊悚的面目呈现的，库布里克在任何非常规题材（科幻、恐怖）都想表达自己探讨人性和人类社会的野心，所以《闪灵》刻意用前半部看似平淡的镜头和略带神秘因素的叙事步步为营地把人引向心理的暗谷。自我闭塞于冬日酒店的男主人公创作力枯竭，整日只在打字机上打出“All work no play make Jack a dull boy"（只工作，不玩耍，杰克变得笨又傻），我坚持认为这个镜头才是片中真正恐怖的第一点，此前的附体灵魂、孪生姐妹、血水涌现（后来被周星星同学在《功夫》里戏仿）和阒然无声的低位拍摄（小孩骑车）都是陪衬，尽管这些陪衬本身最后也成为经典。而这个镜头终于让我们知道男主角的内心，那已经告别常态走向了疯狂。

    接下来的情节与其说让我们领略了故事本身的惊悚（不要忘记电影剧本的原作是恐怖小说之王史蒂芬金），不如说揭示了人心的可怕，我甚至从中读出了”他人即地狱“的字面义——当然我并不觉得存在主义该为本片的解读埋单，只是认为这种表达那么贴切地表达了哪怕是亲人之间的误解、隔阂乃至发展成血肉相残的可怕。这一系列的恐怖之源，和前面的那句谚语以及那句谚语背后的生存压力所带来的人与人之间的冰冷关系紧密相联。此外，值得一提的是，最后几乎成为伦理探讨片的《闪灵》几乎全在酒店内部拍摄完成，成本低廉。叙事腔调也着实在深刻中透着些悲观。

    写到这里我才发现原来恐怖片不仅仅存在于银幕，或者说仅仅存在于库大师让人永远摸不透的脑袋瓜里。恐怖片原来就是我们现在的生活。国庆长假刚过，我们经历了此前两天的调课，周六周日工作（如果不考虑黄金周安排渐行渐近的愚蠢，我还是在程序上支持这种调课的，毕竟能让我们连歇七天，做个跟朝三暮四的猴子同等智商的人，也就算了），歇了三天以后，又碰上学校统一安排的月考，监考三场，并且开始阅卷。此种考试并无特别的解释，当然，我们可以把它解释成”办人民满意的教育“举措之一。问题是在这次统一安排的考试的两周前，我们高一年级刚刚举行过开学摸底考试。当我坐在考场上改试卷的时候，我毫无来由想起那句谚语，只是想不明白“笨又傻”的到底是谁，也不知道自己是否应该用发疯来表达对这发疯的教育环境的最后反抗——一个南通的同是搞教育（或者说搞应试）的同学说，都疯了。

At sixty-five Francis Chichester set out to sail single-handed round the world. This is the story of that adventure.

Sailing Round the World

    Before he sailed round the world single-handed, Francis Chichester had already surprised his friends several times. He had tried to fly round the world but failed. That was in 1931.
    The years passed. He gave up flying and began sailing. He enjoyed it greatly. Chichester was already 58 years old when he won the first solo transatlantic sailing race. His old dream of going round the world came back, but this time he would sail. His friends and doctors did not think he could do it, as he had lung cancer. But Chichester was determined to carry out his plan. In August, 1963, at the age of nearly sixty-five, an age when many men retire, he began the greatest voyage of his life. Soon, he was away in this new 16-metre boat, Gipsy Moth.
    Chichester followed the route of the great nineteenth century clipper ships. But the clippers had had plenty of crew. Chicheater did it all by himself, even after the main steering device had been damaged by gales. Chichester covered 14, 100 miles before stopping in Sydney, Australia. This was more than twice the distance anyone had previously sailed alone.
    He arrived in Australia on 12 December, just 107 days out from England. He received a warm welcome from the Australians and from his family who had flown there to meet him. On shore, Chichester could not walk without help. Everybody said the same thing: he had done enough; he must not go any further. But he did not listen.
    After resting in Sydney for a few weeks, Chichester set off once more in spite of his friends' attempts to dissuade him. The second half of his voyage was by far the more dangerous part, during which he sailed round the treacherous Cape Horn.
    On 29 January he left Australia. The next night, the blackest he had ever known, the sea became so rough that the boat almost turned over. Food, clothes, and broken glass were all mixed together. Fortunately, bed and went to sleep. When he woke up, the sea had become calm the nearest person he could contact by radio, unless there was a ship nearby, Wild be on an island 885 miles away.
    After succeeding in sailing round Cape Horn, Chichester sent the following radio message to London:" I feel as if I had wakened from a nightmare. Wild horses could not drag me down to Cape Horn and that sinister Southern Ocean again."
    Just before 9 o'clock on Sunday evening 28 May, 1967, he arrived back in England, where a quarter of a million people were waiting to welcome him. Queen Elizabeth II knighted him with the very sword that Queen Elizabeth I had sailed round the world for the first time. The whole voyage from England and back had covered 28, 500 miles. It had taken him nine months, of which the sailing time was 226 days. He had done what he wanted to accomplish.
    Like many other adventurers, Chichester had experienced fear and conquered it. In doing so, he had undoubtedly learnt something about himself. Moreover, in the modern age when human beings depend so much on machines, he had given men throughout the world new pride.

I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village. Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folklore that reappear every few year, to be told anew in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.

Going Home

    They were going to Fort Lauderdale -- three boys and three girls -- and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, dreaming of golden beaches and sea tides as the gray, cold spring of Now York vanished behind them.
    As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving, his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into complete silence.
    Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
    "We're going to Florida," she said brightly. "I hear it's really beautiful."
    "It is," he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
    "Want some wine?" she said. He smiled and took a swig from the bottle. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
    In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's, and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches. When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he began go tell his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.
    "Are you married?"
    "I don't know."
    "You don't know?" she said.
"Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife," he said. "I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept askin' questions, if it hurt her too much, well, she could jus forget me. I'd understand. Get a new guy , I said -- she's a wonderful woman, really something -- and forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me. And she didn't. Not for three and a half years."
"And you're going home now, not knowing?"
    "Yeah," he said shyly. "Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through, I wrote the again. We used to live in Brunswick, just Before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town, I told her that if she didn't have a new guy and if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget it -- no handkerchief, and I'd go on through."
    "Wow," the girl exclaimed. "Wow."
    She told the others, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children -- the woman handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.
    Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face, as id fortifying himself against still another disappointment.
    Then Brunswick was 10 miles, and then five. Then, suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.
    Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs -- 20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con slowly rose from his seat and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.

 工作

  马上就要工作了,10月1日起,作为大学生的我们应该学会

独立,生活本来就是这样,需要我们去奋斗:只有在不断地奋斗中

你才能真正地体会到父母们的不易;

   我的假期的工作是超市的促销员,也许你看来是超简单的工作,

但是它对于我来说,是非常宝贵的又一次接触生活的好机会;

    其实,在你工作的同时你会遇到很多不同的朋友和事件,在暑期的时候,我就结识了很多的好伙伴;他们在我开学以后还给了我很大的帮助.每当我想起与他们在一起地时候.便不知不觉地想到他们的一切一切:调皮 幼稚 任性 冲动.

   好了,就聊到这吧,我要去上课了!!!!

   再过几天,就是10月1日了,我们的学校马上就要放假了

我却迫不及待地想要回家,也许是很长时间 没有回家了吧!!!!!!!!!

在此我很想借用张杰的歌来表达我的心情:

天天想你

天天想你
天天想你
天天想你
天天想你
天天想你
当我伫立在窗前
你愈走愈远
我的每一次心跳
你是否听见
当我徘徊在深夜
你在我心田
你的每一句誓言
回荡在耳边
隐隐约约闪动的双眼
藏着你的羞怯
加深我的思念
两颗心的交界
你一定会看见
只要你愿意走向前
天天想你天天问自己
到什么时候才能告诉你
天天想你天天守住一颗心
把我最好的爱留给你
我希望能用我的一点心意来报答你们对我的支持!!!!