题目内容
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Why does the woman object to the movie？
A) Because it was boring. B) Because it was violent.
C) Because the acting was not good. D) Because the scenery was bad.
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更多“Why does the woman object to t…”相关的问题
B．To point out a problem with the student’s suggestion about walking to the gallery．
C．To explain why so few students signed up for the trip．
D．To explain why the bus would not be available for taking the students on the trip．
A．Calling a technician
B．Speaking with the supervisor
C．Looking in the storage room
D．Consulting the user's manual
| She couldn't have entered the competition, but, for lack of confidence, she _______. |
[ ] |
| A. couldn't B. didn't C. doesn't D. hadn't |
I hear a lot of people talking about Ecstasy, calling it a fun, harmless drug. All I can think is, "if they only knew."
I grew up in a small, rural town in Pennsylvania. It's one of those places where everyone knows your name, what you did, what you ate and so on. I was a straight-A student and one of the popular kids, liked by all the different crowds. Drugs never played a part in my life. They were never a question -- I was too involved and focused on other things.
I always dreamed of moving to New York City to study acting and pursue a career in theater. My dream came true when my mom brought me to the city to attend acting school. As you can imagine, it was quite a change from home.
I was exposed to new people, new ideas and a completely new way of life -- a way of life that exposed me to drugs. Most of the people that I met in the acting school had already been doing drugs for years. I felt that by using drugs, I would become a part of their world and it would deepen my friendships with them to new levels. I tried pot, even a little cocaine, but it was Ecstasy that changed my life forever.
I remember the feeling I had the first time I did Ecstasy: complete and utter bliss. I could feel the pulse of the universe. It was as if I had unlocked some sort of secret world; it was as if I'd found heaven. And I wondered how anything that made you feel so good could possibly be bad.
As time went by, things changed. I graduated, and began to use drugs, especially Ecstasy, more frequently. As I did, I actually started to look down on those who did not. I surrounded myself only with those who did. I had gone from a girl who never used drugs to a woman who couldn't imagine life without them.
In five months, I went from a person living somewhat responsibly while pursuing my dream to a person who didn't care about a thing -- and the higher I got, the deeper I sank into a dark, lonely place. When I did sleep, I had nightmares and the shakes. I had pasty skin, a throbbing head and the beginnings of paranoia, but I ignored it all, thinking it was normal until the night I thought I was dying.
On this night, I was sitting on the couch with my friends, watching a movie and feeling normal when suddenly, I felt as if I needed to jump out of my skin. Racing thoughts, horrible images and illusions crept through my mind. I thought I was seeing the devil, and I repeatedly asked my friends if I was dead. On top of all this, I felt as if I was having a heart attack. Somehow, I managed to pick up the telephone and call my mom in the middle of the night, telling her to come get me. She did, pulling me out of my apartment the next morning.
I didn't know who I was or where I was as my mom drove me back to my family's hospital in Pennsylvania. I spent most of the drive curling up in the back seat while my younger sister tried to keep me calm.
I spent the next 14 days in the hospital in a state of extreme confusion. This is what Ecstasy gave me -- but it didn't stop there. My doctors performed a scan of my brain. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the results. The scan showed several dark marks on the image of my brain, and my doctors told me those were areas -- areas that carry out memory functions -- where the activity of my brain had been changed in some way.
Since I saw that scan, my life has been an uphill crawl.
I hear people say Ecstasy is a harmless, happy drug. There's nothing happy about the way that "harmless" drug chipped away at my life. Ecstasy took my strength, my motivation, my dreams, my friends, my apartment, my money and most of all, my sanity. I worry about my future and my health every day. I have many mountains ahead of me, but I plan to keep climbing because I'm one of the lucky ones.
I've been given a second chance, and that's not something that everyone gets.
It was almost midnight, yet the streets were bathed in a soft, shimmering light. The sun had just gone down and twilight would soon give way to night. We were strolling along the Nevsky Prospekt, a wide avenue stretching four kilometres and filled with people, music and street entertainers. This was St. Petersburg in August and it seemed the city was out to celebrate the long summer nights. We had just left the home of newly found Russian friends and after a wonderful traditional dinner decided to have some exercise before going to bed.
It has always been my dream to visit St. Petersburg. Absorbed by Russian history since childhood, I wanted to see it all for myself. Now, thanks to Perestroika, tourists are welcomed into Russia and St. Petersburg with its rich, cultural history is a popular choice.
We flew in from Stockholm and from the air immediately noticed a well-planned city with apartment blocks built in semi-circles with central courtyards and gardens. Not only did this seem practical, but the idea behind the design was to shelter residents from the fierce winter winds. The city was built by European architects in the 18th and 19th centuries and remains one of Europe's most beautiful cities. Straddling the wide River Neva, the city is made up of almost 5o islands connected by some 31o bridges. No wonder the sight of elegant buildings along the canals reminded me of Paris, Amsterdam and Venice.
I hadn't met many Russian people but I had an intense love for their country and traditions and was passionate about art and literature. Russian writers such as Pushkin, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky reach the very soul of ordinary Russians, and this I find intriguing. It was no different when I finally found myself in Russia. People were openly friendly and eager to discuss any aspect of their lives in their beloved Motherland. No matter how bad the economy, somehow these people have the ability to see the positive aspects of their lives, whatever their circumstances. We met an attractive woman from Moscow, and we fast became friends and it was she who invited us into the home of some dear friends of hers.
The apartment block was in an elegant area of St. Petersburg and was probably a palace in the past but now converted into apartments of four floors. The entrance through a narrow hallway was dark and dull and there was an old fashioned lift on the ground floor with steel folding gates that clanged shut, after which the lift moved very slowly upwards. It was quicker to walk up the staircase.
Our host, Yuri Petrochenkov, himself an artist, warmly greeted us at the door. He was tall with gray hair pulled into a tail. His open, friendly manner and twinkling eyes showed a sense of humor and his English with a thick accent made him an entertaining host. Nelly, his wife, spoke little English but understood a great deal more.
We were ushered into their main room, which served as a living-room, dining room and TV area. There was an air of intimacy in the room, as though it was the core part of this family. Many parties, social and political discussions and family gatherings take place here. We were honored to be there and I felt ashamed that I had absolutely no Russian language to attempt to communicate in. Why is it that people of the English-speaking world take for granted that the rest of the world should speak English？ I had always meant to learn Russian and had enrolled for courses in the past but they never started because of lack of numbers.
Our meal was a feast in itself. We weren't offered wine, just vodka in little shot glasses and before drinking there is always a toast. Some nine vodkas later, Yuri was in fine form and had found a drinking partner in my husband!
Wandering along the river, we agreed that not only had we found new friends, but we had just spent probably the most enjoyable experience of our trip to Russia. This is what travel is all about to get to the heart and soul of the people and to try to understand and experience a little of what makes others tick.
When an American president takes a vacation, hisassistantsusually emphasize tonews reportersthe work that he does during his vacation. In contrast, whenthe prime ministerof Japan recently took a vacation, hisaidesemphasized to the press that his purpose was relaxation — no work at all.
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