6月26日，毕业典礼，然后毕业证学位证报道证也领了，于是大学就基本结束了。

这四年就像在淘金，从茫茫沙堆中找那么些金子，不敢说学会了无敌的辨别术，至少学会在找不见金子的挫折面前要坚持。

 

哎，如果许久不联系的RR看到又要用幽怨形容了，我也怕夫子老师说SP上的我感觉和现实太不同。

不过我真的最近非常not in good mood，吼两嗓子。

 

吃完晚饭想到一个创意，突然很想做这个项目，用STAR模型写了好几页。

关于未来，我的想法很多。最早是CICD，不过看完《离开微软 改变世界》后发现RTR也很不错，如果可以融入我们local的东西也会很好的。然后就是今天想到的HM，这个我要多了解现状，多学习一点新知识才能下结论。终极目标，和Fay的有点像，不过很有争议，引申的课题有人支持，有人极力反对，总之是controversial issue。

最近看到公司有MBA计划，但面对的是工作多年某个level的人。但我要慢慢思考，选择哪个目标会影响我对未来学习的决策。没人可以帮我做决定，但找人咨询，然后竖起耳朵倾听还是需要的。

一早在水源Graduating版看到J.K. Rowling给08年Harvard毕业生的演讲。真的要毕业了~ 个人觉得这个演讲不错，曾经的失败和特别想象力确实就是罗琳最显著的地方。开头很大篇幅说她个人经历的，我也马马乎乎看了下，大家可以直接看我标注的地方。

 

视频下载 http://video.the-leaky-cauldron.org/video/1027
音频下载 http://webonly.harvardmagazine.com/159-Rowling.mp3
在线观看 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pucdJHjZaqs

 

President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.

The first thing I would like to say is ‘thank you.’ Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I’ve experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world’s best-educated Harry Potter convention.

Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can’t remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.

You see? If all you remember in years to come is the ‘gay wizard’ joke, I’ve still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.

 

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life’, I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.

These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.

I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.

They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents’ car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.

However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person’s idea of success, so high have you already flown academically. （她说的很对，对名校学生来说学术的成功会让他们比其他毕业生少了对失败的认识准备。）

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without
being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life. （乐观面对，珍惜所拥有的，哪怕老旧的打字机都可能给人感动）

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies. （在最困难的绝境中我才会发现自己都不知道的潜能，也才能知道真正的朋友是谁。）

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned. （逆境考验所学的一切，我认为除了学校教给我的知识外，还会包括一种带有不同学校特色的思维模式。就好象有人常说的可口可乐出来的人一看就知道一样。）

Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its
vicissitudes. （了解人生真正的意义才能更好生存）

You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. magination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared. （提出想象力具有强大改造力，这个是我以前没有意识到过的）

One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country’s regime, his mother had been seized and executed.

Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s minds, imagine themselves into other people’s places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid. （不经历可怕的事物的人不等于不会看见妖魔鬼怪）

What is more, those who choose not to empathize may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.

But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people’s lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better. （这两段太振奋人心了！！！希望我的毕业典礼上也有个大牛人来讲讲）

I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I’ve used their names for Death Eaters. （非常有趣：D） At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.

So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom: As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters. （非常被说到的一句话。）

I wish you all very good lives.
Thank you very much.

听到这个题目，我马上想到的就是这段话：

 

 

然后又想到形容莫扎特的很好的话，之前一直贴在寝室墙上：

 

废话不多说，只是真的这些大师他们改变我们太多了。

 

说实话我很不舒服，手机兜来兜去看通讯录知道大家忙着上班，很克制自己发消息的冲动。看医生我就很塌实，有个地方给我宣泄。于是也找点乐子，这些天看了很多医生，摘有几段有趣的对话，不过舒服了自己，估计医生很抓狂。

 

王医生：这个受伤位子是蛮尴尬，不好打石膏。不过你好好告诉我你怎么能摔成这样？一般只有七八十岁老太才摔到这个位子。
我：%#^$@（我事后才回想起当时非常罕见的着地状态）
王医生：不幸中的万幸。以后要多晒太阳，上海人就这样不好，一白遮百丑，黑怎么了？健康！
我：%#^$@

我：医生，我老是做X光啊，CT啊，尤其还有脑CT是不是不好？得死我多少脑细胞？！
X医生：我天天在放射科上班不也好好的？！
我：%#^$@（立马娴熟就位）

 

吴医生：你这几天多吃点鱼虾。
我：我吃云南白药，不能吃这些。
吴医生：那么我给你开接骨片。
我：（貌似以前扭伤脚有医生开过的）哦，我有。
吴医生：那最好了。
我：（怕吃错药）是不是全称是伤科接骨片？
吴医生：是
我：（怕吃错药）是不是橘黄色瓶子？
吴医生：是
我：（怕吃错药）是不是瓶子扁扁的？
吴医生：%#^$@。。。你要不要还是我把药开给你？（终于好脾气的吴医生也抓狂了，他是以前外婆邻居护士姐姐的老公）

孙医生：你晚上睡觉垫高点？
我：我胳膊下垫东西了。
孙医生：我说你整个人！
我：@@
孙医生：哦哦哦，睡躺椅的意思知道哇？

我：医生，我这样不自在那样也不舒服，晚上睡不好。
周医生：你才多大晚上就睡不好？！
我：%#^$@。我是脖子和手臂不舒服给闹腾的|||对了，医生，我每天发烧难受。
周医生：恩，几度？
我：三分到六分。
周医生：哪个三分到六分？
我：@@就是37.3~37.6
周医生：这又不高。
我：37点几呐！
周医生：你放在哪里量的？
我：嘴巴里。
周医生：是不高的，你知道基础体温吗？不高于38度没问题。
我：%#^$@
周医生：我跟你说，没事不要把固定带拆下来。
我：那么我每天换衣服总要拆的。
周医生：不会吧？坚持下，忍忍。
我：我都换了一个星期了。
周医生：%#^$@
我：医生，你看这个片子。。。为什么同一块骨头高出不一样？
周医生：可能当时罗医生帮你处理好一些了。
我：医生，这个片子上哪个是骨折线？
护士：周xinjian，还有很多病人！！！