1. signal 2. much3. plugged 4.message 5. behind 6. misinterpreted 7. judged 8. unfamiliar 9. anxious 10. turn11. dangerous 12. hurt 13. conversation 14. passengers 15. predict 16. ride 17.went through 18. in fact 19. since 20.simple
“What does your necklace say?”
Where are you? Why haven’t you showed up from the many strange faces? I get a little anxious now.
It's a sad reality -- our desire to avoid interacting with otherhuman beings -- because there's much to be gained from talking to the strangerstanding by you. But you wouldn't know it, plugged into your phone. Thisuniversal armor sends the message: "Please don't approach me."
Hanging up the phone, I am reassured by the encouraging words from the other side of the phone and my anxious nerve calms down to some degree. It is eleven fifty-five, only several minutes left before the ending of the terrible day. Out of the window, the sight has stopped some time again. So many stopovers, what is the distinctive point of the “express” train? If only the train could hurtle all the way to Zhengzhou. After turning back, the boy opposite has changed to another person. Where is he? Has he arrived and got off? Aware that he has gone never to appear again, I feel some loss somehow. Honestly speaking, I really wish to have someone like him with such firm eyes to travel along, even if there is only now-and-then wordless eye contact between us. I pretend to do some stretch to broaden my horizon and hope to catch his figure somewhere by good luck, but he seems to have left forever. Apparently, the beautiful word “luck” never applies to me. I give a silent sigh, and press myself again onto the window. Turning on the phone and sliding my thumb aimlessly on the screen, I find nothing useful to read. Social software always loses its appeal when the one using it is idling away his time. If only East China Normal University had given me the offer. Then the cold and unbearable night, what of it? Feeling gently the necklace that has been with me for three years, I close my eyes slowly. Nearly unconsciously dropping into another world, I feel a slight movement beside me. Slitting my eyes sideways, I am instantly exhilarated. It’s him!
In fact, these commutes were reportedly more enjoyable compared withthose sans communication, which makes absolute sense, since human beings thriveoff of social connections. It's that simple: Talking to strangers can make youfeel connected. The train ride is a fortuity for social connection -- "thestuff of life," Wortmann says. Even seemingly trivial interactions canboost mood and increase the sense of belonging. A study similar in hypothesisto Eply and Schroder's published in Social Psychological & PersonalityScience asked participants to smile, make eye contact and chat with theircashier. Those who engaged with the cashier experienced better moods -- andeven reported a better shopping experience than those who avoided superfluousconversation。（文都供稿）
“Reading and writing and reciting, you must have a lot to do every day.”
“I can’t hold my drink.”
While the subway's arrival may be ambiguous, one thing about yourcommute is certain: No one wants to talk to each other. In our contemporaryculture, the prospect of communicating with -- or even looking at -- a strangeris virtually unbearable. Everyone around us seems to agree by the way theyfiddle with their phones, even without a signal underground。
It is October now. Some gentle wind has breezed into Nanjing. The summer’s heat can still be felt. Wandering by the Xuanwu Lake, My heart is eased by the tender night, with its cool moonlight floating on the quiet lake. Burying myself in all of this, I am waiting for the train that will take me home. Do not know from when beginning, I became sensitive and eager to flee and this feeling is swelling in my heart day after day.
What is it that makes us feel we need to hide behind our screens?
“Cried all the way?” I am a little confused.
One answer is fear, according to Jon Wortmann, executive mentalcoach and author of "Hijacked by Your Brain: How to Free Yourself WhenStress Takes Over." We fear rejection, or that our innocent socialadvances will be misinterpreted as "creepy," he told The HuffingtonPost. We fear we'll be judged. We fear we'll be disruptive。
A delicate smile creeps on her face, and her talking speed is not that hurried any more. She answers gently, “don’t you think ‘forever’ is so beautiful a word?”
Strangers are inherently unfamiliar to us, so we are more likely tofeel anxious when communicating with them compared with our friends andacquaintances. To avoid this anxiety, we turn to our phones. "Phonesbecome our security blanket," Wortmann says. "They are our happyglasses that protect us from what we perceive is going to be moredangerous."
Now, the train is approaching slowly from Shanghai. In its short stay in Nanjing, I finally succeed shoving in the crowded compartment. Another unbearable night. Everywhere before my eyes are people’s heads. There seems no hope for a little movement. Living in this era, except for a peaceful world, nothing can be harder than access to a berth ticket that allows you to speed along the Beijing-Shanghai line. Carried by the stream of people, I could move only a little step at once. Someone’s arm is sticking closely on my chest, somewhere in the corner is sending out stinking fishy smell, and occasional quarreling and babies’ crying keep hovering beside my ears. It seems as if I was lost in a messy dream created by a poor sleeper. Finally reaching my seat, I am not a bit surprised that it has been already occupied by a stranger, a very common stranger, like anyone else in the train. “I am so sorry, but…” before I finish my words, he stands up at once, leaving with hands folding in his arms. I cast a short glance at the luggage rack overhead. The luggage is so terribly crushed together that I am sure another leaf would break the rack down. Holding my backpack, I sit down in no time. Surrounded by the annoying and endless noise, my mind drops into a complete blank.
But once we rip off the bandaid, tuck our smartphones in our pocketsand look up, it doesn't hurt so bad. In one 2011 experiment, behavioralscientists Nicholas Epley and Juliana Schroeder asked commuters to do theunthinkable: Start a conversation. The duo had Chicago train commuters talk totheir fellow passengers. "When Dr. Epley and Ms. Schroeder asked otherpeople in the same train station to predict how they would feel after talkingto a stranger, the commuters thought their ride would be more pleasant if theysat on their own," the New York Times summarizes. Though the participantsdidn't expect a positive experience, after they went through with theexperiment, "not a single person reported having been snubbed."
“And you? Are you a college student as well?”
2015年考研[微博]英语(二)完型填空选自美国当今最具影响力新闻博客网站《赫芬顿邮报》(The Huffington Post)在2014年5月16日发布的一篇博文，原文题目为“This Is Why You Ignore Everybody On The Subway -- And Why You ShouldStop”，原文篇幅很长，共计17段，本次英语二考试只选取了前七段。
“Is it that difficult to recognize the word? I can’t figure it out why everyone fails to make it out the first time they see it. Besides, each inquiry doesn’t seem to be careless.”
“All right. Just leave it there.”
The girl shakes her head slightly, as if forced to accept something unacceptable. With her chin in one hand, she puts another on the table. We stop saying anything and gaze at each other. Now I can feel that the distance between us is being shortened.
“I have made a great effort for East China Normal University, which was thought to ensure my admission. However, everything turns out a reverie.”
I take over the cup with hesitation. To use a stranger’s cup, that is really uncomfortable for me. However, it seems all right to the girl. Then how come there are so many misgivings on my part? Just some help from a stranger, just a bit of drink. I must worry too much.
Carrying my bag on the back, I hide myself as well as my complex feelings among the crowd. Seeing you off farther and farther, I remain where I am, hesitating to catch up with you.
“Well, sleep for a while.”
The girl looks down and up again, “isn’t it clear?”
Hearing his words, I become uncertain now. East China Normal University is my ideal school, but there is no need to be so heart-renting, for I am clear that this school is not the final choice.
I am confounded at first, then smiles kindly, “yet not a bad thing. Still suffering?”
“Because of staying up late?”
“I’m placed second in our school.”
“On the subway to the station, tears were running out of control.”
I keep standing there before your slim figure is completely out of sight, as if my body had been frozen by the penetrating cold air.
“A little bit. Energy tends to run out much more easily in such a cold environment. I’m still a little cold. Why is the temperature regulated at such a low level?”
“No, but a postgraduate recommendation.”
“My French class had just been over when he called. I was so happy to see his name glimmering on the screen, thinking he must miss me. How silly I was! As soon as he began to speak, I came to realize something was wrong with him. Once he finished, I fell into an absolute daze as for what had happened on earth, but one thing I was clear was that we were done.”
“Forever.” the girl utters a word in very standard American English.
“Not long ago, I received the break-up call from my boyfriend.”
“Are you thirsty?”
I am at a loss as to how to comment and comfort her. Although her heart is distant from mine, I could tell truthfully from her tone that she is overwhelmed with desperate sorrow.
The train is started again. The owner of the seat comes back, and I return to mine. What a pragmatic girl! The pragmatic dialogue, the pragmatic smile, perhaps her life is also pragmatic. Otherwise how can she be one of the top students all through her college years. To be pragmatic, isn’t that exactly what I am short of? Our conversation is on and off, so is our eye contact. But my thirst for the leisurely communication has never ceased. I begin to be infatuated with her voice, her serious expression as well as her heart-melting laugh. Outside, the highway cannot be seen any more, and the moon hides behind the black clouds. Unknowingly, it begins to drizzle. Sitting here shrouded by the curtain of night, I am thinking over for another topic. Which kind of synthesizer do you think is more appropriate for the stage keyboard, Roland’s, or KORG’s? Ah, how silly to talk like this!
“It is a tough journey on the train after all.”
The light outside comes and goes, so does each city along the journey. Unwittingly, Nanjing has been left behind. My mind is drifting casually amidst the stifling compartment as well as my unclear memory when I suddenly catch sight of a young boy sitting in front of me. Boys like this one can be seen everywhere, but each one has his own story. I cannot but watch him stealthily. He wears a green plaid shirt, a gray short-sleeve inside, and a pair of handsome jeans, with a black backpack before his chest. He sits still, completely soaking himself in the music, just like a wood carving. He probably has no idea that he has been reflected in a girl’s eyes for an instant, a brief but beautiful instant. Only after a little while, I have to reset my eyes somewhere else, for fear of eye contact with him.
“Are you hungry?” I look forward to a positive answer somewhat.
The backpack feels extraordinarily heavy, slowing down my pace. You might be still looking for me, or you might have understood me, but please forgive and forget a stranger and his flee.
My heart has just been brightened when the recalling brings me back into the abyss of sorrow. Whatever situation I am in or will be in, those sharp recollections will make me relive the bitterness whenever they come into my mind. I try to calm down and come clean about myself as if telling other ones’ story.
Unaware how long I have been wedged here, my body does not ache at all. It is likely that the surroundings are more prone to be overlooked while one is caught in the past. All the present stuff flits away, leaving no meaningful impression. What a terrible night! Both the suffocating compartment and the grievous bygones keep stirring in my mind. I turn on the cell phone, only to find nothing new. It is twenty-two fifteen and there is still a long way to Zhengzhou. Counting how many hours left, I even feel the tedious journey cannot be withstood any more the next moment. Boredom is more likely to call up bad memories. Even now, it is still hard to believe today’s fiasco in the interview of my ideal university and the break-up call from ex-boyfriend several days ago. In the desperate pursuit for love and school attainment, my relentless pay turns out a monodrama with no audience. The painstaking effort has been recognized by no one else but only me. On the subway to the train station, tears kept flooding out of control, which might have been pitied by other passengers nearby. At thinking of this, the thread of thought is abruptly interrupted by a loud crying from a peddler. A woman in a uniform pushes an iron wheelbarrow, squeezing into the aisle, which stirs up a fit of complaint and movement. She keeps apologizing for the disturbance while yelling out her quite fluent lines. I am kind of amused by the sudden incident. As I turn around, my eyes happen to meet his.
“And you? How about your sleep?”
I wake up slowly. Because of the awkward sleeping position, the whole body feels uncomfortable, just like an old rusty machine. The train stops at one regulating station. Outside are the criss-cross rails and the flickering signal lights. The morning dawns fresh and bright as soon as the first ray of sunlight pierces through the rolling dark clouds. The girl’s face appears clearer bathed in such crystal light, and the necklace glints against the beams as her chest heaves up and down. She is still deep in sleep. I cannot help watching her closely. She has a delicate face as well as a slim figure, her collarbone protruding distinctively. It isn’t six o’clock yet, and our shared time has been only several hours till now, which, however, has become part of my precious ethereal memory. Somehow I hope to embrace her. At the thought of the parting in one hour, I feel a surge of pity. If only the train could travel all the way where life ends.
“We had planned everything—where we would settle down our home, what we would do, and even for what we would quarrel with each other the first time. I had let him know whatever I can think of. To be at his side, just waiting for our next life period, I felt I was the happiest woman in the world. Life for me seemed free from worry forever and filled with laughter for no reason. But what I had never expected was that he was such an irresponsible man.”
“Light sleep engenders more dreams.”
“Exactly,” I blurt out without any thinking.
The girl smiles, “partly out of this, but more because I have cried all the way since departing from Shanghai.”
“That I came to Shanghai this time is for the interview of East China Normal University, the result of which was thought absolutely all right…” the girl casts a glance at me, breaking the silence as if to avoid the wordless embarrassment between us. She shakes her head and frowns slightly, as if knocked badly by something afflicting.
“In fact, my original seat is beside yours.”
“I’m not that confident now, but compared with East China Normal University, this school is not that challenging.”
The girl’s eyes drift outside again and silently shake her head the second time. This time, I could feel her tears could run down at any minute.
To be honest, I have no idea what I am laughing about, just amused by her lovely frankness.
It is spitting outside. The rain must be cool even in October. Imagining being tapped by the chilly sprinkles out there, I feel even colder. Isn’t the trainman in short sleeves cold at all? If he is selfish enough to say, “Hey, I’m so cold that I’m going to turn down the air conditioner.” Perhaps none would complain. Most passengers have fallen asleep in all kinds of postures, wrapping themselves with whatever can be used—coats, blankets, or even newspapers, which may look strange, but so warm. I now regret extremely having not followed mother’s words, having thought only a couple of days in Shanghai has no need of too much clothes. The boy must also feel cold now, his sleeves pulled down and his shirt buttoned to the top one. I am so silly to hope to be offered his shirt by him.
“No, seven letters in all.”
I approach closer to her, look into her eyes and then check my watch. It is one o’clock already.
“Go straight home?” the girl continues.
He nods silently, as if lost in a deep meditation, wondering what kind of research translation is on earth.
“I would feel carsick.”
“He must have had a heart of stone, just analyzing sensibly the present situation, leaving no chance to me to express my opinion. It seemed I was informed by my dear boyfriend of a piece of bad news. I had no idea how long I had been standing there. People came and went. I was lost in a droning blank, with all the sense stripped off me. But strangely, I was totally unconscious of any pain, as if the soul had left my body. I don’t know how long had passed before the flood of sorrow swept over me. I even forgot how to breathe, how to cry and how to sense. I can’t remember how I had got over those days, but there was one thing I got clear from then on.”
“A little bit.”
“Not very much. Love?” I choose one word based on my only idea about girls’ necklace.
“Life cannot be anticipated. Most of the time, things will not go as expected. You have to learn to get used to that.”
“Yep, in Ningbo University, majoring in Mechanical Engineering.”
2017威尼斯登陆网站 ，The boy nods his head and closes his eyes. I turn on the phone, a new message lingering on the screen, which informs me that my friend has helped me sign up for the interview of Shandong University. Alas! Some mixed feelings are pent up in my heart. I try to seize another opportunity, but with great regret at the same time. Almost everyone has fallen into sleep. The trainman in a short-sleeve, the embarrassed peddling woman, what are they thinking about, and what is the shape of their inner feelings? Having finished the assignment and staying alone, would they be afraid to face up the daylight memory? My dry eyes struggle to make out the time on the watch—ten to four. How time flies. Maybe, I think, I have been enjoying every minute spent with him.
Seeing her, I give a courteous smile, and she responds the same way.
The girl’s eyes are blurring somewhere above my shoulder. Perhaps she is sleepy or exhausted after the utmost sincerity of her history. Or she just spreads what is on her heart on the eyes-focus and savors it alone.
“It’s no small blow to you.”
The girl rubs her eyes and looks me over again, “you might not, either.”
“Have breakfast together?” I finally extend a brave invitation.
“Your schoolwork must be very good.”
Before I could settle down, the trainman begins to yell. No one knows or even pays a little attention to what he has said. As the door is closed, a deep boom penetrates the crowed throng. Trembling slightly as pulled by the locomotive, the train begins to move. Finally, I think. The train progressed rather slowly. The light outside is getting dimmer. The pitch-dark night is encroaching on each segment of the train. I put on my earphone, and familiar melody flows into my brain. Closing my eyes and adjusting my body in a comfortable condition, I try to seek for a moment of peace.
“Contrary to the travelling direction. So what?”
“Once I arrive tomorrow morning, my parents will be waiting there. We will hurry to Jinan in the afternoon for the interview of Shandong University the next day.”
“A postgraduate recommendation?”