Life without waves, calligraphy has brought me a brand-new experience. That feeling, like talking to a close person, is the most pleasant feeling. I decided to practice calligraphy in order to give a little comfort to my boring life.
So, I embarked on this bumpy road. At first, I wrote badly. The most basic horizontal line is like a small snake wrapped around paper. I tried and tried, and I failed and tried again. It was early spring and a little cold. I hold the brush in my red hand and say to myself: press, stop, go, stop, go back and collect. These are just a few words, but it is not easy to do this. I practice hard and repeat it over and over again. The pile of paper on the side is getting thicker, and my calligraphy is getting better.
I fell in love with calligraphy. The teacher began to let me practice complex words. I carefully compared the copybooks and wrote them carefully one by one. After another month or two, I began to copy famous works and practice classical poetry. Writing these well-known poems with a brush has a unique charm. It is a great pleasure to write and read these beautiful words. I saw the flowers in A Dream of Red Mansions fly back. I admire the fallen flowers of the cuckoo. I miss the beauty of the pieces of jade. I admire the finely crafted powder makeup. I feel the charm of China ancient culture, and my life is full of scholarly atmosphere.
I further deepened my study of calligraphy and came into contact with more fonts. I like the elegance and solemnity of official script. It is the kind of classical woman who dances, has long sleeves and is full of amorous feelings. I like the fluency and romance of running script. It was a trickle, full of vitality in the murmur. Each stroke has its own meaning. Horizontal is Libra-like fairness; Vertical, standing like a pine; Skim, fade out gently; If you are embarrassed, you must be deeply branded; Pointed out that it is round and smooth; What I fold out is integrity ... I cultivate sentiment in calligraphy, and even if there are setbacks, I will never give up easily!
Flowers are hesitating, willows are singing softly, and light green appears slightly from the top of the tree. Another spring, I took part in the calligraphy competition and returned home in triumph.
Calligraphy has been refreshed and integrated into my life. Accompany me through my youth, let me feel the perfection of the world and temper my will. Freehand brushwork, I won't forget you!
I don't know when I started, but I got into the habit of collecting used empty refills. Over time, I actually got about one hundred. Looking at these empty refills, I deeply realized the truth that "there is a mountain", and I felt a lot in my heart!
This weekend, I walked into the study and glanced at it at random, and found the pile of empty refills that I was about to forget. I spread them out on the desk and fell into a series of beautiful memories.
That thick black Baile v5rt, the black refill I kept at hand, was used last time before 100. It records my glory. I remember I was very serious. I am single-minded and meticulous in my study. It's time to announce my ranking after the monthly exam. I am nervous all over, and every cell is eager to get a good grade. Sure enough, no pains, no gains. When the exciting "70" ranking of the whole grade jumped to my ear, my ecstasy could no longer be concealed. Since then, the refill has been enshrined by me like a bodhisattva, and I will only take it out when I take the final exam. It seems to be sheltering me and walking side by side with me, but not long ago, it gave the last drop of ink, and I reluctantly put it in the refill pile.
At this time, an empty refill filled with Japanese attracted my attention. No matter where I travel, I have the habit of buying some school supplies as a souvenir. I bought this Japanese fountain pen during my trip this summer. Excellent feel, especially smooth and round in hand, oily and good color. The cashier gave it to me in a bag. She said "goodbye" to me with a sweet smile. What impressed me most was her smile and warm service attitude. So, this pen became my favorite and soon ran out of oil. I treasured it and had a wonderful journey.
The red morning light on the far side 150 also evoked a past event, which was in primary school. At that time, it was popular to make slingshots to launch refills. I also tried to make one. A refill and an eraser are both materials. I took out the least commonly used red pen from the pencil case, removed the refill and filled it with rubber bands. I immediately let it fly like an arrow, but the red ink in the refill was thrown out and splashed all over my face. I became a red-faced Guan Gong, which made the whole class feel embarrassed and embarrassed. This empty refill is for me.
And that one, this one … I hold these empty refills in my hand and touch them carefully, and my memory rolls in my heart layer by layer with those touching stories …
Every empty refill is a good memory. Although the oil is empty, the memory is full, and it will always be remembered inadvertently. It is these refills that remind me all the time that "diligence is the only way to success", and they are recording my world!
Around ten o'clock the night before yesterday.
Teacher Shu will add math problems to interested students every day, but it is a bit too difficult. I sat at my desk, biting my pen and thinking hard. The night wind sneaked in through the cracks in the window that never closed, cooling my hands and time.
The ticking sound of the clock passed slowly, and I was very uneasy and had no clue. Finally, I gritted my teeth and put down my pen. "Dad, come and teach me the topic!" "
He took the roll paper, sat where I used to sit, and began to calculate. In order not to lose time, I took a bath. When I came back, I found that he still didn't move at all, just frowned and rubbed more and more frequently. When I take a closer look, the auxiliary lines are one after another, dense and messy, like children's graffiti. I gave a loud laugh. It's strange to make so many auxiliary lines. However, he ignored me, but stubbornly counted it over and over again in his completely impossible correct way.
I asked him to tell me his method, and he began to tell me every step in detail, as if afraid that I didn't understand. In some places, he repeated it several times, like the old lady talking about family, and I couldn't finish listening to it. After patiently listening to his words, I left a faint sentence, "Wrong".
He seemed to question what I said, but he was discouraged and had to turn his head and continue to stumble forward from those irrelevant situations. He pushed a few more times, and the warm yellow light reflected the thin sweat on his forehead. He took a piece of paper and wiped the sweat from his palm. His lips pursed slightly, as if he were at a loss by my "mistake". Then he seemed to really don't know where he was wrong, so he asked me. I smiled, but the taste of that smile seemed a little stale. After giving him a few excuses about why, he really stood there, his pen dangling as if shaking, so until the end, he just sighed lightly and shook his head at me, saying that he wouldn't either.
When I first heard this, I didn't care too much, but my eyelids were almost closed, and later I learned that he said he wouldn't either. In my impression, my father has always been a man who refuses to admit defeat and won't lose, but today, my father lost in front of this math problem. I told him personally that he lost completely. Ask him a vague question: "Dad, how long has it been since you wrote such a math problem?" He paused as if he were seriously thinking about the problem, and then he said "for a long time". How long has it been? It's probably been too long, and all his glory has gone.
I told him the method taught by Mr. Shu last night, but he just answered, and I don't know if I understood it. I just wanted to look up and tease him that he was also wrong, but I bumped into his gray dim eyes, like a child who was criticized for doing something wrong. My heart jumped, and when I came to my senses, I found that my father had left the room. I want to stand up and catch up with him. I recalled myself yesterday and fell back to my seat.
Is it really the father's fault? I was lost in thought.
An ordinary morning.
The sky is not blue, but white, so white that people can't help wondering whether it is sky or white. The sunshine with unique temperature in winter is warm, cool, not boring, but far away and bleak.
The leaves in the community are gone, and they are very bald. Those bare branches are like thin, withered hands, stretching upward from the ground, hoping that they will never catch this day. The "hand" leans back and bends into an incredible arc, which is quite creepy.
The leaves of the orange tree stubbornly stick to the tree, pile by pile, pile by pile, and huddle together. The morning breeze is noisy, shuttling between every gap, and those leaves are blown away. After the wind passed, there was only a slight tremor, like a gentleman who lost his face playing with a tie. I wanted to laugh, but I accidentally saw a warm yellow in the green.
That's an orange.
Probably because it grew in a high place and was not picked, it walked through autumn alone, shivering in the winter wind, hanging on the branches trembling, trying to fall. The color of orange is very old, as if it had been faded by countless wind and sun. Years have washed away its beautiful face, but it just hangs quietly on the branches, or a gust of wind tomorrow, a rain the day after tomorrow, or even a ray of sunshine today, can make it end this life. It just hangs there, not talking.
I'm starting to worry. It is impossible to be chosen. No one will move a ladder for an orange that looks sour, but ...
Also very poor, can't do anything. All I can do is be relatively silent with it. For an instant, the feeling of decadence came to my mind, and even the warmth could not be protected.
Look up at the orange again, the fine sunshine jumps on its surface, and the warmth in this bleak winter, please be sure to survive and spend this winter with me. In this white world, you are the only warm color. Let's be the remaining warmth between each other. In this cold winter, we will no longer be lonely.
The home-school contact book was handed down one by one. When I opened it, the words written in red came into view. "Keep working hard!" Close the book, but smile on your eyebrows.
I like to communicate with you in the home-school contact book. For better or worse, I always gain strength when I see your praise or encouragement. And whenever I don't do well in the exam, I will deliberately not write scores, opponents, and change my mind to write something casually. But you have been paying attention to me, knowing my scores, seeing through my tricks again and again, and writing words of encouragement to keep me warm.
One week before the exam, my grades plummeted, and the words "I'm sorry, I failed the exam" were written over and over again in the home-school contact book. It stung my eyes, and when I sent it, I was too timid to look through it. I don't know what kind of expression you will write down. However, the words on the notebook, the words of encouragement, and the heart that never gave up made me cry. Just like your warm hug, it comforted my wandering heart. I try to brush topics in my spare time. Because I know, but how hard did you work when you wrote this paragraph? Your cervical spine is not good, and you will feel dizzy and numb when it is serious. Then you not only correct our homework, but also bother to communicate with us.
At the beginning of this semester, you set me a goal on the first page: "How happy I will be if I win my deskmate!" " "The moment I got the notebook, I immediately put aside the pleasure of summer vacation and devoted myself to my study." Teacher, his English is so good that I can only exercise my science. ""well, good. " "Teacher, I surpassed him 10 in physics." "Don't take it lightly" ...
Every time it's short or long. There is praise and encouragement. You also secretly revealed in your deskmate's home-school contact book that I took him as an opponent. With this encouragement, I defeated him. Are you gratified and happy?
Remember I just met you in junior high school. You wrote before the first monthly exam: "Strive for the top 200! Come on! " I will tell you how I brush the questions every night. You will praise me and sometimes draw a smiling face at the end of the words. Round, squinting, very simple, but it made me happy all day. "I did well in math yesterday. I like you, girl! " Maybe a short "like you" can make me full of energy. If you have a cold, write "If you are uncomfortable, you can apply for less homework." You will win honor for your class at the sports meeting or take some photos for you during the spring outing. You will thank me, just like your sister next door.
I did badly in that monthly exam, but you believe I will do well next time.
Open the home-school contact book, page by page, full of exhortation, care, encouragement and trust. Your words refresh my life again and again, adding infinite color to my junior high school life, and I am working hard towards my goal because of your words.
Today's physical education class is the best in three semesters. Teacher Zhang agreed to let the boys play basketball, and the boys were like a duck to water, and their blood was boiling.
Ten minutes after the start, four boys in Grade Three are also practicing. Because there is no room, they want to play games with us. In the fourth grade, we discussed it for a while and then started. The four students in our class are Zhong, Liu and Xu Zhenhao. On the other hand, the opposing lineup should not be underestimated. A boy 1.9m, a strong and perfect center and three forwards are agile. Who will win the leapfrog basketball game? Let's wait and see.
At first, let's play for the ball, and prepare 1V4. He has no teammates at all. He bounced three times in a row and circled three forwards. When you are proud, turn around and throw. He thought he had reached "one blood", but the center blocked the ball, took advantage of the opponent and gave it away with both hands. The ball flew out and a striker had been waiting for a long time. I didn't even touch the ball, and finally the ball was grabbed by the striker. Liu wandered away, but it was gone. The ball was passed to the inside again. As it spun in the air, another striker jumped up. A three-step dunk after landing, and the ball is in! The first half ended with 1:0.
The second half began. This time, Xu Zhenhao took the ball and prepared to shoot three points. Everyone thinks he is crazy, but actions speak louder than words. The ball made a perfect arc and went into the basket. In an instant, the score was even. Since then, Xu Zhenhao has a new title: "Three-point Little Prince". After all, the third grade is the third grade. After being abused by the second grade, no one wants to change. Finally, BOSS appeared. Like a "tank", he despised everything on the basketball court and even ignored Zhang. Everyone was dumbfounded, but it was nothing. After taking the ball, he first passed it to Liu at the basket and then to Zhong. These passes will be for the third grade.
Finally, the game is coming to an end. The score of the two teams is 15: 14, we are 15, and they are 14. The score is deadlocked. Everyone thinks we will win, but the junior three students don't want to. Isn't this a slap in the face with the strength of second-year students? Opposite the center, the small universe broke out, and he meditated for a while. When he opened his eyes, if his eyes could kill people, we would have died 100 times. His teammates saw this and passed the ball to him. He got the ball. In the first set, I tried to steal Liu's ball, but the other team was too strong. When he hit Liu, he didn't move. Suddenly, he picked up the ball and rushed up. With his height of 1.9m and amazing jumping ability, he learned to dunk with one hand and created a victory. The whole process was like flowing water, without any delay, and directly opened the score, thus winning the third grade.
Although this is a game without suspense, I can see the spirit of the boys in our class who dare to work hard, which is the most important thing.
At the weekend, my parents, good friends and I came to Haidilao, Nantong.
When I first arrived there, I was a little excited, but I kept taking a deep breath to calm myself down as soon as possible.
When we arrived at the door, we were all dumbfounded. The people in line can make up a row, but fortunately we had the foresight to complete the reservation. When we walked in, everyone looked at us with envy and jealousy.
The adults were ordering, and we were sent to the seasoning area. Looking at these spices, I couldn't help swallowing, wishing I could have a little of everything, but the bowl was too small to hold, and my beautiful fantasy was shattered.
At first there were things like meatballs and vegetables. For me, the wait is extremely long. One minute, two minutes, these minutes are like years. I looked around and shook my head like a rattle. When it's good, I grab a lot of eyes and put them in the seasoning bowl. Immediately, I wrapped it in my mouth with lightning speed. In an instant, a spicy taste filled the whole taste bud. I took a small bite and all the soup spilled into my mouth. That's great. Q-elasticity of a kind of meatball is well understood, but impatience is not a good thing. When the spiciness and temperature are combined, you can immediately feel the flame in your mouth. After a while, there was little food left on the table, and everyone's fighting capacity was ridiculously high.
The second part is meat, including beef, mutton, pork and tripe. Stir-fry a tripe, and I can't help laughing at the thought of how to eat it in Shanghai. I put the tripe in the pot, but murmured: 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, "It's like the countdown to the rocket's takeoff". My mother asked me, "What are you talking about, son?" I didn't answer her. I put my eyes into the pot, picked up the hairy belly and put it in my mouth. There is no ambiguity. Maodu is crispy and chewy, not the best in the world, but it is more than enough as a hot pot. I noticed that my sister next to me also ate like me. She chewed for a long time and said in a girl's unique tone, "It's hard." Everyone couldn't help laughing.
The last part is the staple food. After changing the water in the pot, the waiter brought some noodles Immediately, he picked up the noodles and kept playing with them in his hands. Flour sticks are swinging and getting longer and longer. Then, she grabbed the other end and threw it at me. I was fascinated by this sudden "surprise" and scared to death, just before I left 65438. People on the side are full of praise. The waiter threw the noodles into the air, holding scissors in one hand and preparing them in the other. Hands with scissors cut noodles into many strips in the air, and their hands are extremely fast. The other hand grabbed the noodles and put them into the pot.
Nantong has not only hot pot, but also other delicious food. Let's explore food and Nantong together.
Everyone likes different tastes, but for me, the favorite taste is the taste of the cake made by my mother.
Whenever someone in our family has a birthday or a special festival, what our family is most looking forward to is eating cake. But this cake was not bought in any cake shop. My mother made it herself. I am proud that my mother has a pair of skillful hands. Through her hands, many foods become so delicious.
I remember that every time my mother made a cake, she separated the egg yolk from the egg white, stirred the egg white with a blender, then added sugar to stir, then added some white sugar to the egg yolk to break it up, then added flour and milk to stir, finally poured the egg white into the egg yolk and stirred it evenly, and then poured these egg pastes into the cake mold. After passing through my mother's baby oven, a fragrant cake was made.
Every time I make a cake, I always wait by and sometimes help to do something. What I am looking forward to most is that my mother puts the cake in the oven. As the oven heats up, the smell of the cake becomes stronger and stronger. Suddenly, the whole house was filled with the smell of cake. By this time, my saliva had been left all over the floor, waiting for the cake. When my mother took out the freshly baked cake and put it in front of me, I couldn't wait to deliver it to my mouth. After a while, the fragrant cake melted in the mouth, and My Sweetie's cream was not greasy at all, but slightly sweet. Anyone who has tasted it can't help taking a second bite. I think only mom can make that smell. ?
There are thousands of flavors in the world, and the cakes made by my mother always make me irresistible, because this fragrance hides my mother's love and concern for my family. It gives me incomparable warmth. So this is my mother's smell.
In winter mornings, you can often see morning fog, but those fogs seem to only like to dance on high places and never dance below. But this time, it gave enough face and came well. The ground is dirty.
It was still a little dark when I got up in the morning, and I didn't find anything strange outside. After washing and breakfast, I took up my schoolbag and went to school. It's gray outside, so I can't see anything clearly. Oh, it's foggy! Today's fog seems to be much bigger than usual, and everything in the world is shrouded in it, just like a fairyland.
When I went downstairs, my eyes were covered with gauze and I couldn't see anything. I slapped my hand playfully in front of my eyes, and just when I felt that my eyes were clearer, I was shrouded in fog in a flash. Go to school after finding the car. The car drove as slowly as ants along the way, and two yellow lights flashed behind all the cars to remind everyone to pay attention to safety. I saw all the battery cars with their headlights on through the window. The car shuttled through the mist, the people on the battery car were just looming, and the flowers, trees and tall buildings just flashed by. Just like ink painting, it is really beautiful!
Finally, when I got to school, the scene was a bit shocking. The teaching building is also buried in this fog, and students walk by, just like seeing a black line passing by, and only seeing humans when they get closer. On the way to the classroom, I felt as if I was wandering in a fairyland, with a veil of fog floating in front of my eyes, layer by layer, like smoke. I caught it with my hand, ha, I caught it, but in a short time, it slipped out of my hand, and it swayed in front of my eyes all over the world. What a lovely fog! It became a makeup artist, leaving wisps of silver on my black hair and small crystal flowers on my upper and lower eyelashes. I closed my eyes and felt a little cold in my eyes. This is a masterpiece of fog!
Slowly, the sun came out, the fog subsided, the world gradually recovered its original appearance, the trees grew again, the building still stood tall and straight, and the road was full of traffic. This way, this scene, I sigh the magic of nature.
The world is like a fairyland because of fog, and it will be beautiful because there is no fog. And the fog will only come gently, just like she walks gently.
On the mainland of China, there are four kinds of pots: gas pot, dry pot, braised pot and hot pot. Compared with all kinds of steamers, trendy dry pots and braised pots that are delicious to the sky, I think hot pot is more "up a storey still higher" than them!
Regardless of what to eat, it smells good as soon as you enter the door! I saw a "cloud", all kinds of spices shone with unique brilliance like treasures, accompanied by "white smoke" and the bottom taste of hot pot ... who left!
Finally, vegetables are served. The hot pot has opened its mouth and exhaled hot air. The burnt smell permeates the box, rushes in quickly, gets into your nose and arrogantly occupies all your sense of smell. Bubbles keep rolling in the big mouth of hot pot, as if roaring at each of us: "There is something to eat!" " There is no way but to "feed" it. Put the scalded vegetables into its big mouth, Barry, and after it "tut-tut" praised, it opened its mouth and exhaled hot air, spewing out clamorous delicacies. Dad acted as a "white mouse", picked up a piece and quickly wrapped it in his mouth-"Well, it's not ripe yet." He picked up the best snowflake at lightning speed, put it in his mouth and dipped it in sauce ... so dad was lying to us! ?
The burning hot pot, fragrant smell, has attracted greedy insects in our stomachs. "Eat!" I don't know who shouted, and dozens of pairs of chopsticks swam into the hot pot together, and soon the dishes were served on the bowl. Different from them, I put a piece of the best beef and sat down to dip it in the homemade sauce. I felt that the tough fiber of beef met the sand tea sauce, mixed with XO sauce, and finally jumped up in my mouth with the mushroom king sauce, running excitedly on the taste buds, and finally slowly slipped into my stomach. This beautiful feeling makes my whole body full of strong happiness!
Beef, mutton, duck blood ... soon swept away. Seeing our unfinished eyes, my father immediately said, "One more copy of everything!" " "After saying his word, it was a word:" Good! "
Hot pot, I really want to eat it again. Let all kinds of delicious food bloom and sway between lips and teeth, and let that wonderful taste write the most beautiful youth in the world between the tip of the tongue!