Writing 13

I have always guessed that books are labeled by the four seasons of life. A casual glance will also sprout the deep meaning of spring, the fragrance of summer will bloom, the dead leaves will fly in autumn, and the snowflakes will fall in winter ... It turns out that those happiness are carefully brewed and distributed by you. ...

Yi Shu, a female writer in Taiwan Province, always puts her books in the most conspicuous corner. I often wonder whether a book is like a person. Yi Shu's words danced with her smiling face, which was sometimes ups and downs and sometimes indulgent. Even if I listen to "It's getting dark" with headphones on, the bright and warm sunshine will shine into my heart with the lyrics and make me happy.

Just like Yu's Cultural Journey, in school life, I can't see the sea in full bloom in spring. The pain of losing again and again makes me cry. Back to the roaring home, I closed the door coldly and took out my homework like a hill, but I couldn't write a word.

Looking back, I saw-People as Light as Chrysanthemum. The yellow cover is dotted with several chrysanthemums. Before the book was opened, I remembered the story I had read countless times: Joe, a girl from China, fell in love with an English professor who was 27 years older than herself. During her 27 years with him, she shed tears for him and was hurt for him. Two years later, she married an irrelevant person. Thinking of two years with him, Joe really has no regrets at all. Turning to the title page, I saw a sentence I copied from the book: Joe is an easy man to satisfy. Indifferent chrysanthemums are never sad in autumn, and people should live happily. Tears are easily conquered, dripping salty on the hands, turning into stinging light and shining on the unopened chaos in the body.

Chrysanthemums are never sad. Listening to her talk about these philosophies seems ordinary, but it is actually intriguing. Is there anything extraordinary about chrysanthemums? No, she doesn't have the grace of peony, the attack of osmanthus, the cunning of lilac, the charm of rose, and even she feels that she was born in the wrong season. Most flowers live in sunny spring and summer. Why did she choose the autumn with ordinary appearance and cold wind? Yi Shu said that chrysanthemums bloom last. After the chrysanthemum blooms, there are no flowers. People who don't know chrysanthemums naturally can't experience a happy paradise. Chrysanthemum is a persistent pursuer in the cold wind and adversity, and it has accumulated painful happiness. There are many things in life that you can't choose, such as Joe's love. She knows that she can never be with the person she loves, but if she has, she should be happy. Like the fate of chrysanthemum, she knows that spring can never turn back, but as long as she works hard, she should blossom and bear fruit and be happy.

Isn't it? Am I the chrysanthemum under the withered grass and geese? Plain looks are not outstanding. Gardeners always forget me in a lonely corner. But I am also growing and making progress. In order to explore the way of flowering, I twisted my delicate roots, opened every leaf and accepted rain and sunshine. Although there is only one chance to blossom in a lonely autumn, should I be happy with what I have done?

However, Yi Shu or shallow smile. The beauty of spring will only wither early. Pick a bag and put all the pain and frustration. The longer the road under your feet, the longer the fragrance will be brewed. ...

I can finally put down my book and smile calmly. I write every topic with peace of mind, write every beautiful word and taste every familiar taste. The days of waiting for flowers to bloom in Qiu Lai have become so happy and warm. I stayed up all night watching exercises, but I didn't feel sleepy. Maybe happiness will shorten the hard time.

Whenever I feel tired enough to stop, I always touch the smooth surface of the book. Then think about every word and sentence in the book like watching a movie, and the depression based on reality will be dispelled by some illusory happiness. Sunlight will light up the road full of thorns.

Yes, with books, it will give me endless happiness.

The Story Flowing from the Heart _ "Iron Man" Wang Jinxi

Wang Jinxi's "Iron Man Spirit" inspired generations of oil workers. Iron Man is not only the vanguard of the working class, but also a model of * * * producers. He is also a national hero who shares his worries for the country and wins glory for the nation.

When the oil field was dug, the drilling rig arrived and the crane was not enough. How can dozens of tons of equipment be unloaded from the car? Wang Jinxi said, "We can't wait for a moment. Even if people are pulling their shoulders, we will transport the rig to the well site. Conditional to go, no conditions to create conditions. " They played with rolling pins and crowbars for three days and nights, relying on their hands and shoulders. The 38-meter-high and 22-ton derrick stands in the wilderness against the cold wind. This is the famous "shoulder drilling rig" in the history of battle. Drilling is about to start, but the water pipe is not connected yet. Wang Jinxi shook his arm and led the workers to the nearby blisters to break the ice and get water. He simply used washbasins, buckets, pots and buckets to carry 50 tons of water to the well site. After hard work, the first production well in Daqing Oilfield was drilled in only 5 days and 4 hours. Faced with many difficulties, Wang Jinxi led the team to fight hard for five days and five nights with the indomitable will and soaring drive of "I'd rather live less than 20 years, but I'll try my best to win the big oil field", and hit the first oil injection well on the anniversary. In the following 10 months, Wang Jinxi led 1205 drilling team and 1202 drilling team. Under extremely difficult circumstances, they overcame many difficulties and both reached the miracle of 65438+100000 meters per year. At that time, Wang Jinxi was seriously ill and couldn't go to the hospital; Hundreds of pounds of drill pipe hurt his leg, and he continued to command with crutches; One day a blowout suddenly appeared, and there was no heavy crystal powder for well killing. Wang Jinxi immediately decided to use cement instead. Bags of cement were poured into the mud pit, but they could not be stirred. Wang Jinxi threw away his crutch, jumped into the waist-deep mud pond and stirred it with his body. The blowout was finally subdued, but Wang Jinxi was too tired to stand up. The landlady said sadly, "Captain Wang, you are really an iron man!" " That's how the name "Iron Man" got around. Wang Tie worked hard day and night to develop the oil industry of the motherland, and eventually he was exhausted. 1970 died of stomach cancer at the age of 47.

Wang Jinxi always thinks of national interests. He attaches great importance to investigation and study, relies on the masses to speed up oilfield construction, works hard and runs enterprises diligently. If conditions permit, he will do so even if he does not create conditions, establish a responsibility system, be serious and responsible, and strictly control the quality of the oilfield. His "Iron Man Spirit" and "Daqing Experience" have become the precious wealth of China's socialist construction. 1964, chairman Mao issued a call for "celebrating industry" to the whole country.

The Story Flowing from the Heart _ "Iron Man" Wang Jinxi, such a patriot!

home

As soon as she approached the house, Ann smelled a strange smell. She subconsciously rushed into the kitchen and turned off the fire on the stove. I don't know what burned it. Dad said in the study, "Who's back?" Ann shouldn't be in the kitchen. Dad was still sitting in front of the computer in the study, and the smoke in the study made An Gang go in and out again.

"Dad, what's burning on the stove?" "I don't know, ask your mother." "where's mom?" I don't know. Dad's indifferent attitude made Ann very helpless. At this moment, her mother pushed the door and came in. When she saw Ann's smile, her face changed immediately. Ann hurried back to her room and closed the door.

Sure enough, as I expected, my mother started yelling at my dad, for the burnt things in the pot, for the smell of smoke in the study, and for my dad's attitude of sitting in front of the computer and refusing to leave. My mother is a very educated woman with profound and sharp words. Although she didn't mean An An, An An's heart hurt. She leaned against the door and thought, "These are my parents." Then the tears began to slide down.

Dad finally began to fight back, for a man's dignity, against a woman's unreasonable and unbearable scolding.

This is why! Ann curled up behind the door and began to cry silently. She doesn't understand why a beautiful and warm home has become like this. Where is the father who is calm and humorous and supports this family like a mountain? Why did his kind smile and gentle enthusiasm no longer belong to her and her mother, but disappeared into the clouds of smoke and fluorescence night after night? Where is the gentle and elegant mother who provides warmth like the earth? Why did her tenderness and consideration for her father turn into cold accusations and bitter satire!

There is a strange sound outside the door, like a pushing sound. Ann doesn't know if they will quarrel. Although she always believed that her father would not do anything to her mother, she always believed that * * * said, "Don't be afraid, Ann, you have a home." At that time, mom and dad quarreled for the first time. Ann was so scared that she hid in her arms and cried, so she stopped quarreling. Mother smiled gently and said warmly, "Don't be afraid, Ann, you have a home." What a happy feeling, like a lifetime ago. Ann spent half a year in quarrels, big and small, and shed so many tears. Every time she consoled herself with * * * words: "I'm not afraid, I still have a home."

Mother's crying is also very sharp, penetrating every wall, and the wall is painful. Ann asked herself, do I still have a home?

Dad finally couldn't take it anymore and slammed out the door. Mother suddenly stopped crying and the room became very quiet.

Ann seems to hear something broken.

Ann is suddenly tired and wants to sleep. The happiest thing when I was a child was to get out of the crib on Sunday morning and squeeze into the room between my parents to sleep. Even when I woke up, my parents were not around, and my heart was full of tenderness that I wanted to cry. Ann sincerely hopes that she can forget her father's indifference, full of vitriol and all their quarrels in the past six months, and then wake up to see their smiles. Her mother said, "No, Ann, you have a home."