Fly like Jordan (school)

Fill in the form when you enter school, and fill in the column of personal hobbies: drinking. The receiving teacher rolled his eyes: Are you kidding? Well written. So I honestly wrote: basketball. I didn't expect to receive the teacher's white eyes: Are you kidding? !

I'm not kidding. I like basketball. I really like basketball. Ask Jordan if you can see him.

If you dreamed of me when I was seventeen, you would see Jordan, a black man and a great pilot. I like Jordan, so I like basketball. I like basketball, so I like Jordan better. Jordan said: people should have dreams. Jordan didn't say: short people can't play basketball.

Have you ever seen me play basketball? I am an outsider on the basketball court. As long as I come, even people who can't play basketball have confidence-finally, someone who is not as good as him has come; Those masters will have a chance to perform a breakthrough. I know the basket is far away for me. As soon as I got to the basket, several hands formed a big umbrella, which was dark. Throw it from outside. It is difficult to throw that ball because it takes a long journey. So as long as I take the ball, I will feel at ease. For the sake of convenience and non-interference, let me throw it and regard it as a serve. Well, on the court, I always felt that people were not shooting the ball, but my self-esteem.

But my self-esteem is very similar to that ball. Under the remake, it is a higher rebound.

I remember the first time I participated in the competition. When my name came out of the microphone, I slowly walked into the adult country like a star. I heard applause and laughter, so I greeted everyone with a smile, to those who applauded me and to those who laughed at me. I forgot how many points I scored in that game. All I know is that I have been running, from front to back, from back to front, and I often change the ball when I run, but I always can't touch the ball. That game was a game for others, but for me, it was an exercise of running back and forth. When my teammates commented on my work, they called me a guerrilla and said that my role was not to take the ball, but to interfere.

But I can't forget running like that, and I can't forget the futility again and again. There are many such moments in life, in order to run towards the glory of life, but when you run, all the plays have been finished. So I chose another direction, and when I ran again, the actors there had already finished their curtain call. We just run in vain between hope and disappointment.

You have to run, too There must always be someone holding the ball and someone running on the court. Just like life, there are always brilliant people and ordinary people. The whistle of fate has sounded, and we can't leave, just like we are alive, we must live well and not die casually.

But I still dream of flying. Jumped out of the dream for countless times and buckled heavily on the basket of fate. No applause, no tongue sticking out like Jordan. I just browsed my past in the air, and then I decided to fall down. The past days tell me that every day is useful, no matter what kind of day it is, no matter what kind of struggle and sadness I have on that day.

Sometimes my mother will ask me: Why are you patting the bed board?

I told him: I didn't, but Jordan took it.

Who is Jordan? Have you been to our house?

I told him that I had never been here, because he never left, in my heart. Mom said: You are a crazy child.

I am a crazy child, but I know that one day I will fly. In this world, I will fly to my ideal like Jordan. In this world, the only person who can fly like Jordan is himself; In this world, the only person who can dream about me is myself. So, I don't care what others think of me. I see myself and my wings slowly spreading after repeated disappointments.

I still remember my hard training, the court in the moonlight, and the music of autumn insects. I jumped under the basket again and again, like a stubborn frog I didn't stop until I was too tired to jump. I looked at the circle with cold light and saw indifference and rejection, just like many dreams in the world.

I don't know how many nights passed, but I finally left my first handprint on the backboard, just like the pilot who landed on the moon left his first footprint on the moon. I am so excited. Although I know that the handprint is far from the basket, I also know that I am used to jumping. Many goals in life are like that basket, but as long as I am used to jumping, I can cross many frustrating moments in my life and leave a deep mark on this world to prove that I have lived.

On that starry night, I left my handprint on the backboard. No one knows that the handprint comes from an unyielding teenager; No one knows how many unyielding hearts ordinary people in this world have.

Many years have passed, and I have done a lot of work and met many kinds of people. I wonder if my wandering is flying. I stayed in maternal love and learned kindness and sacrifice; I stayed in love and learned about eternity and life; I stayed in hostility and learned to be brave and tolerant; I stayed in bad luck and learned to be strong and self-respecting.

I will, I will fly like Jordan, flying over the gloom and sadness in my life.

There will always be a moment when the sky belongs to me, as long as my heart sets sail from my dream.

My sight (family)

On the eve of the senior high school entrance examination, what is engraved in my heart is not your fake relaxed smile, but your sparse hair, which is slightly messy, half black and half white. You lie beside me, patting me like a child, leaving me to sleep alone, dad.

Although I already know where the examination room is, you still insist on sending me here. My eyes saw your anxious eyes because of the short-term dispute at home. I agreed.

In the carport, I skillfully opened the bicycle lock. What impressed me was the spotless car you maintained for me. Looking up, I see your bent body.

My father's disabled car is obviously faster than mine. Watching him drive in front, I silently followed and watched. In the mirror, it is your weather-beaten face. Although you are expressionless and looking ahead, I can still feel your concern for me.

In the corner, my father looked in the mirror, and he is still in my heart, full of concern, just like watching my homework at the desk lamp. I can't help being shocked.

Along your rut, I continued to move forward, and the main road was crowded with students who were rushing to take the exam, which instantly filled the gap between you and me. I tried to hold my head high and look for your trace in the traffic, and a familiar back came into view. Your back suddenly becomes smaller and bigger. You're worried. You seem to be looking for me in the traffic. I have unspeakable gratitude and bitterness in my heart.

Finally, I walked side by side with your disabled car By accident, the red light separated us. Looking back at you at the other end, I almost have the urge to have the past. When the red light changed, I saw your figure clearly again. When you see me, you seem to be relaxed. When I saw you, I felt reunited after a long separation.

At the entrance of the examination room, the teacher gives you a face-to-face lecture, and you drift away. Looking at you, I have mixed feelings. All I can do is wait for the exam. ...

Three days later is a holiday, a relaxing day. I can't see your worry and anxiety all day. Maybe you will take me on a trip after the results are announced, and then we will relax. ...

Reading Jinling (Society)

It's been raining and banging on the window unsatisfactorily. I tried to see the scenery on the roadside, but it was only hazy. The car bumps occasionally, just in line with my calm but restless mood, all the way to Jinling, the melting pot of history.

The trip to Nanjing was very pleasant, because there were many students with sincere feelings. Nanjing in early summer is also beautiful. The purple mountain with continuous forests, the phoenix tree with happy growth that makes me unique, and the clear sky of the tile basket all constitute the exquisite silhouette of this trip to Nanjing.

However, what impressed me was the solemn Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum and Yuhuatai.

Spencer in The Unbearable Lightness of Life once said that her favorite place is the cemetery, and I can't remember why. I dare not say that my favorite place is such a place where there is no real life. For our generation in the flower season, it is a sin to have such a bleak mood, but in the face of cemeteries and monuments made of granite and pine trees, the solemnity and coldness really make me respect. When the noise of the city is constantly tempering people's eardrums and numbing people's souls and spirits, it is so valuable and necessary to feel the heaviness of history and even listen to the torture from the heart!

Do we have to do this? Do we have to do this? Thomas asked.

I thought the same thing.

Speaking of which, I feel tightness in my chest again, as if I were suffocating. Just when I was in front of Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum and Yuhuatai, my heart was full of anger. In this heavy history, my ignorance and ignorance of the world have strongly felt my inner trembling. When I was young, I could only express my surprise and determination with tears.

It's just that on the day of self-help tour, my dull mood was diluted a lot by the pleasure of playing. I spent the whole morning in Xuanwu Lake with my friends. We rented bicycles and sped on the asphalt road by the lake. There is a drizzle in the air and a faint mist on the lake. The rain is falling, the grass is falling, and the birds of the Six Dynasties are singing like dreams, and my heart suddenly becomes sad. Under this microwave swimming lake, are there also many sad bones of martyrs and ancestors? Is there any deep blood they once burned? I am flying fast, feeling the speed and wind in the rain, hiding my tears. In Jinling, a precious place, history melts into nature, trees and grass, and wind and rain. How can I not feel the heaviness of this period of history? Even the breeze blowing through my ears is like countless whispers.

I walked in the streets of Nanjing, looking at the outline of history, the reconstructed buildings and the products of the new era. Sometimes I feel discordant, but I can't tell why.

Alas, the indescribable scenery, just like the present, contains endless meaning, which is beyond words. I can only back channels, which is a unique memory of this city.