It is said that Heaven has closed a door for you and opened another window.
But how do you know that instead of closing a window, you're opening a door?
Instead of complaining after the defeat, it is better to go dark and continue to look for the next doorknob, perhaps as people often say: everything is the best arrangement. I think this sentence must have two meanings, one layer of arrangement comes from fate and fate, opportunity and chance, and the other layer of arrangement comes from us, our own vision and choice, recognition and persistence. The arrangements of fate and self, intertwined, complete each of our key choices.
We understand the results of each choice, but we can never know where those paths that do not have choices lead. Time can't give you the answer, it just rolls forward mercilessly, choosing that there is no chance of repeating itself. So don't care too much about the road of life, whether it is a door or a window, on the one hand, you are not qualified to know, on the other hand, even if you know, someone can open the window into a door, and some people will seal the door into a wall.
Occasionally, netizens leave a message saying: Envy, your life is really good.
My life is really good.
My destiny is up to heaven and it is up to me. We worked together so that we didn't waste those opportunities.
In the face of new opportunities, when I keep asking myself the sentence: "Am I?", the inner emotions are sometimes surprise, sometimes surprise, sometimes surprise, sometimes uneasiness.
But one thing is for sure, I'm a little prepared every time I ask "Am I?"
I think I can do it, I can do it, and maybe even, I can shine a little light.
A door opened slightly, and I heard the sound of hinges creaking.
In the darkness I couldn't tell whether it was a brilliant sun or a dim light. But the least I can do is walk over to it.
At that time, I had given up the Foreign Affairs College and turned to the University of Foreign Languages, and my parents also recognized this new choice, Beijing Foreign Chinese University. Many diplomats on the mainland, as well as some of my favorite foreign ministry press spokesmen, are also from the north. At this point, all the frustration seems to have dissipated, and the new target is clearly visible.
Until an ordinary day, it was destined to be a horizontal bar in my life. Looking back on the past today, it was a random attempt to produce all the results of the next nearly two decades.
If my mother didn't see the poster on the unit bulletin board after work, where am I now? Later, I was admitted to a foreign Chinese university? Or is it the name of the sun mountain retreating to the second place? I may have chosen another path, but I also lived freely and happily in the parallel world of the other side, and that I had no way of knowing where my mother would go after she returned home with that piece of paper.
Words on paper, deeply imprinted in the heart:
National Middle School Host Competition Xinjiang Division Registration Form.
The reason why my mother noticed the competition poster and deliberately turned back to the color TV center to find the registration form from the organizing committee office was because she and my father remembered a thing that I used to talk to them at that time.
In 1997, "Happy Base Camp" was stared, in 1998, "Lucky 52" came out, in 2000, "Happy Dictionary" was born, the turn of the century was the carnival of China's new variety show, Li Yong, Xiao Ya, He Jiong, Li Xiang These names quickly spread and occupied the commanding heights of television literature and art, I was attracted and shocked by their unusual hosting style. Although I worked as a announcer in Xiaoxiaoyang, hosted a children's program in Xinjiang TV in middle and high school, and every time the teachers of the school literary and art evening would let me go on stage, when I went to school, I was either in the classroom or at the radio station, but this was just a hobby, and it was unlikely to become my future career choice. Maybe I never had even the slightest thought of dry tv in my head, but it was one day when I was fascinated by them, and the change was subtle.
Don't be fooled by this calm expression, I forgot the words at that time, and desperately thought about it.
17-year-old delusional
Friday, December 1, 2000 Sunny
One day, I found that I had a goal, yes, an ideal. I knew I was going to work on my ideals within a few years. Maybe there is some vanity, what am I after?
That day in the reading room, I saw a book written by a certain host, and after reading the pictures and texts, I suddenly felt excited, it was a kind of precious feeling, I knew what I had to do, I would stubbornly go on, even if I couldn't achieve it, I wouldn't give up. Someone said I was too lazy, at least in some ways. It's not easy to be a host, but if someone else does it, I can.
I love the cloudless sky, the blue that is deeper than your eyes.
This is a middle school diary, don't care who the person whose eyes are not blue and deep. If you speculate according to the context and time of the diary, it should be the first love, and then think about it and talk to you later. Looking at the main points, there is ambition between the lines, and it is inevitable, but don't forget, almost at the same time, I still want to be a diplomat. That's how young people are?
I'm now envious of my 17-year-old delusions, when will it be if it's not used to be wild? What a terrible waste of unbridled youth. In the classroom, the soul travels the world, and after a math class, what a full and beautiful future for itself. This is the most precious part of youth, unlike me now, who is just 37 years old at this time, writing this article in February when the new crown virus is raging, staying at home that has dreamed of countless times, asking myself who is almost confused, and the ambition of jumping when I was 17 years old? Do you still have that fascination with the future? Is there still a little bit of longing and love for all uncertainty?
Please keep a little ah, do not grow old, do not get tired, please love and churn, stir up a pool of stagnant water in the bottom of the heart, drag out the teenager hidden between the spleen and stomach, cardiopulmonary resuscitation, let him live, let him dominate this middle-aged body, to roll, to run, to run, to shock the sky, to move the earth.
Dream for the rest of your life, don't stop.
How my parents wouldn't notice this little new dream of mine, maybe they thought: Participate in a competition to exercise, anyway, it takes up a holiday, and it's no big deal.
Register, participate.
What Mr. Hot and Ms. Hot don't know is that at this time, they have inadvertently acted as a wrench on my established orbit.
Brain blank
They didn't really want me to be a host, I know. Doing publishing, engaging in literature, academics, scientific research, foreign languages, this is the track they want me to move forward smoothly, all others, can only be hobbies, the plus point of future life, but want to be a professional host? Sorry, never in the options.
But I have been quietly changed by that registration form, my parents are unaware, and I am even more.
At the beginning, the preliminaries and rematches were very smooth, because I had participated in the program recording on Xinjiang Station, so I was very familiar with that stage, and the venue of the competition happened to be the studio where I hosted "Nova Arena", and now I will wear my soul, find my childhood self, and take you to the studio to see it.
Xinjiang Television Station Color TV Center, and CCTV Fuxing Road Office District building is a bit like, are divided into main annex buildings, each has its own entrances and exits, and then connected into one. The main building is the news and office, and the annex building is a large and small studio. Now when I walk from the central taiwan round building to the square building, I can occasionally think of when I was a child, I walked through a long passage from the main building of Xinjiang Tai to find my mother in the dubbing room. At the end of the corridor was the big studio, and I had already walked past the dubbing room, walked to the end, and sneaked into the studio, where there were a few masters on set, preparing for a party. As soon as I looked up, hey! So high; whew! The stage is so big. I tried to run from this door to that door, and I was! A hundred meters? I stepped into the audience, where the perspective was better, and looking around, there was a strange sense of belonging.
I was 6 years old.
I used to be in this studio, mixed with the uncles and aunts of the translation center, listening to the class of the dubbing master Tong Zirong, when I sat there, listening to the voice of Teacher Tong, I felt that I was not in the studio, I felt that I had crossed into the movie, in Zorro's world, ragged to listen to Zorro standing in the middle of the square to talk to us, he is the hero of my heart! It turns out that the world of translation and production is so magical, and the distance between the TV station and the dream of light and shadow is so close. That intoxicating feeling hasn't been turned over in a long time, which is good.
When I was seven or eight years old, the first time I appeared on this stage was in a small party, and the cousin of the "diaper friend" said a cross-talk that was not like crosstalk, it was my father who found a joke book, let us memorize a few of them, and took turns on the stage to talk about it, but that was also the first time on stage, and then I participated in the hosting of those children's programs, June 1st Night, the Xinjiang Taiwan Spring Festival Gala that came back after work, all in this 1,000-square-meter studio. It's still that big, but I'm no longer the curious kid I was.
Without this special stage, I would never have been able to go to the later ones, and the same setbacks that occurred here almost made me and the host's dream go hand in hand.
Although this one is posing, I am serious about dubbing. As long as there is a child's voice, I am in front of the microphone.
The first and second rounds are almost always the first, and can be brazenly said, deservedly seeded players. The National Middle School Host Competition means that the top few in each division are to be selected to go to Beijing, and there are more attractive temptations waiting for them. And I, almost at this time, knew for the first time that there was a university in Beijing called "Beijing Broadcasting Institute." ”
Is it very different from Xinjiang Electric University? Is it a university or a training institution affiliated with a television station? For me at that time, the abbreviations of "Beiguang" and "Guangyuan" did not cause any ripples because of ignorance. Unlike talking to the children who dream of hosting the Media University now, their eyes must be able to shine, and I was completely unmoved at that time. Just keeping the big game in mind, winning the championship doesn't seem to be a big problem.
Never be complacent. This is something I remember after that disappointment.
The accident happened on the day of the final, and because the reality was too smooth, the crisis seemed to be hidden in an unknown corner, waiting for an opportunity. One of the finals was something that was common in host competitions, giving three words and stringing them together into a story. When it came to me, holding the question card, looking at the words on it, I knew every one, and after constructing the basic logic in my mind, when I looked up to prepare to speak, I saw my parents sitting in the audience, and their eager eyes were opposite to my six eyes, just at that moment
swish......
The brain is blank.
I couldn't think of anything, I couldn't say anything, and then I stumbled and said something, completely unmemberable. My brain also automatically deleted that memory, leaving only the eyes of my parents and my embarrassment.
Since then, my parents have never dared to go to the scene to watch any important programs of mine, they know that I care about them, the more I care, the more pressure, others are "nest horizontal", I am "nest instigation". The six places to go to Beijing passed by, and I was seventh.
At this point, everything was calm, and I was once again at ease to go back to school.
The changes that happened later, fast and unexpected, were beyond imagination. Frankly, I don't know what others have tried to do with it, and I've always been skeptical because it's simply unreasonable, like a dream.
Because it's dramatic.
The article is excerpted from "Growing Up Overnight" by Nigmat
This article only represents the author's own views and has nothing to do with the platform
Production: Big C
Reviewer: Liu Zheng
Producer: Liu Chong