The true story of ah q: a model essay for senior high school;
I don't know which bastard called him that first, but his name became wider and wider. Now everyone calls him QQ, but since everyone "gives face", he is honored to be a famous figure in Lu Xun's works.
He has always been an arbitrary student. He used to leave his hair in his shawl when he was in high school. The head teacher earnestly educated him several times, but he still went his own way and accused the teacher of meddling. Sudden enthusiasm, but also to fulfill the teacher's wish, he went to find a more handsome "monk head", and he almost became famous in the whole school. Now he thinks of that feat and still feels very proud.
But now that he is in college, he is much more self-disciplined and rarely skips classes. But somehow, he always wants to sleep in class. He can't blame himself for thinking about it. What happened to the teacher?
It's a clay bodhisattva, without a smile or anger. Just like singing a lullaby in class. Alas, if only Mr. Fujino could teach us here, he thinks so, or a beautiful and gentle female teacher written by Wei Wei, so at least I won't want to sleep and look at the few students in the classroom, so I often fall asleep, although I wonder if I will be wiped out during the exam.
He has many hobbies, such as calligraphy, painting and playing. , especially sketches. He can always wave a pencil with ease, and it doesn't take much effort to draw a picture. He thinks it is real art, but he often feels depressed. When he takes it out for everyone to appreciate, his works often meet with disdain or puzzled eyes. Alas, "a swift horse is always there, but Bole is not always there"!
His ideal is: a writer. Although he really doesn't want to take other courses, he really doesn't know the significance of taking those boring courses and doesn't like them very much. But he is good at learning Chinese, especially ancient poems. He likes to shake his head and say, "I want to go home by the wind, but I'm afraid of beautiful buildings …" He often laments that there is no Chinese class in the university now. Alas, who can share his pride with him?
Naturally, his literary talent has nothing to say, and he often inspires generate, and sometimes even thinks like a tide, although there is a school magazine waiting for his masterpiece at any time. Sometimes he even wants to be a brave man, expose his soul to the public, pour out his distress and boredom, and criticize the corrupt atmosphere; Or pointing at an impassioned text, but thinking about it is really overqualified. What's more, maybe no one can understand his articles, so he often stops writing and rarely reads literary works. Once he wanted to study thousands of books for this ideal until he became knowledgeable.
But now his big bookshelf seems to be just a decoration, which has been ignored by him for a long time, and he is no longer a frequent visitor to the reading room. Many times, he also feels that he has no time to watch, because there are often more important things to do, such as drinking.
All right, it's time to drink. Every time my high school buddies come to see him, they always have a drink. It is such a delight to have friends coming so far. Wine, of course, is indispensable, not to mention a thousand glasses of wine, or a few brothers who often call roommates, and a group of people are not drunk.
He appreciates Jack in Titanic and his famous saying: Enjoy every day. He thinks that life is to enjoy, there is no need to force himself, and life is to do what he wants to do. However, occasionally my conscience finds that this is not the case. I also feel sorry for my parents' white hair and wrinkles. It suddenly occurred to me that I would soon enter the society, but I seemed to be empty-handed and a little flustered.
Go to the reading room once in a while when you are free. However, he accidentally got a copy of How Steel was Tempered. What he accidentally saw was the most striking sentence: this is how a person's life should be spent. When he looks back on the past, he will not be ashamed of doing nothing, nor will he regret wasting time. He felt suffocated and wanted to swear hysterically, so he put down his book and fled the reading room, only to find a portrait of Lu Xun on the stairs.
He ran to the top floor of the student building and looked up at the sky. He asked himself if he would regret looking back.
He could not answer himself.