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have a say, behind the wheel, approve of, lay aside, devote…to, |
A month ago, I broke a nail. My other nails looted amazing, but now one was a mess. Clearly, there was no point in keeping the others, so I took out the nail scissors to cut them all off.
"What are you doing, Mom?" my daughter cried. "Your nails look great! Don't cut them!"
"But they're ruined, "I said, waving the broken one in her face.
"They're not ruined," she said. "You still have nine nails left!"
I hesitated, with the scissors still in my hand. My nails certainly weren't perfect anymore, and the opposite of "perfect" is "ruined", right? I mean, this is how I think about most things: it's all or nothing. Take my finances for example.
I can spend weeks being sensible and buying only essential items, such as food for my family. And then one day, PH see something expensive that 1 really like and buy it. Then, I think to myself "Well, I already spent $100 on that dress last week, so I may as well spend $50 on this lipstick (口红)" and give up saving entirely. I've thought about why I act this way, but I don't know what causes this behavior. I seem to go from "good" to "complete disaster" in a matter of moments. My brain only sees "perfection" or "disaster", which is extremely unhelpful.
We humans are never just good or bad—we are far more complex. We have wins and we have losses and, occasionally, they are hard to tell apart. Some people understand this instinctively(本能的), while others struggle. For most of us, learning not to do the thing we're used to requires effort and discomfort. However, we should remind ourselves that we sometimes make mistakes, and that this doesn't mean we've failed. We need to accept that things will sometimes go wrong.
Indeed, failure is part of life. We ail fall occasionally, and we normally get things straight back up. And so, with my daughters words ringing in my ears, I decided to keep my nine nice nails. I feel annoyed every time I look at my hands, but I'm determined to live with my choice. It's a perfect exercise in imperfection. Maybe soon, I'll switch off my computer the next time I feel like I might buy something else I don't need, although I may need my daughter there to guide me again.
The Financial Times gave part of my job to a robot named Amy last week. For years I have been making podcast (播客) version of my column, but now I am faced with a tough competition.
To be fair, Amy (do) something going for her. She has a great voice, smooth as velvet. Her (two) advantage is that she's practically free. She is part of a new service from Amazon that turns text speech, costing nearly nothing. Even more (impress) is her speed. Less than two seconds after receiving my (write) text, which means when I just start to read, "Yesterday the Financial…", she has already finished.
Yet once I got over my distress and listened to her work, I felt (good). I know it's early days for her, but at the moment Amy is no match for me. Listening to her is not like listening to non-English speaker read aloud, but to someone without brain, or heart, or sense of humor. Her (deliver) is so poor that I don't even understand. Amy never reads with understanding, never knows when (pause), and never does irony. She continues to get it wrong.
Finally, I'm not afraid Amy is about to steal my job. Only people possess human touch. It is the heart-to-heart communication makes us special, beautiful and irreplaceable.
