天津阅读 Rd005・2013 阅读理解

Guide to Stockholm University Library

Our library offers different types of studying places and provides a good studying environment.

Zones

The library is divided into different zones. The upper floor is a quiet zone with over a thousand places for silent reading, and places where you can sit and work with your own computer. The reading places consist mostly of tables and chairs. The ground floor is the zone where you can talk. Here you can find sofas and armchairs for group work.

Computers

You can use your own computer to connect to the Wi-Fi specially prepared for notebook computers; you can also use library computers, which contain the most commonly used applications, such as Microsoft Office. They are situated in the area known as the Experimental Field on the ground floor.

Group-study places

If you want to discuss freely without disturbing others, you can book a study room or sit at a table on the ground floor. Some study rooms are for 2-3 people and others can hold up to 6-8 people. All rooms are marked on the library maps.

There are 40 group-study rooms that must be booked via the website. To book, you need an active University account and a valid University card. You can use a room three hours per day, nine hours at most per week.

Storage of Study Material

The library has lockers for students to store course literature. When you have obtained at least 40 credits (学分), you may rent a locker and pay 400 SEK for a year’s rental period.

Rules to be Followed

Mobile phone conversations are not permitted anywhere in the library. Keep your phone on silent as if you were in a lecture and exit the library if you need to receive calls.

Please note that food and fruit are forbidden in the library, but you are allowed to have drinks and sweets with you.

Last night’s meteor (流星) shower left many people in the community dissatisfied and demanding answers. According to Gabe Rothschild, Emerald Valley’s mayor, people gathered in the suburbs of the city, carrying heavy telescopes, expecting to watch the brightly burning meteors passing through the sky. What they found instead was a sky so brightened by the city’s lights that it darkened the light of the meteors passing overhead.

“My family was so frustrated,” admitted town resident Duane Cosby, “We wanted to make this an unforgettable family outing, but it turned out to be a huge disappointment.”

Astronomers — scientists who study stars and planets — have been complaining about this problem for decades. They say that light pollution prevents them from seeing objects in the sky that they could see quite easily in the past. They call on people and the government to take measures to fight against it.

There is yet a population besides professional and amateur star observers that suffers even more from light pollution. This population consists of birds, bats, frogs, snakes, etc. For example, outdoor lighting severely affects migrating (迁徙的) birds. According to the International Dark-Sky Association, “100 million birds a year throughout North America die in crashes with lighted buildings and towers.”

Countless more animal casualties (伤亡) result from the use of artificial lighting. Clearly, people enjoy the benefits of lighting their evenings, but some scientists think it can be harmful for humans, too. They worry that exposure to light while sleeping can increase a person’s chances of getting cancer.

Emerald Valley is only one community that is becoming aware of the negative effects of light pollution. For years, Flagstaff, Arizona, has enforced lighting regulations in its city in order to assist astronomers at the Lowell Observatory. Similar efforts have been made worldwide, and a movement is underway to remind us to turn off lights when we are not using them, so that other creatures can also enjoy a dark night.

Poet William Stafford once said that we are defined more by the detours (绕行路) in life than by the narrow road toward goals. I like this image. But it was quite by accident that I discovered the deep meaning of his words.

For years we made the long drive from our home in Seattle to my parents’ home in Boise in nine hours. We traveled the way most people do: the fastest, shortest, easiest road, especially when I was alone with four noisy, restless kids who hate confinement (限制) and have strong opinions about everything.

Road trips felt risky, so I would drive fast, stopping only when I had to. We would stick to the freeways and arrive tired.

But then Banner, our lamb was born. He was rejected by his mama days before our planned trip to Boise. I had two choices: leave Banner with my husband, or take him with me. My husband made the decision for me.

That is how I found myself on the road with four kids, a baby lamb and nothing but my everlasting optimism to see me through. We took the country roads out of necessity. We had to stop every hour, let Banner shake out his legs and feed him. The kids chased him and one another. They’d get back in the car breathless and energized, smelling fresh from the cold air.

We explored side roads, catching grasshoppers in waist-high grass. Even if we simply looked out of the car windows at baby pigs following their mother, or fish leaping out of the water, it was better than the best ride down the freeway. Here was life. And new horizons (见识).

We eventually arrived at my parents’ doorstep astonishingly fresh and full of stories.

I grew brave with the trip back home and creative with my disciplining technique. On an empty section of road, everyone started quarreling. I stopped the car, ordered all kids out and told them to meet me up ahead. I parked my car half a mile away and read my book in sweet silence.

Some road trips are by necessity fast and straight. But that trip with Banner opened our eyes to a world available to anyone adventurous enough to wander around and made me realize that a detour may uncover the best part of a journey — and the best part of yourself.

When asked about happiness, we usually think of something extraordinary, an absolute delight, which seems to get rarer the older we get.

For kids, happiness has a magical quality. Their delight at winning a race or getting a new bike is unreserved (毫不掩饰的).

In the teenage years the concept of happiness changes. Suddenly it’s conditional on such things as excitement, love and popularity. I can still recall the excitement of being invited to dance with the most attractive boy at the school party.

In adulthood the things that bring deep joy — love, marriage, birth — also bring responsibility and the risk of loss. For adults, happiness is complicated (复杂的).

My definition of happiness is “the capacity for enjoyment”. The more we can enjoy what we have, the happier we are. It’s easy to overlook the pleasure we get from the company of friends, the freedom to live where we please, and even good health.

I experienced my little moments of pleasure yesterday. First I was overjoyed when I shut the last lunch-box and had the house to myself. Then I spent an uninterrupted morning writing, which I love. When the kids and my husband came home, I enjoyed their noise after the quiet of the day.

Psychologists tell us that to be happy we need a mix of enjoyable leisure time and satisfying work. I don’t think that my grandmother, who raised 14 children, had much of either. She did have a network of close friends and family, and maybe this is what satisfied her.

We, however, with so many choices and such pressure to succeed in every area, have turned happiness into one more thing we’ve got to have. We’re so self-conscious about our “right” to it that it’s making us miserable. So we chase it and equal it with wealth and success, without noticing that the people who have those things aren’t necessarily happier.

Happiness isn’t about what happens to us — it’s about how we see what happens to us. It’s the skillful way of finding a positive for every negative. It’s not wishing for what we don’t have, but enjoying what we do possess.