As Internet users become more dependent on the Internet to store information, are people remember less? If you know your computer will save information, why store it in your own personal memory, your brain? Experts are wondering if the Internet is changing what we remember and how.

    In a recent study, Professor Betsy Sparrow conducted some experiments. She and her research team wanted to know the Internet is changing memory. In the first experiment, they gave people 40 unimportant facts to type into a computer. The first group of people understood that the computer would save the information. The second group understood that the computer would not save it. Later, the second group remembered the information better. People in the first group knew they could find the information again, so they did not try to remember it.

    In another experiment, the researchers gave people facts to remember, and told them where to find the information an the Internet. The information was in a specific computer folder (文件夹). Surprisingly, people later remember the folder location (位置) better than the facts. When people use the Internet, they do not remember the information. Rather, they remember how to find it. This is called “transactive memory (交互记忆)”

According to Sparrow, we are not becoming people with poor memories as a result of the Internet. Instead, computer users are developing stronger transactive memories; that is, people are learning how to organize huge quantities of information so that they are able to access it at a later date. This doesn't mean we are becoming either more or less intelligent, but there is no doubt that the way we use memory is changing.

    If you are human, you can't help but experience times when everything seems to be going wrong and you feel as if your life is completely out of control. It is during those “down times” that words of encouragement from family, friends, co-workers or even strangers can lighten your spirits. It is also during those times that destructive(有害的) words can sink you deeper and deeper into depression(沮丧).

    For example, consider this story about a group of frogs who were traveling through the woods when two of them fell into a deep pit（坑）. All of the other frogs gathered around the pit. When they saw how deep the pit was, they told the two unfortunate frogs they would never get out.

    The two frogs ignored the comments and tried to jump out of the pit. The other frogs kept telling them to stop. Finally, one of the frogs took heed of what the other frogs were saying and simply gave up. He fell down and died. The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again the crowd of frogs shouted at him to stop the pain. The more they shouted, the harder he jumped and finally he made it to safety.

    When he got out, the other frogs asked him why he continued to jump when they were all shouting at him to simply quit. The frog explained to them that he was a little bit deaf. He thought they were encouraging him the entire time.

    Every time you have a chance to say either something positive or negative to another human being, do choose the chance to say something positive! Don't let those opportunities get away from you. Your words have a large amount of power. Use them wisely. You really never know just how much they can mean to someone else.

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Finding a Job

    As we drove along, my spirits went up again, and I turned, with pleasure, to the thought of the new life which I was entering. But though it was not far past the middle of September, the heavy clouds and strong north-easterly wind combined to make the day extremely cold; and the journey seemed a very long one, so that it was nearly one o'clock before we reached the place of our destination. Yet when we entered the gateway, my heart failed me, and I wished it were a mile or two farther off. For the first time in my life I must stand alone: there was no retreating now. I must enter that house, and introduce myself among its strange people. But how was it to be done? True, I was near nineteen; but, thanks to the protecting care of my mother and sister, I well knew that many a girl of fifteen, or under, was gifted with a more womanly address, and greater ease and self-possession, than I was. Yet, anyway. I would do very well, after all; and the children, of course, I should soon be at ease with them.

    "Be calm, be calm, whatever happens," I said within myself; and truly I was so fully occupied in steadying my nerves and keeping down the rebellious beat of my heart that when I was admitted into the hall and into the presence of Mrs. Bloomfield, I almost forgot to answer her polite greeting; and it afterwards struck me that the little I did say was spoken in the tone of one half-dead or half-asleep.

    With due politeness, however, she showed me my bedroom, and left me there to take a little refreshment for a little while and led me into the dining-room. Some beefsteaks and potatoes were set before me; and while I dined upon these, she sat opposite, watching me (as I thought) and trying to keep something like a conversation— consisting chiefly of commonplace remarks. In fact, my attention was almost wholly absorbed in my dinner: not from appetite, but from the toughness of the beefsteaks, and the numbness of my hands.

    “I have had so little time to attend to their education myself, but I think they are clever children, and very willing to learn, especially the little boy; he is, I think, the flower of the flock— a generous, noble-spirited boy, one to be led, but not driven, and remarkable for always speaking the truth.” “His sister Mary Ann will require watching,” continued she, “but she is a very good girl on the whole, though I wish her to be kept out of the nursery as much as possible, as she is now almost six years old, and might acquire bad habits from the nurses. I have ordered her bed to be placed in your room, and if you will be so kind as to look after her washing and dressing, and take charge of her clothes, she needs to have nothing further to do with the nursery maid.”

    I replied I was quite willing to do so; and at that moment the children entered the room. Tom Bloomfield was a well-grown boy of seven. Mary was a tall girl, for her age of six, somewhat dark like her mother. The second sister was Fanny, a very pretty little girl, looking little younger than Mary. The remaining one was Harriet, a little broad, fat, merry, playful thing of scarcely two, whom I had more desire for than all the rest — but with her I had nothing to do.

    Today the Nobel Prize in Literature awarded journalist Svetlana Alexievich approximately $970,000 in recognition of a lifetime of excellence. The 67-year-old author of Voices From Chernobyl and War's Unwomanly Face was praised by the Swedish Academy "for her polyphonic(复调式的) writings, a monument to suffering and courage in our time."

    Prizes like the Nobel inspire much expectations before the announcement. People give their best guesses as to who will win, look back on past winners, and even place bets as if spectators at a Derby(赛马会).

    Literary prizes reward artistic brilliance. They help writers earn a decent living. But is the public's fascination with prize-winning authors healthy? Our impulse seems to increasingly contribute to a culture of turning authors into celebrities, where readers follow the author instead of the book.

    A story should stand on its own, as a considered, complete book, without biographical information from author. It's an idea perhaps best conveyed in Roland Barthes's 1968 essay The Death of the Author. "The image of literature to be found in contemporary culture is arbitrarily centered on the author, his person, his history, his tastes, his passions."

    Nearly 50 years later, a few still agree. "I believe that books, once they are written, have no need of their authors," New York Times bestselling author Elena Ferrante once wrote. "If books have something to say, they will sooner or later find readers; if not, they won't, "she continued. "True miracles are the ones whose makers will never be known."

    ①But the rules for submission for the Man Booker International Prize, for example, strongly encourage authors to "make themselves available for publicity". And the foundation behind the National Book Award requires finalists to participate in their "website-related publicity".

    ② In 2007, a reporter who showed up uninvited at Doris Lessing's house was the first to inform her that she had been awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. Today the Twitterati came knocking on Alexievich's digital door hour before the award was even official. To be considered for a prize is to be a public figure.

    ③ Harry Potter series author J. K. Rowling, with over 5.6 million Twitter followers, has actively addressed readers through public appearances and social media, revealing much more than we could have imagined when we closed the final Harry Potter book. We now know the house Harry's children will be sorted into, that Dumbledore is gay," Voldemort" is actually pronounced with a silent "t", and a whole host of the other minor and major details about the backstory of the characters.

    The magical world Rowling created in her books—a relatively tight mystery with well-laid clues that led to a satisfying conclusion, which had to prove their merits to the reader based on an internal logic—is being unraveled by her own hand.

    ④ Of course, public attention also has very important benefits for authors. For three months after receiving the 2011 Pulitzer Prize in fiction, Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad sold about triple its print sales from before the prize, Publishers Weekly reports. On Oct. 5, 2010, in the first FT/Oppenheimer Funds Emerging Voices Awards, as Nigerian-born Chigozie Obioma accepted the prize for fiction with an easy smile, his excitement was appreciable. Given the cash prize of $40,000 for each winner, it's hard to downplay the importance of such an honor. Such awards bring necessary visibility and funding to writers facing a literary landscape dominated by white men.

    But our culture of celebrity is often too wrapped up in the way we read: How might the meaning of a work change if the author really didn't grow up in a poor neighborhood, or if he or she was abused in childhood? Readers studied the author's life as if it were the key to interpreting his or her novels.

    Behind our fascination is the question that drives all such questions: What did the author intend? By all means, let us praise brilliant work and in doing so trust that the author has already told us enough, and that the story he or she meant to tell ended with the final page.