My Way to Success

From the day I signed up for the Naumburg Competition, everything changed. I had made a decision to start again, to save my life, and that meant a 360-degree turnaround.
I kept on practicing. An enormous amount of work had to be done in two months. I went from not practicing at all to thirteen hours a day.
I spent two weeks just playing scales. If I thought I sounded bad before, now I sounded worse than awful.
At the time I lived on 72nd Street, close to West End Avenue. I had an apartment with a window the size of a shoebox. I didn't do mylaundry. I left my apartment only to walk to Juilliard─and not onBroadway like everyone else. I walked up Amsterdam Avenue because I didn't want to see anybody, didn't want to run into anybody, didn't want anyone to ask what I was doing.
I stopped going to classes and became a hermit. I even talked Miss DeLay into giving my lesson at night.
My eating habits were awful. I lived on fried sausages, a pint of peanut butter/chocolate ice cream, and a gallon of Coca-Cola every day. That's all I ate for eight weeks.
I was nuts. I was completely obsessed with getting back into shape, with doing well in this competition. If I could, people would know I was still on earth. Not to count me out; to stop asking, “Whatever happened to Nadja?”
The last week before the Naumburg auditions, I couldn't touch the violin. I had worked and worked and worked and worked and then I just couldn't work anymore.
I certainly could have used it. I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. But I simply had to say, “Nadja, you've dedicated yourself to this thing. Ready or not, do your best.”
Fifty violinists from around the world auditioned for the competition on May 25, 26, and 27, 1981. Those that made it past thepreliminaries would go on to the semifinals. Those that passed that stage would go to the finals. In years past, one violinist was chosen as winner and two received second and third place.
On May 26, the day of my audition, I went to the Merkin Concert Hall at 67th Street and Broadway. I waited, played for twenty minutes, and went home. I couldn't tell whether the preliminary judges were impressed or not. I'd find out the next evening.
Maybe subconsciously I was trying to keep busy; that night, when I fried the sausages, I accidentally set my apartment on fire. I grabbed my cat and my violin, and ran out the door. The fire was put out, but everything in my place was wrecked.
Fortunately, the phone was okay and on the evening of May 27, I had the news from Lucy Rowan Mann of Naumburg. Thirteen of us had made it.
Talk about mixed emotions. I was thrilled to be among the thirteen; a group that included established violinists, some of whom had already made records. But it also meant I had to play the next day in the semifinals of the competition.
Everyone entering the competition had been given two lists of concertos. One was a list of standard repertory pieces. The other list was twentieth-century repertory. For our big competition piece, we were to choose from each list and play a movement from one in the semifinals, and a movement from the other in the finals─if we made it that far.
From the standard repertory list, I chose the Tchaikovsky Concerto. I had been playing the Tchaik for three years, so it was a good piece for me.
From the twentieth-century list, I chose the Prokofiev G minor Concerto. I had never played it onstage before.
My goal had been just passing the auditions, but now my thought pattern began to change. If I wanted a sliver of a chance of advancing again, my brain said, “Play your strong piece first.”
Logically, I should play the Tchaikovsky in the semifinals just to make it to the next stage. Who cared if that left me with a piece I probably wouldn't play as well in the finals of the competition? It'd be a miracle to get that far.
There wouldn't be more than seven violinists chosen for the final round, and if I were in the top seven of an international group, that was plenty good enough.
The semifinals were held on May 28 in Merkin Concert Hall. You were to play for thirty minutes: your big piece first, then the judges would ask to hear another.
There was a panel of eight judges. They had a piece of paper with my choices of the Tchaikovsky and the Prokofiev in front of them. “Which would you like to play?” they asked.
I said meekly, “Prokofiev.”
My brain and all the logic in the world had said, “Play your strong piece.” My heart said, “Go for it all. Play your weak piece now, save Tchaikovsky for the finals.”
Maybe I don't listen to logic so easily after all.
My good friend, the pianist Sandra Rivers, had been chosen as accompanist for the competition. She knew I was nervous. There had been a very short time to prepare; I was sure there'd be memory slips, that I'd blank out in the middle and the judges would throw me out. My hands were like ice.
The first eight measures of the Prokofiev don't have accompaniment. The violin starts the piece alone. So I started playing.
I got through the first movement and Sandra said later my face was as white as snow. She said I was so tense, I was beyond shaking. Just a solid brick.
It was the best I'd ever played it. No memory slips at all. Technically, musically, it was there.
I finished it thinking, “Have I sold my soul for this? Is the devil going to visit me at midnight? How come it went so well?”
I didn't know why, but often I do my best under the worst of circumstances. I don't know if it's guts or a determination not to disappoint people. Who knows what it is, but it came through for me, and I thank God for that.
As the first movement ended, the judges said, “Thank you.” Then they asked for the Carmen Fantasy.
I turned and asked Sandy for an A, to retune, and later she said the blood was just rushing back into my face.
I whispered, “Sandy, I made it. I did it.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back, kiddingly, “too bad you didn't screw up. Maybe next time.”
At that point I didn't care if I did make the finals because I had played the Prokofiev so well. I was so proud of myself for coming through.
I needed a shot in the arm; that afternoon I got evicted. While I was at Merkin, my moped had blown up. For my landlord, that was the last straw.
What good news. I was completely broke and didn't have the next month's rent anyway. The landlord wanted me out that day. I said, “Please, can I have two days. I might get into the finals, can I please go through this first?”
I talked him into it, and got back to my place in time for the phone call. “Congratulations, Nadja,”“they said. “You have made the finals.”
I had achieved the ridiculously unlikely, and I had saved my best piece. Yet part of me was sorry. I wanted it to be over already. In the three days from the preliminaries to the semifinals, I lost eight pounds. I was so tired of the pressure.
There was a fellow who advanced to the finals with me, an old, good friend since Pre-College. Competition against friends is inevitable in music, but I never saw competition push a friendship out the window so quickly. By the day of the finals, I hated him and he hated me. Pressure was that intense.
The finals were held on May 29 at Carnegie Hall and open to the public. I was the fourth violinist of the morning, then there was a lunch break, and three more violinists in the afternoon.
I played my Tchaikovsky, Saint-Sa‘ns’s Havanaise, and Ravel's Tzigane for the judges: managers, famous violinists, teachers, and critics. I went on stage at five past eleven and finished at noon. Those fifty-five minutes seemed like three days.
I was so relieved when I finished playing; I was finished! It's impossible to say how happy I was to see the dressing room. I went out for lunch with my friends. It was like coming back from the grave. We laughed and joked and watched TV.
As I returned to Carnegie Hall to hear the other violinists, I realized I'd made a big mistake: they might ask for recalls. A recall is when they can't decide between two people and they want you to play again. It's been done; it's done all the time in competitions. No way was I in shape to go onstage and play again.
In the late afternoon, the competition was over. Everybody had finished playing. Quite luckily─no recalls.
The judges deliberated for an hour. The tension in the air was unbelievable. All the violinists were sitting with their little circle of friends. I had my few friends around me, but no one was saying much now.
Finally, the Naumburg Foundation president Robert Mann came on stage.
“It's always so difficult to choose ...” he began.
“Every year we hold this competition,” Robert Mann said. “And in the past, we've awarded three prizes. This year we've elected to only have one prize, the first prize.”
My heart sank. Nothing for me. Not even Miss Congeniality.
“We have found,” Mann went on, “that second place usually brings great dismay to the artist because they feel like a loser. We don't want anyone here to feel like a loser. Every finalist will receive five hundred dollars except the winner, who will receive three thousand dollars.”
And then he repeated how difficult it was to choose, how well everyone had played ...dah, dah, dah.
I was looking down at the floor.  
“The winner is ...”
And he said my name.
A friend next to me said, “Nadja, I think you won!”
I went numb. My friends pulled me up and pointed me toward the stage. It was a long walk because I had slipped into a seat in the back. Sitting up in front was my old friend. I would have to walk right past him and I was dreading it, but before I could, he got up and stopped me.
He threw his arms around me and I threw my arms around him. I kept telling him how sorry I was. I was holding him and started to cry, saying, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I didn't want to lose, but I really didn't want him to lose either. And he was holding me and saying, “Don't be sorry. I'm so proud of you.” It was over, and we would be friends again.
I took my bow, then ran to Juilliard. Ten blocks uptown, one block west, to give Miss DeLay the news. She could be proud of me now, too.
Suddenly, everything was clear. Playing the violin is what I'd do with my life. Heaven handed me a prize: “You've been through a lot, kid. Here's an international competition.”
Everything had changed when I prepared for the Naumburg, and now everything changed again. I made my first recording. Between September 1981 and May 1982, I played a hundred concerts in America, made one trip to Europe, then two months of summer festivals. And people asked me back.
There was a great deal of anxiety playing in Europe for the first time. But I was able to rely on my self-confidence to pull me through.
Self-confidence onstage doesn't mean a lack of nerves backstage. The stakes had increased. This wasn't practice anymore, this was my life. I'd stare into a dressing-room mirror and say, “Nadja, people have bought tickets, hired baby-sitters, you've got to calm down; go out there and prove yourself.”
Every night I'd prove myself again. My life work had truly begun

1. 1.

   In a gesture to prepare for the competition, Nadja did all the following except _________

   1. A.
      preoccupying herself in practice
   2. B.
      trying to carry out her deeds secretly
   3. C.
      abandoning going to school for classes
   4. D.
      consuming the best food to get enough energy
2. 2.

   How many violinists does the passage mention advanced to the finals?

   1. A.
      Four
   2. B.
      Five
   3. C.
      Six
   4. D.
      Seven
3. 3.

   After Nadja finished playing at the finals, she went out for a while and when she came back to hear the other violinists she realized she had made a mistake because _________

   1. A.
      she forgot that there was going to be a recall
   2. B.
      she didn’t get hold of the permission to leave
   3. C.
      chances were that she had to replay and she was off guard
   4. D.
      there was another play she had to take part in in the afternoon

It is three in the morning on a Tuesday, and I’m walking toward table eighteen, the one I call home. I pass the waiters, give a brief nod to the  【小题1】  and take my seat. I  【小题2】  the “usual,” water and peanut butter pie. Yes, I’m at an all-night diner.
I start to take out my books,  【小题3】 full well that I will be  【小题4】 on the same page of Socrates that I’ve been on for the better part of the semester. Of course, it’s   【小题5】  —for my group that is. I wait for the empty chairs around me to be   【小题6】  .
Just as the Muzak songs start to repeat themselves, Shana and Jenny walk in. I am   【小题7】   with the usual big hugs and smiles. 【小题8】 , the diner stops being a twenty-for-hour restaurant with bad service and becomes my place—my home   【小题9】 the prisonlike dorm room. For the next couple of hours, we will joke about people we know, talk about books, reflect on the meaning of life, quote movies and  【小题10】 new private jokes. Table number eighteen is our  【小题11】  home.
During my senior year of college, I started going to the diner for a temporary escape from a dorm room that felt like it was closing in on me. Not to 【小题12】  the phones, the stereo and the computer. How could anyone seriously  【小题13】   to have good study habits? Some friends of mine told me about the place; they went there to study, and they really liked it.
So I tried it. It felt remarkably freeing. I start going there every night (except weekends, of course), and, believe me it was not because the pies were   【小题14】  great either. Maybe it would force me to open my books and my  【小题15】  would improve. Right? Well….
But that’s not the   【小题16】 . I mean, anyone who has gone to college knows that it’s not only about forcing yourself to wake up at 7:45 A.M. (after you had gone to sleep two hours earlier) to listen to a professor spoon-feeding you information  【小题17】 the significance of the Battle of Hastings. It is  【小题18】 about finding a little haven where you can create what will be the most important thing in your life—yourself. At a school of thirty-five thousand people, I found a small place that was as   【小题19】 to me as my Social Security number.
Through laughter, tears, learning, growing and the   【小题20】 free ice cream, we found a sanctuary. A place where we could be ourselves.

It is three in the morning on a Tuesday, and I’m walking toward table eighteen, the one I call home. I pass the waiters, give a brief nod to the  1.  and take my seat. I  2.  the “usual,” water and peanut butter pie. Yes, I’m at an all-night diner.

I start to take out my books,  3. full well that I will be  4. on the same page of Socrates that I’ve been on for the better part of the semester. Of course, it’s   5.  —for my group that is. I wait for the empty chairs around me to be   6.  .

Just as the Muzak songs start to repeat themselves, Shana and Jenny walk in. I am   7.   with the usual big hugs and smiles. 8. , the diner stops being a twenty-for-hour restaurant with bad service and becomes my place—my home   9. the prisonlike dorm room. For the next couple of hours, we will joke about people we know, talk about books, reflect on the meaning of life, quote movies and  10. new private jokes. Table number eighteen is our  11.  home.

During my senior year of college, I started going to the diner for a temporary escape from a dorm room that felt like it was closing in on me. Not to 12.  the phones, the stereo and the computer. How could anyone seriously  13.   to have good study habits? Some friends of mine told me about the place; they went there to study, and they really liked it.

So I tried it. It felt remarkably freeing. I start going there every night (except weekends, of course), and, believe me it was not because the pies were   14.  great either. Maybe it would force me to open my books and my  15.  would improve. Right? Well….

But that’s not the   16. . I mean, anyone who has gone to college knows that it’s not only about forcing yourself to wake up at 7:45 A.M. (after you had gone to sleep two hours earlier) to listen to a professor spoon-feeding you information  17. the significance of the Battle of Hastings. It is  18. about finding a little haven where you can create what will be the most important thing in your life—yourself. At a school of thirty-five thousand people, I found a small place that was as   19. to me as my Social Security number.

Through laughter, tears, learning, growing and the   20. free ice cream, we found a sanctuary. A place where we could be ourselves.

21.               A．friends         B．strangers       C．regulars   D．waiters

22.               A．make          B．take           C．bring D．order

23.               A．remembering    B．knowing        C．deciding   D．learning

24.               A．stuck          B．focused .       C．fixed D．turned

25.               A．certain         B．early           C．late  D．clear

26.               A．washed        B．cleaned        C．filled D．covered

27.               A．armed         B．satisfied        C．occupied  D．greeted

28.               A．Finally         B．Suddenly       C．Actually   D．Particularly

29.               A．away from      B．similar to       C．apart from D．close to

30.               A．create         B．play           C．write D．hear

31.               A．inner          B．outer          C．warmer   D．smaller

32.               A．answer         B．talk            C．mention   D．mend

33.               A．choose         B．determine      C．pretend   D．expect

34.               A．pretty          B．that           C．too   D．rather

35.               A．health         B．friendship       C．conditions D．grades

36.               A．place          B．benefit         C．point D．view

37.               A．relate          B．requiring       C．reflecting  D．regarding

38.               A．also           B．still            C． more D．even

39.               A．available        B．beneficial       C．familiar    D．encouraging

40.               A．special         B．occasional      C．unusual   D．natural

A little stress is good, since it helps you keep motivated to meet your goals. However, too much stress is bad for your health. Stress needs to be managed in order to prevent anxiety (焦虑). Here are some tips on how to manage stress.

Write it out

Write down everything that seems stressful, and ways to deal with each problem. You’ll find a things-to-do list much easier to manage than having all messed up in your head. Write down the tasks along with the specific times when you can do them.

One task at a time

Give each task all your attention while you’re doing it, and forget the rest. This will keep you from feeling anxious about things you have left to do. Thinking about other tasks only adds unnecessary stress, and can even stop you from doing the task you’re busy with at present. You don’t need to do everything all at once, or on your own. The feeling of being pressed to finish something on time will somehow disappear if someone is there to help you.

Give yourself a reward

Rewarding yourself for what you’ve already done, no matter how small, is a great way to motivate yourself to keep going. It will reduce stress, and make you happier to go on with the next task.

Give yourself a break

Breaks of ten to fifteen minutes are important. Visit a cafe or take a quick walk —anything to take your mind off the work for a while. If you need to stay at work, sit with your eyes closed and imagine a peaceful place or some other relaxing scenes. This will remove the stress from your muscles and mind.

1.The best title for the passage would probably be _____.

A．Stress Is Good or Not

B．How to Form Good Working Habits

C．Tips on How to Manage Stress

D．Ways to Keep Healthy

2.According to the passage, which of the following is NOT true?

A．It’s better to plan a specific time to do the task.

B．It helps you stay motivated to think about the undone tasks.

C．It’s unnecessary for you to do all the tasks by yourself.

D．It helps if you put your attention to one task at a time.

3.Which of the following would the author agree?

A．The more stress you have, the more motivated you will be.

B．Writing down everything seems impossible.

C．Only reward yourself for your biggest achievements in your work.

D．It is necessary to have a break during your work.

4.What can we learn from the passage?

A．Stress is always bad for people.

B．Imagining a relaxing scene may help.

C．The best way to relax is by rewarding yourself.

D．Finishing tasks on time reduces stress.