寻求一篇论文关于大学个人生涯规划的1000字左右_百度知道
寻求一篇论文关于大学个人生涯规划的1000字左右
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一．×××大学毕业后的十年规划 （2005年－2015年，20岁至30岁） 美好愿望：事业有成，家庭幸福 方 向：企业高级管理人员 总体目标：完成硕士、博士的学习，进入××著名外资企业，成为高层管理者。 已进行情况：读完硕士，进入一家外资企业，想继续攻读博士学位。 二．社会环境规划和职业分析（十年规划） 1、社会一般环境： 中国政治稳定，经济持续发展。在全球经济一体化环境中的重要角色。经济发展有强劲的势头，加入WTO后，会有大批的外国企业进入中国市场，中国的企业也将走出国门。 2、管理职业特殊社会环境： 由于中国的管理科学发展较晚，管理知识大部分源于国外，中国的企业管理还有许多不完善的地方。中国急需管理人才，尤其是经过系统培训的高级管理人才。因此企业管理职业市场广阔。 要在中国发展企业，必须要适合中国的国情，这就要求管理的科学性与艺术性和环境动态适应相结合。因此，受中国市场吸引进入的大批外资企业都面临 着本土化改造的任务。这就为准备去外企做管理工作的人员提供了很多机会。 三．行业环境分析和企业分析 1、行业分析： 本人所在××公司为跨国性会计事务所。属管理咨询类企业。由于中国加入WTO，商务运作逐渐全球化，国内企业经营也逐步与国际惯例接轨，因此这类企业在近年来引进中国后得到迅猛的发展。 2、企业分析： ××公司是全球四大会计事务所，属股份制企业，企业领导层风格稳健，公司以“诚信、稳健、服务、创新”为核心价值观，十年来稳步在全球推广业务，目前在全球10余个国家、地区设有分支机构。 公司2000年进入中国，同年在上海设立分支机构。经营中稳健拓展业务的同时重点推行公司运作理念，力求与发展中的共同进步。本人十分认同公司的企业文化和发展战略，但公司事务性工作太过繁忙，无暇进行个人自我培训，而且提升空间有限。但总体而言，作为第一份工作可以接触到行业顶尖企业的经营模式是十分幸运的，本人可能在本企业实现部分职业生涯目标。 四．个人分析与角色建议 1．个人分析： （1）自身现状： 英语水平出众，能流利沟通；法律专业扎实，精通经贸知识；具有较强的人际沟通能力；思维敏捷，表达流畅；在大学期间长期担任学生干部，有较强的组织协调能力；有很强的学习愿望和能力。 （2）测评结果（略） 2．角色建议： 父亲：“要不断学习，能力要强”；“工作要努力，有发展，要在大城市，方便我们退休后搬来一起居住生活。” 母亲：工作要上进 ，婚姻不要误。 老师：“聪明、有上进心、单纯、乖巧”，缺乏社会经验” 同学：“有较强的工作能力”，“适合做白领”。 …… 五．职业目标分解与组合 职业目标：著名外资企业高级管理人员。 1．年： 成果目标；通过实践学习，总结出适合当代中国国情的企业管理理论 学历目标：硕士研究生毕业，取得硕士学位；取得律师从业资格、通过GRE和英语高级口译考试 职务目标：外企企业商务助理 能力目标：具备在经济领域从事具体法律工作的理论基础，通过实习具有一定的实践经验；接触了解涉外商务活动；英语应用能力具备权威资格认证；有一定的科研能力，发表5篇以上论文。 经济目标：在校期间兼职，年收入1万元；商务助理年薪5万 2．2005年－2010年： 学历目标：通过注册会计师考试 职务目标：外资企业部门经理 能力目标：熟练处理本职务工作，工作业绩在同级同事中居于突出地位；熟悉外资企业运作机制及企业文化，能与公司上层进行无阻碍地沟通。 经济目标：年薪10万 3．2005年－2010年： 学历目标：攻读并取得博士学位 职务目标：著名外资企业高级管理人员，大学的外聘讲师 能力目标：科研能力突出，在国外权威刊物发表论文； 形成自己的管理理念，有很高的演讲水平，具备组织、领导一个团队的能力；与公司决策层有直接流畅的沟通；具备应付突发事件的心理素质和能力；有广泛的社交范围，在业界有一定的知名度。 经济目标：年薪25万 六．成功标准 我的成功标准是个人事务、职业生涯、家庭生活的协调发展。 只要自己尽心尽力，能力也得到了发挥，每个阶段都有了切实的自我提高，即使目标没有实现（特别是收入目标）我也不会觉得失败，给自己太多的压力本身就是一件失败的事情。 为了家庭牺牲职业目标的实现，我认为是可以理解的。在28岁之前一定要有自己的家庭。 七．职业生涯规划实施方案 差距：1、跨国企业先进的管理理念和丰富的管理经验；2、作为高级职业经理人所必备的技能、创新能力；3、快速适应能力欠缺；4、身体适应能力有差距。5、社交圈太窄。 八、缩小差距的方法： 1．教育培训方法 （1）充分利用硕士研究生毕业前在校学习的时间，为自己补充所需的知识和技能。包括参与社会团体活动、广泛阅读相关书籍、选修、旁听相关课程、报考技能资格证书等。时间：2008年7月以前。 （2）充分利用公司给员工提供的培训机会，争取更多的培训机会。时间：长期 （3）攻读管理学博士学位。时间：五年以内 2．讨论交流方法 （1）在校期间多和老师、同学讨论交流，毕业后选择和其中某些人经常进行交流。 （2）在工作中积极与直接上司沟通、加深了解；利用校友众多的优势，参加校友联谊活动，经常和他们接触、交流。 3．实践锻炼方法 （1）锻炼自己的注意力，在嘈杂的环境里也能思考问题，正常工作。在大而嘈杂的办公室里有意识地进行自我训练。 （2）养成良好的锻炼、饮食、生活习惯。每天保证睡眠6－8小时，每周锻炼三次以上。 （3）充分利用自身的工作条件扩大社交圈、重视同学交际圈、重视和每个人的交往，不论身份贵贱和亲疏程度。 ××本人对于职业生涯规划的看法： 1、职业规划肯定要有，但是我觉得职业规划不可能现在就定下来，周围的环境随时在变，而且自己随着不断的成熟和接触不同的东西，也会变。我以前想当官，后来想当外企白领，现在想创业，所以我觉得这个很难就定下来，更何况是在校大学生，没有任何社会阅历，谈这个就似乎有点纸上谈兵。 2、但是，虽然可能没有成型的职业规划，但是我觉得每个阶段的前进方向和短期目标要有，比如这段时间我要练好英语听力到什么水平，我要朝着什么方向努力，没有努力的方向和短期的目标，那容易虚度光阴。 3、如果我是学生，我可能想听一些别人成功的案例，和为什么别人能取得成功，虽然每个人走的路不同，但是我想有些成功的共同点是相同的，那我作为一个学生，就可以从中学到一辈子受益的美德和优点。
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关于A Rose for Emily写一篇1000字左右的英语论文怎么写?
关于A Rose for Emily写一篇1000字左右的英语论文怎么写?
09-09-23 & 发布
A Rose for Emilyby William FaulknerIWHEN Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old man-servant--a combined gardener and cook--had seen in at least ten years.It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and obliterated even the august names
only Miss Emily's house was left, lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and the gasoline pumps-an eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the representatives of those august names where they lay in the cedar-bemused cemetery among the ranked and anonymous graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at the battle of Jefferson.Alive, Miss Emily had been a tradition, a duty, a sort of hereditary obligation upon the town, dating from that day in 1894 when Colonel Sartoris, the mayor--he who fathered the edict that no Negro woman should appear on the streets without an apron-remitted her taxes, the dispensation dating from the death of her father on into perpetuity. Not that Miss Emily would have accepted charity. Colonel Sartoris invented an involved tale to the effect that Miss Emily's father had loaned money to the town, which the town, as a matter of business, preferred this way of repaying. Only a man of Colonel Sartoris' generation and thought could have invented it, and only a woman could have believed it.When the next generation, with its more modern ideas, became mayors and aldermen, this arrangement created some little dissatisfaction. On the first of the year they mailed her a tax notice. February came, and there was no reply. They wrote her a formal letter, asking her to call at the sheriff's office at her convenience. A week later the mayor wrote her himself, offering to call or to send his car for her, and received in reply a note on paper of an archaic shape, in a thin, flowing calligraphy in faded ink, to the effect that she no longer went out at all. The tax notice was also enclosed, without comment.They called a special meeting of the Board of Aldermen. A deputation waited upon her, knocked at the door through which no visitor had passed since she ceased giving china-painting lessons eight or ten years earlier. They were admitted by the old Negro into a dim hall from which a stairway mounted into still more shadow. It smelled of dust and disuse--a close, dank smell. The Negro led them into the parlor. It was furnished in heavy, leather-covered furniture. When the Negro opened the blinds of one window, they could see that the and when they sat down, a faint dust rose sluggishly about their thighs, spinning with slow motes in the single sun-ray. On a tarnished gilt easel before the fireplace stood a crayon portrait of Miss Emily's father.They rose when she entered--a small, fat woman in black, with a thin gold chain descending to her waist and vanishing into her belt, leaning on an ebony cane with a tarnished gold head. Her skeleton perhaps that was why what would have been merely plumpness in another was obesity in her. She looked bloated, like a body long submerged in motionless water, and of that pallid hue. Her eyes, lost in the fatty ridges of her face, looked like two small pieces of coal pressed into a lump of dough as they moved from one face to another while the visitors stated their errand.She did not ask them to sit. She just stood in the door and listened quietly until the spokesman came to a stumbling halt. Then they could hear the invisible watch ticking at the end of the gold chain.Her voice was dry and cold. &I have no taxes in Jefferson. Colonel Sartoris explained it to me. Perhaps one of you can gain access to the city records and satisfy yourselves.&&But we have. We are the city authorities, Miss Emily. Didn't you get a notice from the sheriff, signed by him?&&I received a paper, yes,& Miss Emily said. &Perhaps he considers himself the sheriff . . . I have no taxes in Jefferson.&&But there is nothing on the books to show that, you see We must go by the--&&See Colonel Sartoris. I have no taxes in Jefferson.&&But, Miss Emily--&&See Colonel Sartoris.& (Colonel Sartoris had been dead almost ten years.) &I have no taxes in Jefferson. Tobe!& The Negro appeared. &Show these gentlemen out.&
   II So SHE vanquished them, horse and foot, just as she had vanquished their fathers thirty years before about the smell.That was two years after her father's death and a short time after her sweetheart--the one we believed would marry her --had deserted her. After her father's death she
after her sweetheart went away, people hardly saw her at all. A few of the ladies had the temerity to call, but were not received, and the only sign of life about the place was the Negro man--a young man then--going in and out with a market basket.&Just as if a man--any man--could keep a kitchen properly, & so they were not surprised when the smell developed. It was another link between the gross, teeming world and the high and mighty Griersons.A neighbor, a woman, complained to the mayor, Judge Stevens, eighty years old.&But what will you have me do about it, madam?& he said.&Why, send her word to stop it,& the woman said. &Isn't there a law? &&I'm sure that won't be necessary,& Judge Stevens said. &It's probably just a snake or a rat that nigger of hers killed in the yard. I'll speak to him about it.&The next day he received two more complaints, one from a man who came in diffident deprecation. &We really must do something about it, Judge. I'd be the last one in the world to bother Miss Emily, but we've got to do something.& That night the Board of Aldermen met--three graybeards and one younger man, a member of the rising generation.&It's simple enough,& he said. &Send her word to have her place cleaned up. Give her a certain time to do it in, and if she don't. ..&&Dammit, sir,& Judge Stevens said, &will you accuse a lady to her face of smelling bad?&So the next night, after midnight, four men crossed Miss Emily's lawn and slunk about the house like burglars, sniffing along the base of the brickwork and at the cellar openings while one of them performed a regular sowing motion with his hand out of a sack slung from his shoulder. They broke open the cellar door and sprinkled lime there, and in all the outbuildings. As they recrossed the lawn, a window that had been dark was lighted and Miss Emily sat in it, the light behind her, and her upright torso motionless as that of an idol. They crept quietly across the lawn and into the shadow of the locusts that lined the street. After a week or two the smell went away.That was when people had begun to feel really sorry for her. People in our town, remembering how old lady Wyatt, her great-aunt, had gone completely crazy at last, believed that the Griersons held themselves a little too high for what they really were. None of the young men were quite good enough for Miss Emily and such. We had long thought of them as a tableau, Miss Emily a slender figure in white in the background, her father a spraddled silhouette in the foreground, his back to her and clutching a horsewhip, the two of them framed by the back-flung front door. So when she got to be thirty and was still single, we were not pleased exactly, even with insanity in the family she wouldn't have turned down all of her chances if they had really materialized.When her father died, it got about that the house was all
and in a way, people were glad. At last they could pity Miss Emily. Being left alone, and a pauper, she had become humanized. Now she too would know the old thrill and the old despair of a penny more or less.The day after his death all the ladies prepared to call at the house and offer condolence and aid, as is our custom Miss Emily met them at the door, dressed as usual and with no trace of grief on her face. She told them that her father was not dead. She did that for three days, with the ministers calling on her, and the doctors, trying to persuade her to let them dispose of the body. Just as they were about to resort to law and force, she broke down, and they buried her father quickly.We did not say she was crazy then. We believed she had to do that. We remembered all the young men her father had driven away, and we knew that with nothing left, she would have to cling to that which had robbed her, as people will. III SHE WAS SICK for a long time. When we saw her again, her hair was cut short, making her look like a girl, with a vague resemblance to those angels in colored church windows--sort of tragic and serene.The town had just let the contracts for paving the sidewalks, and in the summer after her father's death they began the work. The construction company came with riggers and mules and machinery, and a foreman named Homer Barron, a Yankee--a big, dark, ready man, with a big voice and eyes lighter than his face. The little boys would follow in groups to hear him cuss the riggers, and the riggers singing in time to the rise and fall of picks. Pretty soon he knew everybody in town. Whenever you heard a lot of laughing anywhere about the square, Homer Barron would be in the center of the group. Presently we began to see him and Miss Emily on Sunday afternoons driving in the yellow-wheeled buggy and the matched team of bays from the livery stable.At first we were glad that Miss Emily would have an interest, because the ladies all said, &Of course a Grierson would not think seriously of a Northerner, a day laborer.& But there were still others, older people, who said that even grief could not cause a real lady to forget noblesse oblige- -without calling it noblesse oblige. They just said, &Poor Emily. Her kinsfolk should come to her.& She had some kin in A but years ago her father had fallen out with them over the estate of old lady Wyatt, the crazy woman, and there was no communication between the two families. They had not even been represented at the funeral.And as soon as the old people said, &Poor Emily,& the whispering began. &Do you suppose it's really so?& they said to one another. &Of course it is. What else could . . .& Thi rustling of craned silk and satin behind jalousies closed upon the sun of Sunday afternoon as the thin, swift clop-clop-clop of the matched team passed: &Poor Emily.&She carried her head high enough--even when we believed that she was fallen. It was as if she demanded more than ever the recognition of her dignity as the last G as if it had wanted that touch of earthiness to reaffirm her imperviousness. Like when she bought the rat poison, the arsenic. That was over a year after they had begun to say &Poor Emily,& and while the two female cousins were visiting her.&I want some poison,& she said to the druggist. She was over thirty then, still a slight woman, though thinner than usual, with cold, haughty black eyes in a face the flesh of which was strained across the temples and about the eyesockets as you imagine a lighthouse-keeper's face ought to look. &I want some poison,& she said.&Yes, Miss Emily. What kind? For rats and such? I'd recom--&&I want the best you have. I don't care what kind.&The druggist named several. &They'll kill anything up to an elephant. But what you want is--&&Arsenic,& Miss Emily said. &Is that a good one?&&Is . . . arsenic? Yes, ma'am. But what you want--&&I want arsenic.&The druggist looked down at her. She looked back at him, erect, her face like a strained flag. &Why, of course,& the druggist said. &If that's what you want. But the law requires you to tell what you are going to use it for.&Miss Emily just stared at him, her head tilted back in order to look him eye for eye, until he looked away and went and got the arsenic and wrapped it up. The Negro delivery boy bro the druggist didn't come back. When she opened the package at home there was written on the box, under the skull and bones: &For rats.& IV So THE NEXT day we all said, &She will kill herself&; and we said it would be the best thing. When she had first begun to be seen with Homer Barron, we had said, &She will marry him.& Then we said, &She will persuade him yet,& because Homer himself had remarked--he liked men, and it was known that he drank with the younger men in the Elks' Club--that he was not a marrying man. Later we said, &Poor Emily& behind the jalousies as they passed on Sunday afternoon in the glittering buggy, Miss Emily with her head high and Homer Barron with his hat cocked and a cigar in his teeth, reins and whip in a yellow glove.Then some of the ladies began to say that it was a disgrace to the town and a bad example to the young people. The men did not want to interfere, but at last the ladies forced the Baptist minister--Miss Emily's people were Episcopal-- to call upon her. He would never divulge what happened during that interview, but he refused to go back again. The next Sunday they again drove about the streets, and the following day the minister's wife wrote to Miss Emily's relations in Alabama.So she had blood-kin under her roof again and we sat back to watch developments. At first nothing happened. Then we were sure that they were to be married. We learned that Miss Emily had been to the jeweler's and ordered a man's toilet set in silver, with the letters H. B. on each piece. Two days later we learned that she had bought a complete outfit of men's clothing, including a nightshirt, and we said, &They are married.& We were really glad. We were glad because the two female cousins were even more Grierson than Miss Emily had ever been.So we were not surprised when Homer Barron--the streets had been finished some time since--was gone. We were a little disappointed that there was not a public blowing-off, but we believed that he had gone on to prepare for Miss Emily's coming, or to give her a chance to get rid of the cousins. (By that time it was a cabal, and we were all Miss Emily's allies to help circumvent the cousins.) Sure enough, after another week they departed. And, as we had expected all along, within three days Homer Barron was back in town. A neighbor saw the Negro man admit him at the kitchen door at dusk one evening.And that was the last we saw of Homer Barron. And of Miss Emily for some time. The Negro man went in and out with the market basket, but the front door remained closed. Now and then we would see her at a window for a moment, as the men did that night when they sprinkled the lime, but for almost six months she did not appear on the streets. Then we knew that this wa as if that quality of her father which had thwarted her woman's life so many times had been too virulent and too furious to die.When we next saw Miss Emily, she had grown fat and her hair was turning gray. During the next few years it grew grayer and grayer until it attained an even pepper-and-salt iron-gray, when it ceased turning. Up to the day of her death at seventy-four it was still that vigorous iron-gray, like the hair of an active man.From that time on her front door remained closed, save for a period of six or seven years, when she was about forty, during which she gave lessons in china-painting. She fitted up a studio in one of the downstairs rooms, where the daughters and granddaughters of Colonel Sartoris' contemporaries were sent to her with the same regularity and in the same spirit that they were sent to church on Sundays with a twenty-five-cent piece for the collection plate. Meanwhile her taxes had been remitted.Then the newer generation became the backbone and the spirit of the town, and the painting pupils grew up and fell away and did not send their children to her with boxes of color and tedious brushes and pictures cut from the ladies' magazines. The front door closed upon the last one and remained closed for good. When the town got free postal delivery, Miss Emily alone refused to let them fasten the metal numbers above her door and attach a mailbox to it. She would not listen to them.Daily, monthly, yearly we watched the Negro grow grayer and more stooped, going in and out with the market basket. Each December we sent her a tax notice, which would be returned by the post office a week later, unclaimed. Now and then we would see her in one of the downstairs windows--she had evidently shut up the top floor of the house--like the carven torso of an idol in a niche, looking or not looking at us, we could never tell which. Thus she passed from generation to generation--dear, inescapable, impervious, tranquil, and perverse.And so she died. Fell ill in the house filled with dust and shadows, with only a doddering Negro man to wait on her. We did not ev we had long since given up trying to get any information from the NegroHe talked to no one, probably not even to her, for his voice had grown harsh and rusty, as if from disuse.She died in one of the downstairs rooms, in a heavy walnut bed with a curtain, her gray head propped on a pillow yellow and moldy with age and lack of sunlight. V THE NEGRO met the first of the ladies at the front door and let them in, with their hushed, sibilant voices and their quick, curious glances, and then he disappeared. He walked right through the house and out the back and was not seen again.The two female cousins came at once. They held the funeral on the second day, with the town coming to look at Miss Emily beneath a mass of bought flowers, with the crayon face of her father musing profoundly above the bier and the ladies
and the very old men --some in their brushed Confederate uniforms--on the porch and the lawn, talking of Miss Emily as if she had been a contemporary of theirs, believing that they had danced with her and courted her perhaps, confusing time with its mathematical progression, as the old do, to whom all the past is not a diminishing road but, instead, a huge meadow which no winter ever quite touches, divided from them now by the narrow bottle-neck of the most recent decade of years.Already we knew that there was one room in that region above stairs which no one had seen in forty years, and which would have to be forced. They waited until Miss Emily was decently in the ground before they opened it.The violence of breaking down the door seemed to fill this room with pervading dust. A thin, acrid pall as of the tomb seemed to lie everywhere upon this room decked and furnished as for a bridal: upon the valance curtains of faded rose color, upon the rose-shaded lights, upon the dressing table, upon the delicate array of crystal and the man's toilet things backed with tarnished silver, silver so tarnished that the monogram was obscured. Among them lay a collar and tie, as if they had just been removed, which, lifted, left upon the surface a pale crescent in the dust. Upon a chair hung the suit, beneath it the two mute shoes and the discarded socks.The man himself lay in the bed.For a long while we just stood there, looking down at the profound and fleshless grin. The body had apparently once lain in the attitude of an embrace, but now the long sleep that outlasts love, that conquers even the grimace of love, had cuckolded him. What was left of him, rotted beneath what was left of the nightshirt, had become inextricable from the and upon him and upon the pillow beside him lay that even coating of the patient and biding dust.Then we noticed that in the second pillow was the indentation of a head. One of us lifted something from it, and leaning forward, that faint and invisible dust dry and acrid in the nostrils, we saw a long strand of iron-gray hair. You may visit the following website for criticism:
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　论文 [拼音] [ lun wen ] 　　 a paper 　　相关词组　　毕业论文 　　a gra a graduation thesis 　　博士论文 　　a doctoral dissertation 　　论文撮要 　　an a a synopsis of a thesis 　　论文答辩 　　(thesis) oral defense 　　学期论文 　　a term paper 　　学术论文 　　 a scientific paper 　　专题论文 　　 a disquisition 　　专题论文集 　　a symposium
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