TED英语的演讲稿.docxVIP

TED英语演讲稿　　ted英语演讲稿　　i was one of the only kids in college who had a reason to go to the　　at the end of the day, and that was mainly because my mother has neverbelieved in email, in facebook, in texting or cell phones in general. and sowhile other kids were bbm-ing their parents, i was literally waiting by themailbox to get a letter from home to see how the weekend had gone, which was alittle frustrating when grandma was in the hospital, but i was just looking forsome sort of scribble, some unkempt cursive from my mother.　　and so when i moved to new york city after college and got completelysucker-punched in the face by depression, i did the only thing i could think ofat the time. i wrote those same kinds of letters that my mother had written mefor strangers, and tucked them all throughout the city, dozens and dozens ofthem. i left them everywhere, in cafes and in liparies, at the ,everywhere. i blogged about those letters and the days when they were necessary,and i posed a kind of crazy promise to the internet: that if you asked me for ahand-written letter, i would write you one, no questions asked. overnight, myinbox morphed into this harbor of heartpeak -- a single mother in sacramento, agirl being bullied in rural kansas, all asking me, a 22-year-old girl who barelyeven knew her own coffee order, to write them a love letter and give them areason to wait by the mailbox.　　well, today i fuel a global organization that is fueled by those trips tothe mailbox, fueled by the ways in which we can harness social media like neverbefore to write and mail strangers letters when they need them most, but most ofall, fueled by crates of mail like this one, my trusty mail crate, filled withthe scriptings of ordinary people, strangers writing letters to other strangersnot because theyre ever going to meet and laugh over a cup of coffee, butbecause they have found one another by way of letter-writing.　　but, you know, the thing that always gets me about th　　ese letters is th