Questões de Inglês

    The new science of optimism and longevity

 

Being optimistic or pessimistic is not just a psychological trait or interesting topic of conversation; it’s biologically relevant. Indeed, there is mounting evidence that optimism may serve as a powerful tool for preventing disease and promoting healthy aging.

People with an optimistic mindset are associated with various positive health indicators, particularly cardiovascular, but also pulmonary, metabolic, and immunologic. They have a lower incidence of age‑related illnesses and reduced mortality levels. Optimism and pessimism are not arbitrary and elusive labels. On the contrary, they are mindsets that can be scientifically measured, placing an individual’s attitude on a spectrum ranging from optimistic to pessimistic. Framing the baseline of each subject in this way, researchers are able to verify the correlation between optimism level and relative health conditions.

Available at: https://bigthink.com/neuropsych/optimism-and-longevity/. Accessed on: July 30, 2024.

According to the text, how are optimism and pessimism described?

Responda às questão com base no texto a seguir:

 

I was in my mid-20s when I fell into one of the most toxic relationships of my life. I remember buying my first self-help book, which promised I could be healed of anything if only I banished my limiting beliefs. I devoured it in days and even though I was still the same depressed and broke I had been when I picked up the book, that didn’t matter. I was hooked. Over the next 15 years, I bought hundreds of self-help books, courses and apps, and tracked down every self-styled personal improvement guru on TikTok and YouTube in the hope that they could teach me how to become happier, more confident and more lovable. I internalized messages, such as: “Stop being a victim to take back your power.” “Start thinking you are slim and healthy even though you probably need to lose a few pounds and have a chronic health condition.” But still, nothing worked. Some approaches were gentle and perhaps even obvious: “talk kindly to yourself, get enough sleep”. Others bordered on dangerous, whether it was encouraging me to spend more money than I could afford in order to “manifest” wealth or telling me to ignore my health problems to feel healthy. Only I never realized the danger at the time. Growing up in an environment of addiction and domestic conflict made me vulnerable to the industry’s promises of self-improvement. My childhood experiences made it hard for me to know my place and value in the world or find my people. I believed self-help authors could be the mentors I thought I had always needed but never found. My dependency took a particularly strong hold after the death of my father in 2022. I managed to spend such an enormous amount of time reading about how to grieve well and overcome trauma that I was not, ironically, doing the things I needed to do to actually feel better: sitting with my feelings, allowing myself to cry and processing the loss. Still, the obsession persisted, and the start of this year was no different to every other. I stocked up on content that promised to help me tackle my every issue, from overcoming anxiety and escaping my overdraft to changing my diet to rid myself of my multiple sclerosis. This would be my year, I thought. But even though I was following the guidance, nothing was helping me to feel better about myself and my brain scans still showed I was living with an incurable neurological disease. I couldn’t help but feel that not getting results was my own personal failing, rather than the industry’s with all its promises. My obsession with self-help had become toxic. It started to dawn on me that instead of helping me, the advice was making me feel worse. It took a deep conversation with a loved one to recognize that in trying to change my life, I was trying to change things that had happened to me and shaped who I was – often things that were out of my control. Instead of focusing on who I wanted to become, I had to quit self-help to learn and accept who I really was. Spending time alone, often walking, and listening to my thoughts without trying to silence or change them helped. I let myself cry rather than hold in the tears like I always used to do. Since I quit my self-help crutch, I’ve realized that focusing all your energy on improving yourself can really suck the joy out of life. It makes happiness conditional: only when I have got to a certain stage can I feel contentment; only when I look that way can I be loved. It can also stop you from unconditionally accepting your imperfectly perfect self. After a long time, I am finally coming round to the idea that perhaps I never needed fixing at all.

Adaptado de: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/jul/01/selfhelp-toxic-books-courses-apps Acessado em: 14.07.2024.

A melhor tradução para o português de “I was hooked” é:

Responda às questão com base no texto a seguir:

 

I was in my mid-20s when I fell into one of the most toxic relationships of my life. I remember buying my first self-help book, which promised I could be healed of anything if only I banished my limiting beliefs. I devoured it in days and even though I was still the same depressed and broke I had been when I picked up the book, that didn’t matter. I was hooked. Over the next 15 years, I bought hundreds of self-help books, courses and apps, and tracked down every self-styled personal improvement guru on TikTok and YouTube in the hope that they could teach me how to become happier, more confident and more lovable. I internalized messages, such as: “Stop being a victim to take back your power.” “Start thinking you are slim and healthy even though you probably need to lose a few pounds and have a chronic health condition.” But still, nothing worked. Some approaches were gentle and perhaps even obvious: “talk kindly to yourself, get enough sleep”. Others bordered on dangerous, whether it was encouraging me to spend more money than I could afford in order to “manifest” wealth or telling me to ignore my health problems to feel healthy. Only I never realized the danger at the time. Growing up in an environment of addiction and domestic conflict made me vulnerable to the industry’s promises of self-improvement. My childhood experiences made it hard for me to know my place and value in the world or find my people. I believed self-help authors could be the mentors I thought I had always needed but never found. My dependency took a particularly strong hold after the death of my father in 2022. I managed to spend such an enormous amount of time reading about how to grieve well and overcome trauma that I was not, ironically, doing the things I needed to do to actually feel better: sitting with my feelings, allowing myself to cry and processing the loss. Still, the obsession persisted, and the start of this year was no different to every other. I stocked up on content that promised to help me tackle my every issue, from overcoming anxiety and escaping my overdraft to changing my diet to rid myself of my multiple sclerosis. This would be my year, I thought. But even though I was following the guidance, nothing was helping me to feel better about myself and my brain scans still showed I was living with an incurable neurological disease. I couldn’t help but feel that not getting results was my own personal failing, rather than the industry’s with all its promises. My obsession with self-help had become toxic. It started to dawn on me that instead of helping me, the advice was making me feel worse. It took a deep conversation with a loved one to recognize that in trying to change my life, I was trying to change things that had happened to me and shaped who I was – often things that were out of my control. Instead of focusing on who I wanted to become, I had to quit self-help to learn and accept who I really was. Spending time alone, often walking, and listening to my thoughts without trying to silence or change them helped. I let myself cry rather than hold in the tears like I always used to do. Since I quit my self-help crutch, I’ve realized that focusing all your energy on improving yourself can really suck the joy out of life. It makes happiness conditional: only when I have got to a certain stage can I feel contentment; only when I look that way can I be loved. It can also stop you from unconditionally accepting your imperfectly perfect self. After a long time, I am finally coming round to the idea that perhaps I never needed fixing at all.

Adaptado de: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/jul/01/selfhelp-toxic-books-courses-apps Acessado em: 14.07.2024.

O pronome possessivo “its”, destacado em negrito no texto, se refere a:

Responda às questão com base no texto a seguir:

 

I was in my mid-20s when I fell into one of the most toxic relationships of my life. I remember buying my first self-help book, which promised I could be healed of anything if only I banished my limiting beliefs. I devoured it in days and even though I was still the same depressed and broke I had been when I picked up the book, that didn’t matter. I was hooked. Over the next 15 years, I bought hundreds of self-help books, courses and apps, and tracked down every self-styled personal improvement guru on TikTok and YouTube in the hope that they could teach me how to become happier, more confident and more lovable. I internalized messages, such as: “Stop being a victim to take back your power.” “Start thinking you are slim and healthy even though you probably need to lose a few pounds and have a chronic health condition.” But still, nothing worked. Some approaches were gentle and perhaps even obvious: “talk kindly to yourself, get enough sleep”. Others bordered on dangerous, whether it was encouraging me to spend more money than I could afford in order to “manifest” wealth or telling me to ignore my health problems to feel healthy. Only I never realized the danger at the time. Growing up in an environment of addiction and domestic conflict made me vulnerable to the industry’s promises of self-improvement. My childhood experiences made it hard for me to know my place and value in the world or find my people. I believed self-help authors could be the mentors I thought I had always needed but never found. My dependency took a particularly strong hold after the death of my father in 2022. I managed to spend such an enormous amount of time reading about how to grieve well and overcome trauma that I was not, ironically, doing the things I needed to do to actually feel better: sitting with my feelings, allowing myself to cry and processing the loss. Still, the obsession persisted, and the start of this year was no different to every other. I stocked up on content that promised to help me tackle my every issue, from overcoming anxiety and escaping my overdraft to changing my diet to rid myself of my multiple sclerosis. This would be my year, I thought. But even though I was following the guidance, nothing was helping me to feel better about myself and my brain scans still showed I was living with an incurable neurological disease. I couldn’t help but feel that not getting results was my own personal failing, rather than the industry’s with all its promises. My obsession with self-help had become toxic. It started to dawn on me that instead of helping me, the advice was making me feel worse. It took a deep conversation with a loved one to recognize that in trying to change my life, I was trying to change things that had happened to me and shaped who I was – often things that were out of my control. Instead of focusing on who I wanted to become, I had to quit self-help to learn and accept who I really was. Spending time alone, often walking, and listening to my thoughts without trying to silence or change them helped. I let myself cry rather than hold in the tears like I always used to do. Since I quit my self-help crutch, I’ve realized that focusing all your energy on improving yourself can really suck the joy out of life. It makes happiness conditional: only when I have got to a certain stage can I feel contentment; only when I look that way can I be loved. It can also stop you from unconditionally accepting your imperfectly perfect self. After a long time, I am finally coming round to the idea that perhaps I never needed fixing at all.

Adaptado de: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/jul/01/selfhelp-toxic-books-courses-apps Acessado em: 14.07.2024.

Sobre o texto, é INCORRETO afirmar que:

Responda às questão com base no texto a seguir:

 

I was in my mid-20s when I fell into one of the most toxic relationships of my life. I remember buying my first self-help book, which promised I could be healed of anything if only I banished my limiting beliefs. I devoured it in days and even though I was still the same depressed and broke I had been when I picked up the book, that didn’t matter. I was hooked. Over the next 15 years, I bought hundreds of self-help books, courses and apps, and tracked down every self-styled personal improvement guru on TikTok and YouTube in the hope that they could teach me how to become happier, more confident and more lovable. I internalized messages, such as: “Stop being a victim to take back your power.” “Start thinking you are slim and healthy even though you probably need to lose a few pounds and have a chronic health condition.” But still, nothing worked. Some approaches were gentle and perhaps even obvious: “talk kindly to yourself, get enough sleep”. Others bordered on dangerous, whether it was encouraging me to spend more money than I could afford in order to “manifest” wealth or telling me to ignore my health problems to feel healthy. Only I never realized the danger at the time. Growing up in an environment of addiction and domestic conflict made me vulnerable to the industry’s promises of self-improvement. My childhood experiences made it hard for me to know my place and value in the world or find my people. I believed self-help authors could be the mentors I thought I had always needed but never found. My dependency took a particularly strong hold after the death of my father in 2022. I managed to spend such an enormous amount of time reading about how to grieve well and overcome trauma that I was not, ironically, doing the things I needed to do to actually feel better: sitting with my feelings, allowing myself to cry and processing the loss. Still, the obsession persisted, and the start of this year was no different to every other. I stocked up on content that promised to help me tackle my every issue, from overcoming anxiety and escaping my overdraft to changing my diet to rid myself of my multiple sclerosis. This would be my year, I thought. But even though I was following the guidance, nothing was helping me to feel better about myself and my brain scans still showed I was living with an incurable neurological disease. I couldn’t help but feel that not getting results was my own personal failing, rather than the industry’s with all its promises. My obsession with self-help had become toxic. It started to dawn on me that instead of helping me, the advice was making me feel worse. It took a deep conversation with a loved one to recognize that in trying to change my life, I was trying to change things that had happened to me and shaped who I was – often things that were out of my control. Instead of focusing on who I wanted to become, I had to quit self-help to learn and accept who I really was. Spending time alone, often walking, and listening to my thoughts without trying to silence or change them helped. I let myself cry rather than hold in the tears like I always used to do. Since I quit my self-help crutch, I’ve realized that focusing all your energy on improving yourself can really suck the joy out of life. It makes happiness conditional: only when I have got to a certain stage can I feel contentment; only when I look that way can I be loved. It can also stop you from unconditionally accepting your imperfectly perfect self. After a long time, I am finally coming round to the idea that perhaps I never needed fixing at all.

Adaptado de: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/jul/01/selfhelp-toxic-books-courses-apps Acessado em: 14.07.2024.

A autora do texto afirma que:

Leia este texto.

 

    SATAN’S MARKET
    Adélia Prado (tradução de Ellen Doré Watson)

 

The fish eye me
from their bloody slabs.
The fruit is immodest.
Vendors end-to-end,
I want to flee,
distressed by the tomatoes’
indecent splendor.
I buy two turnips and eat them raw,
like an ascetic in his garden.
It’s not virtue
but pride disguised as joy
the devil sold me
in his tent of lies.

Disponível em https://plumepoetry.com/two-poems-by-adelia-prado-from-miserere-translated-frombrazilian-portuguese-by-ellen-dore-watson/. Acesso em: 7 ago. 2025.

 

O local em que se passam as cenas do poema da escritora mineira Adélia Prado, bem como o sentimento revelado pelo eu-lírico são, respectivamente,