Before my first summer vacation at college, my roommate Ted asked to me to work with him on his father's farm in Argentina. The idea of spending two months in Argentine was exciting. Then I began having second thoughts. I had never been far from New England, and I had been homesick my first few weeks at college. What would it be like in a strange country? What about the language? The more I thought about it, the more the idea worried me.  In the end I turned down the invitation. As soon as Ted asked somebody else to go, I began kicking myself. I had turned down something I wanted to do because I was scared, and had ended up feeling depressed. That unhappy summer taught me a valuable lesson out of which I developed a rule for myself: do what makes you anxious; don't do what makes you depressed.  At the end of my senior year, I began to think about becoming a writer. But my professor was urging me to aim at teaching. I hesitated. The idea of trying to live by writing was a lot scarier than spending a summer in Argentina. Back and forth I went, making my decision, unmaking it. Suddenly I realized that every time I gave up the idea of writing, that downhearted feeling went through me. Giving up on what I really wanted to do depressed me. Right then I learned another lesson. To avoid that kind of depression meant having to bear a certain amount of worry and concern. When I first began writing articles, I was frequently required to interview big names. Before each interview I would get butterflies in the stomach and my hands would shake. One person I particularly admired was the great composer Duke Ellington. On the stage and on television, he seemed the very model of confidence. Then I learned Ellington still got stage fright. If the highly honored Ellington, who had appeared on the bandstand some 10,000 times over 30years, had anxiety attacks, who was I to think I could avoid them? I went on doing those frightening interviews. Then I realized to my astonishment that I was even looking forward to the interviews. What had happened to those butterflies? Well, in truth, they were still there, but there were fewer of them. I had benefited, I discovered, from a process psychologists call "extinction". If you put an individual in an anxious situation often enough, he will eventually learn that there isn't anything to be worried about, which brings me to a conclusion: you'll never get rid of anxiety by avoiding the things that caused it.  The point is that the new, the different, is definitely scary. But each time you try something, you learn, and as the learning piles up, the world opens to you. We can infer from the passage that the author  _  .
finds it difficult to make decision has found out what causes anxiety was inspired by Duke Ellington's stage fright no longer feels anxious about new experiences
Question: Before my first summer vacation at college, my roommate Ted asked to me to work with him on his father's farm in Argentina. The idea of spending two months in Argentine was exciting. Then I began having second thoughts. I had never been far from New England, and I had been homesick my first few weeks at college. What would it be like in a strange country? What about the language? The more I thought about it, the more the idea worried me.  In the end I turned down the invitation. As soon as Ted asked somebody else to go, I began kicking myself. I had turned down something I wanted to do because I was scared, and had ended up feeling depressed. That unhappy summer taught me a valuable lesson out of which I developed a rule for myself: do what makes you anxious; don't do what makes you depressed.  At the end of my senior year, I began to think about becoming a writer. But my professor was urging me to aim at teaching. I hesitated. The idea of trying to live by writing was a lot scarier than spending a summer in Argentina. Back and forth I went, making my decision, unmaking it. Suddenly I realized that every time I gave up the idea of writing, that downhearted feeling went through me. Giving up on what I really wanted to do depressed me. Right then I learned another lesson. To avoid that kind of depression meant having to bear a certain amount of worry and concern. When I first began writing articles, I was frequently required to interview big names. Before each interview I would get butterflies in the stomach and my hands would shake. One person I particularly admired was the great composer Duke Ellington. On the stage and on television, he seemed the very model of confidence. Then I learned Ellington still got stage fright. If the highly honored Ellington, who had appeared on the bandstand some 10,000 times over 30years, had anxiety attacks, who was I to think I could avoid them? I went on doing those frightening interviews. Then I realized to my astonishment that I was even looking forward to the interviews. What had happened to those butterflies? Well, in truth, they were still there, but there were fewer of them. I had benefited, I discovered, from a process psychologists call "extinction". If you put an individual in an anxious situation often enough, he will eventually learn that there isn't anything to be worried about, which brings me to a conclusion: you'll never get rid of anxiety by avoiding the things that caused it.  The point is that the new, the different, is definitely scary. But each time you try something, you learn, and as the learning piles up, the world opens to you. We can infer from the passage that the author  _  .
A. finds it difficult to make decision
B. has found out what causes anxiety
C. was inspired by Duke Ellington's stage fright
D. no longer feels anxious about new experiences
Answer: