Oh dear. Another tale of woe from me When I met my ex, I was in foster care. I was a very confused 17 year old, and she took an interest in me, and we would talk about all my problems with my own family, and everything that was going wrong with me. I even 'came out' to her at one point. We spent a lot of time together and gradually, I thought I might not be gay after all, as I had feelings of love for her. Eventually, we started dating and I tried to suppress my gay feelings. Eventually, I proposed. We were engaged for just over a year and I got married at the age of 19. I have to admit, when the wedding plans got firmed up and much closer to the date, I started to feel that I was in fact still gay but so much money had already been spent, and plans made that I was too afraid to pull out. Don't get me wrong, I still love my ex wife a heck of a lot, but as my very best friend. I hate to use the phrase, but with everything that has gone on with me the last few years, she has been 'my rock'. We separated after about 8 years, when our daughter was 7 years old, and I told her why. I just couldn't go on living the lie. I hate myself for doing it to her. Selfishly, I wouldn't change things though, as I have my daughter and I love her, and I love being a parent. We had 'Unexpected Song' played as she walked down the aisle at the church; the lyrics really summed up how we felt about each other and how we had gotten together Unexpected Song Michael Crawford YouTube. What did they name their daughter? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Missy - not enough information - Jane - Nancy
not enough information

(Question)
ROLAND HELD HIS BODY STIFF AS HE FACED THE CATHAR FORTRESS and watched the tall wooden doors swing open. He saw now that the fire of that final night's battle, now fifteen days past, had left no structure standing but the stone keep. Inside the limestone walls stood forlorn, crude shelters made of tent cloths spread over blackened beams. Cries of farewell and loud wailing came from the battlements above and from the open gateway, as the condemned emerged from the fortress, a long line of men and women in black. Roland's heartbeat broke its rhythm. During the fifteen days of grace granted under the terms of surrender, he had waited in camp with the other crusaders. Now that Diane and Perrin were safely off on the road to Paris, he felt impelled to be with the Cathars in their final moments, to bear witness. He had volunteered, despite his dread, to help escort the prisoners to their execution. Those Cathars who joined the Catholic religion would now be allowed to leave in peace, though they would be forced to give everything they owned to the Church and wear the yellow crosses for the rest of their lives. But those who clung to their faith would die. As the Cathars emerged, a man-at-arms directed each to stop at a table beside the doorway, where two Dominican friars sat with parchment scrolls. The friars recorded the name of each person about to die. This meticulous record-keeping, Roland thought, was one source of the Inquisition's power. At the head of the procession was the Cathar bishop. Bertran d'en Marti's head glowed with the red-gold rays of the low afternoon sun striking his white hair, as if it were already enveloped in flames. "Form around them," called the leader of Roland's party. Roland reluctantly stepped forward with the other crusaders. His longsword and dagger swung heavy at his waist. He wore them only because, as a knight, he was expected to. He had left his helmet and mail shirt back in his tent. Who held his body stiff as he faced the CAthar Fortress? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Dominican friar - Roland - not enough information - Diana
(Answer)
Roland

I normally do not post certain types of things on my blog or on social media, like political messages, but today I feel compelled. I've been thinking for the last few days about the most recent school shooting in Parkland, and my overwhelming emotion right after grief is rage. I am so angry it makes me cry and for those of you out there who know me, angry-cry is the end-stage, top-of-the-gauge level of angry for me. I am angry that as a nation, we continue to wring our hands and bemoan each mass shooting but we don't take any action to stop the next one. I am angry that our elected officials have failed us in the most spectacular way possible by being unable to work together or to set aside special interests to protect the lives and safety of Americans, including our most vulnerable citizens, our children. I am angry that time and time again, we the people and our elected officials weigh the value of human lives against countless other things (Second Amendment, special interests, party disagreements, inertia, whatever) and the value of human life comes up short in the calculations. I am angry at myself for believing at any point in the last several years that I could trust lawmakers to address this epidemic and I am angry at myself for feeling so helpless that I have not personally taken action. This stops now. I am angry that in 2012, 20 6-7 year old children and 6 adults were murdered in Sandy Hook and in the 5+ years since, we have done nothing meaningful to stop this. To me, this is tantamount to saying that we as a nation are OK with this. I don't think we are, but that's the message we're sending if we don't force our government to do something. According to the New York Times, there have been 239 school shootings nationwide since Sandy Hook with 438 people shot, 138 who died. Why did the author write the text? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Because they are mad at children. - not enough information - Because they are angry about shootings. - Because they are mad at the New York Times.
Because they are angry about shootings.