Ques: Alona's persistent knocking at the door of room 412 went unanswered for three minutes as she nervously shuffled her feet. Her book bag was super-saturated with textbooks, notebooks, schedules, rough drafts, and various other forms of academic paraphernalia. It was getting heavier. She continued to knock, even though there had as yet been no answer, because the note card tacked to the right of the door indicated that these indeed were Prof. Turgy K. Sigger's office hours. She could see the light under the door and thought she had heard a groan. Just before she decided to give up, slow feet approached from the opposite side, then silence; with a dramatic turn of the knob, the door swung open. "Was this trip really necessary?" asked Prof. Sigger, blinking and brushing his oily, graying hair back into place. "These are your office hours," Alona replied. She nervously smiled, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch. Somewhere in the darkened hall, a janitor coughed. "All right," conceded Prof. Sigger. "Come in." The carpet was smothered by leaning towers of textbooks. Papers lined the left side of the desk, above which was a small note card which read "To Be Graded." On the right side, the oak finish gleamed of the mid-morning light piercing the Venetian blinds. "You've come about your final project," Prof. Sigger stated. "It's only mid-term," Alona reminded him. "Oh yes, yes," continued Prof. Sigger, without conscious embarrassment. "Mid-term grade. I think I have it here. Somewhere." His hands disappeared into the left side of his desk. "You told the class that we would get a C if we maintained that Coca-Cola isn't a crypto-fascist conspiracy." "Oh yes," said Prof. Sigger. "We were discussing social issues, as I remember. I was quoting Marx and some little idiot brought up Rush Limbaugh." "That was me," Alona muttered. What were the subjects of the textbooks in Prof. Sigger's office? - not enough information - Marxism - social issues - socialism
Ans: not enough information

Ques: Thank you kindly for A2A, Jill! October 25, 2017. I woke up feeling extremely empty. I had no courage to drag my feet out of bed and I thought: this is it this is going to be the day that I am completely done! I got out of bed knowing I am going to commit suicide.I don't know where, but I do know how. I didn't want to do it at home. I printed out my suicide notes for everybody and hid it somewhere in my room. As I got ready, I took one last glanced to my dad. I gathered all my medications shoved it in to my bag and went out outside caught the bus that goes to college. I had no plans on going into my classes; I sat onto the college bus stop contemplating if I am going to do it. I did it. I chugged down the whole bottle of my anti-depressant. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, I felt like I was about to faint; I checked my phone to see what time was it and I saw my daughter's face on my home screen. I said to myself, "How can you be so stupid?! You have a daughter!" Trying my best to be conscious I caught the bus that goes to the hospital and checked in as a crisis patient in need to see a psychiatrist right away. I told my psychiatrist I tried to kill myself, and he escorted me down to the emergency room and I instantly became a 5150 patient. After 8 hours in the emergency room having full blown panic attacks I got transferred to a psychiatric ward 35 miles away from home. And for 4 days that psychiatric ward became my home. Where was the writer going? - on a bus trip - to her daughters house - to the college - not enough information
Ans: to the college

Ques: Kurt Vonnegut, writer and famous speech giver at US university graduation ceremonies, made this point to one group of soon-to-be-non-students: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. It is the end of a story about his grandpa who, on a summer's afternoon, would find the shade of a tree under which he could rest with a glass of homemade lemonade. The family didn't have a lot of cash, the grandpa worked hard every day of his life, but no matter how relentless the day-to-day was, he would always repeat this phrase as a reminder to those around him that, at the end of the day, this is all still amazing to be part of. This kind of optimism, as you might call it, can often disappear in a flash in the busy-ness of business or school. Things become impossible, hardgoing, relentless(ly difficult). And the reasons we give for that busyness nearly always involve someone or something else - the system, the job, the weather... For many years, people would ask the salutary "how are you?" and my answer was a stock one: "I'm tired." It was my wife who pointed it out to me, presumably because everyone else was too polite to express their boredom with my reply. The fact is, most people feel tired most of the time, until they make a switch in their life. That switch is deciding that the only person who can turn that frown upside down, who can make crazy stuff happen (or attempt to, and enjoy the process), is you. And in Vonnegut's case, that switch came from saying out loud the one phrase that brings us back to the good elements in what we or our team or our family is doing at any given moment: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. Who did Kurt Vonnegut tell a story about to soon-to-be-non-students? - not enough information - his father - his grandma - his grandpa
Ans:
his grandpa