*Question*
Yes recently! I have joined a B-School recently. New friends, new syllabus, new place and new subjects! With all these new things, I got a new assignment which was supposed to be submitted in 3 days. Our teams were formed and we, together had to submit it. From dawn to dusk, we worked hard on that Economics project. I worked with each and every person in the group. I didn't know how to plot a triple axis graph in excel, I learnt that day at 2 am. Our group also learnt many new things and we gave our 100% to that report. I, in my entire academic life, have never been careless towards the submission. I always submitted reports or assignments before time. Anyway, the submission day finally arrived. I had told one of the group members to print the report out and bind it and bring to the college with her. The lecture is scheduled at 2:00 pm. I called her for about 30 times asking where she was. She didn't pick up any of our calls. There she entered the lecture hall at 2:07 pm and our professor being a strict one, rejected our project. Everything was washed out. Our efforts were washed away. What was the reason of she being late? Traffic! It's simple assumption that if you stay in a city like Mumbai, you at least leave your house 11.30 hours before. Being loyal is toxic sometimes. We all lost our individual credits for the subject plus the internals will get affected which is altogether different story. Guys, if you are working for a group of members, please please respect their hard work. Put yourself in their shoes snd imagine their hard work. Never ever mix your Professional commitments with personal problems. Peace! Who was late? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. the student with the report B. the students C. not enough information D. the teacher
**Answer**
A

*Question*
"Please remember me to myself!" When sliding toward mania in 2016, I begged this of my therapist. He cocked his head. "What do you mean?" I had no ideaon a conscious levelwhat I was asking for, just that I felt in a desperate sense that the self I knew was slipping away. An inability to recognize myself either in my writing or in reflecting upon my own actions was taking over. And then? I didn't care. I wanted to kiss girls. Which is finejust not something I ordinarily do. I wanted to drink, smoke. Again, finebut not something I ordinarily do. "Do I seemokay?" I asked a colleague at work. A woman I barely knew. Insanely, I thought that since she worked with disabled students, many of whom struggled with mental illness, she would know mania when she saw it. This was a rather foolish assumptionespecially since she's an educator, not a psychiatrist, especially with how skilled I am at wearing the mask of calm, the face of sanity. "You seem great, Julie. Cheery. Professional as always." I let her reassurance placate me. Wanted to be placated. Yet, within months I lost my job. And not only that, but a chance at a scholarship, two really important long term friendshipsrelationships I'd enjoyed since high school. I was hospitalized three times between September and February. I lost my ability to trust myself, lost my mind. It is now a little over two years since I first felt that sliding. Twenty-six months since I knew that somewhere in the deepest parts of who I am, I was slipping. Nine seasons since I begged Dr. Poe, "Remember me to myself!" I'm still recuperating. Yes. I have felt like I wasn't me. What kind of disorder does Julie suffer from? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. Bipolar disorder B. not enough information C. Diabetes. D. Cervical cancer.
**Answer**
A

*Question*
I have been married twice. My wedding experiences were both very different, even though I cried at both ceremonies. At my first wedding, I had been doing a lot of manual labor in the day prior to the wedding. Unfortunately, I did not have any gloves, and I ended up getting a lot of blisters on my hands. By the evening of the wedding, these blisters were very painful to touch. My bride was wearing what I thought to be an elaborate wedding dress. It was pretty, and it had a lot of buttons on it. Little, white, cloth covered buttons. These buttons were also a part of her sleeves and gloves. During the ceremony, she was holding my hands very tightly, and it hurt. I mean, it really really hurt! I didn't want to pull my hands away, as the gesture could be misconstrued, and I might hurt her feelings. So, I stood and held hands with her, enduring the pain. Although I managed to remain silent, I couldn't keep the tears from falling down my face. The more I cried, the harder she squeezed and the more painful it was. She always thought that I was crying due to emotion on our wedding day, and I never told her any differently I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Some years after that lengthy incarceration ended, I was fortunate to wed again. I had not done any manual labor before our wedding day. My hands were fine. Also, my bride did not have a lot of intricate buttons on her dress, nor did she wear gloves or even have sleeves. We were wed on a beach, just the two of us. No one else was in attendance. We had written our own vows, in fact, our own ceremony, including our own rituals. And yes, I cried, because I was / am so in love with my bride. I still tear up every morning when I awaken and see her sleeping beside me. Peace How long did the author's first marriage last? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. Only a week B. not enough information C. A few years D. Seventy five years
**Answer**
C