Back in middle school, at least I think it was, I had art class. I didn't particularly love it but it was interesting enough at the least to hold my attention. We got to class and the teacher pulled up a list of instructions on the projector. She had each of us follow the instructions and she gave us 20 minutes to complete all of them. It may even have been a bit of a race too, to see who finished it first. This becomes a lot more evident in a second. I can't recall the exact details of the instructions, except that clearly it had to do with art such as having to draw a bunch of things. Anyways, we all went one by one down the instructions getting increasing nervous as to try to be the first one to finish. The class goes quiet while we work. Then I get to the last instruction which reads something along the lines of: "Step 15: Skip steps 114 and put your pencil down." You gotta be freaking kidding me. We're all so confused and mad at ourselves for not reading the whole of the instructions first. She turned this into a lesson for how we need to learn to read all the instructions first and then start, which was pretty clever. She got us! I remember this vividly to this day. But I look back now on this "prank" and I realize that she was kind ofwrong. Sure if the instructions are short like 15 steps it might be good to glance through before you start. But what about a whole load of instructions? Who the hell is going to read through the instructions for how to build their Death Star LEGO set before even starting to build it. Just a waste of time really. Note: I have never built a Death Star LEGO set. Question: What grade was the author in when the text took place? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Somewhere in grade 9-12
- not enough information
- Somewhere in grade 1-5
- Somewhere in grade 6-8
Somewhere in grade 6-8
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I'm sitting at the airport on a Sunday morning waiting for my flight to Las Vegas for the now-annual pilgrimage to the NamesCon conference. A few years ago, Vegas was one of my "bucket list" places one of those iconic cities that one should visit at least once in their life. For me, once was enough. This is now my 4th (I think?) trip to Vegas, and while the city has a lot to offer, it's just not my cup of tea. For one thing, I'm not a gambler, like at all. I don't have anything against it, I just don't enjoy it. It either feels pointless or stressful to me. The city itself makes me a little sad in some cases, it reeks of desperation. Last time I was there, my cab driver entertained me with stories of how she was working 3 jobs to save up enough to join some mega-massive bingo game. She won a small jackpot a few years back and that allowed her to work only one job for a few months. She was hoping to win again so she could cut back to 1 or 2 jobs. I wondered how many people do similar things gambling their money away, in big or small chunks, in the hopes of that big score and in the process, putting themselves in a not-great financial situation. I suppose as long it makes them happy, then it's all OK, but I can't help but think someone like my cab driver might be happier overall if she only worked 1 job instead of 3, instead of working extra jobs to save up money to gamble her way to financial freedom. But that's for her to decide, not me. The juxtaposition of extreme and in-your-face wealth and the homeless people on the Strip also makes me sad. It's difficult to see people begging for food and sleeping on the street while all around you, millions of dollars are poured into creating a massive playground with every type of indulgence possible. But I'm the first to say that I've enjoyed staying in some of the nicer hotel properties there and eating several excellent meals at some of the finer restaurants in the area, so I'm not exactly helping to solve the problem. Question: When did the author sit at the airport waiting to go to Las Vegas? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- on a Thursday
- not enough information
- on a Friday
- on a Sunday
on a Sunday
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When we got married we thought it was going to be all bliss and happiness for life. By about week two we both had an awakening. Something about being exact opposites and together 24/7. We clashed about something so important I can't even remember what it was. We hadn't really ever had that happen while engaged. Suddenly we realized that the bliss and excitement was growing into, well, everyday life. And all that passionate romance that had driven our relationship was growing, well, less passionate. We both realized our marriage had entered a new phase, one of many, through the years. And we needed to be much more purposeful about making sure it worked. Purposeful because the blinding emotional love some days seemed to be asleep. Yet, we both had committed to our marriage. For better or worse. So we decided we had the potential for either. We needed to make it better or it would become worse. We learned to really talk. Even when it was difficult. We learned to argue without hurting each other. We purposefully expressed love even in those times we didn't especially feel it. We built romance into our relationship even when we didn't feel romantic. And through the years our relationship has grown. Sometimes through difficult times. Heck, sometimes through difficult eras. Yet, we both never gave up the dream of making our marriage great. We never gave up the ideal of living together in love for a lifetime. And because of that, through all the trials and triumphs. Through all the frustration and bliss. Through all the sameness and romance. We still everyday enjoy our love and each other. And can't imagine life without the other. Well actually, there have been probably a couple of those days for my wife. She's just too nice to say it. A great marriage isn't built because it's perfect. Only because you keep trying to make it perfect. Question: Who were together 24/7? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- The husband and the wife's family.
- The husband and wife.
- not enough information
- The husband and his children.
The husband and wife.
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