input: OPTIONS:
- No medication was prescribed
- not enough information
- Lamictal
- Seroquil Now, answer this question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Yes I definitely have. It was over ten years ago now I was diagnosed as Borderline Personality Disorder but presenting with symptoms of Bi Polar Mania. I was in hospital for treatment and of course the psychiatrist wanted to medicate me until the manic phase subsided so as to better stabilize me and get the right diagnosis, etc. It is an art, Psychiatry, as far as I'm concerned. I do not have the education to elaborate on say, Pharmaceuticals or Cognitive Science (other than a few college courses on Behavioral Psychology) nor can I comprehend these fields of reference as clearly as I'd like to, but what I experienced was GETTING THE WRONG MEDICATION!! for my presenting psychological manifestations. I was put on Seroquil; too sedating even in minute doses. Prozac. Sent me over the edge, and a complete 180 to the point where I was extremely delusional and dangerously suicidal. These mind-altering medications can be fatal. It was scary and literally ruined my life for a time I was worse than minorly-depressed or hypo-manic (conditions much more manageable than what I previously described) for a long time when I first started a regime with Zoloft, but it did wind up being the best drug to manage my depressive state and enable me to function in a more socially adaptive manner. Then they added Lamictal, which has truly kept me stable ever since. But yes, it is a trial and error method as far as I can tell... My Mother never wanted me to try any medication because she said "They" were using me like a guinea pig, but when the benefit outweighs the risk, they take the risk. You can't always trust medicine but if you have an experienced doctor you should trust them especially if you want to get better, whatever your ailment may be. I have osteoarthritis, DSP, and Sciatica also, so am familiar with drugs used to treat physical health issues too but no huge issues with these medications, not like psychiatric drugs that's for sure. Question: What was the first medication prescribed after the Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis? Answer:
A:
output: Seroquil

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: The sudden burst of spring produce in the market after a long, monotonous winter of cavolo nero and bright oranges is one of the things that constantly reminds me why I love living and eating in Italy. A wander through the market like any other becomes, in spring time, a new experience. I feel like a fresh arrival, like it's my first time walking through my local market. There are long, twisty fava bean pods, waiting to be podded and munched on with bitey pecorino cheese to tame the bitterness of the raw beans. Thin, long-stemmed asparagus. A lovely array of greens, including radishes with leaves so happy that they become the main ingredient, fluffy-fronded fresh herbs and fresh garlic. Artichokes of many different kinds, but especially the pointed purple ones that are either local, from Tuscany's Maremma, or sometimes from Puglia or Sicily. Rarely the rounded globe artichokes you find spilling out of crates in Rome, or the tiny, delicate Venetian ones, the so-called castraure (though they often aren't the real deal, how you can tell is by the price) that you can find in the shadow of the Rialto. And then there are thick bunches of agretti (salsola soda), looking more like mermaid's hair than a monk's beard, their English namesake. A few years ago, this wasn't such a common sight at the market in Florence. It still isn't, in that you won't get them by the crateful like you do fava beans and artichokes, though they're not particularly difficult to find now. They're just one of those special things that don't last long. Blink and you'll miss them, or come late to the market and they could easily be sold out. It's worth getting up and out of the house a little earlier for these (a note to myself, of course). If you've never tasted agretti before, it's worth seeking out if you're in the right place at the right time and find a bunch or see it on a menu. Frances Mayes likens it to spinach, but notes that it is so much more, "While agretti has the mineral sharpness of spinach, it tastes livelier, full of the energy... Question: What does Frances Mayes probably think about agretti? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- That it should not be on a menu.
- That it has a good taste.
- That it is better than spinach.
- not enough information

Answer: That it has a good taste.

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Everybody knew Shandor Marley's mother liked to spend more time flirting with serial killers than she did taking care of things at home. So when her son went round with an air rifle popping his neighbours like they were allotment pigeons, they figured all the boy really needed was a bit of attention. Shandor finally flipped one day after finding out the inbred farm boys who made his life hell most days were in fact his half-brothers. He returned home to confront his mother only to find her pritt-sticking press cuttings of the Mad Killer into a brand new scrapbook and seemingly not in the least bit concerned by her son's unexpected discovery. Luckily Shandor's shooting spree didn't do too much damage beyond putting one of his so-called new father's eyes out, which could be considered doubly unfortunate given as the so-called new father in question owned the old byre Shandor and his mother called home. After Shandor had spent enough time shut away in borstal with the kind of kids who would've sent his mother all weak at the knees, he went straight home half-expecting the byre to be boarded up with a blu-tacked note saying she was lugging her stupid arse to Texas to spring her latest psycho boyfriend from his cell on death row. Shandor was thinking how much that excuse would sit well with her as he scuffed up the stone track to the byre with a black bin-bag of belongings and a sunburned arm across his forehead to shield himself from the glare. The place looked pretty much the same as he remembered it, only three years worse off. The strip of grass outside the back door was parched yellow and paint peeled around the blown-out windows. He had a hand on the door before he knew for sure it was still lived-in. He flapped thunderbugs off his forearm and creaked open the door. The kitchen stank of stale cigarettes and the dregs of spirit bottles. Question: who found the identity of his father? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- the sheriff
- not enough information
- Shandor did
- shandor's mother

Answer:
Shandor did