Question: Greg Tenorly drove the familiar route from the church to his music studio, studying the homes along the way. He wondered about the families who lived in each one. Like that two-story brick on the corner. What secrets were they hiding? Was the husband abusive? Did a teenager use drugs? Was the family nearly bankrupt? How could anyone know? It was better not to know. The mind can only handle so many problems at one time. He wondered where Troy and Cynthia Blockerman lived. Greg had appeared at the courthouse that morning as part of a jury pool, only to be released. He and the rest of his group would have to return the next morning. He hoped they would not need him. The church would pay his regular part-time salary while he was serving on a jury, but any private lessons he missed would be money lost. Greg's red 1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible always turned heads as he drove through the small town. He had purchased it two months earlier from a career Navy man down in Longview who had babied the thing for years. It spent most of its life in the man's garage, coming out only when he was on leave. Most trips were to the car wash or the Pontiac dealer for scheduled maintenance. Greg gladly paid $4,000 for it. The sailor called him the very next day and tried to buy it back. He said it was like losing a member of the family. Greg felt bad, but not bad enough to give up the car. How could a 40-year-old car have only 93,000 miles on it? It was dazzling. His little studio was near the town square, nestled between Coreyville Hardware and Susie's Sewing Box. Occasionally he and a student could hear a pipe wrench or hammer hitting the floor on the hardware side. But things were always quiet from Susie's side. At least the soundproofing he had installed kept his neighbors from hearing his students. You can't teach music without hearing both beautiful sounds and sour notes. How does he feel about the soundproofing he installed? - not enough information - its pretty good - It could be imroved - its helping but not efficiently
Answer: its pretty good

Question: The city was gray but the buildings contrasted with dirt red. The morning settled my nerves a bit more and before long the train pulled into the station. Boston had a slower feel, much slower than New York. The air was cool and peppered with moisture. I knew I was close to the ocean. Vision blurry, I wobbled out of the train depot and thought about the fact that I had never really done anything crazy in my life. The colors meant something here. Green was the color of plants but it was also the color of money. Plants were good but money was bad. I didn't know what green meant. Blue and red were clear though. Blue was the color of ocean and sky, both good things. Red was the color of Mars and it was manly but mars meant aliens and aliens were bad so red was bad. This is how I navigated. I followed the colors. I was lost in a daze of exhaustion and moved my feet slowly. They were dead and raw with pain and blisters, and I shuffled out into the city. My eyes darted from color to color, sign to sign, connection to connection. I floated like a ghost and thought about crying. There were few people out so I found a relative ease in that but my mind still jumped around reckless. I needed to find Kim. I saw a silent pay phone with a dangling phonebook and headed towards it until I remembered that phone books don't normally list cell phones. Kim wasn't the type of girl to list herself in the phonebook either. I had no leads but I knew I could go to a library and maybe find out her number if she had listed it on Facebook, so I kept walking. Stopping at benches, I would rest until I could muster more energy. Where does the author leave before shuffling into the city? - Boston - not enough information - the ocean - the train depot
Answer: the train depot

Question: Recently the subject of discrimination has been something I have been thinking a lot about. It was the subject of some meetings with ubuntu-women, something I have discussed with my friend Sulamita in a Brazilian bar at 4.30am and the subject of various ad-hoc discussions at the Ubuntu Developer Summit. As the wider Open Source community grows, it becomes more of an issue every day, and something we all need to be aware of. While in Brazil I made a promise to Sulamita that I would be blogging about the issue of discrimination against women, and I have been holding off writing an entry until I had some real, practical, implementable steps that I can advise people to take to help make the situation better. Although I will never fully understand how some women are made to feel at the hands of such discrimination, I have been hoping my contribution could be to help contribute to an awareness of the issue, and for that to happen I felt I needed to construct some doable steps that people can execute. Solving social problems is hard though, which ain't all that surprising, so I had held off on a blog post until I had some such action points. I have since discovered that there is really one key step that we all need take don't accept or allow discrimination in your community. In my mind all discrimination is bad. Every day people get up and are discriminated due to gender, age, race, mobility, technical knowledge and more. The issues of discrimination, while different in the specifics (e.g. women are discriminated in different ways to age discrimination), the underlying issue is very similar mistreating people because of a grouping they are part of. We have all suffered this in different ways, from serious racial hatred to someone not taking you seriously because you have long hair and an Iron Maiden t-shirt. How long did the author meet with Sulamita? - not enough information - Every day - Three hours - While in Brazil
Answer:
Three hours