text: There are certain moments in the middle of chaos where clarity briefly resurfaces. Moments where you become painfully aware of just how out of control the world has become. I experienced one of these moments three weeks into my freshman year of college. I was sitting in my english class like any other day when some girl across the class started staring at me. While I stared back I noticed the care she put into her appearance. She was wearing a pale blue that perfectly complemented her dark skin, matching shoes, a white bow in her hair, and a noticeable amount of make-up. Most guys my age would just think “damn she’s hot”, or something along those lines, but all I could think was “why all the effort?”. She was obviously attractive, why was she trying so hard to make herself look even better? I was sure she could have slept for at least an hour or two longer if she hadn’t taken so much care and she would have looked just as good as any other girl in the classroom. While I was contemplating the purpose of her effort, she winked at me. I sat there puzzled because I didn’t know this girl at all. My puzzlement probably showed on my face because she smiled and licked her lips slowly, wiping her tongue from the right to the left and back right again. All I could think was “The only thing this girl knows about me is that I’m attractive, she doesn’t know who I am and she doesn’t care.” While I was thinking this, I watched as she smirked, leaned over her desk, squeezed her breasts, in between her arms and kissed the air in my direction. Out of embarrassment my eyes shifted to the corner of the class. There I watched as the hand of a shaggy haired student retreated from the inside of his elbow. My eyes caught the flash of a needle and my realization of what he was doing came in complete synchronization with the expression of euphoria that was painted on his face. My disgust turned my eyes back to the girl who had planted her face in her palm and gave me a wink when my eyes met hers. Before I could react I felt a hand land on my shoulder. I turned to meet the face of a cocky looking red haired guy. “ay bro I can get you the answers to this test, for the right price”.First I felt my blood get hot. Then I felt the sting of his face against my knuckles. It was a reflex. A response my surroundings. What happened next was more of a reckless impulse. I flipped my desk over in the process of standing up, and yelled at the top of my lungs “this is fucking bullshit!”. Then clarity came. I realized exactly how I appeared. So I grabbed my backpack, stood up straight, and marched out of the classroom.

title: I woke up one morning and wrote this, this is my first short story so I am very open to criticism

question: Is the narrator attracted to the girl winking at him?

answer: Unclear

question: Why did he have such a dramatic outburst?

answer: Reckless impulse

question: What was his "clarity in the middle of chaos"?

answer: How he must appear after his outburst

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is in class during his freshman year of college when a girl in his class starts flirting with him across the room. She winks at him and blows him a kiss which he doesn't reciprocate. He turns to look away from her and sees another classmate doing drugs. Appalled and over it the narrator shouts his disgust and flips his desk over. A moment of clarity happens in the midst of the chaos and he becomes perfectly aware of how he must appear.


split: train

text:
I lay there. Still. Staring at the bland white ceiling of the hospital room, where I lay. The stillness of the room is plucked by the gasps of air, the rush of oxygen filling my lungs, the beeps of the machines monitoring every beat and tick of my withered and frail shell. I close my eyes for but a moment, only to be awoken by the click of the door. My neck creaks, the joints popping to catch a glimpse of my visitor.

  Our eyes meet; Eyes like the ocean before a storm; dark, deep, blue; but full of life, they sparkle like precious gemstones. Her smile is like a full moon, able to dispel even the darkest of nights. Her lips are thin and deep red, seductive yet sweet. My heart swells and skips a beat as if I were a love struck teen again, memories of staring into those eyes hypnotized while the world passed around us. Memories of yearning for her lips, like a man on the cusp of death longs for a drop of water. Memories of the joy I felt, how my heart raced and rushed every time she smiled. Tears sting my eyes at the sight of her, and for the first time in a long while I feel my mouth arch into a grin. “hello, love” she smiles, my heart skips; her voice is angelic, her every word like a bell, the way she pronounces her L’s as if they were w’s, her S’s like f’s; It used to drive her insane, her little speech imperfection, but to me it was pure ecstasy, it’s what her unique, it’s the sound that’s haunted my dreams since she left.

   “Hey, Beautiful.” I manage to say, my words squeezed out like an old toy, now deflated. She comes closer, and takes my hand, her long fingers enveloped in mine. She holds firmly yet softly, like when we rode the Ferris wheel for the first time, and stopped at the top looking over the fairgrounds as the sun set; hope, fear, and love all mixed into one grasp. I can see her better now; her once brown curls are now thin and grey. Her skin is still pale as ivory, but was now showing her age. Her skin showed the story of a mother, a lover, a wife, a woman whom deserved silver and gold. But instead she settled for a fool who gave her messy diapers and mortgage payments. Would she have been happier had she never met me? Would her life have been better? Her words shatter my self-doubt and depression.

   “It’s time to go now”. A tone of chastisement lines her voice, like a mother talking to their child. I heard it many time, my mind darts back to our children. Peter; A tall strong man now, he did what I could never do, he went into business, he made a name for himself, a family, a home. Jessica; as beautiful as her mother, yet with my sense of humor, She’s a teacher now, just like her old man was. And John; my heart sinks, I haven’t thought of John since the pain numbed, since I lost him. I struggle to remind myself that he died a hero, that he knew the cost of fighting for his country. But the sense of failure still lingers the pain of losing a son still stabs like a hot knife.

   “I’m sorry” I say, my voice like it used to be, clear, loud, no longer weakened by the various tubes and gases. She simply smiles, knowing what I’m going to say, knowing my very thoughts, knowing the pain I’ve gone through, and fighting with me like she always has. She puts her finger to my lips, beckoning me to be quiet. She takes my other hand and lifts me up, as if we were dancing like we used to when we were kids. My body feels light now, as I stand up. My lungs fill with air without the need of any mask or tubes. My bones no longer creak or pain, my back straightens. I feel as if I were a young man again. I look at my hands, where there were once weak arthritis ridden hands that shook at every movement, too weak to even feed myself there now lies the hands of a young man, large, strong. The bland, grey skin that once covered my bones is now replaced by smooth tanned flesh. I touch my face, it is smooth. A top my head now lies a new crop of hair, wavy, soft, like the golden mane I cherished for many years.
   “How?” I say in astonishment, my voice shaking. My body shakes with a concoction of emotions; happiness, astonishment, joy, fear, sadness, amazement. I look up to see her. Time slows. There she stands her hair its dark chestnut, her face smooth, free of her wrinkles and blemish, her face full and full of life. Young and beautiful; just like I see her every night in my dreams, Tears fill up my eyes. “My god…” I manage to choke out. She smiles, her face lights up, her smile glowing like it did when we were kids. She smiles, and beckons me to come with her, a shimmering light glowing behind her.

  “Hey, Gorgeous! How about one last dance?” I say the old cockiness that I once held returning to my voice. She rolls her eyes, and looks at me with a look of faux-disappointment, a large smile plastered to her face. Frank Sinatra begins to play, and we dance. The light begins to grow, and I can see dancing around us every one I ever loved. Ma, Dad, Lil’ Sarah, John, Grandma, even my dog Skip.  But she and I keep dancing, smiling laughing. This must be heaven; my wife and I dancing, laughing, and smiling, forever and ever. Amen.

title: [RO][MF] Hey, Beautiful.

question: Summarize negative events.

answer: The narrator wonders if his lover's life would have been better if she'd never met him. His heart sinks when he thinks of his son John and remembers John's death. The sense of failure from losing a son still brings him great pain.

question: What does the story say about how the narrator feels about his ex-wife?

answer: His heart swells and skips a beat when he sees her and remembers the joy he felt around her. His eyes sting with tears at the sight of her. The imperfections in her speech are pure ecstasy and have been haunting his dreams since she left. He thinks that she deserved much more than she got out of life and wonders if she would have been better off if she'd never met him.

question: What does the story say about the narrator's relationship with his son Peter?


text:
INDIAN CREEK is a stream in Ste. Genevieve County in the U.S. state of Missouri.[1] It is a tributary of Establishment Creek.

Indian Creek was named for the fact Indians settled near its course.[2]

[1]

[2]

title: Indian Creek (Establishment Creek tributary)

question: What is Indian Creek?

answer: a stream in Ste. Genevieve County, Missouri, US

question: What state is St. GEnevieve County in?

answer: Missouri

question: How did Indian Creek get its name?

answer: Indians settled near its course

question: What waterway is Indian Creek a tributary of?

answer: Establishment Creek

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Indian Creek is a stream in Ste. Genevieve County, Missouri, US.


text: It was 1942, Vietnam, me and the boys where pinned down by a company of Nazi bastards.  For five days we sat in our trench with no cloths and no food.  The only water we had on hand was a thermos full of goat urine (surprisingly tasty).  Early one morning on the sixth day we heard a great rumbling sound from far way.  slowly it came closer, like ancient gods riding their chariots of thunder.  At first I thought it was a storm (as is common that time of year) but then I remembered that there is no weather in the arctic, it had to be something else.  As I looked up I saw the Red Barron pass over head.  He was flying low and fast, behind him a large black cloud that seemed to be pursuing his biplane.  I have never seen a look of fear as the one I saw on the faces of the Nazis as they retreated back in to the shadows, seemingly to flee from the black mass that was encompassing the sky.  “Whats happening?”  I yelled at a German straggler.  He turned around, in a soft voice he simple said “Heuschrecke”, and followed his companions back in to the woods.  What was this great mass?  This living being that the imposing Third Reich soldiers seemed to fear so much?  Quickly I pulled out my phone and began to translate the word that the German soldier had said to me.  Slowly, my trembling fingers typed out the letters as the dark cloud inched closer.  “H”, another inch “E”, another “u”, almost on top of me now.  My hands warmed up and I managed to type all the way to “ck”.  That’s when I heard my comrades call out in pain.  A terrible agonizing scream that still haunts me to this day.  The sun was completely obscured now, my phone was the only remaining source of light.  With out thinking my thumb fell on the “e” button.  The word “Heuschrecke” was now complete.  My eyes looked down with bewilderment, Google translate simply said “grasshopper”.  Heuschrecke meant Grasshopper.  Now it all made sense, this cloud, this great black mass was a swarm of hungry grasshoppers looking for food.  How hungry?  I was about to find out.  My friends screamed at first But their screams where in vain.  The swarm filled their mouths, grasshoppers poured down their lungs, cutting of air supply.  I managed to survive by keeping my mouth closed and using their limp body’s as protection from the malnourished mass of bugs.  Five days later I was found in a field out side of West Berlin and subsequently returned home.

title: A very strange, slightly humors short story that I wrote, tell me what you think

question: What did the great rumbling turn out to be?

answer: It was a biplane that released hungry grasshoppers.

question: What is the narrator's occupation?

answer: It can be assumed that they are a soldier.

question: What is the story's main conflict?

answer: The main conflict are the hungry grasshoppers that are released from a biplane. It can be assumed they were sent to kill the soldiers below. The narrator explains how they survived.

question: What is the significance of "grasshopper"?

answer: When the narrator translates the German word to mean "grasshopper", he realizes that the black mass released from the plane are hungry grasshoppers.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is a soldier in Vietnam in 1942 and is stuck with a group of Nazis. A biplane releases a black mass, and the Nazis get away and only say "Heuschrecke" to the narrator. The narrator translates this to "grasshopper", and realizes that the mass are hungry grasshoppers. His friends are killed by the grasshoppers, but the narrator manages to survive.


text:
*Ding Dong*

A man takes his head out of his hands and looks at the clock.
*1AM on the dot.  He's punctual, I'll give him that.*
The man is proud of the wrinkles that extend from his forehead to his eyes and from his eyes to his chin.  Each one, in his mind, was a mark of fortune, indicating all of his good decisions in life.  He glances briefly at the picture of he and his wife smiling on a pier, then smiles and rubs his hands on his head once more, wiping fatigue from his eyes with his fingers.  He sits in a converted office-turned-study.  There are fewer books than bottles of assorted vintage booze, but this small space has always been found to bring him comfort.  He picks himself out of his brown, quilted leather armchair and makes through the foyer to the front door.

He picks himself up on his toes and glances through a small hole in the door.  He sees a tall man, though his features are obscured through the wide-angle lens of the peephole.  The man outside is standing on his novelty doormat, wiping his feet where it beckons guests to wipe their paws.  He swallows and takes a few short breaths before opening the door.

"Thank you for coming" the shorter man says.
"Can we make this quick?  I have many more people to see tonight" says the taller man.

His features are plain.  Too plain.  He has a business haircut that parts his dark, but not too dark, and unremarkable hair.  His nose is large, but not prominent.  His eyes are black.  His mouth is small and straight.  He is wearing a black body-length canvas coat with matching black slacks.  Underneath is a hint of a black business suit with a white shirt and black tie.  No one would look twice at this man in a crowd.  In fact, if the shorter man's attention hadn't been focused on the tall man, he might not have remembered he was standing right in front of him.  He was almost engineered to be forgettable.

"O-of course.  I thought people don't usually make appointments with you" says the shorter man.
"I see lots of people every day, but things usually go better if they don't expect me."
"Please," says the shorter man as he nods in understanding, "come inside."

They move into the foyer and the shorter man makes to remove the taller man's coat.

"My name is Greg, by the by" says the shorter man.
"I'm called Sue" responds the taller man.
"A boy named Sue, eh?" chuckled Greg.
His attempt to lighten mood was lost as Sue made no reaction to his comment.
"Sorry, I'm just nervous, I think.  Please follow me."
"It's just a nickname," the taller man says as they move to the study, "it's good to be nervous. Nothing reminds you more of being alive than fearing the future."

"Can I offer you something to drink?  I have fine, 18 year old single malt scotch from--"
"No, thank you," says Sue, "I haven't a need for anything at the moment."

Greg sits down in his favorite armchair and takes a deep breath.  Sue moves behind Greg and takes a bottle from his pocket.

"Okay," says Greg, "before we begin, I would just like to go over some terms."

Sue dips a few drops of liquid from the bottle onto a small microfiber cloth, and then uses the cloth to cover Greg's nose and mouth.

"I know the terms," says Suicide as Greg lumps unconscious, "and don't worry.  I always make it look like an accident."

title: An Hour After Midnight

question: Why did Sue kill Greg?

answer:
Sue introduces himself Greg invites him inside. Greg notices how unremarkable Sue looks, noting that he would find it difficult to remember him. Greg then offers him a drink but he declines. As soon as Greg's back is turned, Sue moves in and suffocates him.

As Greg dies, Sue comments that his specialty is making deaths seem like unintended accidents. This suggests that Sue is an assassin and was sent by someone Greg knows.


text:
1

He dies.

----------

2

He treads water and clenches to his split and failing craft. He says,

"And so I lay here on the splinters of my self spun boat. These planks I hewed  and wrapped in sinewy fibers. These oars I snapped from limbs and carved. The cracks were caulked by mine own  hand. And proving water tight I sailed. And now it's just hardly sinking in.
So what of my final home? Where am I to set my weariness? It's been some years last I was blessed and sinned I have since. Not only under great duress but often.

For instance, more or less every time she was there. I'd break to stretch my legs and walk the block thru the market to saunter past she, the dancing lass on the corner. Just this bit uncovered by the buttressed booths awnings and she dancing in the break of it, in the eye of it, in that one shaft of light amidst all of it, she ran with the capstan and called to all hands, we weather this squall I'll see once more my betrothed!

She never saw me though. And I but briefly stood by there, to admire her twirlings and soak in her, illustrious. So my pleased smile, my eyes so warm, my even clap to the fiddler's foot, it all tasked the viewer to match my own gaiety.

And blending so, leading bystanders even by my example, it was a simple thing  to walk right past as she turned her back. I'd spin while I clapped and feinting a fall, grasp right and left and deftly snatch some lustrous coins right from her cup. Tumbling back up and cradling my split head, no one thought me for a second to be a simple street thief, they so stricken in grief with my wail, pain excruciate!

Not for the need was it did, not for the spare of loose change in my tailored track pants. And I didn't do it for the thrill of the deed, as some mischief making teen might to defy the truth of his prolonged wean from the bottle. No, for I drank like a fish myself! why had you bottled me up then I'd have been your greatest chum. So, no, no miscreant am I, for  I  never drew pleasure from my criminality. and never did  I consider my personal vices to be  the  essential stuff of my character. Why, I washed in the drink like some wash in the tub, that virtue I claim.

And in virtue I am poor, I'll scrap till the last for any bit of it. So no miscreant am I. You might think me then some wayward soul, aimless and in need of direction. You couldn't be wronger. Now, my aim is fine and when I set mine I hit it near every time. But my sights have long been set low, and by some force of inertia, or by that complacentness so apt to befall idealists like myself, I've settled low and never flown far. And in my shade all canopy bowered I've lurked so long I remember none else. Now when I dream, I dream of a cavern deep, one watered dark and pooled.

Some irony then! Me, here, adrift all sun baked and isolate, like a toy in the bath. But this pool interconnects all over the globe and so really never seperated, I can say my last gasp and wherever she might be sea gazing she need only crane one ear cupped and strain some little bit to hear my words thus:

Please pray for me Amanda, our hearts once joined fast, so that I may see you again when all this has passed."

His tawny hair drops below the surface, there's no thrashing. Only bubbles, and soon naught.

----------

title: Last Musings Adrift

question: What does the story say about Amanda?

answer: She's a street dancer from whom the narrator seems to have stolen some coins. She never really notices the narrator, even when he feigns a feint to steal few coins from her. The narrator, adrift at sea, wants to see her again after "all this is done."

question: What does the story say about rebelling against death?

question: What does the article say about the kind of life the narrator lives?

answer: He seemingly lives on the streets, admiring the street dancer and stealing a few coins here and there. He does this because he drinks like a fish, probably meaning alcohol. He considers himself low on vice and virtue both. The narrator doesn't claim any joy over his thievery or define himself through it. His main flaw is that he lacks almost all ambition, settling for what he knows as an easy life.


text:
_Like this article? rabble is reader-supported journalism. Chip in to keep stories like these coming._

[]

Rob Ford is dead. The former Toronto mayor died of cancer this morning, at 46 years old. According to news reports and social media, we are in mourning, as always, expected to politely and respectfully honour men when they pass, even if they were bad men.

Rob Ford was a bad man.

There are people in his life who are likely hurting due to their loss, I understand this. But I also understand that there are people in his life who are now free from his abuse. In death, must we forget about men's abuse?

Rob Ford was "flawed,"the media tells us. He had a "dark side." They will admit he smoked crack, as though this is a great sin or something that defines one's character. Few will admit to much else. Out of "respect."

-   READ: Rob Ford's legacy of unfeigned populism and political recklessness won't be forgotten

I don't care that Rob Ford was an alcoholic or a crack addict. The number of people in our society who struggle with substance abuse are countless. I do care about how his addictions impacted those around him, but crack was not Ford's biggest "flaw."

Today, the CBC called him a "millionaire with a working-class attitude." No. He was a millionaire who hated the poor. Like many other millionaires. If anything, Ford was a kind of Trump-lite, somehow seen as an "everyman" because he is so brave as to admit his bigotry publicly and proudly.

Certainly he did not support struggle of the working class, anti-union as he was. The CBC is correct that he became an "international celebrity for his drug and alcohol use while in office," but he shouldn't have been infamous for that reason. Rather, it should have been his treatment of women, people of colour, and the poor that brought him infamy.

As far as political successes go, he had none, really, unless you count getting garbage privatized on one side of the cityas a notable accomplishment. The fact that he "spoke to" many peopleis only notable in what it reveals about people. It reveals nothing positive about Ford's impact on politics, Toronto, or on Canadians.

"A dedicated man of the people," he was called, in a statement from "his family" (I do not know which members of his family prepared this statement). No. He was not a man of "the people," he was a man who was out for himself and others like him: white middle- or upper-class men.

He outright rejected the existence of homeless shelters, was overtly homophobic and racist, suggesting, in 2003, that Toronto be declared a "refugee-free zone." Ford was charged with assaulting and threatening to kill his wife, Renata, in 2008 (though the charges were dropped), and in 2011 she reportedly placed a call to 911, with regard to a "verbal altercation" between herself and her husband.

-   DISCUSS: Rob Ford's death on babble

In 2012, the police were called to Renata's parent's house, where she was found with "numerous physical injuries including scrapes, bruising and cuts" on her face and body (he was not charged in this circumstance either).

The police say they have received many callsfrom the Ford residence, related to domestic abuse. He sexually harassed women, dragging his wife with him into the media in order to defend himself, humiliating her (further) in the process. He said, of mayoral contender Karen Stintz, "I'd like to fucking jam her."He, apparently, offered to let his friends have sex with his wife and bragged about cheating on her.

I could go on. You get the point.

People make mistakes, they say things they should not have said, they behave in ways they regret. There is no reason to expect perfection from human beings and there are many circumstances under which we should forgive mistakes. But these behaviours, exhibited by Ford, repeatedly, were not simply "flaws" or "mistakes" so much as they were a deep sense of entitlement and a bigoted ideology. And if Ford was simply "an ordinary man," as the media is fond of saying, what does that say, then, about "ordinary men?"

I am not celebrating his death, but I find myself unable to mourn respectfully, as I am expected to. Rather, I am saddened that so many allowed him to mistreat those around him, throughout his life. I am sad that his wife and other women suffered his wrath. I am sad for the prostituted women he paid. I am sad for the women he sexually harassed. I am sad that men like him exist and prosper in our society.

But apart from that, I am not able to muster an ounce of sadness at the loss of yet another abusive, entitled man. I will not pretend away reality simply because he is dead. I won't respect men who showed so little respect for humanity.

_Like this article? rabble is reader-supported journalism. Chip in to keep stories like these coming._

[]

_Image: Wikimedia Commons_

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question: How did Rob Ford die?

answer: He died of cancer.

question: What kinds of drugs did he consume?

answer: Crack.

question: What was Rob charged for in regards to his wife?

answer: He was charged with assaulting and threatening to kill his wife.

question: Why was he being so awful with his wife?

answer: Information not found.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The article is about the mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford's death, and how he was a flawed man from the journalist's point of view. He was an alcoholic, drug addict, with poor treatment of women, people of color, and the working class.


text:
PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS were held in Bulgaria on 17 June 2001.[1] The result was a victory for the National Movement – Simeon II, which won 120 of the 240 seats. Voter turnout was 66.3%. Following the elections, Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, the country's last Tsar from 1943 to 1946, became Prime Minister.[2]

Background

The elections came four years after the last parliamentary elections in 1997, marking the first occasion since the fall of Communism that a full term had been completed.[3] A total of 65 parties registered for the elections, together with eleven independents.[4]

National Movement – Simeon II was originally prevented from registering by Sofia City Court as it failed to meet the Central Election Committee's requirements. However, after forming an alliance with the Bulgarian Women's Party and the Movement for National Revival, the party was allowed to register.[5]

Results

  Party                                                                  Votes       %       Seats   +/–
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- ------- ------- -----
  National Movement Simeon II                                            1,952,513   42.74   120     New
  United Democratic Forces                                               830,338     18.18   51      −86
  Coalition for Bulgaria                                                 783,372     17.15   48      −10
  Movement for Rights and Freedoms                                       340,395     7.45    21      +2
  VMRO-George's Day Movement                                             165,927     3.63    0       New
  Simeon II Coalition                                                    157,141     3.44    0       New
  National Union for Tsar Simeon II                                      77,671      1.70    0       New
  Bulgarian Social Democracy                                             44,637      0.98    0       0
  Union Bulgaria                                                         33,637      0.74    0       New
  Coalition “National Union Tzar Kiro”                                   27,636      0.60    0       New
  NU Fatherland and Left                                                 21,851      0.48    0       New
  George Ganchev's Bloc                                                  17,272      0.38    0       New
  UAF-BAPU-BAPU NP                                                       15,504      0.34    0       0
  Bulgarian Workers' Party                                               12,579      0.28    0       New
  Democratic Party of Justice                                            10,822      0.24    0       0
  Bulgarian Socialist Workers' Party                                     10,797      0.24    0       0
  Bulgarian Communist Party “Fatherland”                                 9,373       0.21    0       New
  Patriotism 2000                                                        6,077       0.13    0       New
  Union of Patriotic Forces and Militaries of the Reserve Defense        5,227       0.11    0       New
  Bulgarian Democratic Party for United States of Europe and the World   4,804       0.11    0       0
  MDRUSWC-FPFB                                                           4,740       0.10    0       New
  Bulgarian National Party “Social Union”                                4,439       0.10    0       New
  Alternative Social-Liberal Party                                       4,267       0.09    0       New
  Free Cooperative Party                                                 3,935       0.09    0       0
  Bulgarian National-Radical Party                                       3,018       0.07    0       0
  Social Liberal Movement “Justice”                                      2,715       0.06    0       New
  National Movement for New Era                                          2,462       0.05    0       New
  Patriotic Party of Labour                                              1,601       0.04    0       New
  Alliance for Preservation of the Wealth of Bulgaria                    1,414       0.03    0       New
  Party of the Workers' and Social Democratic Intelligentsia             1,033       0.02    0       New
  Bulgarian Fatherland Party “National Union”                            623         0.01    0       New
  NPLPOPC                                                                524         0.01    0       New
  Bulgarian National Front                                               202         0.0     0       New
  Bulgarian Business Bloc                                                162         0.0     0       −12
  Party of the Middle Class                                              79          0.0     0       New
  Union of the Nation – Movement of the Deprived                         39          0.0     0       New
  Independents                                                           9,365       0.21    0       0
  Invalid/blank votes                                                    39,944      –       –       –
  TOTAL                                                                  4,608,135   100     240     0
  Registered voters/turnout                                              6,916,151   66.63   –       –
  Source: Nohlen & Stöver, University of Essex

Aftermath

Following the elections, Simeon Sakskoburggotski became Prime Minister and formed the Sakskoburggotski Government.

[1] Dieter Nohlen & Philip Stöver (2010) _Elections in Europe: A data handbook_, p.369

[2] Bulgaria: Elections held in 2001 Inter-Parliamentary Union

[3]

[4]

[5]

title: 2001 Bulgarian parliamentary election

question: What party won the 2001 Bulgarian parliamentary election?

answer: the National Movement

question: What was voter turnout at the 2001 Bulgarian parliamentary election?

answer: 66.3%

question: Who became Prime Minister of Bulgaria in 2001?

answer: Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha

question: When was the 2001 Bulgarian parliamentary election held?

answer: 17 June 2001

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: Bulgaria held the 2001 parliamentary election on 17 June. Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha became prime minister, and the National Movement won 120 of 240 available seats,


text:
[(Photo by Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images)]
(Photo by Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images)

With less than two months left until Notre Dame football takes on the Michigan Wolverines to kick off 2018, Brandon Wimbush has a lot of pressure to excel. has a lot of pressure to excel.

Notre Dame football had one of the better rushing attacks in the nation in 2017. That was led by the dynamic rushing duo in the backfield between ultra-athletic quarterback Brandon Wimbush and star running back Josh Adams. While Adams was a legitimate Heisman contender for most of 2017, Wimbush struggled down the stretch.

Once opponents figured out that all they had to do to stop the Fighting Irish offense was make Wimbush beat them over the top, things got a lot tougher for the Notre Dame passing game. Talented teams such as the Stanford Cardinal and Miami Hurricanes came about as a direct result of a lacking air attack.

That’s also what forced Notre Dame head football coach Brian Kelly to put Ian Book in at quarterback instead of Wimbush in some games down the stretch. Book excelled in the Citrus Bowl win over the LSU Tigers too. That all came when Wimbush had issues moving the Notre Dame offense down the field against a solid LSU defense.

Entering the 2018 campaign for the Irish, the quarterback battle is one of the most followed of all in the nation. Wimbush and Book are battling with incoming freshman four-star quarterback recruit Phil Jurkovec for the starting gig. At least to start the regular season, Wimbush should hold the edge over Book and Jurkovec.

The overall stat line Wimbush posted last season was impressive at first glance. But, his completion percentage left something to be desired, to say the least. Any time a quarterback racks up 30 total touchdowns compared to just six interceptions, he should be the starter the following year.

Yet, you would have to watch Notre Dame football to get the real picture of what that looked like last season. Wimbush started the season out in great fashion but started to stumble in the grueling stretch of Notre Dame difficult 2017 schedule. He tossed more interceptions than touchdowns combined in the losses to Miami and Stanford.

However, all is not lost for this talented dual-threat quarterback. Wimbush will be given the chance to excel for the Notre Dame offense over the course of a full season starting off this fall in a key Week 1 matchup against the Michigan Wolverines.

If Wimbush can build some confidence and learn off the mistakes he made in the final games of the 2017 regular season, he could be a more efficient passer in 2018. Arm strength isn’t the huge issue for Wimbush, and he might need another year of adjusting to the position.

Wimbush has some talent to rely on in the receiving corps between Chris Finke, Miles Boykin, and Michael Young. The pieces are in place, including a solid ground game once again, for Wimbush to succeed. We’ll see how he fares early in the season if Kelly gives him the opportunity.

question: What [American] football team is the focus of the article?

answer: Notre Dame

question: Who are the "dynamic rushing duo"?

answer: Notre Dame quarterback, Brandon Wimbush, and running back, Josh Adams.

question: Who are the "Fighting Irish"?

answer: Notre Dame

question: Who is Brian Kelly?

answer: He is the Notre Dame head football coach.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This is an article about the Notre Dame football team, the quarterback, Brandon Wimbush, and running back, Josh Adams.


text:
The ZIMBABWEAN DIASPORA refers to the diaspora of immigrants from the nation of Zimbabwe. The term RHODESIAN DIASPORA only describes a specific subset of former Rhodesian/Southern Rhodesian residents who left the country during or after the Rhodesian Bush War.

Countries with the biggest diaspora populations include South Africa, the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada and the United States.[1] There is mobility within the diaspora. For example, some Zimbabweans have moved to the UK before deciding to settle in Australia.[2]

History

Temporary labour migration to South Africa has long been a feature of Rhodesian and then Zimbabwean society. A 2002 survey by the Southern African Migration Project show that almost 25% of adult Zimbabweans' parents or grandparents had worked in South Africa at some point in their lives.[3] However, permanent emigration is a relatively new phenomenon. There have been two major waves of emigration from Zimbabwe. The first was that of whites in Zimbabwe who left the country soon after independence; they were followed by black Zimbabweans beginning in the 1990s. In both cases, South Africa was again their primary destination; however, from 1994 onwards, the South African government displayed increasing hostility to skilled immigration from the rest of Africa, leading Zimbabwean emigrants to seek other pastures.[4]

Overall statistics

It is estimated that there are millions of residents outside of Zimbabwe's borders who were either born in the country or are descended from immigrants; Many recent emigrants are illegally residing in other countries because of the fall of the standard of living and economic conditions in Zimbabwe.

The Zimbabwean diaspora has a 95% literacy rate in English and a very highly educated adult population. The main languages spoken are English, Shona, and Ndebele.

By country

Australia

Zimbabweans form a significant community in Australia with their numbers having grown to over 30,000 as of 2011.[5] The community is now well established, with some of the highest incomes in the country,[6] as well as with community institutions such as Zimbabwean language schools.[7] One in three of Australia's Shona and Ndebele-speakers live in Sydney.[8][9]

Botswana

There are estimated to be between 40,000-100,000 Zimbabweans in Botswana .[10]

Canada

The Zimbabwean community in Canada is concentrated in Toronto; Calgary; Edmonton; Hamilton, Ontario and Kitchener-Waterloo in Ontario. Vancouver; Victoria, British Columbia in British Columbia. Their numbers have been slowly but steadily increasing since 2000.

South Africa

There are estimated to be between one and five million Zimbabweans in South Africa .[11]

United Kingdom

The UK Zimbabwean community is said to be close to 100,000. They are mainly concentrated in London and other urban areas.

United States

There are various conflicting unofficial figures about the number of Zimbabweans in the US. The RAND Corporation estimated in 2000 that there were 100,000 in the state of New York alone.[12] In contrast, a 2008 estimate from the Association of Zimbabweans Based Abroad put the population of Zimbabweans in the whole US at just 45,000.[13] They make up just a small part of the Zimbabwean diaspora compared to the larger communities in South Africa and the United Kingdom.[14] However, of Zimbabweans who have not yet emigrated but are considering it, a somewhat higher proportion state that the United States, rather than the United Kingdom, is their preferred destination; this may be due to harassment and discrimination which Zimbabweans have faced in the UK.[15]

There is a small community of Zimbabweans in Chicago, perhaps 80 to 100 people, consisting primarily of former students at area universities. [16]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5] http://www.immi.gov.au/media/publications/statistics/comm-summ/_pdf/zimbabwe.pdf

[6]

[7]

[8] http://www.censusdata.abs.gov.au/ABSNavigation/prenav/ViewData?action=404&documentproductno=105&documenttype=Details&order=1&tabname=Details&areacode=105&issue=2006&producttype=Census%20Tables&javascript=true&textversion=false&navmapdisplayed=true&breadcrumb=POLTD&&collection=Census&period=2006&productlabel=Language%20Spoken%20at%20Home%20(full%20classification%20list)%20by%20Sex&producttype=Census%20Tables&method=Place%20of%20Usual%20Residence&topic=Language&

[9] http://www.censusdata.abs.gov.au/ABSNavigation/prenav/ViewData?action=404&documentproductno=0&documenttype=Details&order=1&tabname=Details&areacode=0&issue=2006&producttype=Census%20Tables&javascript=true&textversion=false&navmapdisplayed=true&breadcrumb=POLTD&&collection=Census&period=2006&productlabel=Country%20of%20Birth%20of%20Person%20(full%20classification%20list)%20by%20Sex&producttype=Census%20Tables&method=Place%20of%20Usual%20Residence&topic=Birthplace&

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

title: Zimbabwean diaspora

question: Summarize the negative aspects of the Zimbabwean diaspora.

answer: It is estimated that millions of Zimbabweans live outside of its borders and due to poor standard of living and economic conditions, most emigrants are illegal. From 1994 onwards the South African government displayed increasing hostility to skilled immigration from the rest of Africa, this led to Zimbabwean emigrants to seek other pastures. A high proportion of Zimbabweans that want to emigrate are aiming for the USA, rather than the United Kingdom, this could be due to harassment and discrimination which Zimbabweans have faced in the UK.

question: Summarize the historical context around the Zimbabwean diaspora.

answer: There have been two major waves of emigration from Zimbabwe. The first happened when white Zimbabweans left the country soon after independence, presumably when the Rhodesian Bush War ended. The second wave was that of black Zimbabweans beginning in the 1990's. South Africa was the primary destination for both waves. The Zimbabwean diaspora are highly literate and very highly educated. They speak English, Shona and Ndebele.

question: Summarize the distribution of Zimbabweans over the world.

answer: Millions of highly educated Zimbabweans live outside the country's borders. The largest communities of Zimbabweans immigrants are in South Africa and the United Kingdom. In Australia, there is a significant community with high incomes in Sydney with its own language schools. Botswana, Canada and the USA also house Zimbabwean immigrants, although the number is uncertain.

question: What does the text say about the Rhodesian Bush War?


text:
[Kanye West and Taylor Swift at the 57th Grammy Awards on February 8, 2015 in Los Angeles, California.]
Kanye West and Taylor Swift at the 57th Grammy Awards on February 8, 2015 in Los Angeles, California.
Image: Kevin Mazur/WireImage

Taylor Swift isn't laughing, apparently.

Despite a report in TMZ, it seems Taylor Swift was not okay with Kanye West's less-than-complimentary lyrics about her in his new track "Famous."

Hours after Kanye premiered his new album _The Life of Pablo_ on Thursday, the site reported that Swift was completely aware of the fact that Kanye's new track included the lyrics "I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex, I made that bitch famous." The rapper reportedly called her directly to explain it was a joke, and that Taylor "gave him the thumbs up to release the song with the lyric."

But a representative for Swift tells _Mashable_ that's not exactly what happened:

  Kanye did not call for approval, but to ask Taylor to release his single "Famous" on her Twitter account. She declined and cautioned him about releasing a song with such a strong misogynistic message. Taylor was never made aware of the actual lyric, "I made that bitch famous."

Taylor and Kanye have had a contentious relationship since 2009 — naturally— but seemingly have made up since then. Swift even presented West with the Video Vanguard Award at the 2015 VMAs.

A representative for Kanye West did not immediately respond to _Mashable_'s request for comment.

question: What sources are listed in the article?

answer: WireImage, TMZ, and Mashable.

question: What song by Kanye West caused a controversy?

answer: Famous.

question: What is Taylor Swift's issue with the lyrics?

answer: She believes they include a strong misogynistic message.

question: What are the lyrics that Taylor Swift has an issue with?

answer: "I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex, I made that bitch famous."

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Taylor Swift disapproves of the lyrics in Kanye West's new song "Famous" that include her name. Taylor believes that the lyrics include a strong misogynistic message. Kanye claims that he called Taylor in advance and got the lyrics approved, however, Taylor claims she was never made aware of the lyrics. The two have has a contentious relationship since 2009, but have made up since.


text:
It was a hot summer’s day. The trees swayed back and forth in the rare cool breeze, glad to be relieved from the merciless heat. As I stared up at the sky, the clouds seemed to dance around its blue canvas, forming bears, birds, dragons and all the figures that I could ever imagine.  I stirred from my daydream to find my friend Danny.  He was a short kid, with blonde sandy hair that never seemed to straighten itself out.

“Wanna go bee hunting?” he asked me, excitement lighting up in his eyes like a wildfire.

I smirked and followed Danny to meet up with the rest of the group.
Bee hunting was a tradition for the group. We did it at the start of every school term. We would begin by finding a beehive. Then one person was nominated to try and knock it down. After the hive was knocked down, the goal was to run as fast as we could and try not to get stung. The epitome of games.

As we drew close to the group, I could feel the eager atmosphere around us. Our group consisted of four guys, including Danny and I. The other two were Michael and James, although I was closer to Danny. Michael was fairly quiet, he didn’t do or say much, but I guess we all liked it that way. I was average height; I always have been average, nothing special. And James looked fairly similar to me, although he was a lot taller. When Danny and I were finally standing in front of the other pair, we all exchanged formalities then got down to business.

“Has anyone seen a beehive since we got here?” Danny asked the three of us.

“I actually saw one hanging on a tree branch at the back of the school!” James exclaimed.

The fire in Danny’s eyes burned even brighter, I could feel it just from standing next to him. He found some sort of joy in this, nothing like the three of us did. It was like he had to do it to survive. It was in his blood.

 “Well what are we waiting for? Lead the way!” he smiled.

We all ran for the back of the school to where James had described, not wasting a single second of our adrenaline. I scouted the tree line, trying to find the beehive that James had told us about. Finally, I saw a yellow spec in the distance. “There!” I yelled, as I pointed to it.

As we reached the tree that the beehive was hanging from, the sound of buzzing was getting exponentially louder and louder. When we were finally standing under the beehive, the buzzing sound was roaring in our ears. I was stunned at how many bees there were; hundreds, possibly thousands!
I turned to the group and tried yelling over the roaring in our ears, but they just stared at me. It was no use; we had to get away from the hive first to talk it out. I waved my hand for the rest to follow me, as I walked out of hearing distance from the hive. “Okay, so how are we going to do this?” I asked.

Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches. “I came prepared,” he smirked.
He pulled out four matches and lit one of them before putting it out. He then turned the matches upside down so nobody could see the burnt part of the match and shuffled them. “Who wants to go first?”

Everybody looked at each other, not wanting to go first and pull the burnt one.

“I’ll go first,” I said, wanting to be the bigger man.

Danny held out his hand, I looked at the matches, they all looked the same. I decided it was just better to close my eyes and hope for the best. I held one hand over my eyes and used the other to pick a match. When I picked one up I heard the others sound a sigh of relief. My stomach started to sink as I opened my eyes to reveal the burnt match in my very fingers. “Just my luck…” I muttered.
“Okay, so what are we using this time boys?” Danny asked us, seeming kind of disappointed that he didn’t get to pull the burnt match.

I looked around for something that would do the job, but put me at the furthest distance away from the hive. If only I had my slingshot right now. I thought to myself. As I hunted the thick grass for something that would be of use to me, I found a nice, sturdy looking stick that was about half my height.

Definitely no slingshot, but it will have to do. I thought.

I picked up the stick and started to walk towards the hive. As the buzzing got louder and louder in my ears, I realised that I was pretty much alone now even though the group was right behind me. There was no communication now, just me and the hive.

Time slowed down. As I looked up at the home of the bees, I felt like my heart was about to burst out of my chest. Suddenly I felt regret, fear of getting stung.

This is stupid, why am I doing this? This is stupid. I told myself. Snap out of it! I brought myself back to the main point of this whole activity. The thrill and exhilaration was just too good to pass up. I slowed my breathing, trying to gain my confidence again. I looked up at the hive and steadied my stick, like a baseball bat; ready to take the biggest swing of my life. I closed my eyes as I started to swing, time slowed down. Every millisecond felt like a year. I thought the stick would never hit it. Suddenly a huge jolt ran down my arm and into my core. I opened my eyes as I saw the hive plummet. It shattered into a million pieces as it struck the ground. I knew I should run but I couldn’t, my body wouldn’t let me. I was trapped. I turned around and saw my friends sprinting from the impact. Then Danny turned around and saw that I wasn’t moving. He waved his arm at me to go, worry in his eyes. I finally came to my senses and my legs took off. Next I knew I was sprinting right beside Danny. He turned his head and smirked at me while we were running. I could see the pride in his eyes. The next 30 seconds went by before I could blink.

As we threw ourselves on the ground, finally away from the bees, I felt the adrenaline leave my body. I looked around at the three others and we all laughed hysterically as our minds finally took in what had happened.

“That was wild,” I muttered, breathing heavily.

title: [RF] Bee Hunting

question: What does the story say about why the boys liked going bee hunting?

answer: Every time school resumed, the narrator and his friends would go bee hunting. Once they spot one, they would nominate a member who would craftily knock down the beehive; afterward, they'd run away from the bees. The narrator and his group of friends liked to do this because it was considered the tradition for the group. It was also a form of special bonding among them.

question: When did the narrator suddenly regret the idea of volunteering to go first?

answer: Danny put a burnt matchstick among other unburnt matchsticks and decided that the person to choose the odd match will get to bring down the beehive. However, when the narrator realized no one was willing to make any attempt to go first, he volunteered himself and wound up selecting the odd matchstick. The narrator soon regretted his decision when he was faced with the task of figuring out how to knock down the beehive they'd spotted. He worried about getting stung by the bees if he eventually succeeded in getting the hive to the ground. Although he succeeded in getting the hive down, shock and fear kept him rooted to the ground when he was supposed to run off with his friends once the bees gushed out of the hive.


text:
TOMBALL MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL (TMHS) is a senior high school in unincorporated Harris County, Texas, United States, south of the city of Tomball and in the Houston metropolitan area. It is a part of the Tomball Independent School District (TISD), and is the district's second high school. It is by Northpointe Lane and Northpointe Boulevard.[1]

History

The school was built as part of a 2007 bond, worth $198 million in total, and had a cost of $59.2 million. It opened on August 12, 2011. It initially held grades 9 and 10 and had about 840 students.[2]

The first principal, Carol Houston, was previously associate principal at Tomball High School.[3]

The first 12th grade class was scheduled to graduate in 2014.[4]

Campus

The campus has of space.[5]

It has two stories and a capacity of 2,200 students.[6]

School colors and mascot

The school colors are navy and silver and the mascot is the wildcat.[7]

Demographics

In the 2018-2019 school year, there were 2,310 students. 6.1% were African American, 9.2% were Asian, 26.8% were Hispanic, 0.2% were American Indian, 0.1% were Pacific Islander, 53.1% were White, and 4.3% were two or more races. 17.2% of students were Economically Disadvantaged, 2.5% were English Language Learners, and 6.8% received Special Education services.[8]

Academics

For the 2018-2019 school year, the school received an A grade from the Texas Education Agency, with an overall score of 93 out of 100. The school received an A grade in two domains, Student Achievement (score of 95) and School Progress (score of 92), and a B grade in Closing the Gaps (score of 89). The school received five of the seven possible distinction designations for: Academic Achievement in Mathematics, Academic Achievement in English Language Arts/Reading, Academic Achievement in Social Studies, Top 25%:Comparative Academic Growth, and Top 25%:Comparative Closing the Gaps. The two distinction designations the school did not receive were Academic Achievement in Science and Post-Secondary Readiness.[9]

Athletics

Tomball Memorial's primary athletic rival is Tomball High School.[10] As of 2018, the school is in Conference 6a, Region II, District 14.

The school held its first homecoming game, against Waller High School, in 2014. Tomball Memorial lost 41-31.[11]

Basketball

In a three-year span until 2016, Tomball Memorial High had three head coaches.[12] The basketball team entered its first playoff in 2014 against Wheatley High School, which ended in Wheatley's loss.[13] In the 2014-2015 school year, Tomball Memorial won the district title by 13-1 and two playoff games;[14] the team won its first ever playoff against Sharpstown High School.[15] The school's overall record that year was 24-10.[16]

Soccer

The soccer team took only 3 years after opening to make the playoffs. In their first playoff run in 2014, they lost in the 4th round to Waco University by a score of 3-0. The following year, in the 4th season of being open, the wildcats soccer team made a run in the playoffs and found themselves in the UIL Texas State Tournament. They finished 3rd in the state after losing to Lufkin in the state semifinal by a score of 1-0.

Cross Country

The varsity boys cross country team placed 2nd in District 14-6A and moved on the Region II Championships in Dallas.

Other programs

The band uniforms were designed to fit each gender and to remain fashionable for their seven-year lifespans. In January 2011 the TISD board approved spending $75,000 for the creation of these uniforms, about $298 per uniform.[17]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6] “About TMHS.” Tomball Memorial High School. Retrieved on December 27, 2016.

[7]

[8]

[9] Overview: Tomball Memorial H S. Texas Education Agency. Retrieved 25 December 2019.

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

title: Tomball Memorial High School

question: Where is the Tomball Memorial High School?

answer: Harris County, Texas, United States, south of the city of Tomball in the Houston metropolitan area.

question: What school district is the Tomball Memorial High School part of?

answer: The Tomball Independent School District.

question: When was the Tomball Memorial High School built?

answer: 2007.

question: When did the Tomball Memorial High School open?

answer: August 12 2011.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This article is about the Tomball Memorial High School, a school in the greater Houston metropolitan area.


text:
*My first post, and my first short story. It was made specifically to be JUST dialogue. Please, be brutal, be nasty, be honest.*

"Excuse me. Are you drinking two cups of coffee?"
"You noticed?"
"Yes. They *are* yours? You're not waiting for someone else?"
"No."
"Oh. But why two? Why not order-"
"-A double? No, no. I don't do that. It wouldn't be fair."
"What do you mean by fair?"
"Well you see, I have this theory that everything needs to come in pairs. In twos. All the time, everything."
"What do you mean?"
"Like when you wake up in the morning you put on a pairs of socks don't you? And a pair of earrings? Pair of shoes? Pair of gloves for the winter, right?"
"Right."
"Well there you go. What if your...say, bracelet, is watching you put on two earrings and yet he has to travel on your wrist alone? That's not fair. Also your left wrist, who is bearing the bracelet, looks over to your right wrist and feels guillty because-"
"-My right wrist doesn't get to wear a bracelet."
"Exactly. Coming in pairs is a universal trait. It all goes down to the simplest most basic components of life and the universe, since beginningless time. Do you know what I mean?"
"I know exactly what you mean. Even electrons come in pairs."
"That's it! And *hence*...my pair of coffees!"
"You know love too comes in pairs."
"Love?"
"Well whether it's man and woman or man and man, or whatever, love comes in pairs too right? A couple is a pair of lovers after all."
"Hey, you're right."
"OCD really can be a wonderful thing. We make quite a pair."

title: Grande Old Pair (very short, dialogue only)

question: Who are the two characters having the conversation?

answer: Who the characters are isn't indicated. They both seem to have OCD.

question: What are they discussing?

answer: The importance of everything existing in pairs.

question: Are they in agreement?

answer: Yes, total agreement.

question: Where does the conversation take place?

answer: It seems the conversation takes place in a cafe or restaurant.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: A person sits at the counter in a restaurant or cafe with two cups of coffee in front of them. Another person approaches and questions why they have two cups of coffee rather than a double. They explain their belief that everything should come in pairs, that it's the simplest component of life and the universe. The second person agrees. They both agree OCD can be wonderful, and they make a wonderful pair.


text:
Randomized Controlled Trial

 Evangelia Kouidi et al. Eur J Cardiovasc Prev Rehabil. 2010 Apr.

Abstract

BACKGROUND: Functional limitations, altered cardiac autonomic activity, and psychological distress are known disorders in chronic hemodialysis (HD) patients, relating to increased morbidity and mortality. The aim of this study was to examine the influence of an exercise training program on emotional parameters and heart rate variability (HRV) indices, as well as to determine whether emotional stress contributes to autonomic dysfunction in these patients.

METHODS: Forty-four HD patients were randomly assigned into group A (24 patients, aged 46.3+/-11.2 years), who participated in a 1-year intradialytic exercise training program and group B (20 patients, aged 45.8+/-10.8 years), who were used as controls. At baseline and a year after, measures of HRV were obtained for the estimation of standard deviation of RR intervals, the mean square successive differences, percentage of RR intervals differing by more than 50 ms from the preceding RR interval (pNN50), and low to high frequency components. Emotional parameters (Beck Depression Inventory - BDI and Hospital Anxiety and Depression Scale - HADS) were also assessed by validated questionnaires. Moreover, all patients performed a spiroergometric study for the estimation of VO2peak.

RESULTS: At baseline, all measurements were similar in the two groups and remained almost unchanged after a year in group B. After a year of training, VO2peak increased from 16.79+/-5.24 to 22.33+/-4.90 ml/kg per min (P<0.001) in group A. Trained patients also showed an increase in standard deviation of RR intervals by 58.8% (P<0.001), the mean square successive differences by 68.1% (P<0.001), pNN50 by 23.5% (P<0.001), and a low to high frequency ratio by 17.3% (P<0.001). Finally, at the end of the study, group A showed a decrease in BDI score by 34.5% (P<0.001) and HADS by 23.9% (P<0.001). Canonical correlation revealed significant inverse correlation among depression (in BDI and HADS) and HRV indices before and after exercise training.

CONCLUSION: Cardiac autonomic modulation seemed to be sensitive to the experience of persistent depression in HD patients. Significantly, exercise training reduced emotional distress and concomitantly improved HRV.

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    Sovatzidis A, Chatzinikolaou A, Fatouros IG, Panagoutsos S, Draganidis D, Nikolaidou E, Avloniti A, Michailidis Y, Mantzouridis I, Batrakoulis A, Pasadakis P, Vargemezis V. Sovatzidis A, et al. Antioxidants (Basel). 2020 Sep 15;9(9):868. doi: 10.3390/antiox9090868. Antioxidants (Basel). 2020. PMID: 32942555 Free PMC article.

-   Uremic Sarcopenia: Clinical Evidence and Basic Experimental Approach.

    Nishi H, Takemura K, Higashihara T, Inagi R. Nishi H, et al. Nutrients. 2020 Jun 18;12(6):1814. doi: 10.3390/nu12061814. Nutrients. 2020. PMID: 32570738 Free PMC article. Review.

-   Comparison of intradialytic versus home-based exercise programs on physical functioning, physical activity level, adherence, and health-related quality of life: pilot study.

    Ortega-Pérez de Villar L, Martínez-Olmos FJ, Pérez-Domínguez FB, Benavent-Caballer V, Montañez-Aguilera FJ, Mercer T, Segura-Ortí E. Ortega-Pérez de Villar L, et al. Sci Rep. 2020 May 19;10(1):8302. doi: 10.1038/s41598-020-64372-y. Sci Rep. 2020. PMID: 32427935 Free PMC article.

-   Application of Wearables to Facilitate Virtually Supervised Intradialytic Exercise for Reducing Depression Symptoms.

    Zhou H, Al-Ali F, Kang GE, Hamad AI, Ibrahim RA, Talal TK, Najafi B. Zhou H, et al. Sensors (Basel). 2020 Mar 12;20(6):1571. doi: 10.3390/s20061571. Sensors (Basel). 2020. PMID: 32178231 Free PMC article.

-   Bringing Neuroscience to the Bedside.

    Cooper JJ, Korb AS, Akil M. Cooper JJ, et al. Focus (Am Psychiatr Publ). 2019 Jan;17(1):2-7. doi: 10.1176/appi.focus.20180033. Epub 2019 Jan 7. Focus (Am Psychiatr Publ). 2019. PMID: 31975952 Free PMC article.

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question: How does the aim of this study impact the greater world?

answer: The aim of this study definitely can help patients who have higher cardiac activity and prove to become a great exercise to bring healthier heart activity and function.

question: What discipline could really prosper from this study?

answer: This study could benefit physical therapy, psychotherapy, as well as cardiovascular medicine.


text:
ISLAMABAD - A Norwegian Pakistani politician Abid Qayyum Raja has been elected as vice-president of Norway’s national parliament.

Raja secured number fifth in six-member parliament presidency panel as election for the panel took place at the parliament in Oslo on Saturday.

Mr Olemic Thommessen was re-elected as president while other vice-presidents included Nils T. Bjorke, Magne Rommetveit, Eva Kristin Hansen and Morten Wold.

It is for second time in the history of Norway that a Muslim and an Asian of Pakistani origin became vice-president (equivalent of deputy speaker) of the country’s national parliament. Previously, another Norwegian Pakistani Akhtar Chaudhary had been elected as vice-president in 2009.

Raja and two other Norwegian Pakistani politicians, Ms. Hadia Tajik and Mudassar Hussain Kapoor, were elected as member of the parliament in the election held last month.

Chaudhary Qamar Iqbal, Chairman of Pakistan Union Norway, the leading Norwegian Pakistani Organisation greeted Abid Raja on his election as vice-president of Norway’s parliament.

Iqbal expressed hope that Raja and other parliamentarians from foreign background would work for betterment of the society, especially legal rights of the people of foreign origins based in Norway.

Deputy Mayor of Drammen city of Norway, Syed Yousaf Gilani, termed Raja’s election as vice-president his great achievement. He said it was a result of honesty and hard work of Pakistanis in the Norwegian society.

“It is very worthy that the Norwegian Pakistani community achieves a reputable position again in the national parliament,” said Gilani, while congratulating Abid Raja.

Islamabad-Rawalpindi Welfare Society Norway’s President Mirza Zulfiqar also congratulated Abid Raja for achieving vice-presidential slot in the Norwegian parliament.

Other members of Norwegian Pakistani community including Ali Asghar Shahid, Mirza Anwar Baig, Mian Islam, Javed Iqbal, Saleem Janjua, Haji Liaqat Ali, Ch Ajib Khan and Haji Arshad also greeted Abid Raja on his election as vice president of the parliament.

Parents of the Norway-born Abid Raja had moved from Gujrat district in Pakistan to Norway in the 1970s.

question: What has happened in Norway?

answer: A Norwegian Pakistani, Abid Qayyum Raja has been elected vice president.

question: Is this the first time this has happened?

answer: No, it is the second.

question: Who called the election a great achievement?

answer: Syed Yousaf Gilani, deputy mayor of Drammen city of Norway.

question: Where did the panel take place?

answer: In Oslo.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Abid Qayyum Raja has been elected as Norway's second Norwegian Pakistani vice President. The Pakistani community of Norway welcomes this development. It is the second time in Norwegian history such a thing has happened.


text:
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  []
  This week the usually calm waters of Lake Natoma under the Rainbow Bridge are a boil.
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In Northern California, we have been riding the "atmospheric river" since last weekend. For boaters,  it's a Class 5 like a waterfall that has swelled the state's rivers, flooded neighborhoods, and vineyards, all while dumping snow and rain on the Sierra Nevada Mountains and causing mudslides on hills scorched by summer's wildfires.

An atmospheric river is long and narrow bands of water vapor that form over an ocean and flow through the sky. Massive quantities of Pacific Ocean water
from as far away as Hawaii have pummeled California with a series of storms like a long blast from a fire hose.

Blizzard conditions forced road closures to many of Lake Tahoe's ski resorts that had to shut down and dig-out after being buried in snow. Nine feet fell in over three days at Kirkwood Mountain Resort in California making it the snowiest January in 45 years. Most of the ski resorts it looks like will try to open at least some terrain this weekend.

The Yuba River rose again to a little over 85 feet in Marysville California, while the South Fork of the American River are creating “once-in-a-decade” conditions on the American River for expert kayakers like Dylan Nichols. “We don’t have the option to run it this high maybe but once in a decade," Nichols told _ABC10_, "So it’s special for us local paddlers to be able to come out and take advantage of it,” Nichols and other expert kayakers paddled on the river from Chili Bar Park in Placerville California to where the water pours into Folsom Reservoir. He estimated the flow at 20,000 cubic feet per second, compared to a normal pace of anywhere from 1,500 to 3,000 cubic feet per second.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------
  []
  South Yuba River at Highway 49. Photo by Rich Shipley via Facebook
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“It’s extremely unusual conditions,” professional kayaker Isidro Soberanes told _ABC10,_ “It gives me the opportunity to experience a river I know really well at extremely high, high levels. Basically, I’m expecting to paddle some of the biggest rapids I’ve paddled in California.”

To see their trip down the South Fork, check out this link.  http://www.abc10.com/news/local/american-rivers-once-in-a-decade-conditions-draw-thrill-seeking-kayakers/385347076

Folsom Lake continues to rise with the week's rains, as water managers releasing even more water downstream.  Early this week the lake's water level stood at 422 feet elevation rising 13.5 feet higher than what it was 5 hours earlier. As the lake becoming fuller, the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation opened five floodgates at Folsom Dam and 18 gates at Nimbus Dam releasing the water downstream.

Due to releases and rain, the usual peaceful waters of Lake Natoma under Folsom's Rainbow Bridge became a violent torrent at the entrance to the lake. While downstream large sections of the American River Parkway and several popular Sacramento County parks were closed earlier this week after days of rainfall and heavy releases from reservoirs flooded recreation areas around the region.

The Jim Jones footbridge, one parkway’s biggest popular attractions for boaters, fishermen and summertime rafters at the Sunrise Recreation Area, remains underwater this week as the American River gushes over it. Meanwhile, much of the western half of the parkway, Discovery Park to about Watt Avenue, also will remain inaccessible for the time being due to flood waters.

While most atmospheric river events are weak. But the powerful ones like the one that just targeted California this week, can transport an amount of water vapor equal to 15 times the average flow of water that flows out of the Mississippi River's mouth, according to NOAA's Earth System Research Laboratory. This drenching is good news that might help bring a dramatic turnaround for the state's water supply after more than five years of drought.

question: What has caused the heavy downpours in Northern California?

answer: There has been an atmospheric river in the air above the area. An atmospheric river consists of long and narrow bands of water vapor that form over an ocean and flow through the sky. Massive quantities of Pacific Ocean water from as far away as Hawaii have pummeled California with a series of storms like a long blast from a fire hose.

question: Describe the consequences of the atmospheric river.

answer: Neighborhoods and vineyards in Northern California have been flooded. Snow and rain have been dumped onto the Sierra Nevada Mountains, causing mudslides. Roads were closed to many of the Lake Tahoe ski resorts which have seen as much as 9 feet of snow in three days. The Yuba River rose again to a little over 85 feet in Marysville California and the American River is pumping.

question: How do the kayakers benefit from these unusual conditions?

answer: The kayakers are ecstatic. Expert kayakers see this as an opportunity to enjoy the thrill of rapidly running waters. They can paddle rivers that they know but at much higher levels and with rapids higher than they would commonly experience.

question: What caused the atmospheric river?


text:
I can hear them  in the distance. The shouted cries muffled by the wind. These winter winds that trickle down your spine only to pool at the small of your back and chill your aching bones. I can hear their lust for blood. Their drums beat to the pulse of it surging through their veins. It is strange as it is so deafening from it being silently muffled by the distance. So human yet so alien the savage sound of the machines of war. Their operators acting in unison.

As Legion.

So disgustingly grotesque that it shivers my heart as the air my spine. I can hear them clashing swords to shields. Is it not enough that my stomach feels as if I have swallowed a ball of lead? As they grow closer I can hear their heavy footsteps, combined with the weight of unbreachable armor, crushing and snapping the thinner splinters of rock beneath the thin sheet of snow.

'How has it come to this?'

I breath as it is carried away by the wind. I close my eyes and turn to face the brave souls behind me. I open them to be greeted back by countless more. I look into them all. Searching for... Anything. Many bold and unmoving with courage. Some squinting to bear the cold and see through the snow as it begins to fall. Fewer still I saw tears. Most of them new and with small sons or wives yet with child. I dared not to look deeper for behind them all I could see them asking the same question I found asking myself.

'How many of these men will not return home to their wives?'

'How many mothers will not see their sons return home?'

'How many children will never again feel the embrace of their fathers?'

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I can think of nothing to say to raise their spirits. I opened my eyes and find that words will not be necessary. They, WE, all know why we're here. I pull my sword from its sheath as I turn to face our enemy.

The final battle. The end. Of the end.

The final slash to the throat of an already all but dead kingdom.

And every last one of us knew it. I would have been contempt to lead them elsewhere as nomads. But they refuse and choose to fight anyway. I raise my sword and give one final bellow. Lifting it from the depths of my bowels. Emptying my lungs and spitting the ball of lead from my stomach. The roar echoes behind me. My heart bursts as my veins catch fire and my muscles become a force of unstoppable motions.

I blink.

My eyes demand to take nothing but an eternity to open again. I stare at my sword jutting through the throat of my enemy as he falls to his knees. Blood bubbling up and over his black stained teeth. Even with death ripping through his throat he fell with that horrifying wide eyed grin that can only be powered by an insatiable hunger for blood.

I pull my sword free to find my next target only to discover the circle of an endless armies worth of spear tips trained on me. And all I could think of is how I am the only one left. The bastards bastard. The king of a kingdom that no longer has a kingdom and not even the slightest whisper of a hint of royal blood in my veins. And I am now the only one left to tell their tale. As my mind mulled over this realization, it gave me another question to ponder. Will my captors let me live?

title: The death of a kingdom

question: What is making the narrator feel grotesque?

answer: The savage sound of machines of war on the battle field.

question: Who does the narrator worry about while looking at the men fight the war?

answer: Their wives, mothers and children and that they may never see them again.

question: Summarize the final slash in the final battle.

answer: Narrator empties his lung with a roar, launching towards the enemy and jutting his sword through the throat of the enemy.

question: Explain what goes through the narrator's mind when he is the only one left amongst his enemies.

answer: He wonders if his captors will let him live.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is horrified by the sounds of war on the battle field from his own men. He worries most of the men will not return home as he lunges toward the enemy killing as many as he can. He is the only one left amongst the enemy and gets captured.


text:
JOHN H. BROEKER HOUSE is a historic home located at Washington, Franklin County, Missouri. It was built about 1868, and is a 1 1/2-story, five bay, central passage plan brick dwelling on a brick foundation. It has a side-gable roof and low segmental arched door and window openings. The formerly separate brick washhouse or summer kitchen was connected to the house about 1940.[1]

It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2000.[2]

[1]  (includes 8 photographs from 1999)

[2]

title: John H. Broeker House

question: What state is the John H. Broeker House located in?

answer: The John H. Broeker House is located in the state of Missouri.

question: When was the John H. Broeker House built?

answer: The John H. Broeker House was built in 1868.

question: What is the foundation of the John H. Broeker House made of?

answer: The foundation of the John H. Broeker House is made of brick.

question: When was the separate washhouse connected to the main house?

answer: The separate washhouse was connected to the main house around 1940.

question: What National Register is the John H. Broeker House listed on?

answer: The John H. Broeker House is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The John H. Broeker House is a historic house in Missouri. It was built in 1868 and changes were made around 1940. Since 2000 it has been listed on the National Register of Historic Places.


text:
(Part 1) By the mid-22nd century, time travel had become a mundane and everyday reality. When the phenomenon had first been introduced to the mass consciousness due to a theft of documents by a government employee, massive steps had been proposed to limit the possibly detrimental effects of what would likely become a hugely popular social pastime. An international committee, after much deliberation and the investment of a great deal of working hours and taxpayers money, eventually decided on three rules of time travel:

1) Do nothing to affect the social development of the people of the time
2) Do nothing to deliberately invoke a change to events in the future, particularly for perceived personal gain
3) Behave with no emotion as emotion breeds emotion in others and so can affect events

As soon as the committee announced these rules to an eagerly listening world, researchers at TEID (Time Effect Investigation Department, a team set up to monitor the behaviour of it’s citizens by researching past documents) began to find that the rules weren’t perhaps as effective as they had hoped. Time travelling citizens trying to behave without emotion were being viewed with high suspicion in Nazi Germany, the witch hunting eras of the late 17th century and the vampire fearing villages of mediaeval Slavic Europe. All of these unfortunate souls were being summarily tortured, executed, and were failing to return home from their trips.
They also found it impossible to not affect social development as travellers ended up in the bars and public houses of times throughout history, invariably became drunk and opinionated, and ended up either instigating or, in some exceptional cases, getting a little carried away and leading entire revolutionary movements.

Lastly, it was quickly realised that it was impossible to not have an affect on future events as a whole anyway as the person’s mere arrival and subsequent existence in the past occupied space and therefore had instigated a change by just moving the air particles, anything over and above that would cause a more obvious chain reaction (such as stopping traffic at a road crossing or feeding an animal) and so it was deemed impossible to enforce any of the laws they had worked so tirelessly to create.
At this point a press conference was set up to announce this failure, one journalist pointed out the impossibility of enforcing such laws due to the nature of time travel anyway and, after a lot of silence and shoe gazing, the scientists and international representatives decided to disband and research something that could be controlled instead, with no doubt at all, such as wormhole leaping.

Despite the best efforts of authorities to restrict the sale of time travel machines, a huge black market was predicted, then materialised, and then once one particuarly entrepreneurial individual, Jiff Beaner, had gone three hundred years into the future and bought not only all the books on the history of time travel so as to learn all the industrial lessons of his competitiors to come, but also returning in a much bigger time machine with (after a few trips) parts enough for a time machine manufacturing unit from the future as well, mass production kicked into play and the time machine was now in 63% of all households by the end of the first manufacturing year alone. Naturally, Jiff was soon outdone by another who carried out exactly the same plan as Jiff had and outdid him overnight. Not only did the competitor have all of Jiff’s ideas for the next three hundred years but he also had a manufacturing unit three hundred years newer. Then someone outdid that man, and so it went on ad taedium.

Time Travel became a standard leisure activity, people beamed from here to there, and the world continued (as far as they knew) the same as it always had.

Then, not long afterwards, a researcher at TEID came across something that would change the public’s perspective of time travel completely. It was a man called Gerald Keys, he had travelled to 18th century colonial America, and there for no reason yet apparent, he had killed sombeody.

title: Trillers - A story about Time Travel

question: What does the story say about creating a time paradox?

question: What does the story say about the impossibility of enforcing the three rules of time travel?

answer: As soon as the researchers at TEID (Time Effect Investigation Department) announced the rules of time travel, they began to find that the rules weren't as effective as they had hoped. Travelers who showed no emotions were being treated with suspicion, tortured, persecuted, and executed. It was impossible not to affect social development because travelers needed up in bars and public houses. They were adding to the economy, getting drunk and opinionated about issues, and in some rare cases, leading revolutions. Lastly, it was impossible not to have an effect on future events as a whole as a person's mere arrival and existence in the past occupied space and therefore, instigated change.

question: What does the story say about time travel in the mid-22nd century?

answer: Time travel had become a mundane and everyday reality. It all started when a government employee stole confidential documents about time travel. When the phenomenon had been first introduced to the mass consciousness, steps had been proposed to limit the detrimental effects before it could become a popular pastime. An international committee on time travel was formed to set rules and enforce them, but it was deemed a failure because the rules were impossible to enforce. Despite the best efforts of authorities to restrict the sale of time travel machines, a huge black market materialized and thrived.

question: What does the story say about Jiff Beaner?

answer: Jiff Beaner was a pioneer of the time machine black market. He went three hundred years into the future and bought all the history books on time travel. He learned all the industrial lessons of his future competitors. He came back with a bigger time machine and parts for a time machine manufacturing unit from the future. He mass-produced time machines, and by the end of his first manufacturing year, had sold units to 63% of all households. Naturally, someone caught on and Jiff was undone overnight, starting a cycle of moving far into the future to get information and technology to affect the present.


text:
HOSSAIN TOUFIQUE IMAM (born 15 January 1935) is a Bangladesh Awami League politician and the incumbent Political advisor to the Prime Minister of Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina.[1] His rank is equivalent to a cabinet minister.[2]

Early life

Imam was born on 15 January 1935. He completed his undergraduate in economics from Rajshahi University and graduate degree in Economics from Dhaka University. He completed his post graduate from London School of Economics in development administration.[3]

Career

Imam served as the cabinet secretary in the Mujibnagar government.[4] He is the Political advisor to the Prime Minister of Bangladesh. He blamed the Inter Service Intelligence for facilitating the July 2016 Dhaka attack.[5][6]

Personal life

Imam's son, Tanveer Imam, was elected to Parliament from Sirajganj-4 as a candidate of Bangladesh Awami League in January 2014.[7]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

title: Hossain Toufique Imam

question: Who is Houssain Toufique Imam?

answer: a Bangladesh Awami League politician and the incumbent Political advisor to the Prime Minister of Bangladesh

question: What is the Awami League?

answer: the article does not answer this question

question: Where was Houssain Toufique Imam educated?

answer: Dhaka University and London School of Economics

question: What is the 2016 Dhaka attack?

answer: the article does not answer this question

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Houssain Toufique Imam is a Bangladesh Awami League politician and the incumbent Political advisor to the Prime Minister of Bangladesh.


text:
“YOU'RE A LADY NOW” is a song by Australian hard rock group The Angels, released in 1977.[1][2] Released from their debut studio album, _The Angels_. The song first charted on 8 August 1977 where it peaked at number 90 on the ARIA Charts Singles Chart and stayed in the charts for five weeks.[3] It was released as the 2nd and final single.

Track listing

Personnel

THE ANGELS MEMBERS

-   Chris Bailey – bass guitar
-   Buzz Throckman – drums
-   John Brewster – rhythm guitar, backing vocals
-   Rick Brewster – lead guitar
-   Doc Neeson – lead vocals

Production work

-   Producers – Vanda & Young
-   Studios – Albert Studios, Sydney

Charts

+-----------------------------------+-----------------------------------+
| Chart (1977)                      | Peak                              |
|                                   | position                          |
+===================================+===================================+
| Australian ARIA Charts[4]         | 44                                |
+-----------------------------------+-----------------------------------+

[1]

[2] The Angels - You're A Lady Now at Discogs

[3] The Angels - You're A Lady Now at Australian Music Database

[4]  N.B. The Kent Report chart was licensed by ARIA between mid-1983 and 19 June 1988.

title: You're a Lady Now

question: What is "You're a Lady Now"?

answer: A song.

question: Who wrote it?

answer: The rock band The Angels.

question: Where are The Angels from?

answer: Australia.

question: When did the song come out?

answer: It was released in 1977.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: "You're a Lady Now" is a song by Australian hard rock group The Angels, released in 1977 on their self-titled debut studio album.


text:
Time flows from present, to past, to future. At least that’s what I thought. It’s the funniest thing, that lately, I’ve been forgetting myself. There’s a sense in which I’ve found myself many nights chasing my own shadow, looking for any reflection of my own reality in the crevices of a mirror of isolation. Some nights it makes me think, you ever think other people could think you out of existence? Perhaps it is man’s connection with his fellow man that makes him who he is, and that his deprivation from everyone casts doubt upon his own being. It is how I’ve felt lately. Riding the crowded subways. Seeing the faces plastered to this artificial reality, this portal into their digital selves embedded in these phones. It’s as if they’ve chosen to disconnect to this world, and connect into a more socially approved one.  A world without outsiders. A world that’s safe. I don’t know, I’ve just been forgetting myself lately.

I could have sworn that I saw the clock hit 3 twice. Twice in a row. How does that happen? It seems like the hours seem to pass into days. Another day, closer to the grave, and I swear I couldn’t even remember it. One day I found myself looking at myself in the mirror brushing my teeth, and I could’ve sworn I had already done it that day. The exact same brush strokes. The exact same pattern. Everything. Looking at my watch at my office job – looking at the clock and time meandering down the path to a creeping death. Silence. Nobody speaks to me at my job. I’ve been forgetting myself lately, looking at that clock tick by to my final moments. You know, theoretically, if a photon could exceed the speed of light, it would travel back in time. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. Time travel.

I’ve just been forgetting myself. It’s like I used to have this vague sense of continuity. It’s like I knew who I was, or what I was. There was some sense of purpose. It just seems gone now. I was in the shower the other day and I dropped my bar of soap, and I could’ve sworn I did that before. It slipped from my hand, and in an ephemeral moment it seemed frozen in time. I knelt down and looked at that bar of soap. I could’ve sworn this happened before. It’s like I’ve been here before. Waking up and going to my job, eating my breakfast, and searching in the mirror for any reflection, finding only nothing. I have to go back, but I’ve just been forgetting myself.

It seems as the days went by, I went back, and back, and back. The same events replaying in exactly the same way a thousand times, like the stream of time ebbing and flowing into eternity. How many times had I ridden this subway? How many times had I poured my morning cup of coffee, and tried to wake myself up in the bathroom? How many times had I forgotten who I really am? It feels like lately, I’ve been going back. The clocks have been turning back, the planets have been receding in their orbits, and space itself has been gravitationally contracting back to a single point. I’ve been going back. I see a young man in a lecture room, asking questions, open to the joys of possibility, and among friends. In an ephemeral moment, it seemed frozen in time, and for an instant I seemed to recognize some vague reflection of who this was. I don’t know, I’ve just been forgetting myself lately.

How many times have I woken up to an alarm and stared at the cracks in the ceiling? How many times have I been in the exact same situation, retracing the cracks with my eyes, as if I was recounting the moments to my inevitable expiration? How many times? A dozen? A thousand? A million? It didn’t seem to matter anymore. I look at the mirror, and I just can’t see anything. There’s nothing to this world anymore. Nobody here but the shadows I’ve been chasing for too long to recount, searching for a trace that I still exist.

Back on the subway. Back among a crowd of meaningless faces –an unidentifiable, detached mass living in an artificial world. I search the faces for a trace of humanity, but see nothing. I’m going to cross that sign soon. The graffiti sign that says “the point of no return”, in that nice, black stenciled lettering. How many times have I seen that sign? I could’ve sworn I’d seen it a million times passing to work. I could’ve sworn this film had replayed a thousand times, and I always searched for something different. Some detail that made this different from the last time. Some indicator that I was even real anymore. It seems I’ve lost faith in my own reality. Descartes be damned. I’ve just been forgetting myself lately.

Pour myself a cup of coffee before I settle into this cubicle, and file these reports. How many times have I filed these reports? How many times have I imprisoned myself in this cubicle? It’s like I’ve been traveling back, like that tachyon. I’ve been travelling back to my own past, but it’s not the same as it was before. It’s a static moment in a sequence of frames, and I see my life flowing by in a series of moments. I see the sun setting and rising in an infinitesimal fraction of a second to another day. It’s like I’m looking at my life from a third-person perspective, and seeing every moment unfold inexorably in a series of seconds, and I feel…nothing. I’ve been going back lately – I’ve been going back. I see a child smiling, riding a bicycle. Was that me? Seems like eons have passed since that was me. I see myself surrounded by other smiling faces, and in an ephemeral moment it seemed frozen in time. I wanted to believe that was me, but I’ve just been forgetting myself.

Another day on the subway. Another day passing that graffiti sign that says “the point of no return” in that nice, black stenciled lettering. How many times have I seen that sign? I could’ve sworn I’d seen it a million times passing to work. I could’ve sworn this film had replayed a thousand times, and I always searched for something different. Some detail that made this different from the last time. Some indicator that I was even real anymore. It seems I’ve lost faith in my own reality.

I’ve been going back. Chasing my shadow ever back into the recesses of time. I’ve been looking for any sign that I even exist anymore, in the crevices of a mirror of my own isolation. I’ve been traveling through a void or a passage to another realm. Like a wormhole – a theoretical passage through space and time. I’ve been going back to a time I can’t seem to remember. I see a baby, crawling on the ground, surrounded by loving parents singing to it. I knelt down and looked at that giggling baby. It slipped from my hand, and in an ephemeral moment it seemed frozen in time. Was that me? Seems like eons have passed since that was me. I see myself surrounded by other smiling faces. I wanted to believe that was me, but I’ve just been forgetting myself.

Another day. The infinite street lights give off their celestial glow, fading into the background of a mass of inhumanity. I think I saw my shadow on the sidewalk again. Chasing my shadow ever back into the recesses of time. I’ve been chasing it for too long to recount, searching for a trace that I still exist. I’ve been going back. I see a baby in my mother’s arms. I see a baby surrounded by smiling faces. I looked into his twinkling eyes and saw my reflection – is that me? It seems like eons have passed since that was me. I’ve been forgetting myself.

I’ve been going back. I knelt down and looked at that grave with my name on it. It slipped from my hands. How did I let it slip from my hands? And in that moment, peering behind my grave. There it was. My own shadow.

title: Forgetting Myself

question: How does the narrator manage to forget himself?

answer: He has lost his sense of purpose and being stuck in a realm of deja vu.

question: Why does the narrator feel like he is repeating all his tasks?

answer: He is living in a cycle of mundane routines with no outside connection.

question: Explain why the narrator has a sense of chasing his own shadow.

answer: He's been looking for any reflection of his own reality

question: When does the narrator sense he has found his own shadow?

answer: As he looks down at his own grave.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator feels as if he has lost his sense of purpose and is stuck in a cycle of routine without any outside connection. He chases his own shadow in search of his own reality. He only finds his shadow when he looks down at his grave.