text:
(This story has a hidden meaning, hope you get it).

     For some reason I am not able to dream. When I sleep all I see is darkness.
 My cell is so dark that I can’t know if I am asleep or awake, either way, I spend these countless days huddled close to myself.
I am shivering, I am cold, even though my cell is warm and humid.
I lie naked in the darkness, ruing the day I let them catch me.
Those bastards! Everytime I think about them I clench my teeth. My fists turn pale with suppressed rage.
But I have more hatred toward myself. I! I who pledged to kill them all!
To be defeated by that crowd of blind fools, it is too embarassing to bare.
My stomach still hurts where I was wounded, but I am still breathing. Why? Why has God cursed me? Why have I woken up in this cell? I rather death before this humiliating confinement!

 I have given up, this cell will consume me, I know this if nothing more.
I have no space even to stand, it seems to grow even smaller as the days go by.
I no longer care to count the hours, it has seemed like I have been here for many months, but I know it is only my mind torturing me further, for I have been here merely days, this I know, because I am still alive.
I have gone mad  and now the days seem never ending, the darkness and lack of windows does not want me to know day or night.

  I have truly gone mad, I wish to die, but I lack the strength even to harm myself.
It has been so long since I have eaten I no longer feel hunger, I only crave light and wind, I only crave to stand, to run, to move my bones before they turn to splinters, to stretch my body before it turns to dust.

I can no longer contain my madness, I kick at the walls, but no one answers.
Maybe they have forgotten about me, slow-witted as they are, perhaps they don’t remember they left me here.

  I do not care if they kill me, I am not afraid of death, I know God has left me.
What have I to fear?
Death is only freedom, all I wish for is to leave this dark and horrid cell.
I do not care if they come for me! Come! Craven bastards, do with me as you wish, but have the mercy to let me feast my eyes with light before you do!

I hear a bone shriveling shriek, the doors are opening!
The white light is blinding, it is all I see, and I can’t help being brought to tears.
I have lived in darkness for so long I have forgotten what light looks like, it seems, the further I stare into the light, I forget about the darkness, I forget my pain, I forget about my enemies, I forget my name.

title: Rebirth

question: What is the story's hidden meaning?

answer: The protagonist seems to be a fetus in utero, and they are born at the end of the story.

question: What does the protagonist see when the doors open?

answer: They see blinding white light.

question: How did the protagonist wind up in the cell?

answer: The protagonist's enemies confined them in the cell after they captured them.

question: Describe the protagonist's cell.

answer: The cell is dark, warm, and moist.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator has been trapped in a dark, warm, and moist cell for what seems like months. The cell continues to grow smaller, and they kick at the walls, driven mad by their confinement. At long last, the doors to the cell open, and as they stare into the blinding white light, the narrator forgets everything about who they are and where they came from.


split: train

text:
Zach Goldman wandered aimlessly through the streets. He hoped to walk forever, step after step after step after step, each one taking him further and further away from the cruel world he was born into. But he knew he never could. Curfew was in 15 minutes.
He kept walking forwards, eventually finding himself just a block away from the ghetto to which he was confined. He rubbed his shoulder, where the crude Star of David patch rubbing against his skin had left a raw patch.
"Get to your housing, Jew." The guard stationed on the corner had not even glanced at Mr. Goldman, for there was no need to. All that mattered regarding the entirety of Goldman's existence was the yellow star sewn into his shirt. He was cattle, just another faceless entity doomed by Germany's politics to die, forgotten forever.
He was ashamed to be a Jew, ashamed to exist. He felt utterly inferior to every insignificant thing surrounding him. Inferior to the homeless man who sits begging in the streets, inferior to a ripped plastic bag, condemned to an eternity in a landfill, but, most of all, he felt inferior to his own right to exist. If so many people had told him he was scum, that he was a waste, that him and all of his kind did not deserve to inhabit the world they were born into, why shouldn't it be true?
Zach Goldman, in that moment, simply wanted to die. He experienced a sudden frisson, stopping him in his tracks. And then, Zach Goldman went home. He went home, and he finally slept. He slept in an eternal sleep. His hidden gun has finally spent its last bullet.

title: Had to write a practice essay (less than 1 page) for my English end-of-course. This is what I wrote:

question: Who is Zach Goldman?

answer: Zach is a Jew during WWII, possibly in an area where Jews were segregated into housing by the Germans.

question: What time period does the story take place?

answer: Possibly during the second World War.

question: Why was Zach ashamed to be a Jew?

answer: He felt inferior to everything surrounding him, including a homeless man and a piece of ripped plastic. He feels inferior to his own right to exist.

question: Who shot Zach?

answer: He shot himself.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Zach Goldman is a Jew wandering the streets on the way to his housing during the Second World War. He feels ashamed of being a Jew and feels inferior to everything and everyone. The ridicule and feelings of worthlessness have gotten to him, and Zach wanted to die at that very moment, so he shoots himself. Now, he's finally home and asleep.


text:
Speaker}}

_THE SPEAKER_ is a 2009 British television series, broadcast on BBC Two. It is a talent show type series that aimed to find the best young speaker in the United Kingdom. The show is narrated by Jane Horrocks. The three judges are stand-up comedian Jo Brand, former basketball player and psychologist John Amaechi and Jeremy Stockwell.

Regional auditions were held in London, Glasgow, Cardiff and Manchester. 160 young people were invited to auditions after sending in videos of themselves speaking. The participants had to be aged between 14 and 18. Only 5 participants are allowed through to the next round for each region in episodes 1 & 2. Then the 20 who get through are reduced to 8 after a number of challenges in episode 3.

Airing

The first episode aired on 7 April 2009. The first episode featured the Glasgow and London auditions, while the second show included the Manchester and Cardiff auditions.

Episode list [1]

  Episode   Subject                                                                                Airdate
  --------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------
  1         London and Glasgow auditions                                                                                7 April 2009
  2         Manchester and Cardiff auditions                                                                                8 April 2009
  3         Deborah Meaden coaches the Speakers on how to speak with CONVICTION. The tasks were giving an impromptu speech at Speakers Corner and trying to 'sell' jars full of air but labelled emotions such as 'Courage', 'Happiness' and similar.    14 April 2009
  4         Earl Spencer invites the Speakers to Althorp House where they explore the craft of INFORMATION GIVING. The speakers gave an 8-minute tour of a room they were assigned to.                                                                   15 April 2009
  5         Journalist and broadcaster Kate Silverton teaches the Speakers the skills of STORYTELLING. They then had to present a 2-minute news segment from London Zoo.                                                                                21 April 2009
  6         | Tony Blair's former Director of Communications and Speech Writer Alastair Campbell, demonstrates the subtleties of PERSUASION. The speakers then prepared for a mock election on local issues.                                             22 April 2009
  7         Semi-Final: The speakers were mentored by the three judges on the subject of INSPIRATION. This was demonstrated by giving a speech at City Hall in London which was being broadcast on giant screen to various city centres around the UK.   28 April 2009
  8         Final: Working with UNICEF UK, the final 3 speakers were sent to Malawi to meet children in poverty there and research for their final speech; a 5-minute presentation on children's rights.                                                 29 April 2009

Finalists [2]

  Name      Home Town    Age   Final Episode
  --------- ------------ ----- -------------------
  Duncan    Bristol      14    Finalist (Winner)
  Irene     Bristol      17    Finalist
  Kay Kay   London       15    Finalist
  Jordan    Sunderland   15    7 (Semi Final)
  Maria     Glasgow      16    7 (Semi Final)
  Haroon    London       17    6
  Thomas    Leeds        16    5
  Fahmida   London       16    4

[1] http://www.bbc.co.uk/speaker/about/mentors/index.shtml

[2] http://www.bbc.co.uk/speaker/speakers/

title: The Speaker (TV series)

question: What is The Speaker?

answer: The Speaker is a 2009 British television series.

question: What is the purpose of the television series, the Speaker?

answer: This show is a talent show series that has the aim to find the best young speaker in the United Kingdom.

question: Where were regional auditions held?

answer: Regional auditions were held in London, Glasgow, Cardiff, and Manchester.

question: Who were the three judges on the show?

answer: The three judges on the show were Jo Brand, John Amaechi, and Jeremy Stockwell.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article describes a television series called the Speaker. This television series is a talent show series that is looking for the best young speaker in the United Kingdom.


text:
Well it is a long story but because you asked with a smile I will share. My father got wrapped up in some seriously bad shit with the unicorn mafia. They killed him in front of my 8.5 month pregnant mother.

Soon after I was born into a life filled with hatred for their kind and those that associate with them. I went on like that for years.I even got involved in some unicorn poaching. It was on a gig in Malaysia that I saw her. She was just different than all the other unicorn that I had even known.

Her mane was a color that I didn't knew existed, and had an iridescent glow. I knew then that my whole life was a lie. If unicorns could be like this than they couldn't be the diabolical destructive force that I was indoctrinated into believing in. Her name was Emma and against all odds I loved her.

We abandoned our station with the clans that refused to accept our love. We were married to the fine music of the Appalachians. Our fairy-tale life went on for years. She baked the finest confections in the land and I worked with the local miller doing more or less manual labor. People were non too friendly to our type but we had each other. This was not to last however.

It turned out that I was wrong. Emma was a filthy unicorn whore. At the first sign of something shinier than I she left me. She left me for some smelly hippy Douche bag named Brad. I try not to think about those days anymore as that sends me to the bottom of a bottle.

TL:DR- Not a very big fan of unicorns.

title: Always chasing one.

question: What is the unicorn mafia?

answer: A mafia-affiliated group in the Appalachians.

question: Where did the author meet Emma?

answer: A gig in Malaysia.

question: How did the pair deal with their forbidden love?

answer: They eloped.

question: What happened to their love?

answer: Emma left the narrator for a hippie named Doug.

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is part of an Appalachian clan that has a rivalry with the Unicorn mafia. Despite this, the narrator falls in love with a Unicorn member named Emma at a gig in Malaysia. The two elope, but the narrator is now bitter that she left him for a hippie named Brad.


text:
Though starting pitching was an area of strength for the San Diego Padres in 2014, newly hired general manager A.J. Preller is reportedly looking to bolster his rotation this winter.

The Padres have made an incentive-laden one-year offer to Brandon Morrow, the oft-injured 30-year-old who's logged just 87 2/3 innings over the last two seasons, according to Ken Rosenthal of FOX Sports.

Morrow missed the majority of the 2014 campaign with a strained tendon sheath in his right index finger, making just six starts before landing on the disabled list in May. Despite working exclusively as a starter throughout his five-year tenure with the Toronto Blue Jays, Morrow made eight relief appearances after returning from the disabled list in September and finished the season with a 5.67 ERA over 33 1/3 innings.

As such, Morrow has received offers from clubs interested in using him in a relief role, but the former first-round pick prefers to sign with a team that will give him an opportunity to start.

Get the latest trending sports news daily in your inbox

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question: Why did Morrow miss the majority of the 2014 campaign?

answer: Morrow missed the majority of the 2014 campaign due to a strained tendon sheath.

question: How long was Morrow with the Blue Jays?

answer: Morrow was with the Blue Jays for five years.

question: Who did the Padres hire as a general manager?

answer: The Padres hired AJ Preller as general manager.

question: What role is Morrow wanting?

answer: Morrow wants a starting role, not a relief role, despite his injury.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The Padres have made Brandon Morrow an offer to join them, despite his injury. Morrow missed the majority of the 2014 season due to his injury, but wants to sign with a club offering him a starting role.


text:
Getting an error while you navigate through your system is one thing, but receiving a BSOD (Blue Screen of Death) at computer start or reboot is a completely different story. Subsequently, the user is left gazing at a bunch of scary statements displayed on a Blue Screen, and is denied any further entry into Desktop. Furthermore, Windows’ attempts to repair the corruption automatically are continuously barred, leaving you scratching your head in utter dismay.

For common PC issues, Junk files unclogging, boosting System performance, speeding up Internet and other underlying Windows concerns, we recommend using this tool.

-   STEP 1 : Download SYSTIMIZER ‒ PC CLEANER & INTERNET BOOSTER (Effective with Windows 10, 8, 7 & XP)
-   STEP 2 : Click "SCAN" to analyze your PC
-   STEP 3 : Click "FIX" to wipe out all bumps

One error that is exhibiting similar symptoms in Windows 8 is 0xc000021A. Typically caused by either WINLOGON.EXE or CSRSS.EXE failure, this menace appears at system startup and blocks user’s access instantly. If you are unfortunate enough to have awoken your machine to this unsolicited creature, witness your luck turn because we are presenting you the most effective, and the widely used techniques to tackle this nuisance. Continue reading this post and start your diagnostic journey to safety.

[Windows-8-Blue-Screen-Errors-Fixed]

First, let’s take a closer look into the two concerned Windows processes:

WINLOGON.EXE

Winlogon.exe is a part of Windows Login System. As suggested by its name, this process is responsible for handling login and logout procedures on your computer. Primarily though, it is concerned with the following functions:

-   Managing secure attention sequence
-   Loading user profile
-   Locking the system while Screen Saver is activated
-   Providing easy access to Windows station and desktop

CSRSS.EXE

Csrss.exe is a user-mode program belonging to the Microsoft Client/Server Runtime Server Subsystem. It is a critical piece of software responsible for managing threads and creating console windows. Furthermore, it is also thrown the crucial duty of controlling operations of the Win32 subsystem not belonging to the kernel mode.

A STOP 0xC000021A message is generated when either of these processes fails to execute. Upon detecting this bizarre dilemma, Windows NT kernel halts the system and raises the BSOD error. Following is a list of common causes leading to the failure:

-   Mismatched system files have been installed
-   A Service Pack installation has failed
-   Incompatible third-party software has been added
-   Unsupported drivers are housed in the system

Starting now, we will present ways to eradicate this trouble. It is advised you follow these methods in order to ensure efficient troubleshooting.

METHOD 1: SAFE MODE + CLEAN BOOT COMBO

Safe Mode is a troubleshooting state that loads only the basic drivers and processes required to boot the system. It is immensely used during diagnostic procedures to check whether an issue repeats under these special conditions or not. If it does not, one can perform a Clean Boot to narrow down the cause to a single third-party application, or startup item.

This method is demonstrated here:

-   Start your system with WINDOWS 8/8.1 INSTALLATION MEDIA inserted into the drive
-   When prompted, PRESS ANY KEY TO BOOT FROM DVD
-   From the WINDOWS SETUP screen, hit NEXT
-   Click REPAIR YOUR COMPUTER located at the bottom to launch ADVANCED STARTUP OPTIONS menu
-   Choose TROUBLESHOOT then ADVANCED OPTIONS
-   Select COMMAND PROMPT
-   Type BCDEDIT /SET {DEFAULT} BOOTMENUPOLICY LEGACY and press enter
-   This command will empower LEGACY BOOT with F8 key enabled
-   REMOVE Installation Media and REBOOT your system
-   Continuously strike F8 key on startup
-   ADVANCED BOOT OPTIONS screen should appear, select SAFE MODE from the options

[Safe-Mode-Advanced-Boot-Options-Win8.1]

Wait for the system to boot and enter this advanced setup. If Windows boots successfully, proceed with the following Clean Boot procedure to identify your troubling menace. However, if you are still unable to perform a successful OS launch, continue with METHOD 2.

-   Open charms bar (WINDOWS + C) and select SEARCH
-   Type MSCONFIG and hit ENTER
-   Enter SERVICES tab
-   Check HIDE ALL MICROSOFT SERVICES
-   Click DISABLE ALL and then APPLY

[Clean Boot Windows 8.1]

-   Go to STARTUP tab
-   Click OPEN TASK MANAGER link
-   From this screen, DISABLE each item and close TASK MANAGER when done
-   On  SYSTEM CONFIGURATION window, click OK

[Manage Windows 8.1 Startup]

-   RESTART your computer in this start clean environment

Once in, start enabling multiple (typically half) of the disabled/deselected startup items and services from Task Manager and System Configuration tools respectively. Try logging back into Windows using these settings and see if the error reproduces. If it does, narrow down the selected items, and try again. Continue with these steps repeatedly till you identify the problematic entity. Once detected either keep it disabled or check developer’s website for further fixes.

METHOD 2: RUN SFC SCAN

System File Checker is an important command line tool that can automatically detect and resolve corrupt/missing system files residing in the PC. This utility is capable of purging many user and kernel level howlers. To use it, execute these steps:

-   Enter ADVANCED OPTIONS screen from TROUBLESHOOT menu described above
-   Choose COMMAND PROMPT
-   In the elevated Window, type SFC /SCANNOW
-   Hit ENTER

[Resolve Game Issues on Windows 8.1]

Wait for the OS to check all important directories and repair any damaged file(s) crucial for system operations. If it does not report any error, or leaves them unresolved, move on to the next method.

METHOD 3: PERFORM A SYSTEM RESTORE

Since this particular STOP error is a user-mode process, the most common culprits are third-party applictions, or corrupt drivers. If you recently installed an incompatible software, or executed undesirable modification in system settings, undo these changes by performing System Restore. This feature will revert all registry/system alterations, and bring the PC back to its previous working state. Here is how to directives:

-   From the ADVANCED OPTIONS menu, choose SYSTEM RESTORE
-   Select the appropriate RESTORE POINT for a roll back
-   Follow on-screen instructions to REBOOT using those settings

[System Restore to Eradicate Bad Pool Caller]

This should undo any problematic activity contributing towards the error, and have you start Windows safely. However if the issue is still there, continue with the next solution.

METHOD 4: BOOT WITH DRIVER SIGNATURE DISABLED

_Disable Driver Signature Enforcement_ is a Windows startup option that overrides Microsoft’s decision to use only signed drivers, potentially resolving any signature issues related with key startup drivers. To use this setup, here is what you should do:

-   Start your system while constantly pressing F8 key
-   On appear of ADVANCED BOOT OPTIONS  select DISABLE DRIVER SIGNATURE ENFORCEMENT

Check if you can bypass the concerned situation. If not, keep trying with the approaches below.

METHOD 5: REVERT ANY PENDING UPDATES

Most BSODs can be traced to an incomplete update stopping the system to boot normally. While you may be asked to reboot the machine and redo the update, that will obviously not fir your case. Therefore, to stop these obstructing activities, you can use the recovery environment demonstrated here:

-   Launch COMMAND PROMPT from ADVANCED OPTIONS menu
-   Enter the following command:
-   DISM.EXE /IMAGE:C:\ /CLEANUP-IMAGE /REVERTPENDINGACTIONS (Replace C with your system drive)

[Rollback Pending Updates]

Try to booting into Windows again. If you still fail, it is time you Refresh your Windows 8.x PC and see if that resolves the problem. However, if that remains unsuccessful too, proceed with complete PC Reset. Starting anew is a guaranteed fix to your messed-up state.

Dictates for _PC Reset_ is highlighted below:

-   Insert installation media and enter TROUBLESHOOT screen
-   Click RESET YOUR PC
-   Follow the wizard to guide you through a clean Windows state

question: What worse than getting an error as you navigate through your operating system?

answer: Receiving a Blue Screen of Death (BSOD) where further entry is denied into Desktop.

question: What is the name of the tool recommended to fix common PC issues?

answer: Sytimizer - PC Cleaner & Internet Booster.

question: Which error exhibits similar symptoms to the BSOD on Windows 8?

answer: That is the 0xc000021A error?

question: What causes the 0xc000021A error?

answer: It is typically caused by WINLOGON.EXE or CRSS.EXE failure.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer:
Nothing is more frustrating than encountering a Blue Screen of Death (BSOD) on Windows OS. Common PC issues, though aggravating, are easier to solve. The narrator recommended using Systimizer - PC Cleaner & Internet Booster to solve such issues.

However, when it comes to BSOD, there are two system processes that are usually the cause. They are the CRSS.EXE and WINLOGON.EXE The proceeds to explain how to resolve this problem when it occurs.


text:
**Red Ribbon**

   Each blink is more difficult and it takes me just a bit more effort to open my eyes than it did the last time. The cold of my bathtub is comforting. I lean back, take a deep breath and slowly exhale. My mind hasn't stopped racing, showing me images from my childhood, from my adolescence, from high school, from college.

   At four years old, I ran away from a camping trip to try to catch up to my parents on a hiking trail. I didn't know which direction they had gone, so I just followed the river. Ten minutes later, I was still alone and it started to sink in. No one is going to take care of me but myself. “#%!^, that's a scary thought. How will I be able to eat? I don't know how to do anything...” I wandered for what felt like forever, never straying from the security of the path I was on. Ah, the path.

   I snapped back to the present. That path. Nearly thirty years later and I realized I was jealous of that path. It had a direction, it knew where it was going. The only surprises on that path came from off the trail. Was this the right way to live my life? Is this how I would find happiness? Should I become a singularly focused individual, striving only for one goal, ignoring anything outside of that? This path is more soulful than I would have imagined a dirt road could be.

   I blink again. My eyelids feel sticky. I'm in my kitchen and I'm nine years old. Our kitchen is being remodeled and the floor is missing. I can see the dirt, spiderwebs, the century of unuse under the house. There is no rot, there is no termite damage, there is no foundation. Our house sits directly on the dirt hillside, raised up just enough to allow air to flow underneath. The house feels sturdy but there is nothing holding it in place, it could slide down the hill at any moment. Who cares? What does this mean?

   The hole in the floor of the kitchen is all I can think about when I open my eyes again. This house has lasted for more than 100 years. All without any sort of foundation, in earthquake country. It has been shaken and beaten more then I ever could be. It refuses to collapse but instead welcomes new people and wraps them in its love. This house is like a grandmother nearing senility; a shaky foundation, but a strong outward presence. A welcoming hug every time you enter through the front door. Is this how I should live? Wandering the earth, rootless, searching for a place to make a stand and show my love for my fellow man? I tried that in college, it didn't work. Free love and no foundation made me completely insecure. At any moment I could be cast aside and would have nothing to fall back on.

   My eyes lose focus as I follow the wall down from the ceiling to the bathtub, finally coming to rest on the floor of the bathtub. The rouge river winds down hands to my knees and finally pools at my heels until there is enough to continue its one-way journey. The thin thread heads straight into the darkness at the end of the tub, where it drips nosily into the drain.

   I blink twice. The second blink takes me away again. It's my Sophomore year of high school and I'm in love for the first time. Her name was Carrie, she was blonde with blue eyes. She was the co-captain of the JV Cheer squad and she always smelled like a freshly picked peony. We went on our first date together when I asked her to the Winter Formal. When I picked her up, I had to sit through “the talk” from her father while I waited for her to put her finishing touches on. After the dance, we went to an after party thrown by one of the Seniors. I didn't drink at all (it was part of “the talk”) but she did and by the time I got her back to her house, the alcohol was in full effect. We made out for half an hour. That 30 minutes was all it took, I knew I was in love. Our relationship lasted for the rest of the year but it didn't make it past the Summer she spent working on her uncle's ranch in Wyoming. I got two reasons out of her, and I've never known which one was more true. She said, “You're just too....nice” and “Cowboys.” My soul crushed, I spent the next two months sad and pitiful. First love, first loss, first time the nice guy finished dead last.

   My eyelids are heavy, but I open them and sigh. I'm back in the bathtub. I'm not an adolescent any more. I sigh again, this time in relief. The bathtub isn't so cold anymore, it has stolen my body heat giving only white porcelain in return. I brush my hand against the side of the tub, leaving irregular streaks as I move my fingers and paint with my essence. I see bits of Van Gogh and Cezanne in the chaotic crimson my fingers trail behind. I shut my eyes and am transported to my friends dorm in college. Jill is seated on her bed with Starry Night peaking at me over her right shoulder. There are two other friends in here, but I can't see their faces or remember their names. We have been discussing which super power we would want to have and why for the last three hours. I have held to my contention that being able to stop time would make one unstoppable while heavily debating flight and superspeed. We finally stop debating at 2am and I go home to sleep. In the morning, I hear from friends in the dorms near Jill. They are all asking me what I was talking about last night, apparently they could hear my laugh from the next dorm over. I tell them. They laugh more. I feel ashamed that my laugh has made me recognizable from hundreds of feet away. I am embarrassed by our conversation. I make a mental note, which I will immediately forget, to tone down my laugh.

   As I open my eyes from this memory, I realize the truth. I have spent most of my life running from my emotions. They crippled me time and again. My brain doesn't see it that way however, it relishes the emotions, the differences, the change, the unique. The problem is that I don't. My brain is pleading with me in the only way it knows how. It is pleading for me to reverse this process. It is imploring me to lift myself up, to stand up again. It has shown me the memories that were most important to me. I finally relent and lift my heavy hands, attached to heavy arms, to the edge of the tub. I set my feet flat against the floor of the tub, toes pushing against the side so I don't slip in the pooled and partially coagulated blood. I see my phone, it is across the room. It is now my only chance for survival. I strain my muscles to stand.

My eyes close.

title: Red Ribbon [1200 words] (first post here, feedback welcome, please comment)

question: Summarize the emotions the narrator feels in the beginning half of this story.

answer: The narrator depicts emotions of restlessness, anxiety, and pain in the beginning half of this story. The narrator starts off my saying how each blink is more difficult than last time.  Then the narrator describes a childhood story about a camping trip in which she had scared thoughts about being alone and panicked. Then, the narrator snaps back to the present and states they are jealous of the path they once were lost in and wished they could go back to the trail. The narrator has many conflicting emotions as they travel back in their memories from the past to the present, but the most strong emotion they depict is of being lost.

question: Summarize the biggest revelation the narrator has in this story.

answer: The biggest revelation the narrator has in this story is how she has been running from her emotions all her life. Her emotions have continuously crippled her and brought her down. She realized she needs to reverse this process if she stands a chance for survival.

question: How will the narrator feel once she realizes she can stop running from her emotions?


text:
KOOPMANS is a Dutch occupational surname meaning “merchant's”.[1] Notable people with the surname include:

-   Aart Koopmans (1946–2007), Dutch businessman
-   Ger Koopmans (born 1962), Dutch CDA politician
-   Leo Koopmans (born 1953), Dutch ice hockey player
-   Luuk Koopmans (born 1993), Dutch football goalkeeper
-   Marion Koopmans (born 1956), Dutch virologist
-   Rachel Koopmans, Canadian historian
-   Rudy Koopmans (born 1948), Dutch boxer
-   Ruud Koopmans (born 1961), Dutch sociologist
-   Thijmen Koopmans (1929–2015), Dutch judge
-   Tini Koopmans (1912–1981), Dutch high jumper, discus thrower and shot putter
-   Tjalling Koopmans (1910–1985), Dutch American mathematician, physicist and economist and Nobel Laureate
    -   Koopmans' theorem, a quantum chemistry theorem published by Tjalling Koopmans

[1] [http://www.cbgfamilienamen.nl/nfb/detail_naam.php?gba_lcnaam=koopmans&gba_naam=Koopmans&nfd_naam=Koopmans&operator=eq&taal= Koopmans] at the Database of Surnames in The Netherlands

title: Koopmans

question: In what kind of chemistry class would one expect to study Koopmans' theorem?

answer: Quantum.

question: What type of creature does Ruud Koopmaans study?

answer: Humans.

question: Which prize did Tjalling Koopmans win?

answer: The Nobel Prize.

question: How many athletes are featured on this list?

answer: 4.


text:
Brigadier ARTHUR JERVOIS TURNER, (10 June 1878 – 8 September 1952) was an English cricketer,[1] rugby union player and British Army officer.[2] A right-handed batsman, right-arm underarm medium pace bowler and occasional wicket-keeper,[3] he played first-class cricket for various teams between 1897 and 1914,[4] predominately for Essex.[5] He also played for the Egypt national cricket team.[6] His other sporting interests included Rugby Union, and he played for Blackheath F.C. and Kent at that sport.[7]

Personal life

Born in the United Provinces of Agra and Oudh in 1878,[8] Arthur Turner was the son of a JT Turner, who played cricket for Hong Kong and died on the SS Bokhara on the way back from playing a match for Hong Kong against Shanghai.[9]

His younger brother Walter also played cricket for Essex,[10] whilst another brother John played first-class cricket in India,[11] as did his nephew Antony.[12]

He was educated at Bedford Modern School, gaining a place in the school's cricket team when aged 13. He played four seasons for the school, captaining them in 1895.[13] He died in Sussex in 1952.[14]

Cricket career

After gaining a reputation as a cricketer at school and with the Army, Turner played occasionally for Bedfordshire[15] before making his first-class debut for Essex in a County Championship match against Hampshire in June 1897.[16]

He played nine further County Championship matches for Essex that season and a dozen in the 1898 season, also playing in that year's Gentlemen v Players match at The Oval. He played ten County Championship matches in 1899, also playing twice against Australia – once for Essex and once for the South of England. He also played for a Home Counties team against the Rest of England[17] and was invited to play in that year's Gentlemen v Players match at Lord's but could not accept the invitation due to military duties.[18]

He played no first-class cricket in 1900 or 1902, playing eight County Championship matches for Essex during the 1901 season. His appearances for Essex became more sporadic from this point, playing just twice in 1903, seven times in 1904, five times in 1905 and just once in 1906.[19]

After missing the 1907 season, he played four County Championship matches for Essex in 1908,[20] also playing for the British Army cricket team against the Navy at Lord's and for the Royal Artillery against Philadelphia that season.[21]

He played just two County Championship matches in 1909, also playing for Essex and the South of England against Australia and for the Gentlemen of the South against the Players of the South. His final matches for Essex were in the 1910 season, playing five times for them in the County Championship, his last match coming against Yorkshire in August.[22]

He still played four more first-class matches, playing for a combined Army/Navy team against a combined Oxford/Cambridge University team in 1911, for the Army against the Navy in 1913 and for the Free Foresters against Oxford University and for the Army against Cambridge University in 1914.[23]

He played no more first-class cricket after World War I, though he continued to play cricket at a minor level. He played for the Army against a Public Schools team in 1920, and for the Royal Artillery against West Kent in 1925.[24]

In 1929, he played a match for Egypt against HM Martineau's XI in Cairo and his last recorded match was for the Army against the West Indies in May 1939[25] when he was 60.[26]

Statistics

In his 77 first-class matches, Arthur Turner scored 4053 runs at an average of 34.05, including eleven centuries. His highest score was 124[27] for Essex[28] against Warwickshire[29] in 1899.[30] Whilst he was considered an all-rounder at school,[31] Turner's underarm bowling was rarely used at first-class level. In all he took fifteen first-class wickets, with a best innings bowling performance of 3/47[32] for Essex[33] against Lancashire[34] in 1898. After taking 14 wickets in his first three seasons, he took only one more first-class wicket in his career.[35]

Military career

Turner was commissioned a second-lieutenant in the Royal Artillery on 23 December 1897. He served in the Second Boer War in South Africa (1899–1900), where he was promoted to lieutenant on 23 December 1900, was severely wounded and mentioned in despatches.[36] He returned to serve in South Africa in 1902, and received a substantive commission as lieutenant in the Royal Field Artillery on 26 March 1902, attached to the 61st Battery.[37] Following the end of the war, he returned home with the men of his battery on the SS _Sicilia_ in October 1902, when the battery was posted at Woolwich.[38]

He later served in France during the First World War and was decorated with the Croix de guerre. He was also decorated with the Distinguished Service Order (DSO), appointed a Companion of the Order of St Michael and St George (CMG) and a Companion of the Order of the Bath (CB). He achieved the rank of Brigadier.[39]

[1] Cricinfo profile

[2] Wisden Cricketers' Almanack 1953, Obituaries

[3] CricketArchive profile

[4] Teams played for by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[5] First-class matches played by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10] http://www.cricketarchive.co.uk/Archive/Players/5/5336/5336.html Walter Turner

[11] John Turner at CricketArchive

[12] Antony Turner at CricketArchive

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19]

[20]

[21] Other matches played by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[22]

[23]

[24]

[25]

[26]

[27]

[28] First-class batting and bielding for each team by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[29] First-class batting and fielding against each opponent by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[30] First-class batting and fielding in each season by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[31]

[32]

[33] First-class bowling for each team by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[34] First-class bowling against each opponent by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[35] First-class bowling in each season by Arthur Turner at CricketArchive

[36] Hart's Army list, 1903

[37]

[38]

[39]

title: Arthur Turner (British Army officer)

question: Describe Arthur Turner's personal life.

answer: Turner was born in the United Provinces of Agra and Oudh in 1878. He was the son of JT Turner, who played cricket for Hong Kong. His younger brother played cricket for Essex, and another brother John played cricket in India, as did his nephew Anthony. He was educated at Bedford Modern School, gaining a place at the school's cricket team aged 13. He died in Sussex in 1952.

question: Describe Arthur Turner's Cricket Career.

answer: He played occasionally for Bedfordshire, then debuted for Essex in June 1897. He played often for Essex in the years that followed, although the games he could play were interrupted by the Boer War and the First World War, in which he served. He played no more first-class cricket after World War I.

question: Describe Arthur Turner's Military Career.

answer: Arthur Turner served in both the Boer war and in the First World War. He achieved the rank of brigadier. He was first commissioned as a second-lieutenant in the Royal Artillery on 23 December 1897. He was promoted to Lieutenant during his service in South Africa. In the First World War he served in France.


text:
	(1)

"Well."
"Do ya like it sweetie? Do ya?" The father pleads.
"It will be a fun thing for you to practice on and get good at. Maybe one day, you'll be an expert!" The mother sells, but her heart is not in it.

The anxious parents lean over the unwrapped present, the muscles on their faces contorted into taut smiles. What is that saying? It takes 21 muscles to frown but only 2 to smile? The muscular faces of Elise's parents are evidence that the saying is an oversimplification. How tight do the drums stretch? Elise looked at the taut corners of her mother's mouth. So close to tearing. Will it feel like a paper cut, or worse?

Of course, Elise had known that her 'surprise gift' would be a handmade marionette for some time. She had noticed an extravagant expense on the Visa bill, and very nearly done something drastic, but since it was for her (and, boy did she ever deserve it) she let it slide for just a few dozen points. The points might not seem like much, but they add up.  They sure do.

Aside from being expensive, Elise liked the marionette because it provided an innocuous way to further intimidate and dominate her peer group. She used peer group in a broad sense; her IQ was more than a bit of an anomaly, something she had been smart enough keep hidden. Let them underestimate you. Let them take down their guard. Oh the neighbors need an emergency babysitter? Do they now? Oh, the wheel wall of the rear right tire appears to have collapsed? How very... unexpected. Is everyone OK? No I don't mind staying later. Just get home safe. I can stay all night.

"Well. It does not seem like much of anything went into this gift. Not much thought, that is clear as day. It wasn't cheap, no, but it barely clears the gift I received after my friend Sven left when you account for changes in the cost of living. Perhaps most hurtful, at least to me, is that the website selling these marionettes has a very intuitive interface for customizing individual dolls. Does a unique girl such as myself deserve a simple toy that could just as easily belong to any  other little girl? Are my talents so indelibly stamped with the stench of fungible mediocrity that further cultivation would be tantamount to teaching the niceties of calligraphy to fruit flies?"

"I ask these questions not to hurt you. The toy, though useless, is not repugnant. I don't see it as a harbinger of the proverbial nuclear winter that looms. Always. But I do really want you to think; what was successful, and what was not, about this very specific action? I imagine the desolate blankness of the former will weigh on you heavily. Let it. It's deserved. But remember it is a learning experience." Elise's voice exuded curt wisdom.

"I will be taking my evening meal tonight, and for the foreseeable future, at quarter to 8 in the aft. You know my secretary's hours and contact information. When you're prepared a proper apology, and have a meaningful plan of action to rectify your failure, please do contact her. If it merits my attention, I shan't withhold. I am your firmest believer, Cindy. And yours as well, Ray."

"What impeccable manners." Cindy (almost) said reflexively.

It was the first time since the recent cut in the corner of her mouth had blossomed from a sore dryness to actual bleeding wound. The pain, though slight in the scheme of things, combined in her mouth with the iron from her blood, and very very nearly completely annulled the 'sweet' part bittersweet.

	(2)

Mrs. Cullin's third-grade class in Detroit was run with clockwork precision.

"Yes, ma'am."

"No, ma'am."

"If you please, ma'am."

"Pardon me, ma'am. Truly, that was my mistake."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"All it takes is an iron fist," Mrs. Cullin would say, waiving her right arm and the plaster cast encasing it for dramatic effect. The teachers all championed her. "That Mrs. Cullin! What a sport." "Boy, she sure is. Coming back after a freak accident like that." Mrs. Cullin was right, all it takes is an iron fist.

"Mrs. Cullin?"

"Why yes Elise. What is the matter?"

"Can we see what your handwriting looks like, now that you're hand is broken?"

"Well, Elise, Mrs. Cullin is  an old woman with arthritis. I could hardly write before, ya know…,"

"Before what, Mrs. Cullin?"

"Before I foolishly slammed my hand in the freezer."

"That was quite, quite dumb Mrs. Cullin. You should write out 100 times how dumb it was. Then do the same in cursive. Don't worry about making it right on the first go-round; I'll make inspections when you're done, so you can get your penmanship back up to speed."

"Well, Elise won't that cut into the our social studies lesson plan?"

"Mrs. Cullin, your situational awareness must truly be beyond reproach to make such an astute observation. If only you could apply that very same skill, situational awareness I mean, when operating mechanically complex devices, like the door of a freezer."

"Thank you, Elis-."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Cullin, I don't believe I was finished. You had raised the issue of social studies, which I did not address in my initial comment. Whether social studies is interrupted or not, Mrs. Cullen, depends quite a bit on the accuracy and speed with which you can attack the assignment you've been given. After all, those lines are hardly going to write themselves, are they?"

(3)

"Mrs. Cullin?"

"Elise?"

"I just thought you should hear it from me first. Whilst you stood like a dope selfishly improving your handwriting, our fellow and classmate Randall Finley seems to have gone missing. The suspected culprit, or culprits, have fled through the wetland area behind the school with Mr. Finley in tow. Specifics about his condition are unknown, but I must say, having seen the wounds first-hand, things really do not look good. Unfortunately we may be looking at yet another funeral in this class. The luck we have, can you believe it?"

"My it truly is something you have to see to believe."

"One more thing, Mrs. Cullin. On a rather bizarre note, it appears that Mr. Finley shares not only your selective clumsiness, but his is also activated in the presence of freezer doors. Perhaps one of the higher-ups should look into, what do you think?"

"No… just a coincidence, Elise."

"Let me hear you say that again."

"It is just a bizarre coincidence."

"Again."

title: Simple Toys

question: Cite some characteristics of Elise.

answer: Pretentious, precocious, bossy.

question: What is meant by "situational awareness"?

answer: Being aware of one's surroundings and making adjustments to accommodate them on the spot.

question: Why hasn't the cut on Elise's mouth opened until now?

answer: She hasn't smiled until now.

question: How does Elise put Mrs Cullin in her place?

answer: She basically insists that if Mrs Cullin is the hero worthy of the veneration she commands, she will rectify her previous error of having misjudged the freezer door.


text:
  Looking at the records of the past only reminds you of how much worse things have gotten as you have grown, the sad truth. We must move on, If we live in the PAST we stay in the PAST. Change isn't always bad, even if it feels that way. I realize that I currently haven't even been alive long enough to back up what i'm trying so desperately hard to explain.

  In the dayS where everyone was so innocent, when cutting in the lunch line was a crime punishable by social exile, assisted by the loss of friends that you, in the PAST believed to be your "bestest friend ever". Little did you know that your bestest friend ever will theoretically love and hate you for the next six years of your life. Then eventually they move away leaving you to the place that you dread calling home.

  The girls, they think they like you. Once they see you crack under emmense pressure (which at this point won't even be personally discovered for at least another decade), you are left for your other best friend that promptly took the travelers spot on your friends list. Then after the two dreaded years that could be correctly titled "The Intro to the not so fantastic four" you enter the forementioned not so fantastic four.

  The next four years of your life will determine you. A quote from the movie, "Trainspotting" which fits with such precise accuracy describes this personal judgement day, "Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television." This is not the full quote, but quite a brilliant bit of it. This describes the dreaded four in nearly every way. What if you don't choose these things though? well there is one more choice. Addiction. Now I, by no means succumb to the peer pressure, I am still what some would call a "good boy" decent grades, active in extracurricular activities, plenty of friends, and no children. My choice is life. Even though the current times tell me that happiness in the future starts with happiness in the childhood, It just isn't possible. If you take the road which is, sadly more traveled in my environment, you take risks. Risks that could end your life before you could choose it, risks that could take your friends list, and destroy it. These risks are the   most dangerous things you will ever deal with until this point. The way most see it "Choose life early, live life happily. Choose something risky, well at least you had a good time." Thats not always true, some have life chosen by those preceding them. Those are often the worst of the lot. Not the experts that have been at the lowest possible low since adolescence. Freedom of choice is, PARENTS, is key to the choice of life.

  If you take your core personality and ponder it, you may realize that this terrible time, Is not even the beginning. Your Family, So-called Friends, hobbies, and religious beliefs are the only things that matter if you choose life. Being the only truly important factors doesn't mean they are easily maintained. Thats where your early life affects you. To maintain "life" you need to mimic the activities of the stereotypical "good boy/girl". Thats what determines how you are taken in by society. They could take you in with the other thirty-nine good boy/girls or, they could cling on to the fact that you made a single choice pertaining to the category of addiction. One sign of change, and you aren't accepted by the all so real council of life. You then, dont get to choose a job, or career. This is where you stand, at the very bottom. Right next to the people you refered to as trash. The choice of life is a very delicate one. If you spend to much time doing what you are told, then your childhood is nothing. What stories will you have to tell the family that you thought you chose? Then again, If you don't choose life early on, you don't make it because you aren't seen worthy by the council of life, but really, why should they accept newcomers so late? You felt so strongly against life, at the time it mattered, that you no longer get the freedom of decision. No life, no job, no family, no compact disk players or electrical tin can openers. Only what you chose in your early days. Addiction

title: Addiction (Please leave some sort of comment or feedback, i'm extremely curious of what other people think about my works.) (Not revised/edited)

question: What are the major factors of life that define a person?

answer: According to the author, a person's family, friends, religious beliefs, and hobbies.

question: According to the author, is taking risks a necessary part of life?

answer: It might be implied that the author suggests that taking risks is likely inevitable in life.

question: Can it be said that peer pressure determines a person's life choices?

answer: It might be implied.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator talks about the phases of life people go through to fit in with society and their choices that could determine if they're considered worthy by the council of life.


text:
I was sixteen when I first saw him sitting in my deceased Grandfather’s rocking chair. It had been a long summer’s day spent playing football over the local playing field, so I went to sleep rather early, while all of my friends were down the beach beginning their long and lustrous love affairs with drugs and alcohol. Some of them never quite recovered from the addictions they picked up during that scorching summer of 1994. Funnily enough, I brushed shoulders with a couple of them at various AA meetings that I attended later in my life.
While the rush of drugs and alcohol never appealed to me in my teen years – I’d lived a sheltered life under the wing of a controlling Mother and paid particular attention to the horror stories she told – there became a drastic need as life went on for me to use to fight myself to sleep.

Anyway, I remember dreaming of fucking Lucy Barker, the girl I’d always fancied but never felt. I was a teenager and a virgin, so sex was a prominent theme of all of my dreams. Things were escalating rather quickly when I was ripped from the fantasy by the peculiar instinct of being watched.
I shot up like a spring and instantly stared into the corner where my Grandfather’s rocking chair was. I turned pale and felt my stomach perform several somersaults that would take the Olympic gold for gymnastics. In the chair sat a very ordinary looking man, no sharp teeth or claws. He sat there with his lips firmly closed and all of a sudden I heard his voice inside of my head: ‘Beware the subtle loss of life.’

By the time I’d made it to the bedroom light he was gone. Questions arose in my frantic mind, questions that would be answered in the future – was I still asleep? Did I imagine the whole ordeal?
Weeks passed and eventually so did the months without any further incident. Just to be safe I had my Father store my Grandfather’s rocking chair in the attic, chalking up some shitty excuse about how it reminded me of him and brought nothing but sadness.

Despite the lack of visits from the ordinary man, as I’d come to call him, I found myself waking earlier and earlier each morning. Once I was awake there was no chance of me returning to slumber. I was fortunate enough to be mollycoddled by my wealthy parents and therefore I had no school, or work to get up for. So each time I woke I stuck on my PlayStation and bashed the buttons until the sun came up.

Eventually I forgot all about the ordinary man and was concerned only by the non-existent hours of shut eye. I was in my early twenties now and that was when I first turned to alcohol and behold for some wildly unknown reason I began to sleep again.
I slept like a baby each night and by the time I learned to deal with the hangovers I felt better than I ever had. Sure, I was quite a bitter drunk and it got me thinking about my childhood and how I’d abused the good nature of my Mother and Father, but these thoughts had disappeared by the time the morning came.

I would drink alone mostly and would rarely leave my parents’ house, despite my Mother’s pleas for me to find a job and someone I could eventually call a wife. I’d developed a particular liking to whisky and was drinking at least three quarters of a litre a day.

One night I passed out on my bed still fully clothed and drifted into a deep darkness. That’s when the ordinary man returned. Once more I shot up like that night in my teenage years to see him, no sharp teeth or claws, sat in my Grandfather’s rocking chair, the chair I had not seen for years.

He smiled. He smiled and began to open his mouth, as this time he spoke the words: ‘Beware the subtle loss of life.’

What did he mean? I racked my brains for an answer, plucking at every space imaginable, but still I drew a blank and still he sat there rocking and grinning, that fucking chair creaking. It was a smile that would look pleasant on anyone other than him. On him it looked like the smug crease of the lips of the devil. He waved his hand at me and disappeared along with the blasted rocking chair.

When the sun returned to the sky I was surprised how easily I’d fallen back to sleep. I had almost forgotten about the visit from the ordinary man when I felt a sudden chill which reminded me somewhat harshly of the previous evening’s brief calling.

What was the significance of my Grandfather’s rocking chair? More importantly, what was the ordinary man trying to say to me? I was no longer afraid; it was more of an inconvenience. After all, who was this man to disturb my sleep?

I did get a hold of my alcoholism, but it was too late. Both of my parents had passed on, leaving me with a healthy amount of money and two properties to enjoy, but it was too late. The jaundice had kicked in and after several trips to the doctor it became clear that I had liver cancer.

As I write this I only have a few weeks left to live, but last night I received my final visit from the ordinary man.

There I was lying fast asleep with tubes coming out of me like the tentacles of an octopus, when as clear as day there he sat in my Grandfather’s rocking chair, but he no longer had a smile on his face.
‘I tried to warn you, my child. I did my best, but you would not listen – even when I was alive you were such a spoilt child, such a taking child.’
Startled I replied asking him what he meant by this.
‘I am no ordinary man as you have come to call me, but I am your Grandfather. You do not recognise me because you never took the time to notice, or even ask what I looked like in my early years. You were so self-absorbed that life was only what it meant to you.’
He gave me no chance to reply and vanished, but he spoke the truth. A truth I had never bothered to investigate myself, as I was too busy taking from others – wearing my parents down into sickness and eventually death. And what do I have to show for such a wasted life of which I applied no effort? I will die alone here in this cancer ward with no-one to leave me flowers, with no-one to visit my grave.

title: The Ordinary Man

question: When does the boy first see the man?

answer: The boy first sees the man in 1994. He sat on his grandfather's chair as the narrator slept and fantasized about Lucy Barker.

question: Who is the man?

answer: The man is the narrator's grandfather.

question: Does the narrator stop seeing him anytime?

answer: He doesn't see him for quite long after he requests his father to move the chair to the attic. Until he is old and lies on the bed suffering from lung cancer.

question: Does the narrator die?

answer: It may be implied that he does die.

question: Write a ~8 sentence summary.

answer:
At the age of sixteen, the narrator starts seeing a man in his grandfather's chair. Every time he would appear, his voice would say: 'Beware the subtle loss of life.' The boy eventually asks his father to move the chair to the attic.

The old man's visits stop but the boy still couldn't sleep well. He would resort to alcohol to help him sleep.

After finding out that he suffers from lung cancer, he lay in the bed with tubes. This day, the old man appears again with the chair. He reveals that he is in fact his grandfather and was warning him to spend his life well.


text:
For years, diversity in most organizations has been largely a numbers game.

Leaders worked to understand the baseline of women and underrepresented minorities in their workforce and viewed increasing those numbers as the solution to the diversity parity problem. But a focus on numbers addresses only half of the factors required for your organization to truly benefit from diversity.

The missing piece -- perhaps even more essential -- is how well women and underrepresented minorities are actually included in the culture that you have created. Don’t confuse “hiring” with “inclusion.” Inclusion is more than a seat at the table; it’s having your voice heard and your opinions and expertise valued, even if your perspectives differ from others on the team and especially if they do.

Aside from recruiting talent to your organization to close the diversity gap, what can you do to improve inclusion? Begin by examining the individual human factors that can stifle it from happening.

[Alaina Love infographic ]
Credit: Alaina Love
There are four major human factors that define the contribution to an inclusive culture that any member of your team can make. Understanding how to assess and leverage these factors is key to creating a culture that not only has diverse representation, but benefits from it.

Drivers of mindset

Each of the individuals on your team was raised with a set of tenets around race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation and other differences. Those beliefs translated into an accepted set of norms that influenced how these people behave when interacting with people different from themselves.

Creating an inclusive culture requires recognizing and evaluating the personal beliefs at play in workplace interactions so each team member can understand how he or she came to adopt their worldview around diversity. An assessment of every leader/manager's level of cultural competency is essential to revealing the level of capability they possess to contribute to building an inclusive environment and driving productivity in significant ways.

In one recent cultural competency assessment, for example, all of the sales managers in a specific region were evaluated, and the results revealed a near-perfect correlation with their sales performance.  As a leader, therefore, eliminating individuals from the team who demonstrate “conscious incompetence” around cultural inclusion may be the tough decision that you have to make.

These are individuals who are rooted in beliefs that make inclusion impossible. Worse, they have no desire to change and are, thus, “consciously incompetent” as it relates to cultural inclusion. They are likely not your best performers overall.

Inherent personality

Purpose Linked Consulting’s research on purpose and passion revealed that each of us possesses 10 distinct personality factors in the form of observable passions that influence how we interact with and are perceived by others. According to the research, our passions are derived from our deeper sense of purpose, so they are important elements of personality that play a role in workplace interactions.

As a leader, assessing how the 10 personality factors, or passion archetypes, are operating on your team is central to supporting an inclusive culture. The Passion Profiler assessment is designed to help you leverage your team’s passion archetypes by creating a common language through which individuals can understand the value that each person brings to the team, and how each person’s passions offer the diversity of perspective required to solve problems and execute strategies.

The assessment also helps individuals better understand the genesis of their conflicts so they appreciate that not all conflicting views are rooted in commonly viewed differences like race, gender, and so on.

Team inclusion

Mindset and passion has a significant impact on team interactions but, until recently, rarely has it been assessed scientifically. While conducting her Illusion of Inclusion research in 1990, Patricia Pope, CEO of Pope Consulting, found that some employees think they are more included than they actually are, while others can be more included than they believe they have been.

Today, many organizations that are committed to diversity and inclusion use employee-engagement surveys as a proxy for measuring inclusion without a process for measuring inclusion itself. “I found this to be an odd phenomenon,” Pope shared. “After all, organizations don’t measure productivity by asking employees how hard they think they are working.”

Clearly  more well-defined measures were needed. Pope’s solution was to create the Team Inclusion Profile assessment, a tool that measures both team effectiveness and inclusion, allowing leaders to understand what inclusion looks like on a day-to-day basis.

“My 40+ years of working in the D&I industry shows that inclusive cultures can be measured over time. We see this through increased ability to retain employees from diverse backgrounds. Upward mobility of those from diverse backgrounds are also viewed as ‘merit based’ (rather than as special treatment or affirmative action hires or promotions),"  said Pope. "Most important of all, these organizations experience breakthrough innovation. The Team Inclusion Profile shows you where you’re starting and what steps need to be taken to expand inclusion among team members."

Training and accountability

Focusing on diversity training first is where most organizations begin when attempting to address perceived issues in the culture. Yet, doing so without assessing the human factors described above will likely yield disappointing results.

Training is not a panacea for driving behavioral change, especially when that needed change isn’t rooted in a deep understanding of the impact that individual mindset and personality can have on inclusion. Training should follow a robust assessment process so that it can be customized to address specific issues discovered on an individual and environmental basis. Training should also be reinforced with accountability measures and feedback, prompting individuals to remain committed to demonstrating the behaviors required to create and maintain a culture of inclusion.

In summary:

-   METRICS MATTER. Assess where individuals are on a mindset and personality level so that they and you are aware of their cultural capabilities and passions. This empowers employees to take steps to increase their cultural competency where necessary.
-   LEVERAGE A COMMON LANGUAGE, such as the passion archetypes, for individuals to understand how aspects of personality, such as passion, influence team and interpersonal interactions. A common language can serve as a vehicle for healthy feedback and collaboration.
-   MEASURE INCLUSION, and don’t mistake engagement for it. It’s true that people become more engaged when they feel included, but you can lose a whole lot of talent waiting for engagement scores to rise as inclusion lags.
-   BUILD ACCOUNTABILITY THROUGH SHORT-TERM ACTION PLANS WITH FORWARD-LEANING OBJECTIVES. Monitor these plans closely and update them quarterly. Setting long-term diversity and inclusion goals is fine, but short-term milestones that are carefully monitored makes those goals a reality.
-   To reinforce an inclusive culture, CREATE A SAFE SPACE FOR DISCUSSION, DIALOGUE AND DISSENTING VIEWS, both on your team and within the larger organization. If individuals feel free to raise viewpoints, you’re likely to create better solutions and gain important insights about issues before they fester into larger problems.

Creating a diverse and inclusive culture requires an elegant process that embraces the whole of the personalities and mindsets at play in the organization. Almost no organization seeking to thrive and remain competitive can afford to do without it.

_Alaina Love is chief operating officer and president of Purpose Linked Consulting and co-author of “The Purpose Linked Organization: How Passionate Leaders Inspire Winning Teams and Great Results” (McGraw-Hill). She is a recovering HR executive, a global speaker and leadership expert, and passionate about everything having to do with, well … passion. Her passion archetypes are Builder, Transformer and Healer. You can learn more about how to grow leaders, build passionate teams and leverage passion to create great customer outcomes here._

_When she’s not working with her Fortune 500 client base, Love is busy writing her next book, “Passionality, The Art and Science of Finding Your Passion and Living Your Bliss,” which explores the alignment of personality, purpose and passion, and the science of how it contributes to our well being. Follow Love on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube or her blog._

_If you enjoyed this article, sign up for SmartBrief’s free e-mails for HR execs and for any workplace leader, among SmartBrief's more than 200 industry-focused newsletters._

question: Summarize some of the reasons women are not being included in the hiring process, or not being hired. Speculation is okay based on the information in the article.

answer: According to this article, women are not necessarily included because of certain beliefs that cultures collectively hold regarding a position, a job, the hierarchy at that workplace, and what the position entails. These beliefs are informed by a limited set of data and create a bias. Women could also not have the type of "personality" a company sees as a good cultural fit, but it's not clear how to reshape the company outlook on how management wants to shape the team(s). Maybe offices also tend to hire women for positions that are seen as traditionally "female" such as a secretary, receptionist, or HR person.

question: Describe some of the ideal traits of an employee and why they make someone an ideal candidate for many positions.

answer: Some of the ideal traits of a worker, or employee, are rooted in someone's passions because according to this article, passions form the basis of how someone will behave and interact in the workplace. This article sees workplace dynamics as vital to the success of a business or project. Passions also inform how one approaches and solves problems, so a diversity in passions is an asset to any company seeking to find fresh approaches.

question: Describe the four ways that workplaces can benefit from the services of Purpose Linked Consulting.

answer: Purpose Linked Consulting can help with your business's approach to driving a shared mindset. They provide an assessment of each leader's cultural competency to assess the correlation between goals and shared mindsets among managers. Another way is to look at the inherent personality of team members via a passion profiler, which looks at personality archetypes and parses out their strengths and weaknesses in the workplace. Then, there is team inclusion-the process of incorporating employee objectives and ideas into the business model. Finally, there is training and accountability, which, according to Purpose Linked Consulting, happens too soon in the hiring and onboarding process. It is too early to tell how different team members mesh before they have developed any dynamic or rapport.

question: Summarize the purpose of a safe space and what it can foster.

answer: A safe space is place where discussion, dialogue, and dissenting views can meet without some of the friction and tension that could happen when such dialogue is not protected. In a safe space, thoughts, issues, and feelings are shared in an inclusive setting-meaning all members' words are of equal weight and value, and there is time for processing these feelings. A safe space harbors insights that can be useful in building company culture and in reframing steps to meeting sharedgoals.


text:
_JAZZ CASUAL - THE THAD JONES / MEL LEWIS JAZZ ORCHESTRA, WOODY HERMAN AND HIS SWINGING HERD_ consists of a recording of a Woody Herman and his Swinging Herd appearance from 1963 and a Thad Jones / Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra appearance from 1968 that were combined and released as a single DVD video and also as an audio CD. _Jazz Casual_ was a KQED-produced television show of studio performances by major jazz musicians. The same material has also been released in different packages (e.g. a DVD of the Jones/Lewis Orchestra tracks combined with the 1961 appearance of the Dave Brubeck Quartet and the 1962 Modern Jazz Quartet appearance and another DVD including all 3 Woody Herman appearances from 1963 and 1964 which were both also part of an 8 DVD complete set of all 28 _Jazz Casual_ TV episodes.)

Track listing

1.  “Just Blues” – 4:41
2.  _Thad Jones, Introductions_ – 0:36
3.  “St.Louis Blues” – 12:18
4.  _Interview With Thad, Mel, Section Leader_ – 4:07
5.  “Kids Are Pretty People” – 5:39
6.  “Don't Get Sassy” – 1:05
7.  “Molasses” – 6:30
8.  _Interview_ – 4:43
9.  “El Toro Grande” – 4:52
10. _Woody Speaks_ – 0:21
11. “Lonesome Old Town” – 3:42
12. _Woody Speaks_ – 0:22
13. “That's Where It Is” – 4:06
14. “Cousins” – 4:18

Tracks 1-6: Thad Jones / Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra
Tracks 7-14: Woody Herman and his Swinging Herd

Personnel

Thad Jones / Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra:

-   Thad Jones – flugelhorn
-   Jerome Richardson – alto saxophone
-   Jerry Dodgion – alto saxophone
-   Eddie Daniels – tenor saxophone
-   Seldon Powell – tenor saxophone
-   Pepper Adams – baritone saxophone
-   Snooky Young – trumpet
-   Richard Williams – trumpet
-   Randy Brecker – trumpet
-   Danny Moore – trumpet
-   Bob Brookmeyer – trombone
-   Garnett Brown – trombone
-   Jimmy Knepper – trombone
-   Benny Powell – trombone
-   Roland Hanna – piano
-   Richard Davis – bass
-   Mel Lewis – drums

Woody Herman and his Swinging Herd:

-   Woody Herman – clarinet, saxophone
-   Bill Chase – trumpet
-   Billy Hunt – trumpet
-   Dave Dale – trumpet
-   Phil Wilson – trombone
-   Henry Southall – trombone
-   Kenny Wenzel – trombone
-   Sal Nistico – tenor sax
-   Carmen Leggio – tenor sax
-   Jackie Stevens – tenor sax
-   Frank Hittner – baritone sax
-   Nat Pierce – piano
-   Chuck Andrus – bass
-   Jake Hanna – drums

title: Jazz Casual – Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra and Woody Herman and His Swinging Herd

question: when was the article written?

answer: Despite the fact that the musical performances covered in article were in the 1960's, the main topic is actually the release of a DVD with an audio CD. As such, the article is most likely written sometime during the 2000's.


text:
COALVILLE GREYHOUND STADIUM was a greyhound racing stadium on Belvoir Road, Coalville, North West Leicestershire.

Origins

The stadium was constructed on a spare plot of land between Highfield Street on its west side and Belvoir Road on its west side.[1]

Opening

Coalville's opening night was 15 October 1927 and the racing was independent (not affiliated to the sports governing body the National Greyhound Racing Club).[2]

History

During the 1950s and 1960s racing was held on Tuesday evenings with trial sessions on a Sunday. The track had an 'Inside Sumner' hare system and race distances of 300, 515 and 700 yards.[3]

By the 1980s racing was held on Tuesday and Saturday and facilities included a glass fronted stand with car parking for 300 vehicles. The Halfway House pub on Belvoir Road backed on to the track acting as licensed facility for the stadium. The track was 440 yards in circumference and the annual events included the Summer Midland Sprint and Midland Leger. Race Distances were 300, 510 and 715 yards and Afghan racing also took place on occasional Sundays.[4]

Closure

The track closed in 1990 after planning was given for a new housing development.[5]

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title: Coalville Greyhound Stadium

question: When did the stadium open?

answer: It opened on October 15, 1927.

question: Where is the Coalville Greyhound Stadium?

answer: It's located in Coalville, North West Leicestershire

question: When did the stadium close?

answer: It closed in 1990.

question: What is the stadium's relationship to the Halfway House pub?

answer: The pub backed on to the track and acted as a licensed facility for the stadium.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article discusses the origins and history of the Coalville Greyhound Stadium, a greyhound racing stadium in Coalville, North West Leicestershire. It opened in 1927 and closed in 1990.


text:
The cabin had a musty, unused smell to it. It had been a couple of years since anyone had been here, so he went around and opened up all the doors and windows and just let the wind carry out the emptiness while he swept and dusted. It wasn’t too long, though, before he heard a car door out front.
“Who could that be?” he thought. His wife and son weren’t due until tomorrow. Jenny and her family weren’t supposed to be there until the day after. Puzzled, he frowned to himself before going to check, but he stopped and smiled again as soon as he turned around. There, leaning against the doorpost, was Jenny, looking the same as she always did with her long red hair hanging down her back, blue eyes, and a gentle, soft smile on her lips.
“Hey,” he said quietly. She walked toward him and said, “Hey,” before giving him a hug. They parted and he shook his head, marveling at the fact that although it had been almost two years since they had seen each other, there was no unfamiliarity there, no sense of distance grown as often happens. “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow night,” he said. “I decided to come early to air the place out.” She looked around the cabin and smiled at him. “Looks like you beat me to it.”
The day finished with them cleaning out the cabin, top to bottom. As often happens when two old friends find themselves doing some menial chores together, they wound up spending most of the time laughing at each other. Old jokes, new jokes, stories about people they knew now, and tales about people they knew back in the day. Just… enjoying the company of a person they didn’t have to hide anything from and have no reason to impress. As the afternoon came and went, and the evening turned to dusk, they cracked open the beer he’d brought and sat down on the porch to watch the sun sink behind the trees. A quiet peace drifted over them in the stillness of an evening free of demand.
Night fell and they decided to go inside and light a lamp or two so they could spend the rest of the evening playing cards at the kitchen table, they way they used to. As they sat and played, a peaceful quiet lingered with them and they didn’t disturb it with unnecessary chatter. After all, why should two people who know each other more intimately than most married couples ever do need to speak to feel comfortable around each other? As they sat there in the comfortable quiet, his mind began to drift across his memories, and across to her, thinking about all the things they had shared over almost thirty years of friendship. Growing up together, grade school, her boyfriends, his girlfriends, the breakups and the weddings, all of it touched his mind as they played. He realized, with a small amount of surprise, that almost all of his happy memories were ones he shared with her.
There had never been a relationship between them, never any hint that things should be other than what they were, and though they both acknowledged that it was a bit of an oddity whenever other people pointed it out, they had never thought much of it on their own. He looked over at her, picking up a card from the table, her hair and face glowing in the soft, yellow lamplight, and he couldn’t help but think of the only time the idea had presented itself that there could be more to their friendship than simply being friends.
They had gone camping, just the two of them, after her college sweetheart had left her and she wanted to get away, just get away from everything and everyone that reminded her of him. So they went out to the woods and just let it all go. That night, he remembered they had just looked across the fire at each other, her face and hair glowing then so much like they were glowing now, and he had thought to himself that she was beautiful. Not beautiful the way he told other people she was beautiful, but beautiful to him, in a much more personal and intimate way than he had known. He had thought, then, that he might be in love with her, and as she raised her eyes to meet his, he had known that the thought he saw in her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes glowing in the firelight, was the same as his. But the moment passed without record, and soon enough their hearts had gone their separate ways again.
He realized it was his turn to play and looked over at her, at this beautiful, amazing woman he had somehow spent his whole life with, and found her looking at him. A moment passed between them that seemed to last far longer than a heartbeat before her eyes left his again, but that was all it took, just one moment, for both of them to realize. She reached for another card, distractedly, and as she reached for it, he reached for her, and gently, oh so gently, placed his hand on hers. She lifted her gaze to meet his once again, and this time there was no hiding the question in her eyes, the desperate longing needing an answer. A sad smile drew across his face and, heart breaking oh so gently, he shook his head, just a tiny motion back and forth. His hand left hers, and she drew her card.
They played into the night, still holding onto that quiet comfort, but he wondered now if his life would feel the same to him, now that it had been acknowledged. It seemed a lonely life, knowing that the woman you had married wasn’t the one you should have, that the one you loved wasn’t the one waiting at home for you.
They finished their game and said goodnight. He changed out of his clothes and into his pajamas, and lay down in bed before he let it take him. They knew, both of them, that it was too late. It wasn’t a regret, or even a chance untaken. It was just a choice they had never made, and nothing more. There was a gentle sadness in him, a vast wondering question in his heart. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he heard the door open behind him in the dark. Soft footsteps crossed the floor, and his blanket lifted. Rolling over, he put his arms around her and pulled her close, holding her tightly as tears dropped silently onto his pillow.

title: The Cabin

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: The narrator is a family man who has a close friend named Jenny.

question: Who was Jenny talking to throughout the story?

answer: Jenny was conversing with the narrator throughout the story.

question: Where did this story occur?

answer: It occurs in the home of the narrator.

question: Who are the major characters in this story?

answer: The narrator and Jenny.

question: Write a ~6 sentence summary.

answer: The narrator is a married man, and he's in his cabin. He is surprised at the arrival of his long-time friend Jenny, not expecting her yet. They are happy to see each other, and they both help clean out the cabin. They joke with one another and keep each other company throughout. While playing cards at night, he stares at her and reflects on his relationship with her and how it would have been if they ended up together. They both feel the longing but know it's too late and it was a choice they never made.


text:
As the red rays of the sunset cast themselves on the forests shrubbery, as if veiling the scene with a bloodied lace, I was sitting in the shade of my trunk, scrubbing my fingers on the rough bark in anticipation. It was chilly as winter was at the doorstep and I needed to begin preparing for my slumber.
The creeping approach of the townscape into my domain had made it easier for me to sleep cozily during the cold months, paving the so comfortable roads and streets to my very doorstep.
The sun would set early in my domain and the dark would last a good deal longer than the day, such luxury however did not come without a price, as the nights were cold and winter was savage.
I did not wait for the red of the sky to completely disappear in the horizon as my walk was long and I prefer to have as much hours of darkness at my hands as I can.
I stepped out of my cozy hole and felt the moist grass and soil at my bare feet. The chill of the nearly frozen earth had irritated me and I began my journey.
The road - cracked and unkempt - was as expected quiet. In the distance I could see the houses lying on the outskirts of the town, they were numerous and that made me feel comforted. I was walking slowly, pacing easily as to not cut my feet on the deep cracks of the asphalt, but I was in no hurry. I like taking my time in what I do.
As the last of the crimson veil was disappearing winds began to blow, rustling all the leaves and plants around the narrow road. It was getting colder and I picked up my pace to keep warm. I could hear barking in the distance, yard dogs of the residents I was about to visit, they would always bark as I approached – as if sensing me from great distance.
Darkness now engulfed my way entirely, and as I was walking under the cover of the black blanket I could see lights beginning to appear in the windows of the homes ahead.
Dinners were being made and eaten, children would now rush back home to get there before their parents would begin to worry, strays would wait near trash cans in anticipation to the generous feast of leftovers they would soon indulge in, a community of clockwork it was, beautifully orchestrated.
I turned off the road and back into the cover of the forest, light from the town was sufficient to illuminate the road at this point. I had already decided where I was going tonight.
I walked fast, fueled by excitement, through bushes and thick growths, on my way to the light my gaze had been fixed on from the moment it had gotten dark. The barking was making me annoyed and I could not wait to be back at my warm trunk.
I kneeled and slowly began to creep through the bushes towards the shared border between the forest and the residence, sticking only my head through at first, to catch a feel of what I had been working for.
Street lights were scarce and I could sneak without being seen if I kept my head down below the windows level. I slowly began to approach my destination, looking from side to side to make sure there are no dogs watching.
I walked next to a window that had the lights turned on and peered through. It was too early an hour for the residents to be asleep, but their wakeful presence did not worry me.
Through the window I saw a room, the room I had already once seen before, when I had decided to come back here.
The walls had been painted a delicate blue hue, little clouds and birds were tastefully scattered about them. There was a bunk bed in the side, it too was painted blue, a slightly darker hue than the walls. A large white closet was taking up the entire wall to the right, a single drawer open at the bottom. Near it sat a boy, playing with a toy truck.
I stared at him, waiting for an eye contact.
I made my presence clear to him, I wanted him to feel that I was looking.
He stopped playing with his truck and slowly turned his rosy face to me.
I looked into his eye, and started opening the window. He would not move unless I told him to.
I signaled him to close the door as I climbed through his bedroom window.
Standing there, I signaled him to come closer. He came to me and stopped, looking at my face with an affectionate gaze. I touched his face with my palm and sniffed his hair, then I signaled him to get undressed.
He took off his matching gray pajama shirt and pants and folded them on his bed.
I grabbed him under the armpits and helped him through the window, waiting for him to sufficiently distance himself into the forest before I climbed out myself.
I looked from side to side to see if any dogs were looking, and as I felt safe I guided him into the bush I came from.
I put my hand on his shoulder and guided him forward through the thick growth, making sure he would not fall or injure himself in the darkness engulfed woods.
We would not use the road, it was best to remain hidden.
After a long and quiet walk I pulled on him to stop. We were home, and I began to prepare for my sleep.
I sat him on the ground and pushed his head down into it, all the while examining his body for a suitable way to do this.
Without hurry I approached my trunk and climbed inside to find a tool I had once stolen from one of the houses. Once I had it in my hand I climbed back out.
I stepped towards the boy, approaching him from behind. Preparing the tool in my hand, I held him firmly to the ground.
I placed the tip of the tool to his back and began to press. As it had pierced the delicate skin on his body I became excited.
I cut him slowly, not to hurt anything vital.
His skin was of no use to me and I merely cut it off, anticipating the more goodly tissues that lay under.
I could see a puddle of his tears forming rapidly under his head, his slight shakings were beginning to get on my nerves.
Once I had the lower back exposed I moved on to the ribs, getting rid of all the skin on top and carefully separating tissue from bone, being careful not to harm any of his organs as I was doing so.
His mind was fully under my control from the moment our eyes met, but his body was still his and he could feel everything that I was doing to him.
I spent like that an hour, cutting off his skin and gently separating flesh from bone when necessary, all to make it easier for me as I lowered my head towards his bare body.
I licked his liver and was trying to decide what I should begin to eat first, the organs with no nerves so that he will not die from shock, or the flesh so as not to harm the vital organs?
My mind had become preoccupied with the question only for a brief period.
I turned him over so that his belly faced me, regretting that I cut open his back first.
His face was wet with dirt and tears, his eyes were fixed on me with the same affectionate gaze.
I put the tool to the remains of his umbilical cord and put it through. I cut down from there to the edge of his pelvis and curved the tool to the left, cutting up to his ribs, then right and down again back to the edge of the pelvis.
I took off his skin and began doing the same to his chest.
Once I finished with his torso I moved to his limbs, first the legs, then the arms. I stopped when I reached the feet and hands as I did not need to skin those parts.
I lowered my head down to his belly and moved aside one of the ribs using my hand.
I opened my mouth and licked my teeth, placing them on his left lung and slowly closing on it. Once the first piece of his flesh had fallen into my mouth, It no longer mattered to me how to begin.
I chewed his lung carefully, breaking it down as well as I could before swallowing.
As I pushed the salivated, chewed piece of flesh into my throat I felt a shudder running through my body, it was so delicious and warm that I was overrun with pleasure.
I took another bite of his lung, and then proceeded to his thigh.
His eyes were now beginning to close as he was falling into a state of shock. He could no longer bare the pain that I was causing him and was losing consciousness.
I needed to eat him while he was still alive, so I set aside my indulging in the pleasures of the chewing and ignored how good his flesh had felt inside my mouth.
I simply ate him, as quickly as I could, before the heart had stopped beating, so I could go back to my trunk and go to sleep.

As I finished the last of his flesh, I made up my mind to eat his sibling in the next year as well.
I went back to my trunk and climbed inside, all the time thinking about how tasty this boy was, slowly drifting into slumber, with the affectionate gaze in front of my eyes.

title: Lullaby. (1670 words, first post here)

question: Who is the narrator?

answer: A murderer, a monster that lives in a trunk.

question: Where is the narrator going?

answer: He is hunting for a victim that he eats.

question: Who does the narrator encounter?

answer: He finds a boy that he takes to the woods to murder.

question: Why does the monster kill?

answer: There is not sufficient information to answer the question.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: This story describes the murder of a young boy by a monster that lives in a trunk.


text:
ERIC XUN LI (born 1968; )[1] is a Chinese venture capitalist and political scientist. He is the founder of Chengwei Capital, founder of Guancha.cn ), and a trustee of the China Institute at Fudan University.[2][3]

Biography

Li was born and raised in Shanghai. He went to the United States for higher education in late 1980s. He received his BA in economics from University of California, Berkeley, and MBA from the Graduate School of Business at Stanford University. He also has a PhD in political science from Fudan University. In 2000, He returned to China and founded Chengwei Capital, with an investment portfolio of over $2 billion. Its top investments include Youku, an internet-based television service, and Huazhu Hotels Group, a chain of Chinese budget hotels.[4]

In 2011, Li founded Guancha.cn (), one of China's largest news and opinions medias.[5]

Li also serves on the board of directors of China Europe International Business School (CEIBS), the board of Stanford University's Graduate School of Business and the Freeman Spogli Institute (FSI). He is a trustee of Fudan University's China Institute, a trustee of the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive of the University of California, Berkeley, a trustee of the San Francisco Symphony, a trustee of Asia Society Hong Kong, a member of the international board of the New York Philharmonic, a member of the Council of the International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS), which organizes the annual Shangri-La Dialogue.[6][7][8][9][10]

He is a regular contributor to Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, The New York Times, and Financial Times.

Views

In an op-ed he wrote for The New York Times in 2012, he put forth the idea that China needed a different development framework, around a different idea of modernity. The Chinese system, he says, is meritocratic, highly adaptable despite the one-party rule, long term-oriented, pragmatic and non-individualistic.[11]

In a 2012 op-ed and a 2013 TED talk, Li argued against the idea that human societies develop in a linear progression toward a single political end, and asserted that neither communism nor electoral democracy should be singularly spread throughout the world, as there exists more than one way to run a successful modern nation; as an example, he cited China as a nation which has prospered under a meritocratic system and alleviated poverty without elections.[12][13]

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title: Eric X. Li

question: Who is Eric Xun Li?

answer: Eric Xun Li is a Chinese venture capitalist and political scientist, founder of Chengwei Capital, founder of Guancha.cn, and a trustee of the China Institute at Fudan University.

question: Where did Li receive his degrees?

answer: Li earned his BA in economics at the University of California, Berkeley. He earned his MBA from Stanford University, and his PhD from Fudan University.

question: What is Guancha.cn?

answer: Guancha.cn is one of China's largest news and opinion medias.

question: What did Li argue against in his 2013 TED talk?

answer: He argued against the idea that human societies develop in a linear progression toward a single political end, and there is more than one way to run a successful modern nation.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: Eric Xun Li is a Chinese venture capitalist and political scientist, founder of Chengwei Capital, founder of Guancha.cn, and a trustee of the China Institute at Fudan University.


title: The Ordinary Man

question: What does the story say about why the ordinary man visited the narrator repeatedly?

answer: The narrator was a spoilt kid who lived life on the edge. He resided with his parents from his teen years up until he was older. When he was sixteen, he got a visit from the ghost of an old man. This old man visited him because he wanted to warn him about living a reckless life and appreciating life a lot more. This could be because he foresaw the narrator's future and tried to warn him to live life more cautiously early in his life.

question: What does the story say about why the narrator referred to the old man's ghost as the ordinary man?

answer: The narrator received irregular visits from the ghost of an old man as early as his teen years. He noticed that this ghost was physically unappealing without sharp teeth or claws, and every time the old man visited, he'd warn him about losing his life, which the narrator never understood. He nicknamed the ghostly visitor 'The Ordinary Man' because he took no cognizance of who he was. Finally, the narrator learned that the ordinary man was his grandfather after the old man revealed his identity to him on his death bed.