NOTES bathroom layouts ON A THANKSGIVING DINNER, AND THE DAY AFTER 6:30 pm all guests were at the di

SOME SETTLING SURVEY 1) You were elected President of the country. Which person in history will be your speechwriter? 2) You were a reincarnation of an inanimate object. What was that object? 3) You were to write your bumper sticker. What will it say? 4) You were to start all over again and change a career path. What discipline bathroom layouts or field of knowledge will you venture into? 5) You were asked to recommend a required reading for the entire human race. What will that be? 6) You were a confessed seven deadly sinner. Which of the seven was your least favorite, and why? 7) You were face to face with "God". What exactly did you tell "Him"?
NOTES bathroom layouts ON A THANKSGIVING DINNER, AND THE DAY AFTER 6:30 pm all guests were at the dinner table, including my miserable self sitting stiff and limbering bathroom layouts at my pre-assigned seat. As the host started with his pre-dinner rite, so too was the spinning of my head. Insomnia was killing me, and as the host was saying grace - not just for what's on the table we were about to partake but "for the affairs in life we were so fortunately able to succeed in" - I was tempted to tell him to pray for my headache, too. The host was funny. Somehow, in his prayers, he sought for change in leadership (No More Years! he chanted) and that prompted me to raise my spinning head which at that moment met the eyes of the man across from me. He winced, as if in pain, and I knew it was not from hunger; his politics did not share the host's and he made the excrutiation oh so obvious, at least to me. My little heart smiled, wickedly, for in the spirit of my spectrum he was also sitting across from me. The gracious hostess (obviously a great party organizer) followed suit; she described the dishes and explained the tedious process of doing the sauces from scratch: the cranberry chutney, the gravy for turkey, the gravy for ham. My eyes were rolling around, waiting for some funny comment like "You could have just used Mang Tomas Sarsa ng Lechon", and looking for things that might incriminate - like facial bathroom layouts expressions or veiny signs in the forehead that read Let's Eat Already. I saw smiles, seemingly authentic, including the guy's across from me. Ahh, how nice, such an absence of impropriety. Then the woman at the far end of the dining bathroom layouts table was asked to stand and initiate the buffet line; at that instant, the yak-yak-yakking began. Talks of business this and business that, politics this and politics that, party this and party that, and they made me analyze my fate even more - I was at the other end of the dining table, potentially the last person at the food line, and probably bathroom layouts the only person to capture the full force of the yaks. And so my mind went astray as it always did to while away the time and escape from the moment; (I trained myself for this eventuality since I was a kid - to look nice without being so.) On a scale of 1 to 10, my social bathroom layouts skills are probably an average 5. I love to talk and I love company but what makes me rate myself so lowly was my nasty tendency to pre-judge people. For example, if you told me you adore Paris Hilton or watch The Apprentice and wish to emulate Donald Trump, I will make a pre-judgment that we have nothing in common and anything you say after that are beyond my capability to hear. Still and all I am working to correct this attitude, so please people, in the spirit bathroom layouts of change and forgiveness, bathroom layouts I will pray for resurrection, too, for I will definitely undo that in my next life. And so it was, while waiting for my turn and walking all the way back to my table looking at the mountain of food on my plate, my mind was venturing somewhere else. I thought about The Dead, James Joyce undying novella that is built around a party, and which Mary Gordon very smartly noted (re the party, the story) as the hubbub of realism, the buzz and Babel of the 19th century, where people (partygoers!) talk, talk, talk in so many voices that mistakes bathroom layouts and misunderstanding become inevitable. Our dining table was a little Babel - three languages were spoken, sometimes simultaneously: Tagalog, English, and Spanish. The lady to my left, a gorgeous 80 year old woman from Uruguay spoke only Spanish, but since she was hard of hearing, I talked to her in Tagalog. She would tell me something in her raspy voice, and I would say, Ows, talaga?, and she will smile back a very gorgeous smile. I hardly looked outside of my plate and Madame 80's lovely face, smiling and working bathroom layouts through the tenderness of my turkey's flesh, when all of a sudden I heard somebody said: Is it true there is a strong correlation between mathematics and music? The rising of my head must have been a little violent bathroom layouts that it caught the attention of the inquirer. Did you think so, c? Uh, I guess, I said hesitatingly, bathroom layouts rummaging for thoughts, as a chemical reaction in my tiny brain was gasping for oxygen as well as for support to my automatic "I guess". So I said, "Uh, both have something to do with measurement, uh, how about linearity, one o