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Ubergeekdom => Books => Topic started by: Draugr on November 19, 2008, 06:38:23 pm

Title: Help! (w/ writing)
Post by: Draugr on November 19, 2008, 06:38:23 pm
Okay, I'm writing a creative non-fiction piece, and am trying to find a good epigraph for it, but finding it quite difficult. The quotes should pertain to a kind anti-carpe diem philosophy. Maybe something about if only pandora hadn't open the box. Anyway, I can't find a good one, and was wondering if anyone could help. Thanks!

here's the piece if it'll help, I haven't proof-read it yet, so i dont need to know the spelling errors.

                                                                  Summer Mornings

   Hot summer mornings can be frustrating. This summer morning was especially hot, and especially frustrating. Especially frustrating, because school was set to start in a few weeks, and for some reason I prefer the humdrum of being at home and doing nothing to the humdrum of being at school and being “productive.” I stood up to get out of bed and a precious draft hit my neck. I could feel a wetness around my collar and realized I had fallen asleep before turning on the window unit, so my collar was damp with sweat. I went to my closet and grabbed a t-shirt and pair of gym shorts, nothing special. I threw them on and meandered down stairs. My dad was at school doing some work, and my brother was still asleep upstairs. On my way into the kitchen, I passed the backdoor. My dogs were peering in through the French door’s bottom panes. They were looking in as if waiting for the second coming of Christ or something. On any given day during the school year, I would kill to get a chance to spend a few hours playing with my dogs with no other responsibilities. That’s why it’s so ironic that on this empty summer Friday, I walked straight past my dogs’ begging eyes. I entered the kitchen and started my daily rooting for breakfast. As I scanned the kitchen I noticed the clock. It was 8:57. I opened the fridge and a cup of raspberries caught my eye. I grabbed the cup and walked into the living room, grabbed the clicker, and turned on the TV. “Saved by the Bell” was on, so I didn’t change the channel. Who would?
   Just as I was getting into the misadventures of the Bayside students, the doorbell rang. I could have ignored it. I could have continued my boring ritual. However, I didn’t. I sluggishly got up and walked to the door. Once again the doorbell rang. As I pulled the
door open. Two shining-faced old black women greeted me.
   “Good morning!” one of the women said. She had a look on her face like she was genuinely happy to see me, unlike my tired countenance. The other lady looked like the less outgoing sort. I could tell she wouldn’t say much.
   “Good morning,” I said.
   “My name is Sylvia Brown, and this is Angela Baker.” I reached out and shook both Ms. Brown and Ms. Baker’s hand. “Do you mind if I ask your name?” Looking at the two women I knew they didn’t pose a threat.
   “My name is Alex.”
   “Hello Alex! We’re here from the _________ Youth Baptist Fellowship. Before I continue I should ask you. Do your parents let you choose your own reading material?”
    “Yes,” I said, looking down on the barely five foot tall woman.
   “Well, I’d like to show you, if you don’t mind, Timothy 3:2.” She pulled a miniature bible from her pocket like some concealed weapon and pointed to a passage that read
“For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy.” As I read the passage I began to realize that these two seemingly nice woman were actually two spiders, here to weave a web of words and prophetic poetry around my mind to restrict rational thought. Okay, perhaps their intent wasn’t so malicious, but at this point it didn’t matter. It was early and hot. I was frustrated. “Doesn’t that passage sound just like what’s going on today?” said Ms. Brown.
   I replied “Yes, but it also sounds just like the Dark Ages and most of recorded history, ma‘am.”
   “Yes, but doesn’t it seem to apply more today than ever before.” Looking in Ms. Brown’s eyes I could tell she hadn’t expected to find any confrontation on her daily rounds.
   “Sure, why not.” I saw no reason to stop the conversation so soon. Though it was early and hot, I was also rather bored and arguing is one of my hobbies which I‘m most fond of.
   “So, then if that passage describes today’s world, then shouldn’t we make an attempt to reform it? Which leads to why we’re here. Would you be willing to give up one hour a week to study the bible?” Oh boy, the stereotypical ringer question of the door-to-door evangelical. Just one hour at first, then two, then before you know it you’re going to church every damn night and you have a tithe gnawing at your income. Now, for the twist.
   “Actually Ma’am, to be honest, I’m an atheist, but don’t get me wrong I don’t want to condemn your beliefs, in fact, I admire faith. I just don’t have it.” I was lying about my admiration. At this particular point in my life, I had began to adopt an increasingly nihilistic perception of life. I viewed faith as the suspension of logic, and therefore irrational.
   “Well, honey, if there’s no god, then where did we come from?”
   “Are you asking how existence began or how life came to exist from nothing?”
   “The latter.”
   “Well, a man named Stanley Miller found that when the methane, ammonia, hydrogen gas, and water vapor, all of which could be found in the early-earth atmosphere, were put into a beaker and exposed to an electric current, which simulates lightening, amino acids, the building blocks of proteins, organic compounds , could be formed. These organic compounds can then form DNA and subsequently life. I know that was a bit wordy, but it was the best way I could put it.” Ms. Brown gave me a look like I had just spoken another language, and, to be fair, had I not spent the last two years of my life almost constantly debating this issue with a friend of mine, Seth Muller, I probably would have given someone talking to me the same look.
   Ms. Brown not giving up then asked, “Okay, so he put stuff in a bottle and a person came out of the bottle?”
   I just barely resisted palming my face. Instead I did my best to explain to her that it created basic life, bacteria and such. As I did my best to describe evolution in a condensed fashion, her ears perked up.
   “Evolution? You do realize that evolution is being torn apart in the academic world right? You know it says we came from frogs!” I wish this was a fictional tale. I wish that I had made this character in the back of my head to fit some niche in my story. The rooms of some washed up Biblical scholar can hardly be described as the “academic world.”
   “Really? No, I have not heard that at all. How are they debunking it?”
   “I’m not sure, but I have some books on it if you’d like.”
   “I would love to read them.” Ms. Brown searched the backpack she was carrying for the book or books, but emerged with nothing. “I must have left them at home,” she said, “ but every Friday morning I am out making rounds. May we return next Friday with the book?”
   “Yes, ma’am.”
   “So, where are your parents?”
   “My dad is at work and my mom moved to Charlotte about a week ago.”
   “Oh okay. What does your father do?”
   “He’s a teacher at ___________, but he used to be a Podiatrist.”
   “What’s his name?”
   “Bob _______.”
   “Bob _______, wow, you know he used to do my feet a few years back.” I wasn’t surprised. My dad seemed to know ever senior citizen living in Rocky Mount one or another through his practice. “So, he was a biology major?”
   “Yes, ma’am.”
   “ So, does he share your beliefs?”
   “No, ma’am. He believe in the coexistence of evolution and a Christian God. He was raised Catholic.”
   “So, you came to your beliefs on your own?”
   “Yes, ma’am.”
   “Well Alex goodbye, it was very nice speaking to you, and we’ll be back.” Ms. Brown turned and began to walk away. Silent Ms. Baker was not done though. As Ms. Brown walked away, she stood there looking me in the eye.
   “So, Alex. When you breathe, what makes it rejuvenate your body?” She had me. It really was a difficult question.
   “I honestly don’t know.” She had won. Ms. Baker turned and walked away from me. As I closed the door and went inside one term flashed in my head. Cellular Respiration. You can’t imagine my frustration. I walked back to my raspberries. I sat down, and my boring day continued.
   A little less than a week later I realized the two would be visiting again soon. As I thought of ways I could present my answer to Ms. Baker’s questions, I realized something. Who was I? Who was I to question these two ladies? I didn’t have to believe what they told me nor did I have to accept their bible study offer. Who was I try to take faith away from two very nice old women? I realized all I could do is what I should have done from the start. Not answer the door. So, Friday morning came, it wasn’t as hot as the last. A little past nine o’clock the doorbell rang, and I let it. After a few minutes, I knew they were gone. I went downstairs to check if they’d left anything on the front step. They had. On my front step there was a book. It was titled Life - How did it get her?: By evolution or by creation?. The title itself frustrated me. The theory of evolution doesn’t address how life started. It only outlines that all modern organisms are related and come from a common ancestor. I was tempted to throw the book away right then and there, but I couldn’t. I had to read it. As I ingested this manifesto of propaganda and indoctrination, I noticed a vast amount of falsehoods. I searched for an author, but all I found was a organization name of some sort. Watchtower Bible and Tract Society. I googled it. It was a Jehovah’s Witness organization that publishes all their books and pamphlets. I contemplated e-mailing this group, and alerting them to the nearly endless list of issues I had with their book. However, that feeling struck me once again, except this time I realized something. I was now an evangelical in my own right. I was the one about to press my beliefs upon someone else, besides I knew that I wasn’t going to change anything. So, I stopped. I put away the book. It’s still in my sock drawer. For another two Friday morning afterwards, the doorbell rang. I didn’t answer. There was no reason. Why disrupt the humdrum?
Title: Re: Help! (w/ writing)
Post by: Yuu on November 19, 2008, 10:57:04 pm
     So, he's basically like Dawkins but didn't eventually pull through?

     What about a family who squanders their money and eventually falls into poverty, just like two-thirds of my country's population?
Title: Re: Help! (w/ writing)
Post by: Draugr on November 20, 2008, 03:31:05 am
The piece is finish. He is me, btw. I don't know is I like being called something like Dawkins. Anyway, what I really need is a good epigraph. The story's dealing w/ evolution vs. creation is only a side-topic and relatively unimportant. The real issue is on the metaphor of keeping the door closed. And why sometimes it's best just to leave things be.
Title: Re: Help! (w/ writing)
Post by: Yuu on November 20, 2008, 07:04:28 am
     Dwakins because he's pretty vocal about his philosophy and isn't afraid to protest it, just like Martin Luther of the Protestant Revolution.

The piece is finish.

     Oh, I see. Well umm, I'm not really good at these things but maybe you could start with something like "To think that I would have also...," "Sometimes I forget...," etc. Something like a phrase that would invoke a sense of shock or surprise as to what had, or almost, happened.

     What are you writing it for anyway? :-\
Title: Re: Help! (w/ writing)
Post by: Draugr on November 20, 2008, 12:57:53 pm
Part for a creative writing class, and part for ****s and giggles.
Title: Re: Help! (w/ writing)
Post by: emmet on November 21, 2008, 01:08:40 pm
"Kicks and giggles?"