Stressful Assignment

[Justin4848]

You know those times where you just CAN'T do an assignment becaues you can't think of ANYTHING that would work. I'm stuck in a "Biography of a raindrop" assignment. I mean seriously, I thought a life of a raindrop was to drop. Nothing else. And the amount you have to type: Two pages. I don't think a raindrop's "Life" could be summed up in two pages. Infact, it could be summed up in one sentence.
"Mr. Raindrop fell from the sky, all he saw was the ground."

[The Desert Fox]

Justin4848 Wrote:You know those times where you just CAN'T do an assignment becaues you can't think of ANYTHING that would work. I'm stuck in a "Biography of a raindrop" assignment. I mean seriously, I thought a life of a raindrop was to drop. Nothing else. And the amount you have to type: Two pages. I don't think a raindrop's "Life" could be summed up in two pages. Infact, it could be summed up in one sentence.
"Mr. Raindrop fell from the sky, all he saw was the ground."

Holy hell. I've had hellish assignments, but this is officially wins the "Most Pointless Assignment" award. I think what they mean is to do the whole "water cycle" thing. Ya know, "freeze, thaw, evaporate, etc."

[AWOL]

Rain drops do a hell of a lot more than just drop. Get your facts straight before you try telling your teacher it's bullshit.

[Rebelnerd]

Write it from the point of view of an acid raindrop as he gleefully hurls himself towards a cherished limestone statue in a kamikaze attack on the American way of life.

[Justin4848]

AWOL Wrote:Rain drops do a hell of a lot more than just drop. Get your facts straight before you try telling your teacher it's bullshit.

Well, with my 11 year old mind. All I see is what I think they do, and dropping is the first I can think about what a raindrop does. And the teacher expects for it to be a biography, like. A BIOGRAPHY. Where all this crazy crap happens to your raindrop, I like keeping my work from looking like a complete silly piece of crap.

[Night]

...........
too
many
years
of
magic school bus!

[Rebelnerd]

night.artist Wrote:...........
too
many
years
of
magic school bus!

Can't get too much of a good thing.

[AWOL]

Do what rebelnerd said. Conform and rebel, that's the rule of thumb when opposing society.

[Rebelnerd]

What? No! Conformity is bad! I was just trying to come up with a way to make it fun.

[AWOL]

The best way to rebel is to seem that you conform.

[~Mystery~]

just write about some dumbshit like

the drop fell on a birds bright yellow beak which redirected into the inside of a chimney where it was burned and evaporated and then fell in a stream going to the sea after passing by a bunch of bathing egyptians.

it evaporated in the pacific ocean and blah blah blah
rinse and repeat

do this until you get 2 pages.

[magikarp]

Is it supposed to be a 'real' biography, or just a sort of narrative about the raindrop's 'life'? (Like, do you need a time-frame and important events, or can you just tell a story?)

If it's just a story, you could have the raindrop land on a window, and write most of the story about what it 'sees'.

[musicmylife]

haha i had to do this once, i dont know whether it is the same thing you have to do but i had to do it once and oh my it was funny writing. i just completely took the piss and bullshitted the whole story thing, i got a well good mark for it though
i would say i'll find it for you but i ripped up that book and burnt it when i dropped the subject

[random_name]

I had to do this once. Shit boring. I dd it as a comic strip

[SoulRiser]

Technically, as soon as a raindrop splatters or evaporates or whatever, it isn't a rainDROP anymore. So liek WTF.

[AWOL]

You could just do a really philosophical short-lived biography about how it knows it's going to die, but can't do anything about it.

[Aviator]

Biography of a Raindrop

I'm not sure from whence I came, or from what great bodies I was formed from. Just like the beings I will nourish below me, I am made of the nature-processed remains of the drops who fell before me. Each molecule of my being has come from a different source and has a different story to tell, but being the collection of the parts, it is up to me now to forge my own path; or at least ride the one given to me.

As I write this, I am now travelling through the sky, rushed along by the force of gravity and the winds of this altitude. None can feel as free nor imprisoned as I; alone in this world I answer to none, though I will travel no furthur than the good collection of clouds permits. The walls of my cell are these molecules of air, though they feel so right, against me. They decide my destiny now, it is up to them to place me where I must go, to feed the crop, our nourish the stream, or wash the dirt from what lies below.

'Tis chilly up here, higher than most things will ever be. I guess I could count myself lucky. Not many see the world from my perspective, nor feel what I am feeling right now. I don my ball gown, the pieces of me reforming and shifting into a unique pattern, a beautiful white design. I am a picture of symetry, beauty; perhaps one below will write a masterpiece about me, as I know exists about so many of my bretheren.

My decent has slowed now; I catch the wind in the folds of my gown, and drift slowly, though still at the mercy of the winds. My creator, the wind is. It collected the parts of me, and put me together. It is the factor which has decided my entire life. Buffeting from all around, it is the force I feel most involved with; a love hate relationship. My guard, my mother, my government. It shall guide me safely through the skies, or so I can hope.

Lower now, to the ground, the air warms. The ball is over, my chilly dance is done for now. Back to drop form I return; low enough now to see where I might land. The biggest world I will ever know lies before me; perhaps only a few hundred miles in each direction visable; the community I will join, love, and serve.

A stream; oh, wouldn't that be a joy. Babbling, flowing, moving; it is my dream. I appeal to the wind, in my silent, weightless manner, hoping to be placed there. But other choices too exist. A sea of green, waving to me by force of the wind could also be my home. Below them, a world of roots, all wanting, gasping, crowding for me. I could feel wanted there too. The absolute doom of a drop, however; lies directly below me. The wind guiding me to this awful resting place, it would appear. Asphalt, channeling tainted drops to dark storm drains crisscross the landscape. No, not there, anywhere but there... please.

The ground approaches, and to my thankfullness, the wind shifts. For a rough moment, I am sumersaulted by my creator, unsure of my posistion, and then, I slam the ground, my pieces... drifting... apart.... green... green... green...

[AWOL]

That was fucking epic.

[Aviator]

I would say that you could probably psychoanalyze different pieces of that essay, as well. It deals with topics of religion, communism, fate/destiny, and bits of science. I kind of wish I could turn that one in for a grade or some criticism or something - it was good.

I see some revisions I'd make though; so if anyone want's to turn it in for a grade for me (as long as you post the grade and comments for me to see later), let me know, I'll make the revisions, and you can go ahead and do that.

[IllusoryDeath]

Holy......

That was b-beautiful Aviator!

[AWOL]

If I have to do a narrative exam anytime soon (I did my yearly narrative exam a couple days ago, so I probably won't) I'll print it out and cheat.