[Another creative essay from meee. this time in a place where posts count! 8D Also, I edited out last names. No stalking me today, kiddies. <3 Anyway, CnC is appreciated and let's go! And the formatting is off because going from Word to KHV is terrible.] If I’ve ever inherited any part of my parents’ personality, it had to be the single worst trait. Although they’re amazing people, this one thing just seems to be omnipresent in whatever they do; location doesn’t matter, nor does the manner in which they are doing things. All that matters is this plague like trait I try to avoid, yet, can never seem to escape. Sometimes, I even find myself pleading in my head to some external force out there that one day, if I am actually halfway loved by the world, I can stop attracting strange people. I first noticed this disease around the time I was five. I had just joined the Kindergarten class at elementary school. Considering that I was a walking tool until the age of fifteen, it’s horribly obvious how utterly incapable I was at conversation. During story time on the rug, I stayed in the corner, clinging to it with the hope that I can maybe avoid having to…communicate. Somehow I managed to make it through, despite scratches on my hand from holding the rug so hard. As I was moving around the desks (I was far too chubby to simply squeeze between them), I noticed a girl at my desk. Instantly, I prepared myself for the greatest war my mind could comprehend: the forces of Not being an awkward failure versus the great army of I AM INCOMPETENT AT SPEECH. Surprisingly, I was able to squeak out a “What do you want†to the girl. (Yes, I know it was rude but I was five and terrible at speaking; sue me). She merely smiled, moving away from the desk and hugged me. At this point, my mind was officially shot; this absolute stranger was hugging me and I didn’t know what to do. To my relief, she had let go and went to her own desk. Although I can barely recall her now, whenever the subject of Kindergarten is brought up, my mom reminds me: Hey, you should check on Facebook for that one girl, Melanie. After I complete the pile of homework I have tonight, I figure I will: if only to try and find the first person my internal “Strange Magnet†has attracted. It was only until I came to high school that I had managed to block the magnet’s signal. Coming into high school the very first day of Seventh Grade had, to be blunt, drained away all of my confidence I had the previous year. As such, I was back to that good old “Carpet Clinging Kindergarten†stage. My mom had accompanied to help me open my locker, but I then left her in a hallway full of enough Alex clones to satisfy her Good Samaritan needs. As my first period class was Math, I naturally migrated there hoping to possibly make it through the day without looking like a bumbling fool. As soon as I walked through the door, I found a boy with dreadlocks dancing around the room. I had told myself that I was ready for anything; that I was an unstoppable master of preparation. However, that lie was quickly shot down as the boy grabbed me and started force me to dance around. Throughout this, I believed wholeheartedly I was going to end up flying out of the window. This was the day I met my friend Khari; although we’re bros to this day, he’s probably the largest catches of the strange magnet. Eventually, others began to swarm into me as well. It was as though this “Strange Magnet†was growing ever stronger, and the people attracted all the more strange: Zachary (I’m extremely convinced he will one day kill someone with a gun concealed in his afro during one of his periodic (see, it's funny since he seems to PMS every other day) fits of rage.) Danielle (Someone who, as defined by her, Valerie, Wade and I, is such a whore that she should be nothing but a cocktail of diseases inherited from her imprisoned emo man slave by the age of thirty-five.) Aubrey (We have literally discussed building a dinosaur with transmutable missile launchers for hands, toenail lasers and the ability to breathe rainbow mist.) Valerie (I’d like to say all of our conversations are perfectly sane and donot devolve into something regarding horrible creations spawned from our imaginations, but then I’d be lying.) Wade (I-I can’t even begin to properly describe an example of the things we’ve talked about. But two words: liposuction dildo.) Amanda (It involved Masterminds, seduction, and homicide. Not to mention having our friend, Martin, include an “Ode to Syphillis†in his graduation speech.) Lee (If I recall correctly, there was mention of azure wolves and prostitues.) Rosie (“Rosie…why are you in my pants?â€) Although I have scaled the lands in search for an off button to this attraction, I can’t help but think just how empty life would be without it. If it wasn’t for this strange pull, I would have never met the aforementioned people, and probably would just continue being the kid that sits in the corner thinking about the dream to win the Battle City Tournament and be the King of Games. Yet, now that I think of it, I myself am of this strange breed. Seeing as how I just mentioned wanting to live the plot of a cartoon when I was younger, I do think it’s pretty safe to agree. In either case, I’m about to return to Facebook: Valerie, Danielle and I are holding an intense conversation of the mind scarring things we discover through the Internet, all the while considering investing in a jug or two of brain bleach…
Alright, it's an essay not a story, I'll start by acknowledging that much so I won't be able to look at this normally. Either way, I feel like there should be a certain level of respect for the medium in the form of formality. This is not a conversation and it is not stream of consciousness. Therefore, emphasis should be achieved through diction and syntax rather than the capitalization of words and phrases wholesale, and personal parenthetical asides can be avoided by simply saying it outside of parentheses. There's more but that and the other things I could mention are all based on some opinion or another, not any real rule for the format. Take that under consideration. There are, though, technical problems you should probably look for in editing. Mark-Up: Spoiler If I’ve ever inherited any part of my parents’ personalities(plural entity not singular parents' is the same as saying "my mother and father's" so treat it the same way), it would have(it's not a done deal, it's an if so write accordingly) to be the single worst trait. Although they’re amazing people, this one thing just seems to be omnipresent in whatever they do; location doesn’t matter, nor does the manner in which they are doing things. (Transition from this sentence to the next might need a little tightening up it seems like a slight jump)All that matters is this plague like trait I try to avoid, yet, can never seem to escape. Sometimes, I even find myself pleading, in my head, to some external force out there that one day, if I am actually halfway loved by the world, I can stop attracting strange people. I first noticed this disease around the time I was five. I had just joined the Kindergarten class at elementary school. Considering I was a walking tool until the age of fifteen, it’s horribly obvious how utterly incapable I was at conversation.(Is it really? Seems like a bit of a leap in logic even if you are calling yourself a tool in the sense of a ******y ****** or mindless drone used by others) During story time on the rug, I stayed in the corner, clinging to it with the hope that I can maybe avoid having to…communicate. Somehow, I managed to make it through, despite the(I'm fair sure there needs to be a connecting word between despite and scratches) scratches on my hand from holding the rug so hard. (When'd you start moving towards your desk? No conclusive ending to story time)As I was moving around the desks (I was far too chubby to simply squeeze between them), I noticed a girl at my desk. Instantly, I prepared myself for the greatest war my mind could comprehend: the forces of Not being an awkward failure versus the great army of I AM INCOMPETENT AT SPEECH. Surprisingly, I was able to squeak out a “What do you want” to the girl. (Yes, I know it was rude but I was five and terrible at speaking; sue me). She merely smiled, moving away from the desk and hugging(parallel structure) me. At this point, my mind was officially shot; this absolute stranger was hugging me and I didn’t know what to do. To my relief, she had(this word is unnecessary it screws up the tenses in the sentence and doesn't contribute to anything) let go and went to her own desk. Although I can barely recall her now, whenever the subject of Kindergarten is brought up, my mom reminds me: Hey, you should check on Facebook for that one girl, Melanie. After I complete the pile of homework I have tonight, I figure I will: if only to try and find the first person my internal “Strange Magnet” has attracted. (Jump much, where did you go from it bringing people to you in Kindergarten to a dry spell?)It was only until I came to high school that I had managed to block the magnet’s signal. Coming into high school the very first day of Seventh Grade had, to be blunt, drained away all of my confidence I had the previous year.(Feels like you're referring back to something that isn't there, I don't know if it's just my favor of straightforwardness or if you should change this to make it ore sensible) As such, I was back to that good old “Carpet Clinging Kindergarten” stage. My mom had accompanied to help me open my locker, but I then left her in a hallway full of enough Alex clones to satisfy her Good Samaritan needs. As my first period class was Math, I naturally migrated there hoping to possibly make it through the day without looking like a bumbling fool.(Sorry, I don't see the cause and effect relationship here) As soon as I walked through the door, I found a boy with dreadlocks dancing around the room. I had told myself that I was ready for anything; that I was an unstoppable master of preparation. However, that lie was quickly shot down as(when might be a better word to match up the times for the shooting down and grabbing, as just gives me bad grammar vibes) the boy grabbed me and started force me to dance around. Throughout this, I believed wholeheartedly I was going to end up flying out of the window. This was the day I met my friend Khari; although we’re bros to this day, he’s probably the largest catch of the strange magnet. Eventually, others began to swarm into(that's what she said(but seriously, you should definitely use an appropriate word here like towards, around or onto even)) me as well. It was as though this “Strange Magnet” was growing ever stronger, and the people attracted all the more strange: I'm gonna cut it off there and let it sit. My word isn't law, but I am trying to follow the standards and rules of the English language as close as possible. Advice number one: edit. Advice number two: get someone else to edit. Advice number three: Don't be afraid of markups like a certain someone who apparently took one of my generous red editing a little hard. The markups are supposed to stand out so you can see them and learn from them or totally shoot them down because you're so goddamn sure you're right. I think that's all. Even if it isn't, I'm ending it here.
It's interestingly different. As Jiku (I refuse to call you Ms. Black) mentioned, for an "essay", it does lack formality. However, I don't believe this is something that necessarily needs correcting. If it's your style, I think it looks mostly reads fine in that department. You mentioned that you inherited the "trait" from your parents, but you never mentioned how your parents had had this happen to them as well. Some more history to it, perhaps? c: I'm not quite as handy with catching syntax errors, but I'm pretty sure that's been covered. xD Overall, I quite like it. Were you writing it for an assignment?
