I am hoping this blog improves my writing style and vocabulary. I have been told that it lacks overall fluency in how it conveys an argument or universally a message as a whole. I am not direct and I rarely address my opinion on a subject. I have a very bad word pool; I use words that give a general focus, not a precise one, in order to minimize error. It is truly sad.
I always had trouble with writing, mainly because I went to many schools and it caused me to be confused due to experiencing different curriculums so rapidly. I never had a voice in the first place nor did I get to exercise any of the new vocab words I would learn due to having no friends or my parents not being able to comprehend and express themselves in a conversation. As a child my mother wrote her essays for me, mainly due to the fact I had poor social skills, as stated above. Her style was so simplistic, I imitated it with ease. My 5th grade teacher also wrote some paragraphs for me in order to help strengthen my arguments. it was very sad. I read books, but not something that was non-fiction. I figured non-fiction was too obvious and easily implied. I read fiction to spark interest and wonder, in a way reading fiction allowed me to escape reality due to the illusion of imagination and therefore avoid any misfortune in my environment,
In High school writing was scary, teachers focused on my handwriting so much that I would often have to rewrite essays for half credit. My writing signified a very nervous and sensitive person. I made it carry a slant to the right end of the paper, this was intentional due to never learning cursive. It helped my handwriting in general become presentable and easy to read, but sometimes I would forget the slant and my writing would be unreadable or just overall frustrating to read.
sophomore year was hell for me. While all of these students in my honors English class had a decent vocabulary I didn’t even know how to form a thesis or an overall argument. I didn’t know what analysis was in writing. This is when I started having memory loss, I would forget eventually what grammar was and what a thesis was, what formed a thesis and how the reader would perceive it as something else, what elements overall effected writing in general have been forgotten at the end of sophomore year. What was even more frustrating was history class, my first AP class. we had weekly essays on certain topics, very obvious topics, but still intriguing. My teacher sometimes could not comprehend what I was even writing on due to different types of pressure I applied and rushing myself. When we had a painting as evidence in essay, I described its value, and my teacher marked this analysis. It wasn’t even similar to the prompt. I just described it so I can help connect the ideas I was trying to portray, but it was overall insufficient because once I described the painting and what it signified I didn’t know what else to say. it was easily implied by my description, my summary I guess. Then I was being hopeful over the possible fact that he thought I was not producing any analysis due to my writing being difficult to read. I kept telling myself this, hoping it was true. Most likely lying to myself.
As I entered IB, people where adapting more faster than me. I felt behind so greatly that I cursed my genetics. I tried my hardest but then I moved back to the school I attended in sophomore year, their IB program was more developed. Kids were comprehending physics problems that would be taught at UC Davis my teacher claimed. I was getting depressed over how my dreams would never come true, the illusion of imagination, of dreaming, was retaliating back. I was never going to go to 4 year university, there is nothing special about me, I have no talents, I was never supposed to be born. My father called me a loser and retarded……..what was funny was that he dropped out of high school…. and borrowed money from others, pretending he would pay them back.
I was very depressed over the fact I failed almost all my classes. I missed almost half of the semester due to laying in bed over my depression. I was hopeless and very heartbroken over the fact that I was never going to be successful, i was going to be like my parents; Acknowledge your children as tools and blame your problems o them, tell them they were never supposed to be born, etc. When I moved back to southern California, my grandmother pulled strings in order to help me graduate High School. I willingly dropped RMHS’s IB program due to being too confused over the different syllabus’s and concentrating on just graduation.
Now I attend a community college and I just want to get by English so badly, just a C would make me feel happy. I am fine with my writing right now, but what makes me feel so distraught is the fact that whenever I read someone’s writing I get so depressed and unhappy over the fact that this person will do better than me in the real world, that they are better than me in every way. I know that my writing is terrible compared to others. It takes roughly an hour for my classmates to write a 600 word paper while form it takes 2 hours. It isn’t even as good as their writing , it’s worse. It lacks a voice and a tone and proper syntax and formality, it lack presentation and aggressiveness.
I am hoping that I pass this class