Pass or die trying

Truthfully, I needed this class to fulfill my requirements. I hate English; I still do. I don’t like writing my ideas down. Reflecting on them makes me feel weird. These things should be ethereal. I say them, then they’re gone, and if they have an impact, my horrible memory will recall it. If not, let it be—that’s how I have always been. It’s my approach to life, and to English. It feels tedious to sit down, as you talk, then type out those words, to then skim through the vomit, picking out pieces that could hold any weight, to then stitch it together into something semi-legible. People who can write are impressive. They stitch language together into a tapestry as if breathing. Their ideas feel as though they come prewritten in their minds, already edited, only needing to be translated to paper. Meanwhile, I struggle, and fumble around. I imagine that writing is for people like that, what drawing is for me. I like drawing, having this idea that when you close your eyes, you see clearly. You break it down into a puzzle in your preferred medium, creating a path to make your idea tangible to others. It’s so rewarding. I can see that being an appeal with writing, but I just don’t resonate. This semester has been a challenge. The topics haven’t been new; they were all things I was assigned in my previous English class. But this time, I really did not want to have to retake it. I appreciate the professor this time around, though. More than anything, not putting down my other professors, but Ms. Noelle was just so honest. Her expectations were clear, and she was truthful with what she wanted from us. It motivated me to get it done this time around. 

It was annoying to write my research essay, but I’m glad I did. It was a topic I genuinely found interesting. I learned a lot about it, a topic I previously was only understanding on the surface. I now have a deeper comprehension of and without that assignment I hated I wouldn’t have had that. I appreciate that. The narrative wasn’t horrible. But I always feel like my writing is lacking . I need to practice, for sure. Looking back, I have to confess that there is a certain satisfaction in seeing an essay through to completion, even though I still hate writing , and without an assignment I probably won’t because no one likes doing hard things. I can understand why people like it now a little bit more . There is a sense of satisfaction when all the words, and sentences that previously made my head hurt start to make a little more sense to me, and to my friend who rereads it for me. It’s nice when it’s over. Even though I may never enjoy writing as much as I do drawing, I can appreciate the skill and effort it takes. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to convey my thoughts in words as I do the pictures in my head into drawings . Until then, I’ll keep trying, if only to pass my classes and to prove to myself that I can. Finally to assess myself this semester I give myself a C- for work, a B+ for effort and an F for time management but lets curve it to a nice B I hope.