28 August 2010, 10:03 am
I am posting the introduction here, and the paragraph. The introduction is for reference, but I specifically need help on the paragraph. I need advice on what to cut, how to make it more interesting, and grammar help. Opinions are appreciated as well. Thank you =) Introduction: When I was born in Galveston, Texas, I came into a tight-knit west-end community filled with gossip and tales constantly passing from mouth to mouth. My first memory is not visual, but rather auditory: sitting in the darkness of my room I could hear the roar of the ocean, the murmur of adult lips, then the boom of their laughter. This memory speaks volumes to the years I spent on the Island. Anyone who grows up in such a community knows that there are stories lingering in their back pockets, ready to be told at the drop of the hat, and they understand that this is in some ways necessary for survival; Stories change hand like money; to receive you must give one of your own. Whether it is for the entertainment of a stranger or for the ears of close friends, these stories provide the cement for a connection. They bond us together through their carefully chosen words, their honesty, or their heart. However, today I am not going to tell one of my many tales from the island, even if they are filled with happiness, sorrow, pain and hope. Even if they might be more entertaining, more emotionally satisfying, or more humorous. I am going to tell you how I came to leave my home, and how every day I am drifting further and further apart from my original reality and way of life. Paragraph 1: For the first time in my life everything was perfect, and that made life delicate. If one silly child decided to come and pluck a single thread, the existence would recoil into it’s self, forming a tangle of silk that would slowly drift towards the ground placing the spider in another reality, where even the grass was taller than itself. That was my life at the start of sophomore year at Ball High School. All the pieces fit, and suddenly there was nothing to fix. Life was enjoyable. Yet, there was a nervous tension, almost as if something might go wrong at any moment. No, had to go wrong at any moment. The news stations spun with a flurry of hurricane forecasts. Newscasters and meteorologists were seemingly jubilant about those spinning white swirls that looked like a smear of white paint on a blue canvas, slapped onto our crackling screens. Year after year we were slaves to those screens. But that year, we were tired of worrying. It seemed as if autumn was in full swing, and the summer’s sun burnt tourist had crawled backed to their suburban homes to apply ointment to their raw skin, and to settle back into work and school. Finally, we had the beaches to ourselves. It was our time to play. We ignored the ominous camera crews stationed on the sea wall, with their all seeing eyes atop poles that swayed with harsh ocean breezes, admonishing us for our confidence. And when the time came to finally decide whether this seaside community should leave, the city’s collective conscious forced our mayor to tell us to shelter in place, in mockery of that swirling white splatter on the radar. As if we were saying, “We’ve seen stronger than you, we’re veterans at this game. Go mess with Florida”... Read More »
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