Please help! Input desperately needed! (777 hits)
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Submitted by Cassiopeia has a bellybutton! (View user info) at 2004-09-08 22:42:33 EDT
Calling all picky readers and grammar police! Below is a paper for my night english class- The topic is "A Significant Place." I need to turn it in tommorow. I've gone over it too many times and cannot pick at it much more. I've had other friends review it and critique it, but it still sucks more balls than Jenna Jameson, and I need more help!
Please, if you are any good at seriously critiquing a paper, I am begging for your help! Please provide any input in a review!!! Hopefuly there will be some diamonds in the rough to help me out with this...
I was by no means a military brat, but I sure did have my fair share of moving. My family moved wherever the job would lead them, or even when they just wanted a change of scenery. My father even quoted a song that he considered to be our theme song. Tom Petty sang "I feel summer creeping in and I'm tired of this town again." And so we moved. Although we moved all over the Midwest and northern United States, we always seemed to return to one town, one neighborhood in particular. The 500 block of Broadway Avenue in Wayzata, Minnesota.
I had the same friends every time we moved back. Every time I would tell them I was moving again, they would always make a smart comment like, "See you in a month!" There were too many going away parties to count. Nevertheless, I would faithfully return to the same group of friends. We called ourselves "Club 6."
We all lived on the same street block, all only one or two houses from each other. The block was shaded by large leafy trees, and was occupied by friendly neighbors who were accustomed to our crazy ways. There was a big hill at the top of our block. My friends Alyssa, John, and Josh were all siblings, and lived at the top of the hill. The three of them would rollerblade down the bumpy road to the middle of the hill to meet me at my house, and then the four of us would rollerblade with teeth chattering down the bumps to the bottom of the hill, where our friends Tara and Ryan lived.
"Club 6" consisted of three girls, three boys, each of us only about one or two years apart in age. We were all in Elementary school, but our "Club 6" was as close as a friendship could ever get. We did the usual kid stuff on our block, playing tag, climbing trees, rollerblading up and down the hill of block 500... but there was one thing in particular that took most of our time. Our fort.
Our fort was buried in the forest along side a creek on Broadway Avenue. I can still remember the piney smell from all of the trees surrounding us. This was our home away from home, our secret little getaway. When we wanted to escape the parents, this is where we would meet. The only members allowed were us six. Although I knew all of my friends perfectly, we had a password. If they forgot the password, they were not getting in! I made the password up when I was playing with some small wooden houses that my mother owned. Each house had a letter on it, and it spelled out "Welcome." I decided to scramble the letters, and make our password from that. The password ended up being "We-Lem-Co." I was the guard, and I would not let anyone in unless they knew the password.
"What's the password?" I demanded of my good friend, blocking any possible entry to our sacred place. He just stood there, his eyes looking up and around as if searching his brain for the agreed password. "I'm not letting you in until you get the password right!" My friend Ryan turned around and ran back across the colored fall leaves to his house to obtain the key to access our private, secret, confidential fort.
As young as we were, I'd say that we were pretty crafty. [<-- THIS SENTENCE BOTHERS ME!] We would knock down smaller trees and use them to build a bridge across the creek. We would lay two trees across the creek, and my Dad would bring home extra wood from work. We would lay the wood slabs across the two trees, and create a bridge. This is where the entry was to our fort. We would remove the last few boards from the bridge to deny trespassers access to our secret fort.
We had the fort setup as if it were an actual home. We obtained many of our furnishings from the yearly neighborhood spring cleaning junk day. Every year in the spring, our neighborhood would clean out their homes, and put their entire junk collection out on the side of the street. Since we were little kids, finding these kinds of treasures for free was amazing for us! We had everything from a vacuum cleaner, to some old tires for chairs, to an old painting we nailed to a tree, and yes, even a kitchen sink. We treated it as if it were our secret home. We would make stew from random things in the forest and pretend to eat the messy smelly slop. We had some cut up logs for chairs. We used acorns as whistles. We had fish nets to clean garbage out of the creek to keep it clean. We cleaned and took care of this place because it was our pride and joy. [<-- TOO MANY SENTENCES BEGINNING WITH WE!]
Most people can also recall a bully they had when they were a kid. There was one bully who often ruined our fort. Her name was Stacy. She also lived on our block; however, she was very mean. We would not let her in our club. She threw our chairs and ruined our bridge and threw everything we had into the creek. It was always so saddening to see our treasures floating in the creek. We rebuilt our sacred place many times because of our bully. Even though this occurred so often, we always rebuilt, and kept having our meetings and "Club 6" fun.
I can remember one morning I went to the fort with my friend Tara. We saw a small rainbow shining in through the trees down to the ground. It was probably about six inches wide. I wiggled my small fingers around in the bright light. I can remember how we both thought that it was God, so we went and told everyone at school. Of course nobody believed us, but it is still fun to look back and remember how much I truly believed that I had seen God that day right on our very own 500 block of Broadway Avenue.
My family has not moved back to Wayzata, Minnesota in almost ten years. I still wonder what has happened to our fort since we all grew up and moved on. Has the creek grown into a river? Possibly it has dried up and been forgotten. Maybe it has been filled in and built over with homes. Perhaps there is a new generation of children enjoying the splendors of the fort. I hope that someday I can return to the old block to get the answers. Once I step foot on that road, the memories of my childhood and of that 500 block of Broadway Avenue will swirl and dance in my mind. Memories of the "Club 6," our bridges, our bullies, and even our kitchen sink.
And now, a random picture.
User Reviews
Submitted by Cassiopeia (user info) at 2004-09-09 13:28:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Speacial thanks to Quasiplasmohedron and blujnbbyqn (thank god for cut and paste, I dont know how you two can log in every day with those names! :) Thanks again for all your help and advice!!!!
Submitted by Cassiopeia (user info) at 2004-09-09 13:26:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
All of your help is sincerely appreciated!!!!!!!!
I'm gonna tweak it a little more when I get off work--
THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH!!! :)
... and no I wont show you my tits. Sorry.
Submitted by I_Have_a_Kristen_Fetish (user info) at 2004-09-09 06:53:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by blujnbbyqn (user info) at 2004-09-09 03:17:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
You asked for emergency help and I have done what I could with your story. I have taken great liberties in a few areas and only tweeked the phrasing in the rest. In spite of the moaning and groaning this will get I am just going to paste my revision here. I'm no expert but I did what I could.
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Whether it was gypsy blood or a severe case of wander lust, my father just couldn't stay still. Frequently (crooning off-key) he would sing part of a verse by Tom Petty "I feel summer creeping in and I'm tired of this town again.". He considered that to be our theme song. And so we moved. We moved all over the Midwest and northern United States, yet we always seemed to return to one town, one neighborhood in particular; the 500 block of Broadway Avenue in Wayzata, Minnesota.
Same faces and same friends every time we moved back. When the urge hit Dad I would tell them I was moving again. They would always make a smart comment like, "See you in a month!" There were too many going away parties to count. We all knew I would eventually return. Always to the same gang of close friends. So close that we called ourselves "Club 6."
Living on the same street block, with only one or two houses separating each other friendship was almost pre-ordained. The block was shaded by large leafy trees, and occupied by neighbors accustomed to our crazy, childhood ways. There was a big hill at the top of our block. At the top of the hill my friends Alyssa and her brothers John, and Josh lived . The three of them would roller blade down the bumpy road to the middle of the hill to meet me at my house. From there the four of us, with teeth chattering, would skate down the bumps to the bottom of the hill. Tara and Ryan lived at the bottom and completed our "Club 6".
The three girls, three boys, all only one or two years apart in age but about as close as kids can get. Grade school is an ideal time for making fast friends and boy did we ever hold fast! We did the usual kid stuff on our block, playing tag, climbing trees, skating up and down the hill of block 500... but there was one thing in particular that took most of our time. our fort, The Fort.
Buried in the forest along side a creek on Broadway Avenue our Fort was as cool as cool can get. The Fort was our home away from home, our secret little getaway. When we wanted to escape our parents, The Fort is where we would meet. Member only in The Fort and the six of us were the only members. Membership aside, we still had a password. I made the password up when I was playing with some small wooden houses that my mother owned. Each house had a letter on it, and it spelled out "Welcome." I decided to scramble the letters, and make our password from that. The password ended up being "We-Lem-Co."
As sentry of The Fort I took this password business seriously. If they forgot the password, they were not getting in! "What's the password?" I demanded of my good friend one day, blocking any possible entry to our sacred place. Poor kid just stood there, eyes looking up and around, searching his brain for the agreed password. "I'm not letting you in until you get the password right!" I stated authoritatively. Forgetful Ryan had to turn around and run back across the colored fall leaves to his house to obtain the password. While I was on duty only the password would grant access to our private, secret, confidential clubhouse; The Fort.
Imagination and ingenuity also kept The Fort safe and secure. We would knock down smaller trees and use them to build a bridge across the creek. Using the extra wood my Dad would bring home from work we would lay wood slabs across the two trees, and create a bridge. To deny trespassers access to The Fort. we would remove the last few boards from the bridge
The Fort was set up as if it were an actual home. Every spring, our neighborhood would clean out their homes and put their entire junk collection out on the side of the street. Since we were little kids, finding these kinds of treasures for free was amazing for us! We had everything from a vacuum cleaner, to some old tires for chairs, to an old painting we nailed to a tree, and yes, even a kitchen sink. We treated The Fort as if it were our own secret home. We would make stew from random things in the forest and pretend to eat the messy smelly slop. We had some cut up logs for chairs. We used acorns as whistles. We had fish nets to clean garbage out of the creek to keep it clean. The Fort was our pride and joy.
There was one major threat to The Fort. It's name was Stacy. Stacy also lived on our block. She was widely known as the neighborhood bully. Denied membership to our club and The Fort, Stacy took any opportunity to trash The Fort if it was unguarded. She threw our chairs and ruined our bridge and threw everything we had into the creek. Saddened and maddened to see our treasures floating in the creek, we rebuilt our sacred place many times. We always rebuilt The Fort, and kept having our meetings and "Club 6" fun.
I can remember one morning I went to The Fort with my friend Tara. We saw a small rainbow shining in through the trees down to the ground. It was probably about six inches wide. I wiggled my small fingers around in the bright light. I can remember how we both thought that it was God. Excited by what we saw, we hurried to school and told everyone of our 'vision'. All these years later I forget their laughter and pay no mind to their words. Now I am awed at how much I truly believed that I had seen God that day long ago. It is one of many reasons to look back fondly on my days at The Fort
It's been ten years and my family has not moved back to Wayzata, Minnesota. I still wonder what has happened to The Fort since we all grew up and moved on. Has the creek grown into a river? Possibly it has dried up and been forgotten. Maybe it has been filled in and built over with homes. Perhaps there is a new generation of children enjoying the splendors of The Fort. Maybe someday I will return to the neighborhood of my youth. Until then, the memories of my childhood and that of the 500 block of Broadway Avenue swirl and dance in my mind. Memories of the The Fort, "Club 6," our bridges, our bully, and even our kitchen sink.
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Michelle
Submitted by Quasiplasmohedron (user info) at 2004-09-09 01:33:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
"Maybe it's been filled in and built over with homes, or perhaps there's a new generation of children enjoying the splendors of the fort."
I think this would be better. Unless there is some rule against using contractions, you should use them because it sounds akward and mechanical to always be saying "there is" and "I have" etc.. Don't use contractions everywhere, but make enough use of them so that your cadence is varied. Also, a bunch of short sentences in a row makes it sound like a kid's writing. Write a little more naturally like you do in your posts here - it sounds like you are trying too hard to be formal.
Submitted by Quasiplasmohedron (user info) at 2004-09-09 01:14:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I disagree with Jack - but makes more sense than and.
How about something like "Despite our youth, we were pretty crafty."?
You have to many sentences beginning with 'we' and 'we would' - even replacing some of the we woulds with we'ds would add a little variety (unless contractions are frowned upon in your class).
Some of your sentences are too short - try combining them, as in "There were some cut up logs for chairs and we used acorns as whistles." If you can bury some of those we's in the middles of sentences that will help.
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2004-09-09 00:56:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
show me your tits.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2004-09-08 22:48:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought it was nicely done. The only change I would recommend is as follows: "We were all in Elementary school, but our "Club 6" was as close as a friendship could ever get." Change to "school AND our". The topic and writing style a great!