Personal Essay

My media teacher insists that I need to write more in a style that sounds like I am holding a conversation. All my life I have been taught to write in a robotic form that when my teacher makes me read it aloud, I sound funny. Not funny haha, funny totally not my actual thought process or how I talk to anyone. If I really spoke like the way I wrote, I probably wouldn't have any friends.
I decided that the only way to break myself of this habit is to write my personal essay in my blog. That way I'd actually manage to sort of sound like I am having a conversation with someone else(you, my dear readers are my loyal editors) So here is my first draft of my personal essay. If anyone really is interested in giving an opinion, be my guest. I just find it strange that when I write in my blog I write in the style my teacher prefers. But tell me to write for class and this all goes out the window. I wonder why? Well, anyway, you've been warned. This is personal. I hope I don't freak anyone out.

When a teacher decides to ask me, "what makes you unique?" I kind of scrunch my eye browns together and make a face similar to a wrinkled up paper bag. I'd first think, which is why I am making that face(I am thinking)about why this is so important to another human being besides my friends and family. I'd probably give the response that goes along the lines of, I am unique because I am who I am. I've lived my life for almost 22 years and plan to keep truckin' until the bucket's kicked out from under me by, hopefully, old age. For those almost 22 years I've experienced a number of personal essay worth experiences to talk about and share, but I'd rather just pick and choose the details from all those stories because they have all, in combination, made me who I am. It'd be silly of me to just pick one and say that this one story makes me different from everyone else. I don't like to show favortism. So in a broad sort of way I'd rather explain how bit by bit these interesting stories have made me the person that I find to be unique from every other person in the world.
Let's begin with the fact that I am artistic. There are people in the world who are not artistic. They have been born with no talent what so ever that is taught at my school. They are not me and I am not them for this really big reason. I kind of like that about myself and it took me a couple of years to accept that having talent ain't so bad. You're probably wondering why I felt that being artistic was a bad thing, I shall explain. Growing up I was bullied for enjoying the act of drawing. Having some sort of a talent and that steroetypical artistic personality made some kids not so fond of me. Now at almost 22 I can make a much more confused face about how people believed having a talen was a bad thing. Really...I wish I could go back and talk to those kids and ask them what was so frightening about someone being more talented than they ever could be; I'd like that answer. But I let bygones be bygones and am happy that my artistic personality is forever going to be a part of my life.
I did not become artistic on my own, who ever does? I was nudged in the direction by my grandfather, father of my father. What an amazing man. To this day I still cry when I think of the day he died. He truly was a blessed man with every intention to make sure I succeeded as an artist. When I visited my grandparents, I rushed downstairs to see him. I wanted to learn everything he knew about art. I watched him paint, I watched him draw. I listened to his explainations and I was overjoyed when he told everyone in my family that I was the artist. I was special and what child doesn't want to feel special? My grandfather's dying words still echo through my mind. It's hard for me to write them down for anyone else to know. If you asked me, I'd probably cry before I could speak them. I devote my passion for art to my grandfather.
But enough with being sentimental, let's go on to something else that makes me cooler than others. How about I discuss when I turned 18 and my freedom went up a few knotches. I ran out and got my first tattoo, something I designed. A week after that I went and pierced my nipples. I bet you didn't think I was that hardcore. Well, I wanted to express who I was, and that number gave me all the tools I needed to do it. My parents could disapprove all they wanted, but I was 18 and trying to control me was useless.


I just totally removed a huge chunk from this thing because I reread it and felt I sounded so conceded. I left a little bit, but.... it still doesn't sound like me... what the hell?!?!?! Why can't I just write like I talk? Why is that soooo hard?????