Writing Feedback / A short story draft - dirty job, "Dear Diary" comment [7]

so this is my short story draft. there are seperate parts that will be connected in the last draft.
i'd love to hear your comments.

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"Dear Diary,

I have the worst job in the world. Forget all you've seen in the dirtiest jobs show; my job, certainly, is the dirtiest job in the history of jobs.

In this many years that I've been doing this job, I've tried to resign from it like a hundred times, but my boss, oh my boss... he never accepts. He has his own rules well.

This morning I asked for resignation once more.
I cant take it anymore, I'm tired of seeing their scared faces, of listening to them begging for their lives -for another chance- and I'm tired of rejecting them all, of being the heartless guy in all scenarios. I'm tired of hearing their families weeping...

I know that I shouldn't blame myself, 'cause I'm only doing my job, but sometimes I, too, feel sorry for those who I take their lives away...

It's funny but I keep wishing that my time comes sooner. I've seen enough deaths, now I want to touch it myself.
o' well, I have to go now, my pager light is on. urgh..Another mission. later."
-------

I put my black coat on and put the diary in my drawer. I didn't expect another mission this late at night, but well, as I was telling my diary; my boss has his own rules.

-------

I grab my tools and for the a millionth time in my life I wish that this would be the last mission.

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I don't know how is it going to happen this time; a blown up car? a blown up building? or dead with a knife standing in the chest? Or the most recent one; suicide?

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I have a rather quick flight to my mission place.
--------

I was almost right about my mission; it is going to be a building on fire, close to my guess.
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There are children inside; I can feel their beating lives, their enthusiasm for it. They are young people in it, building up their lives. And also there are old people in there, waiting for death; well, tonight is their lucky day.

-----

I wait outside the building till the appropriate time to arrive, while waiting I review my mission once more; 5 apartments out of 49 were going to get fire, and 65 people out of 416 were going to die. Quite fair.

------
My pager goes on again. There was a message waiting. I roll the screen down; it is from my boss's secretary. One familiar sentence "you resignation's not been accepted."

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anger flows into my blood; how could he do it again?
----
I groan madly, if that is the way he wants to ignore me after years and years of my faithful service, I have my way of being careless too.

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Soon the building is on fire, but I am not going to wait for fire to finish them. I myself will do it. One by one. I am not caring if this is not what it was planned, if its not what boss wants, and if its not what these people want.

Who cares about me?
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I finish them all sooner than I usually would do. I don't even know how many did I finish tonight. can't keep track of numbers when I'm angry.

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I sit next to the broken down building, and watch cops and firemen as they ran inside and outside building. I guess my face is just as much in pain as is everybody else's, 'cuz a fireman approaches me and asks if I'm ok, I shake my head, not to his question but to the greet I feel inside. "do you need help sir?" I shake my head again and get on my feet. time to walk away.

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I see people running for their lives. Not much far from me two men are trying to bring a woman back to life, I can smell their sweat, I can feel the life sweeping away from the woman's body. it won't be hard for me to take away their lives, all three of them. but enough lives been taken away tonight. my anger has ruined enough lives.

my pager goes on again. I'm summoned. I was expecting it... he would want to see me after all this. In my heart I wish that his anger will go out of his control and this time he finishes me, although I well know it won't happen. as I pass an open window I hear the news on tv "...356 people are reported dead till this moment. 65 deaths were caused by fire and the other...well, police hasn't found any reason for their deaths yet..." I don't wait to hear the rest.

----
a fast flight back home.
------
And another flight to his office.
It's all dark outside; I take off my coat and drop it on the floor. I don't bother to knock on the door for I know he already knows I'm standing behind his door. when I dare to look up I see him, smiling. "my dear friend, Samael." all my hopes vanishes as I see his calm smiling face. "hey God," I reply back his greetings. he looks at my face, and of course reads my thoughts "don't be disappointed. you know hope is..." I cut him and finish his word myself: "hope is the last thing to die. I know."

"you went mad again tonight, right? or its your counting skills? 65 and 356. its quite a big difference"
"what will happen to those I killed tonight?"
"I will, for sure, give them back the life they lost. I'll send them back to earth again."
"and their families?"
"I'll pay them back for this in heaven."
I stopped asking questions.
"are you still angry?" God asked, placing his arm around my shoulder. "not anymore. I'm perfectly in peace now. you know I cant be mad when I'm around you." I answered. he laughed "well, you're not the only one. I guess no one can."

"so what's up now? I'm fired?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"no my dear, you're not. we've got about a million more man-years to go and you are the one and only death angle I've got."

"God, stop saying that. we both know you can create thousands like me in a second."
God sighs. "so you want thousands more to suffer the way you do?"
I don't say anything. no, I don't, but I don't want to take away lives anymore either. God talks for me, just so I could hear my words "no you don't. but you don't want to take away lives either." he repeated my thoughts. "what is so wrong in taking lives away?" he asked. "what is not wrong with it God? They all hate me; you should see the look on their faces when I pull the life out of their bodies." God cuts me this time "I have seen them all. Every single look. You know that right?"

"right. you got that one. but besides that... you remember that one time -well it was more than one- but that one time that the guy -what was his name? Hitler?- he beat the shit outa me before he gives up his life?"

God laughed bitterly.
"yes, I do remember him very well." God's face fell. he didn't enjoy remembering those who have gave up their humanity before they give up the soul they almost didn't have any more, but soon he put a smile back on, "but you know every job has its own difficulties. Even being God." he paused and then continued; "I understand your pain and suffering, Samael, I really do. I swear to beauty of this night that I understand your pain, as I do understand a deer's pain when it has to give up her life to a lion's survival. or as I understand people's pain when they have to give up their beloved lives to death."

and so I give up arguing with him to the peace of silence. "why did you create death at all?" I ask.
"So there will be life." he answers.
"when mine will come to an end then?"
"soon, my dear, soon."
soon, yes, of course only a million other years.
Gods smiles at my thoughts, and starts humming a song; i close my eyes, and fall asleep in his arms - hoping that it would last forever.

Writing Feedback / The mighty (movie) essay. Max's past. [5]

so i dont know if you guys have seen the movie "the mighty" but its about two boys who make friends and one of them is really big but dumb, or he think he is, and the other one is really smart but he cant walk. the essay i have to write should be about one of these boys' past. i adn my friend decided to write about max, the one with no brain, who has seen his mother being killed by his father when he was five. here it is, plz tell me what u think:]

Max's Past

It was a cold and gloomy night; he was only five years old - too young to know what death meant, what madness meant, what loss meant, and on that night he had to witness them all together. He was just 5 years old boy had to witness his mother being killed. Not even in his craziest nightmares he had never seen what he saw that night before his open eyes.

He was sitting on his bed holding his smooth blue blanket close to his chest, pushing his little fingers into his ears; trying to listen to his heavy breaths instead of what was echoing in his ears. He knew it was not the first time and was not going to be the last time; it was a long time that every night he had to crumple beneath his bed and tremble in fear. Large tear drops were careening down his round pale face. He could hear their voices in the other room; the loud noises echoing throughout his ears. They were yelling at each other; having a fight, again. Sliding out of his bed, he slowly walked over towards his door before gradually opened his door. He finally managed the courage to creep out of his room and gaze at what was unfolding before him. His father had his hand on his mother's throat while her hands wrapped around his arm. Max exhaled a mad cry as he watched what was happening before him. His father looked over at Max then back at his wife, who was now in a heap on the floor, but she was still alive. Max uttered another cry in disbelief at what was happening; he loved his mother, how could his father do something so utterly terrible? Where did this horrifying nightmare come from? He simply couldn't believe it. His mother let out a gasp and choked some before attempting to crawl to the phone to get a hold of the police. When his father noticed what she was doing, he jumped of her frail frame and continued his strangling. His fingers wrapped around her slender throat and began to crush her windpipe for good. Max rushed to them, sobbing in fear and anger; he clenched his fingers around his father's arms and tried to pull him away. When soon he learned that his power was nothing against his dad's, he started scratching, biting and kicking to wherever in his dad's body he could reach. He looked at his mother's face that now was turning gray. He looked into her eyes, where he could always see the burning flame of life, but now they were cold and dark. A new and unknown fear flew into his veins: what was happening to her? Why wasn't she screaming anymore? Why wasn't she struggling anymore?

With a mad insane cry, he reached his father's hair and started pulling them as hard as he could. His father, finally, let go of his mother's throat, but before Max wanted to think of it as a victory a cold clumsy hand pound him in the face...

Writing Feedback / "the chase" story [4]

this is a part of a short story, i need some grammerical check, and also i'd like to know where in the story is it hard to follow? is it boring? if so where in this piece u lose ur interest in reading? where it stops flowing?

i really appreciate ur thoughts, it means a ot to me.:)

"I'm sorry for all that is happening, but..."

"But what? You can't deny anything. It was you. This whole shit is about you. IT WAS YOU who got me into this. IT WAS YOU whom they were after. IT IS FOR YOU that I'm now in the middle of nowhere..." I yelled at him with the loudest and wildest voice that had ever come out of my mouth.

He cut my word, "I'm sorry. I wish I could take you back. I would do anything to get you back." he paused and looked down, "I wish I could go back in time, I promise I would fix everything this time" he murmured, and this time I knew I he wasn't talking to me anymore.

We stood there in silence under the dying light of moon and stars for a very long moment, and not for a second we moved our eyes; his fixed on the ground and mine on his tired face.

At last, I decided to break the silence rather to lighten the heavy guilt that was growing on my heart,

"I'm s..." .

Something banged not so far behind us, and I felt my heart fell somewhere far down in my stomach; apparently I wasn't the only one who had decided to break the silence. I gazed at him on horror and confusion, "How did they fin-"

Something exploded again, this time a few feet away from us, and it finished my question with a hysterical scream; it was then that someone started shooting. Without any intention I found myself crumbled on the muddy ground, clenching my frozen fingers behind my head. I saw a bullet digging deep down into the mud next to me, I knew it was only because of the twilight that I wasn't shot yet, but I also knew I had to move or it was death that was awaiting me. But in my whole body not a single cell had the nerve to move, I was as stiff as a stone. Fear had stamped me to the ground.

It was his cry that brought me back to earth,

"RUN!" he shouted, "RUN, DAMN IT, RUN!"

I looked up at him that was standing next to me, dragging me up by my shoulders; His face was paler that the moon that was shining above his head.

I got on my shaking feet and I started running with him. I ran with the all the strength I had, and with the fastest speed I could afford.

Soon my feet were barely touching the ground; I had never ever run this fast in my life. I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be ever able run this fast. I ran with him.

I ran for my life.

Essays / BCC ESSAY on my academic life and career goals - I don't know what do I wanna do in future as my job [24]

i have to write a one page essay on my academic and career goals. i dont know where to start and what to say, worst of all i dont even know what do i wanna do in future (as my job). i really need some ideas... plz help.

Book Reports / "the right stuff" book report. [5]

I know I know...I'm one of those ppl who do things at the very last moment. Its called laziness :).
i'll appreciate anyone who reads this...
i'll garantee that u will find thousands of grammerical mistakes :)
enjoy!
(seriously, i need heeeelp! soooooon)
btw, these are the contents we need to have:
Write a summary of the book that includes a minimum of five integrated and cited (page numbers) quotes. You must explain why you think these particular quotes are of significance to gaining an understanding of the book's content.

2. An evaluation of the book's purpose. Why did the author write the book? Is the book historically important (WHY)? Does it give the reader important information (WHY)? What sort of reader does the book seem to target and why do you think this is so? Do you think the author may have been biased by personal experience or other factors (WHY)?

3. Your personal reaction to the book, which can include the author's style, the information included in the book, or as a comparison to other material you have read or studied in the classes.

and here's it the essay.

The right stuff tells the untold story of those who were a part of the America's first effort to put men in space -which itself, was part of the "space race" that was going on between United stated and the Soviet Union. Although the race was on exploration and technical promotions, but Tom Wolfe, the author prefers to focus on the personal lives of the pilots and astronauts, on their wives, hardships of their lives and their thoughts and concerns.

For several times the author mentions the way pilot's wives think and feel about their husbands' job, such as, "As far as the wives were concerned, their outlook was the same as that of officers' wives generally, only more so. The main thing was not to say or do anything that reflected badly upon your husband." Chapter 6, Page 125 , or as mentioned in second chapter, "Sometimes, when the young wife of a fighter pilot would have a little reunion with the girls she went to school with, an odd fact would dawn on her; they had not been going to funerals." page 22.

The "Mercury Seven" -the name which was later given to seven astronauts- were John Glenn, Gus Grissom, Alan Shepard, Scott Carpenter, Deke Slayton, Gordon Cooper and Wally Schirra, Whom their only alive and present members are John Glenn and Scott Carpenter. Wolfe also involves some political reasons of putting people in the space in his book.

The author tries to put the astronauts in contrast to the Edwards test pilots, and the best of them Chuck Yeager; A brave and very skilled man with "Only a high-school education, no credentials, no cachet or polish of any sort" Chapter 3, Page 35. In his time Yeager was referred to as "the best of the bests" and as Wolfe notes, he was "was the drawl of the most righteous of all the possessors of the right stuff" Chapter 3, page 35. Yeager also was the first man to break the sound barrier at October 14, 1947, flying the Bell X-1.

President Eisenhower asked for test pilots who were "under five feet eleven and no older that thirty-nine" page 59. Also they had to be " graduates of test-pilot schools, with at least 1,500 hours of flying time and experience in jets, and that they have bachelor's degrees 'or the equivalent'." Page 59. Yeager, despite of his skills and experiences, couldn't make it to the "Seven Mercury" because of his education which was no higher that high school. However there were many other test pilots who couldn't make it to the Mercury seven for other reasons, such as Pete Conrad, who couldn't pass the Medical tests.

At the end of the book authors mentions that the mood of the country has changed, Russians are not as of a big threat anymore and so aren't the astronauts as great of national heroes anymore. Yeager gets a narrow escape from death in one of greatest plane tests, that was a big hope in developing a space based military, and others are eventually forgotten by people.

I think that "The Right Stuff" is a good book as far as its audience is normal status people, because you will not find any technical or scientific term that you find extremely hard to understand or to distract you from what Wolfe is really trying to tell you; the story of great people who became national heroes, their lives, and their families and the way of a country to improvement and promotions. Although sometimes it glamorize and praises some characters too much (such as Yeager) but I never felt like the author had been biased by his personal ideas.

Considering this book a work of nonfiction, "The Right Stuff" is a very popular and successful book. It seems like many people have liked Wolfe's way of telling this true story; talking about astronauts and pilots as heroes and glamorizing them, or in the other words, telling a nonfiction story in a fiction way.

Personally, I did not like author's style. It's probably just because of my very personal taste; while reading a nonfiction book I expect to receive a shower of facts and details in each page, not stuff like how the person was feeling like or what was he thinking about his wife. It appeals to many people but not to me.

For me it was sometimes hard to keep on reading because author was talking too much about unnecessarily details and I felt like it was really boring. However, at some points, Wolfe had done a very good job on describing important and breath taking moments, such as when Yeager was breaking the sound barrier or the mission that almost killed him.

Generally, "The Right Stuff" was a good piece of work; it does not disappoint most of the people who choose to read it. I chose it because I'm interested in astronomy and space, and although it kind of disappointed me in this case, I think I might recommend it to some friend in future.

Undergraduate / Galaxies and Stars - BC essay. your career and academic goals. [4]

so maybe some of you remember this, but this is not the exact same essay, i changed some stuff so it would match the new subject. this essay was written for the subject "an influential experience". but the problem is that i think although i changed it a little bit but still some stuff dont match...

thats why i need your help :)
i'll truly appreciate it...

In Love of Sky, Galaxies, Stars

Since I was a child, I have always been in love with the sky. The world behind the blue has always been a mystery; something both unknown and admirable. I had so much thirst for something new and untouched; I always wanted to go beyond the world that I knew, leave earth, experience new things, risk and discover. Well, unfortunately, it took me 16 years to understand that I don't need to pass the atmosphere to do so, not necessarily. Actually, it is all here on earth. It has always been.

When I was born my parents named me Newsha -meaning "a good listener" in Persian- and 13 years later, in middle school, I realized there was a gift given to me wrapped in my name: "It seemed like I really was a good listener." Soon I found myself listening to people who didn't have anyone but me to listen to them, and helping them as much as I could. I heard about other sides of people; the side that was always hidden to others because of either shyness or shame. I found a great joy in helping each of them, feeling more happiness than they would as I saw them succeed.

I started to discover people instead of the world by looking into the corners of their minds. I saw the world through their eyes, helped them find what they needed and in the process of doing so, I myself found a whole new world inside each person, a world much greater than the earth and the skies. After all, now that four years is passed, when I think of what I truly want to do for the rest of my life, nothing but one answer pops in my mind: "helping and discovering people".

Although, I have to confess that I still love the sky. After all this time, sky is still gorgeous and mysterious, but I don't think I would want to leave earth anymore, not as long as there are still people out there, millions of them; people that I can love, people that I can help, and people that I can be friends with. I think it will be a shame if I never dare to go out, find them and hold their hands.

I would like to stay on earth with people and their unique worlds.
Galaxies and stars? They will always have time for me.

Writing Feedback / April's first day essay - A Quick Grammer Check [5]

April's first day

Again waking up early...6 in the morning.
Like all other days, it's cloudy...but I decide not to let the weather spoil my day. I fight back.
***
It rains a little bit when I'm waiting for the bus, but it doesn't take too long; like always my bus is on time.

The driver is back after two weeks in France. I know he had lost his mother, I decide to sympathize with him...
I get on the bus...
I said nothing.
***
On the way that driver talks on the microphone that he's so glad that he's back and then he adds that today we have an emergency drill and we are all going to take the emergency door on the ceiling.

The bus bursts into wipers and giggles; middle school boys are excited and girls are nervous.
I wonder how am I going to do this with my huge backpack, and how am I going to jump down.
My bus driver continues that, if anyone thinks he/she can't do it just tell him. It kind of tempts me, but the excitement for something new wouldn't let me say anything.

Finally the driver finishes his speech with telling us today's date.
***
We get to school in no time. I tighten my backpack strips and get ready, but in my surprise, everyone takes the same door as usual. I wonder why, I decide to ask why.

I get off the bus.
I didn't ask anything.
****
In school the scream of "April's fool day" is everywhere... And so I plan to do a prank on my friends; I'll tell them that I'm moving away.

The first period is over, and I walk out of the class.
I did no prank.
***
The rest of school is just terrible...I guess I've finally given up to weather.
***
When we get out of school, the sun is out. Walking to my bus, I wonder again, that why we didn't get out of the ceiling door. I pass a group of girls and one of them shouts "Aprils fools' day", and I remember the driver's last sentence.

I smile and step up into the bus.