Hi, I'm an international student from Italy and I really need someone to proofread my Common App essay and tell if it's too informal. I have been a bit ironic, but I don't know if that's ok.
While you're at it, could you please also point out flow/content/grammar that you think doesn't sound quite right?
Any help would be much appreciated!
Here's the essay.
"In the beginning was the boy, and the boy carried a giant sword, and rode a giant dragon.
He lived in a world where cats talked and motorcycles flew and everything was fun, except that Mr. Big Baddie -- a very, very creepy old man -- was trying to take over that same world.
Of course, the boy would eventually defeat B.B., because he was the Chosen One, the Saviour, the Child Of Destiny and so on.
The boy's name was K. and he was the main character of the first comic I drew in my life.
I cannot remember what exactly inspired the five-year-old me to take up a pencil and make heroic and brave K. come to life. My guess is that I read Mickey Mouse and watched Japanese cartoons, thought "that was cool" and decided to turn my admiration into imitation. I certainly didn't lack the will nor the time to do it. Therefore I started drawing, and filled notebooks upon notebooks -- clean, blank paper was too expensive -- with K.'s adventures.
As I flip through those pages now, I am convinced that nobody but me could make any sense of them: no speech bubbles -- I didn't know how to write yet; no panels -- too much of a hassle to do; no discernible logical story -- just blue-haired K. walloping villains and winning allies over through the Power of Friendship (or was it Love?).
It does get better though: here, the first onomatopoeia; there, the hint of a plot. Deciphering some hastily scribbled dates, one could deduce that those were the years I was in Primary school, going through the enlightning and formidable stage of life commonly referred as "socializing with other kids".
Then, in about the sixth/seventh notebook, the general trend startes to change.
Suddenly, no character smiles anymore. K., who has become more and more of a bitter, selfish and ill-spirited loner certainly does not help. The world still needs to be saved, but the Hero despises the world. Only his best and only friend the Dragon can understand him; the rest of the people are just annoying insects that can be swatted away with a slash of his Ebony blade.
He who fought monsters has, indeed, become a monster himself.
It is not hard to imagine the author of such brilliant narrative as a frustrated, angsty middle-school teenager; which, as a matter of fact, I was.
A couple of years (and creative writing books) later, K. turned into a somewhat more balanced person, at peace with himself. It was not as he had any illusion about the harsh nature of his world -- somewhere along the way, cats had stopped talking and motorcycles had started causing pollution; but he now knew how to make lemonade (and the occasional cake) if life gave him lemons. He had few close friends, but cherished them all dearly.
Most importantly, he was a Chosen Hero no longer. The new K. fought because he wanted to know, to know and understand the treacherous-yet-beautiful world he lived in: how it worked, why it changed, how he could make a difference with his own abilities.
I have written and drawn many other stories in my life, but I have never managed to conclude the story of K., which is still ongoing.
I am truly fond of those old notebooks. Without them, I might not have noticed how K., and I, have changed throughout all those years, how we both slowly but steadily left adolescence and quietly slipped into adulthood.
I am not sure if I ever want to put the word "end" to K.'s story. It would mean I had said everything I could, that there was nothing more to learn.
Therefore I hope that the character K. will keep on changing and growing.
Although I am quite sure he will still have blue hair."
While you're at it, could you please also point out flow/content/grammar that you think doesn't sound quite right?
Any help would be much appreciated!
Here's the essay.
"In the beginning was the boy, and the boy carried a giant sword, and rode a giant dragon.
He lived in a world where cats talked and motorcycles flew and everything was fun, except that Mr. Big Baddie -- a very, very creepy old man -- was trying to take over that same world.
Of course, the boy would eventually defeat B.B., because he was the Chosen One, the Saviour, the Child Of Destiny and so on.
The boy's name was K. and he was the main character of the first comic I drew in my life.
I cannot remember what exactly inspired the five-year-old me to take up a pencil and make heroic and brave K. come to life. My guess is that I read Mickey Mouse and watched Japanese cartoons, thought "that was cool" and decided to turn my admiration into imitation. I certainly didn't lack the will nor the time to do it. Therefore I started drawing, and filled notebooks upon notebooks -- clean, blank paper was too expensive -- with K.'s adventures.
As I flip through those pages now, I am convinced that nobody but me could make any sense of them: no speech bubbles -- I didn't know how to write yet; no panels -- too much of a hassle to do; no discernible logical story -- just blue-haired K. walloping villains and winning allies over through the Power of Friendship (or was it Love?).
It does get better though: here, the first onomatopoeia; there, the hint of a plot. Deciphering some hastily scribbled dates, one could deduce that those were the years I was in Primary school, going through the enlightning and formidable stage of life commonly referred as "socializing with other kids".
Then, in about the sixth/seventh notebook, the general trend startes to change.
Suddenly, no character smiles anymore. K., who has become more and more of a bitter, selfish and ill-spirited loner certainly does not help. The world still needs to be saved, but the Hero despises the world. Only his best and only friend the Dragon can understand him; the rest of the people are just annoying insects that can be swatted away with a slash of his Ebony blade.
He who fought monsters has, indeed, become a monster himself.
It is not hard to imagine the author of such brilliant narrative as a frustrated, angsty middle-school teenager; which, as a matter of fact, I was.
A couple of years (and creative writing books) later, K. turned into a somewhat more balanced person, at peace with himself. It was not as he had any illusion about the harsh nature of his world -- somewhere along the way, cats had stopped talking and motorcycles had started causing pollution; but he now knew how to make lemonade (and the occasional cake) if life gave him lemons. He had few close friends, but cherished them all dearly.
Most importantly, he was a Chosen Hero no longer. The new K. fought because he wanted to know, to know and understand the treacherous-yet-beautiful world he lived in: how it worked, why it changed, how he could make a difference with his own abilities.
I have written and drawn many other stories in my life, but I have never managed to conclude the story of K., which is still ongoing.
I am truly fond of those old notebooks. Without them, I might not have noticed how K., and I, have changed throughout all those years, how we both slowly but steadily left adolescence and quietly slipped into adulthood.
I am not sure if I ever want to put the word "end" to K.'s story. It would mean I had said everything I could, that there was nothing more to learn.
Therefore I hope that the character K. will keep on changing and growing.
Although I am quite sure he will still have blue hair."
