This is a narrative essay I wrote for my Honors English 101 class and I really like what I have so far a lot. Please critique this in any way you see fit and let me know if there is anything I could take out that detracts from the essay or anything that I could put in to embellish it. Thanks!
I have this condition. It is hard to explain what happens, but mainly that is because for the most part it is unexplainable. I am that guy who ties his tie perfectly on the first try. I am that guy who pulls up to his house right as his favorite song finishes playing on the radio. I am that guy who wakes up in the morning like P. Diddy, pisses excellence, washes his hands and banks the paper towel in to the trash can after shouting "Kobe!", all the while tri-winning and putting Charlie Sheen to shame. Plain and simple: I am a winner. Being a winner starts out with using cool lingo like "brah" and "yo", progresses with well-timed quips at high stress moments, and ends with an abundance of confidence that begets multiple allegations of "jackass" by admiring fans. While I am blessed to have this gift, I was not always amongst the top percentile of the world that is winners. There was a point in time where I was ïdo not judge meï a loser. Although I rejoice in every second that I am no longer a loser, I do not regret it. It is during this time that I gained the confidence and characteristics that make me much of who I am today.
Life was miserable, food was tasteless, and every moment spent breathing was pure agony; in short, I was in middle school. The onset of puberty left most of us awkwardly proportioned, and with no knowledge of the blessing that was stick deodorant, the majority of us smelled terribly. Apart from realizing that I myself was a loser, there was very little separating me from the kid who ate mulch on the playground.
Although by default everyone in middle school was a loser, I felt especially subordinate. While everyone else was that run of the mill dog crap you might step in on a walk around your neighborhood, I felt like the dried up bird feces that you find on your car every once in a while and scream "Why!? Why are you here?!" In other words: I was a loser that found a way to suck even more. I sucked so much, once a week a teammate on my soccer team would tell me I sucked, and the rest of the team, including the coach, would back him up. It was not just me being a failure at soccer or basketball; I consistently failed Spanish exams, awkwardly fumbled through conversations with girls in the hallway, and the only way to describe the sound my trumpet produced during rehearsal was that deep, throaty noise a dog makes right before throwing up: I was terrible at everything.
But then I met Mr. C, my 7th grade bio teacher. I am pretty sure the "C" in his name stood for "Cool", but I would not know otherwise because no one knew him as anything other than Mr. C; he was that awesome. He was the kind of guy that already had a perfectly tied tie waiting for him when he got dressed; the kind of guy that did not need deodorant because he constantly emanated pure swagger(but he still wore it anyway); the kind of guy who could balance the national debt and deliver a newborn baby, all while nailing every note of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and stealing your wife. He told me that he was a Biology major in college, but I am pretty sure that he double majored in Winning Life. Mr. C could say anything and you would hear all the girls in the room quietly giggle to themselves while all the guys would look around the room and high five each other with huge grins on their faces. Literally, he could have told us he just took a big number two and the same response would have ensued; this guy was legendary.
As far as I was concerned, Mr. C was a wizard; and I had to know his secret. One day after class, I just popped the question:
Me - "Mr. C, how do you do it, man?"
Mr. C ï "Do what?"
Me ï "IT, how do you do it?"
Mr. C ï "Ew, what?"
Me ï "Come on, just tell me! What is it? Steroids? Deodorant?! Why am I such a loser and you aren't!"
Mr. C ï "Sean, you only think you are a loser because you convince yourself you are one."
Then it clicked. He was right, all those times when teammates or classmates had called me a loser, I agreed with them; I actually believed them! When Mr. C taught a class he did not just teach them, he instructed them. When he played guitar he did not simply play his guitar, the man shredded. When he told our class he just took a big number two he did not just throw it out there, he made sure that we knew he took a DAMN big number two! Mr. C had confidence, which is exactly what I was missing, and once I made that change it was a world of difference. For one, people stopped asking if someone's dog was throwing up every time I played trumpet; I actually sounded good! The change between playing timidly and with confidence blew my mind, and as I continued to apply this to different areas of my life not only did I notice that I improved in those aspects, but others noticed as well! I was no longer that kid who people thought ate mulch on the playground, but rather that kid, Sean, who was surprisingly good at soccer practice today. For once in forever I genuinely felt like a winner, and only had Mr. C to thank for that change.
It was not that I lacked the ability to be a winner; it was that I lacked the conviction to believe that I was one, and that specifically is what I took away from all this. Even when I am uncertain of whether something is within my grasp, often my sheer tenacity will pull me through to the end. Some people go their whole lives being losers (I am looking at you, Charlie Sheen) when finding the answer is so simple! While being a winner all the time is not for the faint of heart, I leave you with this: "Success is most often achieved by those who don't know that failure is inevitable", and always wear deodorant.
I have this condition. It is hard to explain what happens, but mainly that is because for the most part it is unexplainable. I am that guy who ties his tie perfectly on the first try. I am that guy who pulls up to his house right as his favorite song finishes playing on the radio. I am that guy who wakes up in the morning like P. Diddy, pisses excellence, washes his hands and banks the paper towel in to the trash can after shouting "Kobe!", all the while tri-winning and putting Charlie Sheen to shame. Plain and simple: I am a winner. Being a winner starts out with using cool lingo like "brah" and "yo", progresses with well-timed quips at high stress moments, and ends with an abundance of confidence that begets multiple allegations of "jackass" by admiring fans. While I am blessed to have this gift, I was not always amongst the top percentile of the world that is winners. There was a point in time where I was ïdo not judge meï a loser. Although I rejoice in every second that I am no longer a loser, I do not regret it. It is during this time that I gained the confidence and characteristics that make me much of who I am today.
Life was miserable, food was tasteless, and every moment spent breathing was pure agony; in short, I was in middle school. The onset of puberty left most of us awkwardly proportioned, and with no knowledge of the blessing that was stick deodorant, the majority of us smelled terribly. Apart from realizing that I myself was a loser, there was very little separating me from the kid who ate mulch on the playground.
Although by default everyone in middle school was a loser, I felt especially subordinate. While everyone else was that run of the mill dog crap you might step in on a walk around your neighborhood, I felt like the dried up bird feces that you find on your car every once in a while and scream "Why!? Why are you here?!" In other words: I was a loser that found a way to suck even more. I sucked so much, once a week a teammate on my soccer team would tell me I sucked, and the rest of the team, including the coach, would back him up. It was not just me being a failure at soccer or basketball; I consistently failed Spanish exams, awkwardly fumbled through conversations with girls in the hallway, and the only way to describe the sound my trumpet produced during rehearsal was that deep, throaty noise a dog makes right before throwing up: I was terrible at everything.
But then I met Mr. C, my 7th grade bio teacher. I am pretty sure the "C" in his name stood for "Cool", but I would not know otherwise because no one knew him as anything other than Mr. C; he was that awesome. He was the kind of guy that already had a perfectly tied tie waiting for him when he got dressed; the kind of guy that did not need deodorant because he constantly emanated pure swagger(but he still wore it anyway); the kind of guy who could balance the national debt and deliver a newborn baby, all while nailing every note of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and stealing your wife. He told me that he was a Biology major in college, but I am pretty sure that he double majored in Winning Life. Mr. C could say anything and you would hear all the girls in the room quietly giggle to themselves while all the guys would look around the room and high five each other with huge grins on their faces. Literally, he could have told us he just took a big number two and the same response would have ensued; this guy was legendary.
As far as I was concerned, Mr. C was a wizard; and I had to know his secret. One day after class, I just popped the question:
Me - "Mr. C, how do you do it, man?"
Mr. C ï "Do what?"
Me ï "IT, how do you do it?"
Mr. C ï "Ew, what?"
Me ï "Come on, just tell me! What is it? Steroids? Deodorant?! Why am I such a loser and you aren't!"
Mr. C ï "Sean, you only think you are a loser because you convince yourself you are one."
Then it clicked. He was right, all those times when teammates or classmates had called me a loser, I agreed with them; I actually believed them! When Mr. C taught a class he did not just teach them, he instructed them. When he played guitar he did not simply play his guitar, the man shredded. When he told our class he just took a big number two he did not just throw it out there, he made sure that we knew he took a DAMN big number two! Mr. C had confidence, which is exactly what I was missing, and once I made that change it was a world of difference. For one, people stopped asking if someone's dog was throwing up every time I played trumpet; I actually sounded good! The change between playing timidly and with confidence blew my mind, and as I continued to apply this to different areas of my life not only did I notice that I improved in those aspects, but others noticed as well! I was no longer that kid who people thought ate mulch on the playground, but rather that kid, Sean, who was surprisingly good at soccer practice today. For once in forever I genuinely felt like a winner, and only had Mr. C to thank for that change.
It was not that I lacked the ability to be a winner; it was that I lacked the conviction to believe that I was one, and that specifically is what I took away from all this. Even when I am uncertain of whether something is within my grasp, often my sheer tenacity will pull me through to the end. Some people go their whole lives being losers (I am looking at you, Charlie Sheen) when finding the answer is so simple! While being a winner all the time is not for the faint of heart, I leave you with this: "Success is most often achieved by those who don't know that failure is inevitable", and always wear deodorant.
