Introduction:

My goals for the paper was to address the topic of extrovert versus introvert and ask why being extroverted is still deemed the more desirable outcome if all it affects is how people recharge. I also address many stereotypes and complications that an introvert grows up with. The parts of the paper I am most proud of is the opening scene because I really spent time on describing the scenario and I just really like it. Areas for improvement for the future is definitely my analysis. I knew where I wanted to take this paper and what to talk about, but writing it all down in a chronological order is difficult for me and I often jump too fast.

Essay:

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, to take in the scent slowly, savoring it. I can identify the aroma of ink, aging paper, and the oily wood essence of books. I can hear the slow methodical crackles as pages are turned and words are absorbed. I open my eyes and all around me I see my type of environment. I smile and tug on my mom’s arm, beckoning her to my favorite section of the library, children’s fiction and adventure.

We go down the old steps and I count them as I always did. One, two, three… I don’t pay attention to the girl in front of me or how I almost plow her over, just the slow counting.

Once we get to the bottom of the stairs, I practically run in the children’s section to ensure my favorite spot to read, the back lonely corner.

I say bye to my mom and brother and break off from them, relishing my alone time. I grab a Goosebumps book off a shelf. I sit down merrily on the cold wooden stool as no one was in my spot and I crack open my book smugly.

Once I was about three chapters in, I saw a small boy making his way to my corner in my peripheral vision. I frown because I’m really not in the mood to ‘connect’ to people. I want some recharging time. Of course the boy decided to stop right in front of me and I had to put my book down to see what he wanted.

“Excuse me?” I asked lightly, unsure of what this kid wanted.

“Uuh… I like reading in this corner… Can I sit next to you and just read?” I was shocked, it wasn’t another one of those excited younger kids who bugged you about reading to them.

“Sure? Can you just be quiet?”

“Of course Miss, thank you.”

He seems like someone like me, someone who enjoys being alone to think.

When I was a younger kid, being introverted was not a top quality to have. Adults would often wonder if introverted children even had social problems or even disabilities. Being independent was fine, but being too independent scared a lot of parents.

The idea of introversion often turns people off because extroversion is pushed by society to be more desirable in individuals. Introverts are depicted as shy people with a very few amount of friends, while extroverts are shown as the type of people who are popular or successful. All of this is untrue. How is being an extrovert deemed more successful than an introvert? People say you need people skills to climb the social ladder, but people skills and how individuals charge have no correlation.

Introverts often get a bad wrap and there’s a lot of misconceptions about us. People who seem outgoing aren’t always extroverted, they could be introverts. What my main point is is that introversion and extroversion can never be fully judged by another person and that not one leads to more success than the other.

Growing up as an introvert was really difficult because often people would push what their idea of what ‘introvert’ meant onto me. I was supposed to be a shy girl, a people hater, a serious person, weird. However, I act completely different than what people think an introvert should act like. I am a very outgoing individual who has people skills and even enjoys public speaking. I push myself to try new things and am often not serious at all. The only stereotype I’ve really held true was that I like to read. I like to read because I like discovering new worlds and new stories, not because I get energized by being alone. Being an introvert also does not mean a lack of confidence either. Introverts can be really confident because they need that inner focused recharge time and are often more comfortable with all of themselves.

Introverts and extroverts aren’t just black and white either, another misconception people often have. Often there is a spectrum of how people are receiving energy. Some interactions may cause slight energy decrease, while others cause the person to be completely drained (It’s the opposite for extroverts!).

As a whole, there are certainly biases for both introverts and extroverts. And there are certainly stereotypes. While introverts are “supposed” to be quiet and shy, extroverts are “supposed” to be loud and outgoing. We all know these stereotypes may be false and even if an individual falls under one of these stereotypes, it does not define a whole group of people. So, my question is why is being extroverted still more sought over even though all it reflects is how an individual gets energy?

Introduction:

This essay is my reflection on a connection I had made with an important person in my life, which was then suddenly severed. My goals for this paper were to try and enhance my descriptive language and to work on describing actual events that happened in my life. I wanted people to understand the connection that I had with this person and how guilt and sorrow came to affect that relationship. I am proud of the work that I did in using imagery and painting a picture through words because I feel that it added a lot to my writing and is one of the aspects of this piece that are most engaging. In the future I would like to work more on my structure, because I feel this piece was made up of a lot of different pieces that didn’t quite go together, but I forced them to, and next time I would like to make the story more fluid.

Advanced Essay:

An old and scratchy voice yelled to me from afar. I turned around, confused as to what I had just heard. A familiar face poked its head out of a car. “You boy, come here, let me show you what I have here for you!” I approached with caution, still startled by the voice that had come out of nowhere. On the corner of the street stood a small car, almost miniature, with a dark blue coat, it was shining from the glare of the sun that bore down upon it. I staggered towards the vehicle, looked through the gaping window to see my father and the woman to which the familiar voice had come from. Now knowing that I could trust the owners of this machine, I grasped the latch to the door and stepped in. Immediately I felt a cool blast of air pour onto my face, and a cold metal object thrown into my lap. I was unsure as to what it was until I was able to take a closer look at it. A metal man lay in my lap, staring up blankly into my eyes, carrying little to no emotion on his face, though he looked curious. He looked as though he was looking through my eyes and into my past, present, and future, though he just sat there, emotionless, worthless. I lay out his flat body in my arms, grasping him, wondering what use he was to me. Why should I care?

The metal man lay on the wall with a look of curiosity on his face. His body thin and bony, easily breakable, so thin in fact that you could see the outline of each and every crevasse in his body. Each one of his limbs hung lifelessly from his torso as if he were a skeleton hanging dead from above. His chest was like a washboard that could be played as a musical instrument. His left arm dangled towards his side lifelessly gripping a guitar that looked like it would be played in a rock and roll band, though it hasn’t been touched for a long time. A charm is wrapped around his neck clinging closely to his skin. A column of ridges peaked out of his face in the place where his nose would be, seemingly connecting his round skeleton eyes to his wide open mouth. The lifelessness that fills him seemed to be the same that might fill a robot, an inhuman metal contraption that sits upon the wall until it is needed. His metal seemed beaten and worn, covered with dents and rust, but through the battered and mangled body that lies there are intricate designs carved into each limb, resembling starry skies and gusts of wind. He stares straight forwards as if he is looking right at you, but you know that he can’t see anything. The metal man is made of scraps, but seem to be something new, a masterpiece depicting a man with an extensive story to tell. He reminded me of her. The old lady who once thought of me. Every time I stared at the corpse of a man strung up on my wall, I was filled with the sight of her face, gleaming at me, hammering the image of her into my mind. It made me happy, knowing there was someone in this overwhelming population who cared enough about me to make a special connection with me.

It hit me all at once, a wave of confusion washing over my entire body. I heard her say the words, but I was unable to comprehend their meaning, each word translated into a foreign language, something that made complete sense, but only sounded like jibberish to me. “I’m leaving on a trip,” she began in a mild tone, “to the middle east, to help the refugees from Syria, to provide them with the many comforts that they need.” Her words confused me, I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, even though I knew every word was spoken with complete sincerity. I didn’t want to believe that she was leaving to such a dangerous place all on her own. I tried to make up excuses in my head: Maybe she just is just fooling with us, she knows that someone of her age wouldn’t make it in that part of world. Maybe she will change her mind once she realizes the mistake she is making. But deep down I knew she wasn’t going to change her mind, and she knew that she wasn’t making any mistake. This was where she was meant to go, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. At this moment I felt completely alone. And I was. I didn’t see her again after that moment, and I continually ask myself: Will I ever again? Was I the one worth leaving?

I never really appreciated her until she left me, and I will always regret not telling her how I feel. The lack of time that I had is something that keeps spinning around in my head, the idea that there may have been another moment, and there may have been another time where I could see her. Every time I now look at the lifeless figure that hangs on the wall I think of her, and how I might see her again someday.

Introduction

This essay has been one of the most personal writings I’ve ever done. I haven’t written what I consider a good essay in a while. This essay made me think and write about important events in my life which is something that is really hard to share. Not only was this essay real but it was also one of my only essays I was really descriptive. I lack very much in being descriptive and using descriptive words. I feel like in this essay I did a great job moving forward and improving my descriptive language. I can maybe try to include less scenes and have more analysis in my essay but I think I did a good job of balancing it.

        The Man That Changed My Life        

As I walk in and out of my room each day, I always pass by a very important painting. It is of a man that has played a very important part in my life as well as many others. The painting is of a man looking up into the sky while crossing his fingers; which is centered in a mysterious blurred out background with only a gleam of sunlight peaking through the window. He is wearing a nice silky blue shirt that seems as if it is the sky on a sunny bright day. A tiny thin gold necklace dangles around his sturdy neck. He has a slightly faded beard with a face of innocence. This man has long light brown hair that sits upon his shoulder. His mustache is slightly bushy, not too thin but just right. I see a halo hovering above his head glistening. To the right we see a lady in her late thirties, slowly approaching this man. This women has a white cloth on her head that resembles a hoodie. To complement the cloth, she wears a burgundy type of red shirt that fits just right. Around her neck there is a necklace that has a flaming heart at the center with a chain surrounding it. Her skin was flawless and her face embodied an equilibrium of seriousness and serenity. The portrait comes together as one to show the bond between a mother and son. The picture is of Jesus and his mother Mary. A nice classic artwork of the two; framed in a nice light brown frame with sharp edges to center out the artwork of the two. This image would come assist me in multiple situations throughout my years as a young boy trying to find out how this world works. “How was your day?” Asked my mother as we sat in our living room. A room that gives the feeling of calmness and leisure. The walls had a mixture of the two colors; brownish red and a dark yellow. Im sitting next the couch which is closest to the back wall. The room is cubed with 4 walls and two openings “It was good, I got to complete most of my work at lunch and now barely have anything to do at home.” I replied. “Im proud you are being a good student.” “How was your day mom ?” I asked. “Umm… it was ok, I have something to tell you but have no idea of a way to tell you without making you feel a certain way.” She replied. I moved eagerly to the couch she sat on to hear this news. The couch was located on the opposing side of the room from where I had just been.These two couches formed a small hallway that was parallel to the two openings. “Well, mom you know you could tell me whatever. Whats wrong?” I said. “Nothings wrong with me baby, I just got a phone from Frankie’s mom and he’s in the hospital.” She replied. I stood up and began to shakingly walk around the room. At that very moment millions of questions rolled through my mind, but the only one that managed to come out was, “What happened?” She answered, “He was in a car accident, he said he wants to see you.” After she said that I walked upstairs with no response to what she said. I never used the artwork hung in my room but this was the first time I decided to use it. I talked to the artwork and this made the artwork come alive. I asked for mercy for my friend Frankie, and that was exactly what they did. One day In fourth grade, I was sitting at the lunch cafeteria table playing a game of chess with my friend. He was very short with a mushroom shaped haircut that was a very bold dark brown color. He was real light skinned and was always a really nice person.
“No matter what you do I’m still going to be the best at this game.” I said in a giggling voice. “You have no chance against me.” I then continued. “Yea whatever you say” he replied. As he moved his king chess piece; and I realized that this is where I had him locked down. “Looks like someone in checkmate” As I said that; another kid soon approached us. He had been looking in our direction for a while but now he was in the presence of our game. He was a smaller kid who matched the body type of my fellow chessmate. We had been in the middle of what I considered a very intense game when the boy rudely interrupted.
“What are you guys playing?”
He reached for one of our chess pieces and moved it. I shouted, “What are you doing!?”
“Just moving it around”. “If you do that again I’m going to punch you” I said now aggravated. He went to reach for another chess piece; I stood up and pushed him so hard he hit the lunch table’s edge. The situation did not escalate after this so later on that day I went home. When I got into the house my mom asked me, “How was your day?” “My day was good, nothing bad happened just another day of school.” I replied, knowing it was a lie. After the conversation I walked up to my room with the feeling of guiltiness taking over my body. I then looked up at the painting and asked for forgiveness. He talked back to me and told me to go tell the truth to relieve all this guilt. That’s exactly what I did. Jesus is someone who can easily control your actions, which is crazy when you think about it. He has helped me through many obstacles in my life. They’re a lot of people who do not believe in god and have no religion at all. That’s perfectly fine but when I come to think of that, I can’t seem to find myself being the person I am without god to guide me and help me. Jesus isn’t someone you have to make an appointment for, he is someone who is always available. This makes him even more special to me. After Frankie’s accident, I never felt the same. I felt protected and felt as if there had always been someone there for me if my family or friends weren’t able to be there. After the many incidents I had experienced throughout my life, I was able to build a nice strong relationship with Jesus. We developed an unbreakable bond that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Introduction

This essay is a reflection of my childhood life back when technology wasn’t too much of a big deal or focus. My goals for this essay is to show people that there are more things that can entertain us besides technology or the internet. I want people to understand that technology can entertain us but it doesn’t help us make and experience good memories with other people. The parts in the essay that I am proud of would be the analysis or the last paragraph because I tried putting all my thoughts together about my childhood and my experiences in an organized way. The areas that I need to improve on would be my redundancy in writing and the use of more descriptive words.

Advanced Essay

I had never thought that I’d be living on the other side of this beautiful and gigantic world. I was just a little girl who freely ran around the streets of my small town in the Philippines. I lived with some cousins, uncles, my grandmother, and sister in an old and average sized house. Antique things gathered in the house as dusts always collected in every corner. The air could not circulate enough in this small house and even the ceiling fans barely provided us any air. I remember that as I came home from school, sweat would dribble down my face and into my body. I tossed my backpack slowly to the table where we placed all our necessities such as school supplies or other necessities. After that, I carefully took the ribbon off of my shirt and school ID wrapped around my neck. I unbuttoned my plain white school uniform and unzipped the skirt as I rushed to get changed. Then, my cousins, sister, and I headed to the streets of our village to play with our friends and neighbors. The look of excitement was always seen on our faces because it was a relief to be playing after a long day at school.

One day, as we were playing “tag” and making loud noises on the street dogs kept barking from a distance. Little did we know that it was our friend who was chased by these group of dogs. We saw our friend with his terrified and sweaty face from a distance as he pedalled as hard as he could just to get away from these angry dogs. It was a bit of an entertainment but we were frightened to do anything. My mind blanked, heartbeat almost came out of my chest as I quickly picked myself up and ran swiftly to avoid these enraged dogs. We played a lot of the Philippine traditional games such as “tag”, piko “ hopscotch”, Chinese garter “ Chinese jump rope”, taguan “hide and seek”, and so much more! Sometimes, my cousin, sister, and I would be doing our homework because our Lola “grandmother” said so. No matter how thrilled we were to be playing outside we just had to give it up sometimes if school gets in the way. Playing street games outdoors became our routine almost everyday after school and even on the weekends. Butterflies of excitement always rumbled in our bellies every time this “play time” came.

My childhood life in the Philippines is unlike any child’s life nowadays. I had some forms of gadgets growing up but I detached myself from them because I had fun playing tag with my friends on our street and playing cash register games or barbie dolls with my cousin. I may have some gadgets such as a phone to contact a guardian at school, a desktop computer, and a video game gadget but, they were just there. They weren’t a big part of my everyday life which I am glad. As a little kid, I connected myself to the outside world and enjoyed myself being outdoors. Thinking back, I am very grateful that I got the chance to explore the world outside before the LED screens came out big time. I always loved every moment being outside but I’ve never really thought of the idea to fade away one day. As a laid back kid, I didn’t think of the fact that as you get older and move to places things will never be the same and things can change. If I just knew, I could have enjoyed every second that I spent playing with those kids in my block more. Now, I could go back and visit but things will never be the same because we’re all growing up. However, I cannot complain because I am in the most comfortable that I have ever been in my life even though sometimes I think to myself, “Oh I just miss the good old days.” Those were one of the good times in my life but according to my dad, “good things must come to an end.”

Intro:

My essay is about life lessons that I learned. In which that happiness comes with pain. You can’t have one without the other. And that you need bad experiences to change who you are and give you a good outlook on life;aka to be wiser. I am proud of being able to express myself in this paper because I have a hard time opening up. Also, my poetic descriptions are fantastic! I am very proud of this piece and I hope others enjoy it too.

Essay:

Happiness comes with Pain

“Left, right, up, down. No matter what direction you are looking, you are stuck Mackenzie.” These thoughts that haunt me from mind began at five years old, and I only started talking at age 3. “Little kids don’t understand or interpret much,” adults throughout my life would say, but I disagree on a deeper level.
Everybody liked to treat me as child that is incapable of hurt and feelings. Put me in a room full of children, they would walk by making me unnoticed. The adults would just sit there not knowing the inside screaming in my head. My head taunts me every time: “why won’t they talk to you; I see people sitting next to each other laughing and talking. Mackenzie you can’t do that, you are all alone.” Play with me, sit next to me, show me your smile! Black starts to cloud my vision, and my heart sinks like it is going to my feet. I have to hold it in, I have to hold it in, that’s what is expected of me, and I don’t want to cause others worry. So I am the child that is incapable of being hurt. Elementary school arrives, and I took a turn for the worse that I was not expecting for. I woke up every morning, brushed my teeth, threw my clothes on, got in my car with my mom and on we went. Every morning when my mom dropped me off I was embarrassed with soft kisses on my chipmunk cheeks, and received squeezes from her large, warming body. I’d walk into school, expecting to start the day off good. “Hey fatty, did you take a bit out of the door thinking it was a chocolate bar, a part’s missing.” Their it comes again. The Darkness, The pain, The regret. With teary eyes and a held tongue, I pick myself up with my head tilted down and bangs falling on my eyelids, I walk out of the classroom into the bathroom. “You have to hold it in, you can’t show them.” it whispers into my anxiety ridden soul. Looking steadily in the mirror, I examined my eyes, watching the salty pain running down my face onto my lip. The taste reminds me that I can feel, and why i am in hell. That continued like a tribal ritual for the sun coming up. Except there was no sun in my life, just whispers in the dark hardening my strength to speak. My lips were sown with the invisible threats of hurt and insult I was reminded with. I was not seen, therefore I would just be the air that you breathed;Unnoticed.Watching every move they made, listening to every sound they made. They do not see me, but I see them. I am the child that is still not capable of being hurt. Middle school I ignored all their comments, but I still thought I was worthless. I then met the best friend love of my life. Everytime she hugged me with warm moist hands around my back, and her big solid chest for me to find comfort in, it did. I imagine her like this blissful heaven like glow in my mind. She grabs my hand and pulled me out of the abyss of my screaming darkness, and in a loving embrace I cry like a cat who was picked up from the box of abandonment. She was my nice new home, where I could stretch out my legs and take a nap on a comfy couch. The voices in my head that wished for me to let go, and lose my mind with loneliness, have stopped. Sarah helped me, but my mind could not erase the saddest that was engraved in my memory and current vision. When I hug my mother, I cling onto her like a child, because I missed my childhood, it was taken away from me. She could not understand the struggle with my classmates. I want to show the situation right in front of her, but I cant burden the broken. They’ll listen through one ear and out the other. I am the broken child who is hurt, someone please notice me. Later as the year went on, I looked more closely at time with myself. I realized that only I can make peace with myself. I spent my time staring into the wide gaping sky, and gasping over the beauty I see in the flowers that cry droplets. The the bright yellow sun flowers that a husband gives his wife to tell her that she is the shine to his life. A baby’s laughs from a mother spending precious moments with her baby at the park. Or even the the burning sensation that I feel on my back and face from the sun shining on my Vitamin D deprived skin. Proving that I belong in this place called life, and I am alive. Even if a person hasn’t noticed me, life has accepted my existence. The sun will continue to beat down on my snow like skin, and tears stream down my thankful face, representing that happiness comes with pain. As long as I have these memories , I keep a lesson within me, that the darkness cannot escape inside of me, but my empty box will be refilled with the life that shines through the breaking walls around my heart. I am a girl who can feel hurt.