Bekka

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 **An Essay About How to Write an Essay About Not Knowing how to Write an Essay** Bekka Ord I don’t mind writing essays, I just don’t know where to start. While other kids type away, I still sit there waiting for an idea to hit me. A lot of the times they, don’t come and I have to write something that I don’t really want to write. My writing teacher will give me hundreds of ideas, but I still don’t know what to write. So I look on the web for quotes, for college writing prompts, I scavenge my mind for memories or adjectives, and when all else fails, I doodle. This is how I write an essay about not knowing how to write an essay. **1. Attempt to look for quotes.** “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.”- Albert Einstein - //I like this quote but how would write about it? I could say that we don’t really need school/knowledge because imagination is far more important, but I am not sure my teachers would like that.// “We must become the change we want to see.”- [|__Mahatma Gandhi__] //-This quote has potential. I could write about how if worked harder I would see the results I wanted. I could write about how if I put more into my essay it would result in better results.// [|__“I just write what I wanted to write. I write what amuses me. It's totally for myself.__] ”-J.K Rowling - //I could write about how this is not true for me and that when I write it does not amuse me, it frustrates me.// “The best of us must sometimes eat our words”- J.K Rowling - //If I wrote about that I would eat all my words to a point were there was nothing but a blank page left and I would still have no essay//. **2. College prompts** Step number two on my quest for an essay continues with college writing prompts. As a younger sister of siblings who are or are almost in college I have experienced some of the second hand stress of college essays. Some prompts are just plain dumb and others make you think. “Ask and answer the one important question which you wish we had asked.”- Carlton College - //Why would you ask such a dumb question? Was it because you couldn’t figure out a question to ask your future students, or was the writer of this question that unimaginative?// “Please write a personal journal entry as if the date were Sept. 20, 2030.” -St. Mary¹s College - //That’s an interesting question. Where are you going to be 20 years from now? What if you died? Twenty years from now the chances I am going to be dead, are pretty slim. I honestly have no idea what career I want to have or where I am going to live, but I know a lot of careers I don’t want, or places I don’t want to live.// “Anatole France said, "If 50 million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing." On what subject do you disagree with most people, and why? “- Northwestern - //I like the idea of writing about a quote and I think it would show the reader who you are because it is saying what you disagree with, but it is still a foolish thing.// **3. Cave in to what the teachers want** Usually at this point I am really starting to get annoyed with my non-existing essay, so I try the way most teachers suggest, “Write about a memory or adjective that defines you.” While that could be easy I could write about how I am athletic or energetic (sometimes) and sometimes a little challenging. I could write about my trip to New Zealand or Mexico; I could write about when my dog died. I could write about all those things and many more, but the chances I would find an essay I like are very slim. All those ideas seem like the easy way out and classic boring essay (not all the time). **4. Doodling** After all these frustrating attempts to write some sort of a essay that I like, I am at a point where I am sick and tired of writing, so I doodle al over my folders, papers, binders, etc. Now, you might think I am giving up but I am not, I am merely frustrated, bored, and tired and yes I will come up with an essay, but I might not like it (which my teacher hates).

**5. Plagiarizing** I am not a bad kid, but desperate times mean desperate measures- PLAGARIZING-this word is feared by teachers and admired by students.   “Often I would wake to the screeching sound of sirens fading in and out above my bedroom window. I lived in a cozy two-bedroom apartment with my mother and two younger brothers. The walls were chipped plaster and the carpet reminded me of sticky green moss. My mother had just separated from her second husband, and our income was far lower than the national average. It was incredibly hard for her to support three children, especially in a city like Albuquerque, but she managed to keep us clothed and feed. Every night I could hear my mother cry alone in her room, and every day I promised myself that when I grew up I would make enough money to support her. I frequently daydreamed that I was a corporate executive flying all over the world in the company jet while sending great sums of money to my mother, so she could live the lifestyle she deserved. I dreamt that I would stand in” - //I did not write this, some unknown person did. It’s a good lead, but has nothing to do with me whatsoever! It might just be easier to write my own essay so it is somewhat about me and not some random person that has no idea I exist. No, I will not plagiarize.// **6. Excuses** I could run away! I could drop out of school! I could move to Antarctica! I could forge a note from my parents saying they don’t want me to write this essay, or that my dog ate my essay and I forgot to save it on the computer. I could make up excuses all day long. But none will be possible or logical. So I might as well continue on this tedious quest of writing an essay. **7. Buy an Essay from Russia** Американцы Поздравлений, я действительно не люблю Вас, и мне платят, чтобы написать это эссе для немой американской девочки. Я надеюсь, что ваш преподаватель не читал русский язык, поскольку она не будет очень счастлива. Я планирую послать космическое судно в орбиту, содержащую ядерное оружие, создавая другую холодную войну. Я буду известен, и каждое тело будет любить меня, и бояться меня. Я буду управлять миром! - //Maybe not the best idea…// **7. Write an Essay** If you don’t understand what I am saying by now, I am sorry I have wasted your time, but if you have managed read the whole essay congratulations! You have now learned a lot of things about myself and how to write an essay about not knowing how to write an essay (and how to write a very complicated sentence).

I've set this story in 1775, the beginning of the American Revolution. The American Revolution was a war that was fought between the British and the American Colonists. In part of my story, my character will be an indentured servant living in Virginia(not really sure where yet). My character’s life as an indentured servant will be as accurate as I can make with my research. Indentured servants lived almost the same lives as slaves except after their five to seven years of servitude they would be set free. Indentured servants usually had their ship passage to America, paid for by their master in return for work. Some servants were taken (like slaves). Most indentured servants were poor Irish, English, Scottish, or German. The other setting for my story is in 2003. My character lives in Richmond, Virginia with her Aunt. In my story the life of an indentured servant will be as accurate as I can make it and still have a good story. It is true that indentured servants were treated like slaves and it is true that they served about seven years of work for their freedom in America, the land of opportunities. Also the Celtic and Irish myths that are mentioned in my story were real beliefs in 1775.Also all the information about the American Revolution is true. In my story the main character bounces back and forth from 1775 and 2003, which is unfortunately not true. Also my main character and all the other people in this book are fictional. This story is the first chapter of a novel. My story is about a girl who is bouncing back in forth between 2003 and 1775. The main character is an outcast among girls her own age and lives with her aunt. She is troubled with the death of her family in a house fire from three months earlier and is having strange dreams that are more troubling than her past. "Birds in Celtic Lore" accesed March 18, 2010 [|www.clannada.org/animals_birds.php]
 * __What is the historical setting for this story?__ **
 * __What is true in this story?__ **
 * __What is fictional in this story?__ **
 * __This story is the first chapter of a novel in which. .__ ** **.**
 * __If you want to read MORE about these topics, I used these sources for my story:__ **

"Manannas Mac Lir" accesed March 18, 2010 en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manannan

“Indentured Servents” accesed March 18, 2010 wikipedia.org/wiki/indentured_servant "The Morrigan" accesed March 18, 2010 en.wikipedia.org/wiki/morrigan

(Title) Bekka ord
 * 1775**- screams pierced the night as I ran. It was like the world was on fire. Houses and stores burned. Everything I had ever known went up in smoke. I ran not knowing where my feet took me. As I rounded the corner, a rough hand grabbed me, I screamed but it was lost among the night, the hand brought a heavy club down upon my head-blackness.

The bus ride was slow. The dream was still alive in my mind and it wasn’t fading like most of my dreams; the pain of the club had felt real, I reached up and placed a hand on my head, there was nothing but the feel of the course brown hair under my fingers, feeling stupid I put it into my pocket. School seemed to drag on, like always. At lunched I looked around, seeing who I could sit with. Who would include the new kid? I chose Sarah the overly cheerful, friendly blonde. “Hi Sarah can I sit with you?” my voice sounded dry like it hadn’t been used in awhile. “Sure!” I took out my brown paper bag lunch and sat at the edge of the table, the other girls gave me strange looks. I stared blankly at the table trying not to meet any ones eye as the girls around me talked about some new T.V show. “In American history we don’t usually learn much about indentured servants, and we all know that good historians look at different perspectives,” said Ms. Ford. Ms. Ford usually one of my more tedious teachers had finally caught my interest. “ “Indentured servants were usually poor English, Irish or Germans who wanted to come to America.” A flood of memories rushed to my mind, the gnawing feeling of hunger, the crying of babies and the arguing of adults, the feeling of my back being ripped open by a thin leather whip, the pain of loss and loneliness. It was good I was sitting down because then, I fainted.
 * 2006**- I awoke with a start. I was coated with cold sweat, the dream had felt so alive, so real. I moved slowly out of bed and started getting ready for school. I threw on a pair of wrinkled old blue jeans and a creased white t-shirt on.

When I awoke there was a dull light coming from the corner. I could see large crates and people around me, some were awake. A woman kneeled on the wooden planks her hands together, her eyes upward, her mouth moving in silent prayer, as tears rolled down her cheeks; her skin looked ghostly pale in the dim light. Thirty men a women lay around me, they were all white. This was not one of the rumored slave ships I had heard so many ghastly tales about. Thinking about the tales I had heard brought the memory of Manannan Mac Lir back to my mind. He had been the deity of the sea and had been a trickster. Perhaps he was playing a trick on me so that I could set things right like had had done when he tempted the Irish king treasure for his family. The king was then led to the other world where he was taught a lesson my Manannan. The god then returned the king to his family and gave him a magic cup that breaks when three lies are told over it and is restored when three truths are spoken over it. Perhaps this was to be my future. There was only one thing that I could think of I had done wrong. “Where are we going?” I croaked to a women near me, my throat was as withered as my fathers crops. She did not reply but stared wide eyed at me, like she had seen a ghost. There were then heavy footfalls down the thin spindly staircase and a heavy set man with a red blotchy face emerged carrying a stack of yellowing papers, small spidery man followed behind him carrying a lantern. “You will all sign this paper declaring servitude to master James Montgomery the owner of a plantation. By signing this you will be ensured freedom in America after you have served the master for a short period of time.” I could not understand what he was saying for he used a far more fancy language than us commoners used. I dare not disobey him though for in his other hand he carried a heavy wooden club. He made his way slowly through the group of people. All the passengers must have spoken English because they muttered words of anger under their breath. When the man with the club and the papers he got to me he handed me the feather quill, “Write your name.” I stared blankly at the papers then back to the quill that now lay quivering in my shaken hand. “I don’t know how.” I said the words tripping over themselves in a nervous scurry. “Well if you can not I will have to sign your name for you.” He grabbed the quill roughly from my hand. “What is your name?” “Abigail McCarthy.” I said in whisper. He scribbled my name down and moves on to the next person. I breathed a sigh of relief, not knowing from then on I would be treated like a slave and that I would be as lonely and hopeless as I had ever been.
 * 1775**- the sickening motion was what had awakened me. My head pounded as if someone was pounding a nail into my head. I reached up in the sticky darkness to my head, it was swollen and a warm liquid met my fingertips. I heard loud breathing around me and the sound of tears. I sat stunned, realization hitting me, I had no idea where I was and I was as lonely as it is possible to be. I don’t now how long I sat there curled into a ball, tears dripping down onto my dirty face, slumber then took me.


 * 2006-** An arm shook me “Abby, Abby are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse?” said Ms. Ford, there was a worrying, almost understanding look in her eyes. All the kids starred at me like I was contagious, a few laughed to their neighbors behind there hands. I did not know that this would only be the beginning of very strange and lonely events.