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Found this on SomethingAwful.com. An English TA (don't know which university - may be University of Georgia?) was proctoring a Creative Writing Workshop and grading three classes worth of essays. She found this particular essay so terrible that she posted it in a message board for everybody to see. She used it to illustrate her idea that "English classes are failing our students."
The student who handed in this essay was a Junior majoring in Film. If you want to see an example of terrible writing, look no further than this "Blog Post Turned 15 Page Double Spaced CW Essay Worth 25% Of The Student's Grade":
*Title* (yes, the title of the essay is just "*Title*" - I kid you not)
Uuuuuggggh. Wake up time. What was I doing up this early? I think I had forgotten that time even existed before 6:30 A.M. Groggily, I rolled out of bed and donned my usual summer attire (cutoff t-shirt, gym shorts, and sandals) as the anticipation of the days to come slowly woke me up.
You ever seen those Looney Tunes cartoons where the aroma of a delicious meal materializes in mid air, reaches the nostrils of one of the Looney Tunes characters, and causes them to float all the way to said meal? Yeah, well, that was me on this morning. The smell of scrambled eggs, blueberry pancakes, and warming bacon was just quite strong enough to lift my hundred and seventy two pound body up in mid-air and carry me out my bedroom door, down the hallway, and down the stairs to the kitchen. However, I would not recommend this method of reaching a meal to anyone. I hit my head on every God drat door frame and low hanging ceiling along the way. Sucked.
Okay, so maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that. Or even like that at all. I didn’t float and never have. But I’m still working on that. I’ll let you know. Anyway, it did smell pretty freakin’ good. As I headed down the steps to the kitchen, there was more bounce in my step than there ever had been pre-7AM. The excitement of the near future was giving me a greater rush than any amount of Red Bull ever could. I grabbed a plate from the drawer and began to execute one of my all-time favorite hobbies: letting my eyes become much larger than my stomach. I filled my plate with a mound of eggs that was, approximately, the size of Mount Fuji - give or take a few inches. I also decided to have a couple pancakes with my syrup. …And what’s a good breakfast without the chance of a mild heart attack to follow? With no room left on my plate, I dumped nearly the entire frying pan’s worth of bacon on top of the rest of my breakfast. Health is overrated.
Just as I sat down to eat, my mom made her way into the kitchen.
Mom: You know, this is the last time you’ll have a nice, home cooked breakfast from your loving mother.
Me: Yeah, I know.
I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last "this is the last time" speech I would hear throughout the course of the day. I had a quick chat with my mom about the current day’s happenings, and what preparations still needed to be made for the next day. I finished up what I could eat then introduced the leftovers to the bottom of the garbage can.
I made my way outside to my car, parked in the driveway. The newspaper was still lying next to my left rear tire – Dad must have been in a rush that morning. I picked it up and got in my Infinity. I completed a quick scan through a few articles before I started my car and let the twilight of the early morning swallow me up into the jaws of the day.
I sat in the lobby of the doctor’s office, pretending to read a seven year-old issue of Sports Illustrated so that the heavy-set woman next to me wouldn’t attempt any small-talk. Though she was probably only in her mid 40’s, she dressed and smelled like she was eighty. Terrible wool sweater. And that smell. You know the old person smell. Anyway, the pretend reading didn’t stop her.
Woman: Can you believe the weather out there? One minute it’s sunny and beautiful and the next minute it’s a monsoon!
Me: Yeah…
Woman: I mean, just the other day, the weatherman said it was going to be clear skies all day. And the first half of the day it was. But then during the middle of my daughter’s soccer game, it began pouring! We all got drenched. Sunny all day? That’s crazy talk.
Me: Uh-huh.
Crazy talk? Jesus, she even spoke like she was from the early 20th century.
Woman: So, where do you go to school?
Me:…I’m sorry, I don’t speak English.
I shrugged at her and got back to pretend-reading an article on experts debating the outcome of the Mark McGuire-Sammy Sosa homerun chase. I heard her give a huff and mumble disapprovingly.
Listen, I just don’t understand the point of small talk or people’s inclination to initiate small talk, that’s all. What purpose does it serve? What does one get out of it? Is your life fulfilled the moment you understand some stranger’s feelings on the weather or the latest news headline? Are people so uncomfortable in their own skin that they just can’t stand to be quiet for five freakin’ minutes while they wait in the lobby of a doctor’s office or up two floors on an elevator? If I want to talk to you, I’ll talk to you…I at least appear to be busy reading, so mind your own business. Yeah, I know. I’m an rear end in a top hat. I’m comfortable with that.
Anyway. As I sat in the doctor’s office waiting for the nurse to call me in for my physical, I began pondering over what the future was going to bring, and how excited I was for the next day.
Let me back up and explain. See, this was the summer after my senior year of high school. This day…well, this day was the last day before I became a college student. At 7AM the next morning I was to board a plane en route to Georgia, leaving behind my high school years and beginning a new phase in my life. This doctor’s office visit was just one trip on a laundry list of errands I had to run. So despite what you may think, I was, in fact, not there because I enjoyed hearing my fifty year old male doctor say “turn your head and cough, please.”
I sat in the cold, plastic, vibrant yellow chair of the doctor’s office lobby, now blankly staring at the aquarium that stood a few feet in front of me. I couldn’t tell you what was in that aquarium, because, as I said, I was daydreaming over what was to come – college. Parties. Beer. Girls. No, Women. Freedom. I was going to be living on my own for the first time ever. No parental supervision at all. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. It was like I was going away to camp, for good. Like I was going on a permanent vacation. The parties were going to be wilder. The ladies were going to be a lot cooler. And hotter. People in general were going to be a lot cooler and more mature. No more high school drama, no more drama at all. Basically, I had the same exact thoughts and dreams that every other naïve senior-to-be-freshman had. I couldn’t wait. The thought put a smile on my face every time it ran across my mind. Before I could finish my thoughts…
Nurse: Marcus…Marcus
Me: Yeah, that’s me.
Nurse: Come with me.
I followed the nurse to the doctor’s room. She was cute. Probably mid 20’s. Maybe she would be the one to give me my dreaded physical. A boy could only dream. Instead, all she did was take my temperature. (Orally.) Bummer. A few minutes passed and another woman, this time older and definitely less cute, entered the room, but only to grab a few of those wooden stick things. You know, when the doctor tells you to open your mouth then he places the wooden thingy on your tongue. Yeah, those things. Anyway, a few moments later, Dr. Schreber waddled through the doorway. Phew. For a minute there I thought I wasn’t going to experience being felt up by an overweight, balding, 50 year old white man. That was close.
Dr. Schreber: Hello Marcus….take off your pants, please.
Ah yes, the start to any great conversation.
After surviving the poking and the prodding and the…fondling of the physical, I spent the rest of the morning running around my hometown tying up loose ends and picking up last second items I would need for college. I stopped by the gym to discontinue my membership, and did the same at Blockbuster. Got the oil changed in my car and added air to the tires. Stopped by my grandma and grandpa’s house to say goodbye. They gave me fifty bucks. Score. Went to Walmart and picked up a few toiletries. I was just about ready to set sail. Now, all I needed to do was finish packing. I headed back towards home.
Mom: Marcus, will you please take out the garbage?...This is the last time you’ll have to do it.
Matthew: Aw, come on mom. That one’s not even fair.
I could already see this angle was not going to work in my favor. I took out the trash and then immediately went up to my bedroom to begin packing. I let my iTunes play on random while I packed up my past and present. Panama by Van Halen was my choice to start off the library of music. It reminded me of the end of my senior year, and my senior trip down to Panama City Beach, Florida. It made me happy. And excited. Anyway, I continued my daydreaming session of a few hours ago at the doctor’s office as I packed. Man, I was gonna be the king of the campus. I was gonna make so many friends, impress the teachers, the girls. I ran the school my senior year of high school, I was popular…why should I expect anything less from college? Just then, Panama ended and the ‘shuffle’ on my library chose the next song – There Goes My Life by Kenny Chesney. As I was packing. Leaving my life of 18 years behind. I poo poo you not. This actually happened.
Kenny Chesney: There goes my life. There goes my future, my everything. Might as well kiss it all good-bye. There goes my life.
Me: You’ve got to be kidding me.
What are the chances? Three thousand songs and that’s the one my iTunes randomly picks. Good Lord. I hit ‘next song’ and get back to my packing, but more importantly, back to happy thoughts. Going away to college. I needed to get away from this place, I did. I’d always dreamed of going far away for college. This was the right choice. The right choice. This is definitely what I wanted. No doubt. I mean, I didn’t want to just stick around here and –
John Denver: So kiss me and smile for me, Tell me that you’ll wait for me, Hold me like you’ll never let me go, cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane, Don’t’ know when Ill be back again, Oh babe, I hate to go.
Me: Oh you’ve got to be loving kidding me.
What the hell. Did my music library grow a mind of its own all of the sudden? Stop trying to depress me, iTunes. Next song. I knew I couldn’t think about that stuff. About leaving. I had to focus on the positives. I had to –
Paul McCartney: Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, Now it looks as though they’re here to stay, Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Me: Jesus Christ.
A phone call at that exact moment from my best friend Mike saved me from further mental and emotional beatings at the hands of my music library.
Me: Sup
Mike: Hey, you ready to go?
Me: Yeah just finishin’ packin. They decide where they want to go?
Mike: You serious?
Me: Yeah, dumb question
Mike: I’ll just pick you up, I’m bored. We’ll figure it out.
Me: Sounds good.
Mike: Be there in ten.
Ten minutes later, Mike was over to pick me up – the rest of the day to be spent hanging out with my friends one last time. I got in his pickup truck – I don’t know anything about cars, so don’t ask me…I dunno, it was black – and we were off. Mike held a CD in his hand.
Mike: For ol’ times sake.
It was a real CD. You remember those things. You know, before iPods and iRivers and Zunes and all the mp3 players of today. Even before you bypassed the system and ripped your favorite music in a mix on a blank CD…we had real CD’s. You know, the one’s actually put out by the artists. The one’s you…paid for. Yeah crazy to think of our primitive past, isn’t it? Anyway, the CD he held in his hand was No Strings Attached, released by ‘Nsync about five years prior. The summer following our seventh grade, Mike’s mom bought us the CD to listen to while we swam and hung out around his pool. Mike cranked the volume up in his truck, just in time for the start of the first track on the CD, Bye Bye Bye.
So, just to recap: During the course of the previous paragraph, I shared with you that, A) I know nothing about cars, and B) I like boy bands. I’m comfortable enough with my manhood to admit both of those things. Also, I enjoyed the movie Titanic.
Anyway. Mike and I (shamelessly) belted out the lyrics to all of the first three tracks.
Mike: Man, I’m really gonna miss this poo poo.
Me: Yeah...We’ll all be back for Thanksgiving and then Christmas though in a few months.
Mike: I guess…it’s just never going to be the same again.
Me: …What do you mean?
Mike: Hold on, Brian’s calling.
I didn’t like when he talked like that. I didn’t like when anyone talked like that. I needed to focus on the positives. I couldn’t think about that stuff.
Mike: They want to go to the new Hooters, down at Newport.
Me: Holy poo poo, they made a decision on something?
Mike: Well, whenever there’s the possibility of seeing or even being in the general vicinity of boobs, Zak is usually quick on the draw.
Me: Good point.
And then we were off to Hooter’s, not yet realizing we were about the experience quite possibly the most ridiculous moment of our entire lives.
Twenty minutes and 5 Nsync songs later, we arrived at Hooter’s. Brian, Jon, and Zak were already in the restaurant, waiting at a table.
Me: Sup guys
All of them: Sup.
Mike: How’s our waitress?
Jon: Haven’t seen her yet.
Brian: There are some promising prospects though.
Zak: Hell yeah there are. God drat look at these hotties. Oooh boy check out that one right there. I’d love to….man, there ain’t no greater view in the city than this spot right here. Love it!
Brian: Marcus, last day man. This is weird.
Me: Yeah, I –
Zak: Oooh oohh. Okay that one right there. You think I could bang her? Yeah I could. I’m gonna get her number. Hell yeah I am, I’m gonna ask for it. Think I should ask for it?
Mike: Do it, and I’ll punch you in the nuts.
Me: Yeah, Zak, don’t you remember what happened last time?
Jon: Oh poo poo that’s right…Zak, I thought you were never allowed in another Hooter’s establishment again?
Zak: No, no. The restraining order got overturned. I got off.
Me: A proud day for the Chambers family.
Just then, our waiter approached the table. Oh yes, that’s right. I said waiter. He approached our table wearing the standard Hooter’s outfit, a skimpy tanktop and an orange Speedo. A tight orange Speedo. A very tight orange Speedo. It was very…revealing. He spoke to us with a very gay, very strong lisp.
Waiter: Hey guys, can I start you off with something to drink?
You would have thought that it was December 7th, 1941, and we had just been informed of the attacks on Pearl Harbor. Desperation, shock, terror, disbelief, sadness, and sheer horror overtook all of our demeanors. Our mouths were all gaping so wide we could have all swallowed a football.
Me: No way.
Mike: What is happening?
Zak: This might be the single worst moment of my life.
Me: Dear Christ.
Jon: I think I just died a little inside.
Mike: I’m so scared.
Brian: Someone hold me.
Waiter: Oooh I can do that for you, you big naughty sailor you!
Zak: Okay, no! That’s it! I’m done!
I really wish I was making this all up. Anyway, Zak threw his hands up in the air, and walked out of the restaurant. We all followed him without question.
We walked to our cars, all parked next to each other, in complete silence. Everyone was speechless, for the moment at least.
Me: What. In the hell. Was that?
Mike: Did that just happen?
Brian: My god.
We all looked at each other for a moment. Once the shock wore off, we all laughed for a good five minutes straight. After we got done laughing, we decided that Wendy’s would fit us fine, and be a lot safer in the ‘avoiding men in tight Speedos’ department.
We decided to play some laser tag after lunch. We had gone there numerous times back in freshman year of high school, so we decided for old time’s sake to do it one last time. This might have been a mistake. Halfway through our second game, we heard Zak shouting from across the arena, fighting with someone – nothing new.
Zak: Yeah! What! Try it again bitch! This is what you get! You got a fuckin’ problem?! Then do something about it!
We all ran over to check out what mess he had gotten himself into this time, and how many guys he had pissed off. We just hoped we would outnumber them. We did…by four. It was just one. A five year old boy. He was about to cry as Zak continued his shoot at him over and over and over, all the while talking trash to him.
Zak: That’s the last time you try to sneak attack me you little bitch. Don’t try to beat me! I can’t be stopped! I CAN’T BE STOPPED! WOOH!
Jon pulled him away, as we began heading towards the exit of the arena.
Jon: Jesus, Zak, kid can’t be more than five.
Zak turned back to the boy and yelled.
Zak: Yeah, well if he wants to live to be six he best know he shouldn’t be messin with the Zak! Yeah!
Brian: God drat’t, Zak.
We left the laser tag place before anyone had any time to call the cops, thank god. Out in the parking lot of the shopping center where the laser tag arena was located, we spotted three cute girls waiting outside their cars. We decided to approach them. Once we did, Zak immediately pulled on of the girls into him, and kissed her. Brian approached one of the other girls.
Brian: Hey, baby. Did it hurt…when you fell from heaven?
Girl: You guys are such douche bags.
Brian: I love you, too.
Girl: Haha, so what are you guys doin’ here?
Okay, so yeah, we knew them. I left that part out. But it was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it? The girl Zak kissed was Lauren, but we called her LC. She was his girlfriend. The other two were Morgan, who had just spoken with Brian, and Sarah. They were attached to no one, just close ‘friendgirls’ of ours for the past four years of high school. We had a brief conversation with them, and confirmed to them that dinner at Outback was still on. They let us know that our friend Doug was having people over that night, kind of a collective going away party, for all of us that were going away to college. Everyone decided to call it an afternoon and said we’d see each other at dinner that night.
Five hours later, Mike, Brian, Jon, Zak, LC, Morgan, Sarah, and I all sat at a large table at Outback Steakhouse, laughing and conversing, having one final meal together. We all could see the elephant in the room. He was practically sitting on our table. No one said anything during the meal. No one mentioned it. Everyone pretended as if it was a normal meal. That tomorrow and the next day and the next week we would be doing it all over again. Jon broke the silence with a poem we had heard from our favorite teacher, our junior English teacher.
Jon: Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still a flying: and this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be a dying.
There was a pause as everyone pondered, then Mike spoke up.
Mike: You know, ever since we entered high school four years ago, we’ve constantly heard the ‘these will be the best four years of your life’ speeches. Well, I don’t know if these past four years will be the best four years of my life. But I can say that they have drat sure been the best four years of my life so far. And I have you guys to thank for that. So thanks.
The guys nodded their heads while the girls began to tear up.
Zak: Wow, this is really fuckin’ deep and poo poo.
Brian: Aw God drat’t Zak, why do you always have to go and do that?
Jon: You always gotta ruin the moment don’t you?
Zak: What?
I sat there; quiet, almost oblivious to anything that happened after that. All day, all week, all summer, all year, I avoided it. Mike had tried to tell me it earlier. My mom had. Hell, even my iTunes was trying to talk to me. I tried not to think about going away, leaving my friends and family, my home. All day I tried to focus on how awesome college would be. I didn’t want to think about leaving. I didn’t want to second guess my choice. And most of all, I didn’t want to think about saying goodbye.
A few minutes later, we paid the check and headed to Doug’s. At Doug’s, I got to see some current, and some old, friends and say goodbye. It was the cap of the summer, of high school. We drank beers, sang songs, danced, and did whatever else it was that we did at high school parties.
Eventually, Mike, Jon, Brian, Zak and I all found ourselves sitting Doug’s couch, in his living room, just the five of us. We laughed and shared stories of high school for hours. And during it all, there was a moment. A brief moment at the end of our stories that we all shared. We all looked around at each other, silent, with knowing grins. We all knew there was no other group of people we would have rather shared the last four years with. We knew we would never forget our stories, each other, and this period in our lives. We knew this was it, before everything would change. Before we would no longer be children. Little high schoolers. Girls and boys. We would be in college, growing up, men and women. Some of us would probably grow apart, find new friends, fall out of touch. Things would be different, never quite the same again. And this moment, this moment was our last chance to capture that period in our lives, to slow it down, to revel in it. This was our last stand. Our last hurrah. The swan song for a group of friends who had been through so much together, had such great times, and yes, loved each other.
I always think of what Mike said at dinner that night. I don’t know if they’ll be the best four years of my life, but they’ve drat sure been the best four so far. Amen. The last four years had been a non-stop roller-coaster ride, filled with an abundance of ups and only a minimal amount of downs, picking up speed and riding faster and faster until its operator – the hands of time – slowly winded the thrilling ride down to a satisfying stop.
As the sun set on the twilight of an era in my life, I looked back on my time – on our time - and couldn’t help grinning ear to ear. Mahatma Gandhi once said, "Learn as if you were going to live forever. Live as if you were going to die tomorrow." I think we had done just that, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.
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