Writing can be difficult and challenging for many people, this is the case for me. Whenever I am thrust into another required writing class visions of my childhood flash before my eyes. Pains pulse through my body in the form of confusion, boredom, and discontent.Thoughts of plain white paper containing half completed sentences and Times New Roman orders demanding I find a particular grammatical mistake haunt me. The smiles and laughs of the girls in pretty dresses who want to be teachers completed there writing task in less than thirty seconds throw their smirks at me for they are the winners of this particular competition. Marks of angry red slashed through my mistakes reminding me of my incompetence, red sharpies stare me in the eyes. In contrast I remember the joy of early mathematics and the breeze at which I pounded through problems, if only writing were this way.

I do not except failure, but find myself justifying bad grades on writing assignments claiming they add contrast to the good grades I get in other subjects. Writing is painful. Verbs, nouns, pronouns, antonyms, and any other grammatical definition inspire bouts of syncope. But, pain can some times be a good thing. Pain makes you stronger or increases your endurance, it can make you a better person. This is my hopeful disposition towards writing, that being more proficient in this challenging subject will make me a better person.

Now here I am in writing 402, blogging. This is my first time ever, I do not like sharing myself. But I can say is that regardless of how bad I am at writing, that whenever I get a bad or good grade I am filled with hope. The hope that people are still failed for bad work and reward for good, and that everything in life must be worked for and not handed out.