I've been reading around a bit in the blogging world and been very humbled by what I have read. Feelings that I should immediately apologize to my favorite English teachers throughout the years are weighing me down, friends. I can only imagine the look of horror on their faces after reading my posts with the "I taught you better than that" vibe oozing from their pores. I'm sorry, Mr. Phillips, that i peaked following my wildly popular descriptive essay on "My Attic" in the eleventh grade. I got too cocky, I guess. Dr. Tucker, I realize that just because I was lucky enough to receive a beautiful leather brief bag exactly like yours, it did not make me write as eloquently about Carson McCullers as you described her. And Ms. Ayers? I will never accurately convey the feelings of heartbreak from reading "The Red Pony" in seventh grade and watching your hard as nails persona choke up during the dramatic climax. I can only hope that with practice, improvement will come. And with the improvement, will come boatloads of CASH. Just kidding. I have yet to find my "I wish I was as good at____as you are" talent that everyone envies. Maybe I never will. The question is, will I be okay with that? I honestly hope so, but I don't know.
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