"transactions for purchases of property"

"being crowded with children buying these items"

"I was young as was he"

"immediate started this undertaking"

"working with government, seek current"

"thier"

"corporations . . . board of directors"

"Having been a car salesman was truly a unique experiences which "

Jesus Christ you are a fucking awful writer.

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12659239)

am i the only one

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12659092)

Ma vie s'est retournée tourné la tête en bas

Et j'ai voulu prendre une minute

Asseyez-vous là

Je vais vous raconter comment je suis devenu le prince d'une ville du nom de Bel Air

Dans l'ouest de Philadelphie né et a grandi

Sur le terrain de jeux où j'ai passé la plupart de mes jours

Chillin 'out maxin Relaxin' All Cool

Et tout Shootin quelques B-ball à l'extérieur de l'école

Quand un couple de gars

Qui étaient à rien de bon

Startin la difficulté à faire dans mon quartier

J'ai obtenu dans un petit combat et ma mère a eu peur

Elle dit: «Tu es Movin 'avec votre tante et son oncle à Bel Air»

J'ai supplié avec elle jour après jour

Mais elle fit mon cas suite et envoyez-moi sur mon chemin

Elle me donna un baiser, puis elle m'a donné mon ticket.

Je mets mon walkman et dit, 'je pourrais aussi bien Kick It'.

First class, yo this is bad

Boire du jus d'orange dans un verre de champagne.

Est-ce là ce que les gens de Bel-Air Living like?

Hmmmmm c'est peut-être bien.

Mais attendez, j'entends y êtes pointilleux, le vin tout ce que

Est-Bel-Air du type d'endroit, il envoie son chat cool?

Je ne pense pas semer la

Je verrai lorsque j'y serai

J'espère qu'ils sont prêts pour le prince de Bel-Air

Eh bien, l'avion a atterri et quand je suis sorti

Il y avait un mec qui ressemblait à un flic là avec mon nom

Je ne cherche pas à se faire arrêter

Je viens d'arriver

Je bondis avec la rapidité comme la foudre, a disparu

J'ai sifflé un taxi et quand il arriva près de

La plaque d'immatriculation a déclaré frais et il avait dés dans le miroir

Si quelque chose que je peux dire ce taxi est rare

Mais j'ai pensé: «Maintenant l'oublier», - «Yo maisons à Bel Air»

Je me suis arrêtée à la maison à environ 7 ou 8

Et j'ai crié au chauffeur de taxi «maisons yo ya l'odeur plus tard '

Je regardais mon royaume

J'étais enfin là

De s'asseoir sur mon trône, comme le Prince de Bel Air

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12764839)

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12786452)

on the grammatical and punctuation side, it's terrible. no commas where they are needed, commas where periods need to be, etc.

as far as content goes, i stopped reading after the first 3 sentences. you need to start out with a hook. add more emotive words to give it a 'personal' feel.

overall: terrible. delete and redo.

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12659937)

And every day, there was a kid, probably 15 years old, who stood in front of the school with a trunk propped open and dozens (to my 10-year-old mind, hundreds) of plastic toys, made someplace in southeast Asia, priced at unbelievable bargains. Once in a while, I'd sneak a dime out of my dad's sock drawer just to have the joy of handing it over and receiving my very own Chinese finger trap or monster finger puppet or whistle with a ball.

My friends would crowd around him as he demonstrated the new yo-yo that he had in stock, or a special purple three-pack of Pixie sticks if we wanted a little extra sugar. He deftly handled the wares and the money and the crowd, and everyone loved him. And I never even knew his name.

A few years later, grade school was behind me, high school was behind me, and I was an 18-year-old nobody without a college diploma and a "nice" personality (as my grandma always said). C+C had moved away; he'd received a football scholarship to Auburn. Without any real options, or, perhaps more importantly, any money, I picked up a gig selling cars at a local Buick dealer. Jim ran the dealership. He was a former tailback standout at a nearby high school who broke his clavicle one summer and would never play again. But he knew how to move cars. And in a few weeks, I knew how to move cars. Like that 15-year-old pushing plastic toys on wide-eyed kids, I was selling the finest General Motors had to offer to folks in my community looking for a ride that would take them to a vacation home or to the Washington Monument or to a niece's wedding in Kansas City or wherever they wanted to go.

I'd moved enough cars that I wanted to do something else. So I took a gig at a little mortgage firm in Long Beach, and I was doing the same thing, just a different amount of money and a different kind of property. With a few bucks in my pocket, I hunkered down to find a college that I could afford, still dealing mortgages, and still thinking of that kid selling me toys.

And it wasn't until I took a couple of economics courses that the thread was weaved. We were all selling property or buying property or "engaging in a business transaction," as one prof in a patched jacket and a bow tie liked to drawl in one upper-level finance course. And I thought about what it would be like to go to law school and do the same thing, from a different angle. I'd been the buyer; I'd been the seller. Why not be the lawyer?

And here I am.

---

OP, did this interest you?

Now, re-read your statement. Does that interest anyone?

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12660054)

that personal statement is well written, but lacks punch.

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12660186)

I enjoyed that immensely and tyft

Mine was about how my parents grew up below the poverty line, pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, and I wanted to get filthy rich to honor them

Just proof that law schools only care about GPA and LSAT, because I ought to have been pwnt by adcom. Instead I got a partial scholly.

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12660250)

op, if not flame, use this one if you`re considering using yours.

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12741900)

he wasn't asking you, fuckhead

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12834345)

He was a tough-looking youth of twenty-five or six, with reddish-yellow hair and powerful shoulders. His peaked leather cap was pulled fiercely over one eye. He was standing in profile to me, his chin on his breast, gazing with a puzzled frown at a map which one of the officers had open on the table. Something in his face deeply moved me. It was the face of a man who would commit murder and throw away his life for a friend — the kind efface you would expect in an Anarchist, though as likely as not he was a Communist. There were both candour and ferocity in it; also the pathetic reverence that illiterate people have for their supposed superiors. Obviously he could not make head or tail of the map; obviously he regarded map-reading as a stupendous intellectual feat. I hardly know why, but I have seldom seen anyone — any man, I mean — to whom I have taken such an immediate liking. While they were talking round the table some remark brought it out that I was a foreigner. The Italian raised his head and said quickly:

‘Italiano?’

I answered in my bad Spanish: ‘No, Ingles. Y tu?’

‘Italiano.’

As we went out he stepped across the room and gripped my hand very hard. Queer, the affection you can feel for a stranger! It was as though his spirit and mine had momentarily succeeded in bridging the gulf of language and tradition and meeting in utter intimacy. I hoped he liked me as well as I liked him. But I also knew that to retain my first impression of him I must not see him again; and needless to say I never did see him again. One was always making contacts of that kind in Spain.

I mention this Italian militiaman because he has stuck vividly in my memory. With his shabby uniform and fierce pathetic face he typifies for me the special atmosphere of that time. He is bound up with all my memories of that period of the war — the red flags in Barcelona, the gaunt trains full of shabby soldiers creeping to the front, the grey war-stricken towns farther up the line, the muddy, ice-cold trenches in the mountains. That was when I knew I wanted to go to law school.

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12741486)

I have just written the word ``infinite.'' I have not interpolated this adjective out of rhetorical habit; I say that it is not illogical to think that the world is infinite. Those who judge it to be limited postulate that in remote places the corridors and stairways and hexagons can conceivably come to an end -- which is absurd. Those who imagine it to be without limit forget that the possible number of books does have such a limit. I venture to suggest this solution to the ancient problem: The Library is unlimited and cyclical. If an eternal traveler were to cross it in any direction, after centuries he would see that the same volumes were repeated in the same disorder (which, thus repeated, would be an order: the Order). My solitude is gladdened by this elegant hope of attending the University of Southern California Gould School of Law.

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12747843)

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12794886)

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1077562&forum_id=2#12975563)