At vero eos et accusamus et iusto odio dignissimos ducimus qui blanditiis praesentium voluptatum deleniti atque corrupti quos dolores et quas molestias excepturi sint occaecati cupiditate non provident, similique sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollitia animi, id est laborum et dolorum fuga. Et harum quidem rerum facilis est et expedita distinctio. Nam libero tempore, cum soluta nobis est eligendi optio cumque nihil impedit quo minus id quod maxime placeat facere possimus, omnis voluptas assumenda est, omnis dolor repellendus. Itaque earum rerum hic tenetur a sapiente delectus, ut aut reiciendis voluptatibus maiores alias consequatur aut perferendis doloribus asperiores repellat.
It probably seems like every female mosquito’s goal is to make more blood-sucking monsters to make your life miserable, doesn’t it? That’s one way to put it. The next time you are assaulted by mosquitos, their wings buzzing at 500 beats per second in your ear, remember what a difficult path they had to take to reach you (7). They have had to survive against long odds to seek out one refreshing drink (you can spare a drop of blood) to continue a cycle first started as early as 205 million years ago (9). True, mosquitos seem to be an ever-present annoyance, but think about it. If you had survived the many predators waiting to make a meal of you throughout your entire life and then, just as you were arriving at the meal you needed to continue your lineage, your life was carelessly ended by a single flick of a human finger.
Oh, that's right, I remember this one. Is the essay itself more or less the same as it was before? Well, it goes a bit off topic and what I found a little off is the fact that at the very end, the essay suddenly seems to sympathize with the mosquitos, which it hadn't done (if I recall correctly) to that point.
It's more or less the same as it was before. And you're correct, which is why I want to redo it, but I'm not sure how. I'm not really good at ending essays no matter how much I want to :P
Ah, pronoun reference problem: "it" at the beginning of the second paragraph being the paragraph. not the essay.
You really cover a lot of territory in that essay. That may be making it more difficult to conclude as well. Can you post the essay again?
Okay, so your paper is not about how or why mosquitos are attracted to certain people -- that's only one detail in all the rest. Most of it is about the lifecycle of the mosquito, isn;t it? You explain why they need blood -- for their eggs. You talk about where the female lays her eggs. You talk about how the eggs can delay development, and then you cover the various stages of that development. You talk about how mosquitos can bite us without us even feeling it. You talk about their predators, and then you talk about what it is that attracts mosquitos to some and not others. From there, you move to some ways to keep mosquitos off of us. I dunno, except for the odd change of sympathy, that final paragraph does fit the rest of it, doesn't it? The opening sentence links back to the opening paragraph, and then the third and fourth sentences make reference back to the difficult path mosquitos had to take and the long odds they had to survive -- which you've covered -- in order to take that little chomp. I think where the problem lies is in this sentence: "True, mosquitos seem to be an ever-present annoyance . . ." because the attitude towards the mosquitos seems to shift so from the attitude, or seeming attitude, in the rest of the paper.
And that last sentence is, in many ways, quite nice. Can you retain that rhythm and those details, but somehow align the point of view -- the attitude -- with the rest of the paper? You use such inflammatory language against the little buggers earlier! You either have to alter the new tone in the concluding paragraph, or come up with some sort of transitional piece that bridges the gap. Know what I mean?
How about: "Think of it from the mosquito's perspective." And you could work that in something like this -- So, ouch, there comes that bite again. As you reach up to slap that man-eating mosquito away, think of it from the mosquito's perspective. If you had survived the many predators waiting to make a meal of you throughout your entire life and then, just as you were arriving at the meal you needed to continue your lineage, your life was carelessly ended by a single flick of a human finger, how would you feel? Because, too, that last sentence was not quite a sentence yet. Adding that question in makes it a sentence, and helps also to account for the change of tone.
With something like that, I think you have your bridge. WDYT?
Hmm! I think so! I like it :D I actually never noticed that it was just that "sympathy" piece that messed up the whole para :P
That's the advantage of having someone else look at your work. We're all like that: we get too close to it to see.
But you were picking up on the fact that something was off, which is good. And your writing is improving, which is also good.
Thanks! I'll brb in like 10-30 I have to go do something but I'll be back :)
I think we're good. I have to take off as well shortly -- exercise class. Something I keep putting off! Ping me later if you need anything else. Ciao . . .
Thanks for your help! :) I will!
Well, that's going to be your call. Do you feel like it needs something else? When you read the entire paper through and then end on that line, do you like it? I think it sounds pretty good just like that. I was going for a short piece (to complement the lengthy and dramatic buildup in the sentence to this point) and for something also that helped establish that "turn of sentiment" in the paragraph as something deliberate and cohesive. But it was the work of just a moment. And it may be that the change of perspective is still too abrupt? Try adding something and see what you come up with.
Mmk, I do think it sounds nice, but I'll re-read the whole thing
I think it sounds good ending it like there. I only changed it by italicizing the "you" in "How would you feel?" I think I'll send it in tomorrow :D
Nice touch! Let me know how it goes . . .