can some help me with my essay by commenting, editing, or critising? the topic is pg. 219 of my autobiography?

As I said earlier, my dad and I are and were inseparable and incredibly similar. We look a lot alike we think alike sometimes. We get each other’s sense of humor, not to mention the numerous inside jokes we share.
Well, my dad decided to go up into the attic for some new years cleaning. Well, considering the fact that back then the attic was not finished it was not world’s smartest thing to do. After his incredibly good luck ran out, he stepped on dry wall, went crashing through the ceiling, and falling on the bathroom sink. Fortunately, he got out with only his left arm fractured. How does this relate to me?
Well, a month after the attic incident, I was innocently playing at recess, decided to go and swing across the monkey bars. Unfortunately, some girl who thought I was part of a game of tag was ‘it’ and decided to push/tag me hard while yelling ‘you’re it’. Well, I fell to the ground, breathe knocked-out of me. And for about two weeks no one believed me. But, sure enough when we finally went to my doctor, if you haven’t figured it out yet, we found out my left arm was fractured and was sentenced to 8 month in a sling. Just like my dad's arm was.
Sounds cliché doesn’t it. But, it’s not it’s my life. And I guess everyone’s life hits quite a few clichés while their life is taking its course.
So my arm took its own sweet time, and since, then I haven’t used my left arm much. Before that I use to be an ambidextrous, writing, playing, and what not with both of my arms being used equally. But, not using my left side became habitual. But, odd enough just recently I tried writing with my left hand again after several years. And it still has better cursive than my right one. Odd isn’t it?
This same year outside of the boring perimeters of my elementary school at that time, my little brother turned a year old. I had a few more dance performances. Read a bunch of good books, can’t recall many titles, but I do think I read the sequel to A tale of a four grade nothing by Judy Blume, Super fudge I think it’s called, and reread the first Harry Potter book wondering wile people liked it. (Personally, I have always been a Lord of the Ring fan, but now I am okay with Harry Potter, but no one can out-write Tolkien.)
My grandma (my mom’s mom) went back to India. My brother learned how to pinch people (ouch!) and I became a victim of his mad pinching skills. Summer came, I took a summer school class that taught me how to do things on computers (like typing faster, but I never really excelled in the speed part, but, I am getting better). Summer stepped aside and welcomed a new school year once more.

This time around my classroom would be in a trailer. Which, back before we started school I thought would be cool. All and all it turned out okay, but I definitely would have preferred a class that was in the school come winter. But, my teacher was nice. I remember around the second week of school during geography, how amused she was when I found a city in Wyoming a named Casper (Her name was Mrs. Casper).
A little while later I decided to chance a drastic hair and had my hair cut so, it went just barely pass my ears. Looking my hair now, people find it hard to imagine my hair was ever that short.
Kusum Masi, my mom’s older sister (the reason I am not calling her my aunt is, that in India your mom’s sister is called your Masi) came to visit my little brother a second time. This time he was approximately one and three months old.
My birthday came and this was the first birthday of mine in which a member of my family that lived in India was present. I had two birthday parts that year. They were both sleepovers. One was for my school friends; the other was for my friends from outside of school. My aunt and I had matching yellow fleece pullovers on. And for some reason a bunch of people thought she was mom or older sister though we don’t look anything alike. My brother had fun at the only birthday he had ever attended that wasn’t his own and played with my black forest cake. And had fun smearing icing all over his and other people’s faces.

After all, that time flew by some more and life was decreasing its speed for sometime… Christmas shopping … lots of snow … presents… more snow… And, then back to school…My aunt goes back to India.
Now let us fast forward a bit further in my life while listening to some annoying elevator music, or the kind of music they play when they ask you t please hold, and you only do so out of horrified fascination due to the music…snowman…spring break… oh we’re about there…
Now stop, and press play.

A few weeks before the end of the school year when, my troop’s leader’s family was after that school year going to move to Texas I think it was. Regrettably, my Girl Scout troop broke up, and I did not go to girl scouts again for a couple of years, but that is a story for later.
Now onwards to summer break; a time of relaxing, fun in sun, and… who am I kidding? Life is never that simply, at least mine’s not if your’s is congratulations life is awesome. As for mine, it’s a lot more complicated than that.

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