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Originally posted Friday, September 17, 2010.
My, Secret, Shame
I can’t use commas without consulting my trusty copy of Strunk & White.
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Why is this shameful? I majored in English. My mother was an English teacher. In fact, I’m pretty sure she can read my thoughts as I write this and is dying a little inside.
Hi, Mom!
Unfortunately, I do not know where my copy of Strunk & White is. In a box? On the moon? In an alternate universe where I’m a highly lucrative and successful writer? Who knows.
What I do know is that this means that every blog post I’ve written so far has been peppered with punctuation, the rules of which are of my own making and recollection. Because apparently googling “how to use commas” is not part of my internet skills set.
And one of these days, some one will point out my copious and ridiculous use of commas. And then I’ll die of shame.
The end.
4 comments:
I, too, am punctuation disabled. Then, even though my Strunk and White is within reach, I over think without consulting that little book and surely, surely end up thinking myself into exactly the wrong punctuation.
I are not a rare breed, I think. Solidarity, sister.
Comma, comma, comma, comma, comma chameleon....
That's not where that goes, it's not where it go-o-o-oes.
I, too, have an undefined love-hate relationship with commas so you will catch no flak from me.
I have never looked at Strunk & White, but I loved the bit of Eats Shoots and Leaves that I read.
And, I'm quite certain I've improperly punctuated this reply, but I consider it part of my charm.
@Nicole - solidarity!
@mamamash - is that schoolhouse rock? Must visit youtube...
@Janie - I actually do like Strunk & White, although I rarely open it these days.
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