My bestfriend, Rosanna, says that I'm obsessed with commas. Because I am. (Hmmm, should have been a comma or semi-colon instead of the period separating both sentences back there but -- but oh well.) I even once fell in love with a man because his command of English grammar was superior to mine. Every time I read his letters, I swear, I practically salivated. I called it comma sutra.
I remember back in sixth grade, our English teacher taught me a bit about sentence diagramming on the side, after I had completed all our reading modules before the semester was over and thus had nothing else to do in class (note: my elementary school adopted the individualized instruction educational method so we all progressed according to each our own pace). I couldn't get enough of placing the correct words on the right side of the intersecting lines; I discovered then that there was such a thing as a grammar geek.
I'm such a geek that I'm still embittered from my loss during Grammar Bee earlier that year. That same teacher was paid to tutor my competition -- the girl who eventually won. What's worse is that I lost because of a typo: I no longer remember the details, but it had something to do with the definition of a gerund. I memorized everything exactly as printed in our mimeographed handouts -- which meant I recited my answer incorrectly. And even after I argued that I couldn't be faulted because the lesson material itself was wrong (although I also wanted to complain about the unfair advantage the other girl had because her mother paid our English teacher for private lessons -- but decided not to so as not to risk the ire of the one person who determined my grade in class), the judges refused to listen to the reasoning of an 11-year-old child.
So now I am particularly annoyed by typos, especially my own.
I'm a fairly good editor but I suck at editing my own text (this is one of the reasons I love blogging -- we're mostly forgiven for our mistakes and lapses). I care, however, for being understood, and so I endeavor to use correct grammar, which will hopefully help lead my readers from one sentence to another as they grasp what I'm trying to say. Unfortunately, good grammar doesn't always make for good writing (the latter involves discipline, creativity, and even experience) -- but that's another story.
The funny thing about being a grammar geek is that the more I read grammar books, the more I learn there's nothing absolute about the English language. For instance, many experts will insist that in a simple series of words there is no comma between the last two terms and the conjunction (for instance: red, white and blue). But I've also read otherwise, where a comma -- called the Oxford comma -- must be used to separate the same (red, white, and blue). So because no one will compromise and come up with a single rule, the key is to use whichever you choose -- as long as your remain consistent. Personally, I like that extra comma.
There are many other rules in the English language that don't make sense or, at least, can't be explained. Why is it, for example, that it's "i" before "e" but not after "c"? But not always? Or why do some people insist that one should never start a sentence with a conjunction (like I just did, and often seem to do)? When is it OK to break the rules, and when is it not? This whole grammar thing becomes even more confusing when you consider that language evolves constantly; what is considered unacceptable today may be the norm tomorrow.
It's enough to make people simply want to give up -- and talk or write without any regard for form or convention. But the way I see it, it's like the importance of learning etiquette. We might not always practice what Emily preaches, but it's essential that we are aware of the rules we choose to break. Civilization will not survive or perish based on whether we choose to hold our dinner fork in our left or right hand, or whether or not we use a comma before a nonessential clause -- but it just might if we choose not to care at all, or if we refuse to set any standards for ourselves.
I suppose that's an important element of living well: to determine standards and goals we would like to achieve, even if we often fall short of them. We ought to try to become good people, or at least good citizens. We need to try to be better husbands and wives, parents and children, or (especially) politicians. Obviously it's often easier to fail than to succeed, but it's the effort that matters. If we don't at least try or want to try, then we'd might as well be bubbling ooze in a prehistoric swamp, just as we were billions of years ago.
Yoda might have said: "No. Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try." But Yoda obviously didn't try to use correct grammar.
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