Comma trauma and writing anxiety

I actually know people who say high school was the high point in their life. I find this incredibly sad. To have peaked by the age of eighteen has to be horribly depressing! I didn’t hate high school, but neither would I care to relive it.

I hated math class, have no natural talent for it, and was actually in remedial classes in elementary school. As luck would have it, I had parents with high expectations and I was forced to take all of the advanced classes offered at my school. Even the math classes. I took math analysis and calculus and I can honestly say that I am a whiz at balancing a checkbook….with the use of a calculator. I took chemistry and physics from a teacher who tripped over his garbage can on a weekly basis. I learned that one should walk around physical objects, although I don’t always manage to put that knowledge to use. I’ve tripped over my fair share of objects.

Biology class brings back its own set of shudder worthy memories but only because I told my biology teacher I was going to the library to look for a book on macro-orgasms when I meant to say macro-organisms. Only when the teacher stuttered and blushed did I realize I’d mispronounced my word. When I looked up the difference, I thought I would die! And I had to work with this lady as an adult! Every time I saw her in the hall at the office, I felt a fresh wave of humiliating embarrassment.

My favorite class was English class. Even back then, I lived to write papers and I loved the classes that encouraged creativity. I hated all aspects of a grammar class, however. Diagramming a sentence was such a waste of time. I could write a paper and have few to no mistakes so why did I care if the words I chose to use were subjects, verbs, adjectives, or direct past participles?

Now that I’m writing a blog and knowing that smart people are reading it, I sometimes suffer from writing anxiety. I have regular cases of comma trauma, and sometimes I put in a comma, take it out, put it in, take it out, etc. I proofread, and as soon as I hit publish, I see a mistake. I’ve decided it’s all okay, though. I’ve even learned to take a few steps beyond normal and embrace the use of incomplete sentences. Living dangerously here!

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