And But Because

Allow me to explain. I wasn't actually begging for 53 comment to be left on my previous post. While 53 comments would be stupendous and I would feel deeply loved, I was only trying to make the point that if I were to write about beef, my readers mom would stare blankly at the screen, decide that we must have survived a day without body fluid being somewhere it isn't supposed to be, and move right along. I would get zero comments on a post about beef. I think it must have less to do with the subject matter and more to do with the writer. Julie Powell, I have nothing on you. In case you were worried. I thought I should just clarify that in case any of you were thinking that my mental health was riding on whether or not yesterday's post received a certain number of responses.


Before I move on to the actual beef of today's post (Yes, as a matter of fact, I do crack myself up. It's a real party in here. You should come check it out.) I'd like to respond to a comment. It's true. I start a whole darn lot of sentences with conjunctions. In my world the conversation goes a little something like this.

School House Rock: Conjunction Junction, what's your function?
Me: Why, to start sentences with, of course.

Wrong. Oh, so, very wrong. I know it. You know it. We all know it. But (muahahahaha!) I spent all of my life following the rules of grammar, catering to English teachers and professors, and following the strict commands of the modern language association. In high school, my teachers all wanted something different in terms of style. I gave them what they wanted and I got 5's. Translation: A. It was easy for me to conform. I'm not knocking my English teachers, they remain some of my favorite people in all the world. I love them for what they taught me and I love them for who they are as people...but their styles were different and I conformed. When I graduated from college, three courses short of a degree in English Education, I knew how to write. But I was only beginning to find my voice. When I started this blog a couple of years ago, I vowed to write the way that I speak. I promised to write from my heart and not my head. I swore I'd start sentences with and and but and because. Because I felt like it.

Don't take lessons from me. I do not write the way I was taught. My blog is an editor's nightmare. On occasion, when I read back through, I find the English teacher wannabe in me shaking her head in disbelief. I am not a credit to those who taught me. For that I am sorry. As for my voice, well, I'm not sorry at all. I'm glad she's out of the closet.

As for today's beef, I think I've gone on long enough. Perhaps tomorrow I will deliver some meat. And some carrots and onions. It'll be like a giant pot of beouf bourguignon. I bet you can hardly wait.