Grappling with Grammar: A Grammar Gallimaufry

So it's the night before our first paper draft (or what we have done?) is due, and I'm here in the libary writing, and I realized this one fact: I hate doing paper outlines.

Hate.

For me, outlining a paper is like giving birth to a child, and then saying:

Well, you'll go to such and such pre-school at age 5, then at age six you'll attend so and so elementary. At the age of 12 you'll attend this middle/junior high school, and at 14 you'll attend that high school. When you're 18 you'll graduate and go to Harvard and study law. You'll take a break and serve a mission in this or that country (foreign language speaking). You'll return, and transfer to BYU. Then when you're 24 you'll get married to X-girl. Also at 24 you'll go to business school at Princeton. When you're 25 you'll have your first child . . ."

I feel like my baby's moving out next week and I'm in the middle of labor for goodness sake!

That isn't to say I don't plan. I know what sources I'll use, and the big points I want to make. I just don't map out every direction I'm going.

That way, in the end, my paper surprises me.

I like that feeling.

Note: This is not meant to offend anyone who loves outlines or plans out their children's life (lives?) for them. This is also not meant to offend anyone who already has their paper completed. It is also not meant to get me in trouble for procrastination.

I'd just like all of us English teachers to remember that not everyone likes or uses outlines.

Thanks for letting me vent.

a general English teaching comment...
i do not want to be a dry crusty teacher who teaches from behind the desk.
i visited an English classroom the other day and chatted with a very excited teacher. she was so excited about a book she was about to teach (and incidentally taught every year) and she laughed (evilly i imagined) when she told me how much the students hate it. hello?
i just hope that in a couple years we all remember we are teaching for the students, not to satisfy our own agendas. i understand, we do need to teach some classics that students will surely hate, but that is why we are learning how to make learning fun and interesting in all of our BYU classes!
it's teachers like her that make students hate English. sad.

I found this idea of Power and dialect very interesting. I always viewed my speech patterns as appropriate until I interacted with individuals outside the state of Idaho. It was interesting to have someone tell me I spoke like a "spud." Exactly how does a spud speak? I was unsure of exactly what the person was trying to say and chalked it up to the quirkiness of that individual. Sadly, having someone tell me I speak like a spud ended up not being an isolated incident. I would ask them to clarify exactly what a spud says and what exactly spud speech is was met with a derision and the comment that I simply wouldn't understand.

I began to tell people I was from California (where I served my mission) and didn't hear one more comment about talking like a spud. I had joined the larger community of power speakers. I eventually stopped telling people I was from California and resorted back to my plain simple speech of spudness.

Hey guys and gals- I found an article online at nytimes.com, about semicolon usage on a sign in a subway train. I have included what I found to be an entertaining excerpt. Interestingly, the excerpt states that semicolons are to be taught in the 3rd grade (I have a hunch that this isn't happening). If you are interested in seeing the whole article, including the actual sentence that contains the semicolon click here. Enjoy

Excerpt:

"Americans, in particular, prefer shorter sentences without, as style books advise, that distinct division between statements that are closely related but require a separation more prolonged than a conjunction and more emphatic than a comma.

'When Hemingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life,' Kurt Vonnegut once said. 'Old age is more like a semicolon.'

In terms of punctuation, semicolons signal something New Yorkers rarely do. Frank McCourt, the writer and former English teacher at Stuyvesant High School, describes the semicolon as the yellow traffic light of a 'New York sentence.' In response, most New Yorkers accelerate; they don’t pause to contemplate.

Semicolons are supposed to be introduced into the curriculum of the New York City public schools in the third grade. That is where Mr. Neches, the 55-year-old New York City Transit marketing manager, learned them, before graduating from Tilden High School and Brooklyn College, where he majored in English and later received a master’s degree in creative writing.

Being the nerd that I am, I was thinking the other day about how coordinating conjunctions can change the meaning of sentences. It made me think of a student-made video that I watched in a class in high school.

One of the students asked other students around the school about the upcoming presidential election. One of the girls on the video said, "My parents are republicans, but I'm going to vote for Bush!" Oops!

Poor girl--we all laughed when we heard that. You would think that by high school, people would figure out the difference between "and" and "but".

My husband and I manage an apartment complex, and we are rarely in the office at the same time. Every time I come into or out of the office, I flip over the sign that rests on the windowsill. On one side, it says "Open"; on the other, "Closed. Please call again."

Seeing that sign makes me think about how the usage of the word "call" has changed. Obviously, in this context, it means "come." But nowadays, we usually only use the word "call" in the sense of a telephone, or maybe even to mean yelling or calling out to someone. If we ever said, "I'm going to go call on my friend," to mean "I'm going to go visit my friend," we would probably be laughed at. The only time I ever hear the word "call" in that sense is when I watch Jane Austen movies. It's kind of interesting how words change.

I found a great article on Eliot's use of "you and I" instead of "you and me" in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. . . Sounds maybe a little...ridiculous. haha. Like...who thought to write about that!? But...being in this grammar class, I thought it was interesting. Grammar means so much!

Read it here!

I wanted to respond to yesterday's class. Professor Ostenson was so excited about what he was presenting it increased my interest in learning. I think this is an important concept to remember as teachers. Students are not going to all be excited about learning, but our attitudes as teachers, and our excitement, will certainly set the tone for the class. I hope that I can always approach teaching with a certain level of excitement.

I really loved today's articles for discussions on engaging students in reading the classics with a focus on understanding the grammar. I now wonder if that is why I didn't like classic literature in high school, I didn't understand it. I have always loved reading - still do! But, my enjoyment of classics didn't come until college. Perhaps if a teacher had approached classics from a grammar standpoint, I would have been engaged in learning the classics we studied. As I work on ideas to engage my future students in the learning, I am excited to be able to connect grammar to what we are reading and how it affects the reader...which directly translates into writing - student writing. While these articles didn't mention having students write to practice any grammar they were discussing, it seems that this would be part of the logical process. Just like we have discussed in class: using good models before having the students eventually practice on their own. Thus, this way of teaching grammar as a part of reading seems to flow naturally into continuing the process into writing with the grammar just learned!

It is both well (prudent) and good (worthy of respect) to educate the rising generation in the ability to say something clever in a clever way: to entertain and to titillate a sense of surprise or fascination. For these purposes, a bending of long-established patterns of morphology and syntax seems quite acceptable, even rhetorically effective at times. But who will educate those in the rising generation who do or will one day aspire to be the lawyers who defend our laws and the assistants who help to prepare their briefs; the judges who determine the consequences of disobedience to those laws and the clerks who record the proceedings; the elected representatives who initiate and promote or change the rules which govern our society and the staffs who do much of the drafting of those rules; the researchers who write the medical treatises that justify procedures that promote health and treat disease and the lab assistants who record and tabulate the data; the doctors who read and interpret those works and apply their principles in their practices and the nurses who carry out their directives; the ambassadors who represent our nation and its democratic principles to other nations and the staffs who prepare their communications; the entrepreneurs who create the businesses and jobs that employ the vast majority of citizens; and, indeed, the teachers who train up the next generation? Is there, in these considerations, not a profound need for accuracy, correctness, and consistency in the patterns of our language? Let us make no small preparations.

So. Vitamin water....It's trying to be hip, appeal to the younger gen, hook us with their stylish bottles and celebrity endorsements. But I noticed one other thing that they do to try to be hip, relaxed, cool....they don't use capitals. The description on the bottle is written but with no capitals and when I picked it up to read it (I read everything) I got lost. I didn't know where sentences ended or began. I mean, there were punctuation marks in there, I saw periods and commas, but the all lower-case letters really threw me off.

So, yes, Vitamin Water, I know you're hip. I know you're just casual with me like, "Oh. Hey there. I didn't see you come in. I was just drinkin' this water....oh this water? It has vitamins in it...try some...no big deal..." but, I find your approach to the casual writing to be hip...confusing and awkward. It was a good idea...but. Just isn't right.

I enjoyed the concepts presented by the reading. The philosophy of building up students by finding something positive in their writing, and using that as a springboard to revision is outstanding. The article details how being positive opened the students up to suggestions from the teacher to improve their writing. The key component of offering "constructive" criticism is to provide specific feedback instead of general comments that provide no guidance to the student.

I have seen on my papers the words "awkward" and "unclear" on the paper, but have been unsure of exactly how to proceed. I must remember this when I am teaching. To provide concise feedback that helps guide the student to the problem instead of leaving the problem mired in murkiness.

You know sometimes when you get an itch on your back that you can't quite reach, and directing others to the spot to help you scratch it seems to make it worse?

The following situation is kind of like that for me.

When I was 17 I was reading the Book of Mormon and noticed a rather peculiar phrase. I tried to ignore it, but then I started noticing it over and over again throughout the pages of the book. Since I was the one giving the doctrinal insights to my seminary class, I knew that my teacher there could be of no help. My parents were no good either.

So when I was a freshman at BYU in Book of Mormon 121 with Brother Parker, I decided it was finally a good time to ask. After class I went up to the teacher and pointed out a particular verse and quoted it to him, "But behold, I have obtained a land of promise, in the which things I do rejoice; yea, and I know that the Lord will deliver my sons out of the hands of Laban, and bring them down again unto us in the wilderness." (1 Nephi 5:5)

Does anyone notice anything...grammatically odd about that sentence?

"But behold, I have obtained a land of promise, in the which things I do rejoice; yea, and I know that the Lord will deliver my sons out of the hands of Laban, and bring them down again unto us in the wilderness."

What on earth does "in the which" mean?

I asked Brother Parker about it, thinking this probably had something to do with the chiasmus or literary style or something like that, but the only answer I got was to make sure that this "in the which" problem I had didn't shake my faith in the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.

So I gave up trying to solve the problem. But you know what? I've been noticing it again - the itch is back!

So to my grammarian associates, can anyone explain, in simple regular English terms, why "in the which" makes sense?

Thank you.

And p.s., I still have a testimony. In case you were wondering. :)

Why are some people good spellers while others are poor spellers? I have a theory. I was working on a fourth grade spelling list with my oldest daughter—my wife is a poor speller so this charge fell to me. Katie was attempting to spell Pennsylvania and she was failing miserably. In utter frustration I blurted out, “What’s the matter? Can’t you see the word right there in your mind?” My daughter and wife looked at me like I had two heads. I explained all they had to do was see the word in their mind. They asked in utter shock, “You actually see words? All we see is pictures.” When I want to spell Pennsylvania I see the letters P-E-N-N-S-Y-L-V-A-N-I-A in my mind; my daughter sees an outline of the state while my wife sees an image of Amish people. I decided to test this with others and found some interesting results.

I talked to roughly 200 individuals of various ages, finding that traditionally good spellers see letters in their mind, while traditionally poor spellers see pictures. A third group sees both letters and pictures, but these individuals account for a very small percentage. Individuals that see mental images have to work hard at developing strategies in order to spell adequately. Abstract words such as there, their, and they’re can be especially challenging as there is no mental picture to draw upon, so the mind is often left with a blank image.

What do you see in your mind when you want to spell the word pencil?

We talked in class today about how errors can change meaning. I have a story.

This is not a personal experience, it is a TRUE story that I heard from one of my roommates.

Last year her stake had a missionary fireside. You know, the kind where you bring your non-member friends and potential investigators? The meeting was supposed to be about the Plan of Salvation.

BUT, The program had a typo on it, and read , "Plan of SLAVATION." To make matters worse, the said fireside was in Kentucky, and the congregation that night was very, um, multicultural.

I'm sure there were more than a few African American families in attendance who were shocked and dismayed by our Church's supposed plan to enslave people.

That's all.

• Freezing time. I have longed for this power all of my school days. Especially at 2 am the day before the deadline for a big essay. If I had this power right now, I would take the best power nap ever.
• Teleportation. Not only would this save me a lot of hassle, but it could also help me fulfill my dreams of traveling the world. I especially craved this ability during the six months my husband and I spent on different continents before we were married.
• Mind reading. I’ve always been interested in how people think. This is why I started out college as a psych major. I especially wanted this power in high school so I could have known what was on the mind of all my crushes. The awesome thing about marriage is now I don’t have to read my husband’s mind to know how he feels about me; he tells me that he loves every day.
• Creating something out of nothing. Specifically—money. Lots and lots.
• Superhuman strength. This would save me from the embarrassment of struggling to crack the lid of a new water bottle in class. Or I could just start working out. That would definitely help.
• Duplication. I could create dozens of copies of my self and finally accomplish all of the goals I have. One could be the perfect student, one could be the perfect homemaker, one could be the successful professional, one would spend time with family, one would party with friends, one could be all about serving others, and I’m sure the rest could find something to do too.
• Extreme creativity. This would make assignments like this a lot easier.

Last week, a sleek black enormous Dodge Ram passed me as I was driving to school. It's back window touted an advertisement for a personal business, Custom Metalwork. The main part of the ad proclaimed the many types of metalwork available:
Chimney Caps
Planter Box's
Fireplace Hood's
Cupolas
Backsplash's
Range Hoods
(Note the two "hoods" that are punctuated differently and the other pluralized words that someone felt were in need of more than just a simple "es")
I initially intended to put this on the blog as a question of "Do the odd punctuation errors make you doubt the proficiency or professionalism of this business?" However, as I read the "Phenomenology of Error" I started to reconsider errors in language at a whole new level. What is error? I must admit I got lost and confused in the erudite language and formulas. However, what I did understand (and I could be completely wrong because of the whole "lost and confused" issue!) was that errors are not errors for everyone. What one person has written or spoken, believing that they are using the language correctly, can be "proved" to be an error by another through a different grammar book! How will anyone ever learn "correct" usage of the English language? Who will get to say it is correct? How far will we go in correcting or ignoring errors just because someone can prove or contradict the rule? Can "(range) hoods" and "(fireplace) hood's" come to mean the same thing because it is printed on the side of a truck? Where will we draw the line as teachers as to what is an error and what is a stylistic choice? Again, is "hoods" and "hood's" just a stylistic choice made to catch attention? Where do we find the answers?

So, I tried to make a list. And I got a little carried away. It is chuck full of incomplete sentences and loads of phrases that don't make perfect sense. And, there are some run-ons in there.

I kind of tried to tell a story through my list. We'll see how it goes:


I came home from Washington, D.C. with 2 weeks of near-freedom. I spent the majority of it very peacefully. I LOVE living life in St. George.

The Main Ideas:
1. The first day that I was home I often walked outside of my house and simply stood in the sun, spun around in circles, or swung on our tree swing and exclaimed my joy at the weather. Yes, it was hot, and yes, I love it when it is hot. I love stepping outside and feeling the heat just HIT you. I love feeling the sun kind of burn your skin when it touches you. I was obsessed with the heat when I was home.
2. My car. Imagine not driving a car in 3 and a half months. It was painful. I missed driving more than I ever thought I would. That first day I was home my first priority, after standing in the sun for a bit, was to drive and listen to my music.
3. Sleeping in. I slept in like a total of 2 times ALL SUMMER. So, when I got to St. George, I very much took advantage of my opportunity to sleep in. It was fantastic. And although it made me more tired because I often over slept (a good 12 hours isn't bad, right?), I loved every minute of my sleeping-in.
4. Disney Channel. I LOVE IT. I watched a mixture of JONAS, Sonny With a Chance, Hannah Montana, and Wizards of Waverly Place everyday.
5. Dairy Queen. SHALOM?!!!!! Why didn't anybody ever think to put one of those guys in Washington, D.C.? Those hoity toity Washingtonians are TOTALLY missing out. I must have eaten 7 Dilly Bars since I came home. My love affair with DQ has been going strong for several years now, and our relationship rekindled when I came home. And I am very attached to the back booth at the DQ in St. George. Good times, girls, good times.
6. My Moe and Jenny. When people talk about their BFFs, they often use the term loosely. These girls really ARE my best friends forever. I may have other best friends too (okay, I have a lot of them), but Moe and Jen are my LONGEST best friends, and I love them. They will always be there, caring about my life and depending on me to make them have fun. I love that. And I SO admire what they have become. They have both married men who are perfect for them, and they are doing so well! Jenny is a nurse and is going to have a baby! Moe is doing elementary education, and we are going to be teachers together! And when all three of us are old and married with lots of grandkids, we are going to ditch all of them AND our husbands and go on roadtrips and to EVERY Dixie High School event, completely decked out in blue and white (we may even wear our old Color Guard warm up suits!), and be the loudest flyer supporters in the stands. And all the students will laugh at us and act annoyed, when really, they will want to be just like us when they are old. Me and Moe and Jenny will leave a legacy.
7. Sand Hollow Reservoir. We went to the lake one day. The water felt great, the sand was amazing, there a lot of plants in the water, and a lot of bugs. AND, some people randomly picked a spot on the beach VERY CLOSE TO US for no reason. The entire rest of the beach was completely empty, but a family complete with grandparents, like 4 couples, and probably 14 grandchilden camped right next to us. We were annoyed. But the best part of the day was the sun. I got so much sun! And I did get a little burnt, but mostly, I just got tan. I will swear, forever, that the sun in St. George tans better than the sun in any other part of the world. It's a verified fact, not an observation.
8. The end of my Washington classes. I spent WAY TOO MUCH time in the Washington County library. I had TWO papers to write- one 5-7er, and one 15-18 pager. Lame-o. I hated almost every second of it. Except, I got a little bit into the research paper, and then I got excited. Sometimes writing papers make me a little excited. But I still don't like it, okay? So I wrote about the 1968 Riots in Washington, D.C. And I spent A LOT of time on it. But it still probably was not enough. But it's done, and when research papers are done and turned it, one finds a very happy Audrey.
9. Mom's school. I helped my mom get her classroom ready, and then I came with my Dad to help do testing. I loved her students. It almost makes me want to be an elementary school teacher.
10. Celina. She is staying with us! YAY!
11. Cafe Rio. Our reunion could not have been sweeter.
12. Me and Andrew had a sleepover. The whole family was gone, so I made Andrew keep me company. In a remarkable gesture, he agreed to hang out with me for a night instead of hanging out with Mallory! We went to DQ and then sat to watch a movie. We were both falling asleep, though, so we went up to bed. We slept on Mom and Dad's bed because it was the only place that we would both have a bed. We proceeded to talk for hours and hours and hours. Until about 3:30 or 4 in the morning. It was SO great. I can't remember the last time that we talked like that. And I doubt that we will ever have that opportunity again. He is getting married in less than 2 months-- which I am excited about. I love Mallory, and I know he is really happy. I love my brother so much.
13. Elise moved to Weber State! She is officially on her own, and I am SO excited for her!! We had a lot of sleepovers too. I love hanging out with Elise, and when she left a couple of days before I did, I walked around the house wishing she were there. I missed her.
14. Stephanie came down for Moriah's birthday. My sugar doll turned 14, which is CRAZY.

And then, my 14 days of summer ended, and I packed up and drove to Provo.

Here's the list I've created for Friday's assignment:

Spiders - villains or victims?

It has come to my attention (well, it came a long time ago, but really - who's keeping track?) that a good majority of people in this world are deathly afraid of spiders. I've found this to be utterly absurd - I mean, these little guys are not even an inch long, yet people will flee in abject terror at their slightest proximity! Somehow our society has learned to tolerate the presence of clowns, mimes, and other demons of the underworld with a sick kind of bemused pleasure, yet these little friends of Gaia are hated with more intensity than a Trekkie at a Star Wars convention. Attempting to understand this sad commentary on the state of our society (as well as the loss of what should be a rich and harmonious relationship), I have attempted to compile a list of all the reasons people fear our little arachnid brethren.

1. "They're everywhere!"
Clearly, this seems to be the most universally accepted reason for hating spiders. But then again, grass is everywhere too. Are you gonna decorate your Halloween pumpkins with that?

2. "They've got all those horrible legs!"
I'm from California people. If you want to see some terrifying legs just head to Laguna Beach on Senior Citizen's Day. Put on some pants, Grandpa!

3. "They're everywhere!"
This one keeps popping up, just to warn you. As soon as one little spider appears in a room, people will start to scream this incessantly. Everywhere, folks? Really?

4. "They've got deadly mandibles of doom!"
I bet half of these people don't even know what a mandible is.

5. "They're everywhere!"
You really can't get over this, can you?

6. "They're poisonous!"
OK, now this one seems like a legitimate fear at first. Until you realize that it's not a black widow you're looking at; it's a dirty patch of fur from your mangy cat. Now THAT is a scary animal.

7. "They're everywhere!"
Scientific fact: you are never more than three feet away from a spider at any given time.

8. "They'll eat my pets!"
Because apparently pet houseflies are all the rage these days.

9. "They're everywhere!"
Oh put a sock in it, dearie.

10. "They're UGLY!!!"
Look kids, I hate to say it, but this is just unfair. Are we really so shallow that we judge our animal friends based solely on their looks? Your friend Mr. Platypus is venomous too, but just because he looks like the love-child of Mr. Beaver and Daisy Duck you think he's adorable - is this fair? It's what's on the inside that counts people. If you got to know spiders a little better, I bet you'd be surprised to find that they're people just like you and me.

And let's face it sweetie - you're no spring chicken yourself.

How much punctuation can I fit into one sentence? Or better, how much can I use in a Labryrinthine sentence while still maintaining the grammatical integrity of the effort? This is not an attempt to craft a serious piece of literature; in fact I hope that this will be looked at from a humorous point of view. I suppose this kind of sentence is what would happen if Gothic/Victorian novels were still in vogue, which thankfully they are not.

Now let's see what I can do!

"Is this really where my life is heading, a dark road into an abyss of misery and woe forever plagued by this woman before me who can't even write a simple check (or spell my name for that matter, even though we've gone over it a dozen times (although I must admit that English is after all her fourth language, which, while a valid excuse, is still no justification for the way she uses me to cater to her every desperate need (which are many, considering that accursed disability which makes everything almost impossible for her to do without asking for some kind of assistance (which leads me to wonder, why doesn't she just hire some help instead of using her boyfriend as her personal maid (though I confess I'll almost do it gladly when I'm caught up in the moment, those fleeting moments when her sad, quivering smile gleams on me and cuts into me with the light of tender attachment which shines through the years of suffering and grief that I've endured - oh, how I love those smiles!)))))?" he thought suddenly - and it was!

“Don’t do it Rachel!”

That was not the response I was expecting. I called my mom for support, and when she was not doing a good job, I asked for my dad, the nicest person in my family: number one. That’s what we call him—we have arranged our family in order of niceness, one being the nicest, six the meanest (I am number five, in case you were wondering). I was expecting to hear, “You can do this, Rachel. We support you. This is a good thing.” But no. My dad decides to go along with my mom and be funny right at the moment when I need seriousness.

Of course my dad was surprised when I started crying—I should have been laughing. I knew that in my head, but I also had a lot of other things going through my mind: William Wallace, Scottish knight and war hero, Anselan O Kyan, fleeing to Scotland after defending his Irish home from Danish conquerors, “Clarior Hinc Honos,” family motto, family crest, family plaid, pioneers bravely crossing the planes, my father wearing his army uniform. My family heritage. Those are the things that come with the name Buchanan. My name.

That name is my identity. Rachel Lynn Buchanan. That is who I have been for twenty-one years. That is me. That name just fits. It flows so beautifully in perfect trochaic trimeter with the RachelLynn blending together, connected by the “l” sound at the end of Rachel and the beginning of Lynn. RachelLynn. I’ve always loved the way that sounded. It’s just so cute and girly. And then Buchanan. There’s something about that name—the three syllables perhaps?—that says this is a special name. Or it could be the fact that I love my connection with my family, and not just my family history.

As I mentioned before, my father is in the army, which means that my family moves a lot. Through every move and every change, every new school, neighborhood, and ward, from Arizona to West Virginia to Maryland to Texas to Japan back to Maryland to El Paso then San Antonio on to Virginia and finally Washington—through everything, I have always had a place to belong. With my family. No matter where we went, I was always a Buchanan, always a part of their circle, always an important member of their group. That was my place, and even though I didn’t have a home in the sense of one specific house or one specific hometown, my home was with my family. I always believed my family was special and I felt so lucky to be part of it.

These are the things I was thinking about when my dad picked up the phone. This is why it was so hard for me to make the change on my own. This is why it was so hard for me to make a decision. I didn’t want to give up any of those things.
Finally understanding my tears, my father said, “Rachel, you are not losing anything. You are still part of our family, and your heritage is not going to change.” My mom took back the phone and reminded me of my grandmother, Helen Elizabeth, my soul clone, and her father, Frederick Arthur Hall, the schoolteacher and poet, his father, Heinrich Hahl, who came over from Germany with his wife Sophie, and the house that their sons built in Wheeling, West Virginia. I felt a particular closeness to my grandmother and great-grandfather at that moment because of the change I was making. I felt that they would like the German name.

Finally I thought about Justin, my wonderful husband who does so much for me every day, the man that I promised to give my life to and spend my life with, the reason I was going through all this in the first place. I thought of his family, his sweet sisters, his wonderful parents, and the way that they accepted me into their family and offered me their love. I remembered the weekend Justin and I went to visit them in El Paso—the weekend we got engaged. I thought about all the reasons I married him and all the reasons I am so glad I did. I thought about spending the rest of my life with him and about putting him first, choosing him over everyone else, leaving my parents and making him my family. My husband, my sweetheart. I am entirely devoted to him. My name can also symbolize that devotion.

Then I decided. Rachel Lynn Bauer.

Dear Everyone,

The first time I encountered orthographic variation was when I was little, reading the stories of John Lennon. He has books. Have you read these? A Spaniard in the Works and In His Own Write are the most popular. Well, Lennon loved to play on words. Oh boy, he loved to. And it shows in his books. That's really all his books are. Some of the stories are just so...out of control with orthographic variations, you can barely read them. When I was little, I would read them out loud and laugh so hard because they were so different.

Here is a good example. This is his "About the Author" from In His Own Write:

About the Awful
I was bored on the 9th of Octover 1940 when, I believe, the Nasties were still booming us led by Madalf Heatlump (Who only had one). Anyway they didn’t get me. I attended to varicous schools in Liddypol. And still didn’t pass – much to my Aunties supplies. As a member of the most publified Beatles my and (P, G, and R’s) records might seem funnier to some of you than this book, but as far as I’m conceived this correction of short writty is the most wonderfoul larf I’ve ever ready.
God help and breed you all.

Hahahaha. I love it. Isn't it fabulous? I have the books if you want me to bring them to you so you can look through all of his craziness...

Love, Natalie

current
total
projected
=
+
,
.
52000
24000
6000
82000
26000
So much depends upon: order, structure & punctuation

Reasons. October.

Pockets weather. No mittens or gloves or muffs. Slip your hands into your jeans
Rich burnt oranges and crimsons and yellows
Real football weather
(real shivering)
Sunday walks with crisp leaves for crunching
Plump orange pumpkins and those other "ornamental" squash
(Seriously? Ornamental? I think I'll eat the one ornamenting my apartment shelf. Raw)
Sweater weather. Don't try a cable-knit just yet, but yes to the cardigan
Extra-blanket-nights
The canyon
Puffs of your breath, walking up the hill to campus
(fifty pounds of books in my bag, walking up the hill to campus)
Spiced apple cider
First spotting of snow sugaring the mountains
(clear sign that snow will be at my door in bags of sugar in no time)
One whole grocery aisle devoted to too-sweet orange and purple and green and black bliss
Occasional fog or mist or drizzle or downpours,
Which leads to occasional puddle jumping
(wet socks)

Eye grew up in a place kinda different from lots of peeple eye no. For me tha idea of orthagrafic variation doesn't seem to weird u no? Kinda natural? Eye ain't no grammar freek or nun a dat and eye like to rite, and rite simple. It iz like a realease. We r alwayz barked at 4 mistakes, sumtiems eye just wanna rite "wit my hare down" no concern, just whutever. It feelz good to just let luse and rite in a way that iz so unconventional. Also we should b aware of r classrooms and there abilitys; alotta peeple rite wut they here. My friendz mom iz a teacher in New Orlenz. She haz sum good stories concerning riting samplez she gitz. She issuez verry ez quizez to her eight graderz cuz they do not read verry well. Wun question axed "what is your favorite ice cream?". Wun student rote "Butter Bacon". Mrs. Hansen wuz confuzed and showed anotha student in disbelief. Tha student looked for a secund and verry perplexed said. "What's wrong Mrs. Hansen? You ain't never heard of no butter bacón?" Tha studentz here "butter bacón" insted of butter pecan. Teacherz r essentially fiting against ritten and spokun language, and sumtimes this first (spokun) language iz even English.

*Things I can’t live without...reading (especially with my kindle), cooking, traveling, my laptop, classical music, friends, dark chocolate, running, my cell phone, Italian food, J. Crew, comfortable shoes, journaling, my family.

Fragments:

So many options. Mulling them over in my mind.

Do I want that one? Yes...No...Maybe. What if I’m wrong?

Feeling perplexed and anxious. Rushing. I have to make a decision soon.

Blank stare at the screen, options blurring together. Focus.

I come to a final decision...I think.

Suddenly the question comes. Ice cream flavor?

Default. "I'll take chocolate," I say.