For the Grammarian

     It is a tough time for grammarians.
    Admittedly, (American) English is a living, evolving language. Words rise, words fall.     The twenty-first century, however, comes with a cataclysmic event that threatens grammar as we know it.
     The asteroid that struck, the deluge that drowns, is the internet. 
     In itself, the internet is not inherently evil. It isn't even sentient! (Or is it?) On the positive side, users of social media may connect with friends, plan gatherings and follow world events. On the negative side, there is an obvious lack of privacy. Even so, posting pictures of one's children, vacation dates and birthdays is still volitional.
     If you want to make a grammarian cringe, just show him or her your social media page. Attack him or her with the plural pronoun instead of the singular. Confuse the possessive and contraction of a pronoun. Let your autofill control your text and don't proofread before hitting "send." Let the computer determine whether your apostrophe looks like a "6" or a "9."
     Some of us still remember from Sunday school that we should "judge not." The phrase is incomplete without the rest of the verse. Jesus instructs us to "judge not that ye be not judged." I believe it means that if I were to hold a harsh standard, I should hold it to myself as well.
     I have weighed myself in the balance and found myself wanting.
     Long ago, I began using sentence fragments. Doctors and caregivers want only facts in a nursing note. Sentence fragments save time.
     I then learned and practiced screenwriting formats. My sense of grammar took another hit.
     I now frequently ignore capitals. 
     Before you become enraged at my most recent offense, I ask for clemency. My dominant hand has been immobilized for three months. Typing with one hand made me evaluate what is truly important in life: family, friends and social media. Typing in lower case allows me to use just one hand. Most of my facebook posts are now lower case.
     What followed was an e. e. cummings type of joy. As only the virtuoso violinist can intentionally sound truly awful, a true master of the English language has at his or her command the most wonderful range of intentional mistakes. In those intentional mistakes, I have found new freedom.
     With freedom comes responsibility. And with that realization, I promise I will not use a reflexive pronoun as a subject. I promise.