I don’t know how to use a comma.  There.  I said it.

This is a little embarrassing for me because I am a) 25 years old, b) on my way to getting a master’s degree from a more-or-less prestigious East Coast University (yes, all caps because I feel that ECUs deserve to be thought of as proper nouns.  They certainly think of themselves that way don’t they?), and c) I like to think that I am a reasonably good writer.  Sadly, the comma often escapes me.

I have a copy of the MLA guide and am embarrassed by how frequently I need to consult the dang thing when I’m writing a paper.  When I came out to SD I thought, “oh, this is going to be PR-ish writing so it’ll be fine.”  Sadly, yesterday I had my grammar corrected a number of times by one of my coworkers (who, I should say, was very sweet about it and didn’t do it in a “I know more than you so ha ha ha” sort of way).

Since I’ve been in a somewhat vulnerable state lately about my future this tiny failure to recognize where commas need to go fed into some larger questions about what I’m actually capable of doing for the world.  Perhaps making a few comma errors does not send anyone else into a small existential crisis at 2 in the afternoon, but really it doesn’t take much to set me off.

I’ve spent the past few months (well, years maybe) trying to figure out what my passion is and what I could be happy doing with my life.  I know that everyone struggles with questions like these, but for some reason turning 25 and getting close to finishing my MA has made me feel like I need to answer these questions right now.

This blog hasn’t been much about crafting lately, has it?  Or even reproductive rights or South Dakota…  Soon, I promise.  I’m turning some ideas around in my head for the collaborative work with Emily for some DIY instruction cards or posters or something.  I’ll keep you posted.