The best thing about blogs

…is that you can fix them.

This morning, while reading through the previous post, I noticed several phrases I didn’t like. If I’d let the piece sit for a few days, I might have discarded them instead of allowing them to become public.

No matter. With a click of the Edit Post button, I deleted them and substituted something better.

If I decide something better is actually worse, I can click again and make other arrangements. I can do that now or tomorrow or next year. As long as WordPress, my Internet provider, and I hold out, I can revise to my heart’s content.

I can fix that first predicate to conform to the rule given me by my high school English teacher at Prairie Lea High School (Hi, Patsy): Don’t use second person.

…is that they can be fixed.

I can fix the revised predicate to conform to the other rule given me by my high school English teacher: Avoid passive voice.

…is that the blogger can fix them.

I can fix the second revised predicate to conform to the rule given me by Strunk and White, my paralegal school instructors at the University of Texas at San Antonio, and my mother: Don’t use that to introduce a noun clause.

…is the blogger can fix them. [I contend {that} this rule must be used on a case-by-case basis.]

I can fix the third revised predicate to conform to the rule given me by my fourth grade teacher at North Heights Elementary School: I don’t want you using easy little words when you write sentences, either. I want you to use big words, like contraction and determine.

…is the blogger can revisit and make alterations to them, and in so doing refine and expand upon his original meaning.

I can fix the fourth revised predicate to conform to the rule given me by Ken Macrorie at the Bread Loaf School of English: Don’t be stuffy. Stop writing Engfish.

…is that you can fix them.

I can even decide that my mother, my paralegal school instructors, and Strunk and White are correct about that:

…is you can fix them.

And if in the far distant future I look back on this post and realize it’s drivel, I can delete it altogether.

In fact, I can wipe out the entire blog.

The best thing about this blog is that it’s mine.

9 thoughts on “The best thing about blogs

  1. Fun post Kathy. What neat examples of the evolution of a simple statement into pompous drivel, and then back out again. I especially like your conclusion: “The best thing about a blog is that it’s mine.”


  2. Good points! But I’ve always wondered…if we change something on our blog, is the original still out there in cyberspace somewhere? People subscribe to blogs and they have the original on their computer. What ramifications could there be to that? I will always go back and correct spelling or grammar if I find errors after I’ve published, but I don’t change much content. I refine my thoughts more in the comment section.

    For writing in general, I love that key–something freeing in that. Wish we could get do-overs that easily in life. :~)


    1. Oh. I’d never thought of that. But now I will. Incessantly. I correct errors and rephrase to tighten, but that’s all. Okay, now I’m going to bed to ponder how many of my drafts are out there in cyberspace……….If we had our choice of life keys, I’d choose Ctrl. If I could also have Backspace and Delete.


  3. Oh man, I’m doing some thing weird–I keep trying to refer to the DELETE key but I was putting that word in brackets and it deleted itself. I’m getting giddy here…must be bedtime or something. LOL again. I love the delete key. There I said it!


  4. A fun post, Kathy. I’m not sure you can delete your blog totally. From what I hear, once it goes up on the Internet, it’s there forever. Even if you delete it, it’s somewhere in the spirit world of information. There’s a site, can’t remember it now, where you can find information that went up on sites years ago, sites that no longer exist.

    Fortunately, most of us don’t know how to pull stuff like that up.

    Straight From Hel


    1. Oh dear. I thought it was like a tree falling in the forest, but it’s really about seeing light from stars that have already burned out. And Big Brother. Now I do have something to obsess over. That probably means those cookbooks I cataloged as 461.5 rather than 641.5 are still floating around. Like Facebook keeping things around. Perhaps technology will change so much they can’t be accessed.

      But perhaps someday when I’ve won the Nobel Prize for Blogging, and all my cyber-rambling is housed in the Harry Ransom, scholars will comb through my little electrons and pixels, saying, “Now here she wrote XXX, but then she revised it to XXY, and this is significant because…”

      Or not.


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