Dear Limbo,

I would capitalize the second part, yes, because I think it looks weird otherwise.But I can’t really back that up with a rule, off the top of my head, and Garner doesn’t have a specific note on it that I can find; let’s see what the Chicago Manual has to say.

…HA HA HA, that’s awesome.I got a new edition of the CM for my birthday, and what should I find when I turn to the table of contents?Chapter 5, Grammar and Usage, written by…Bryan A. Garner.Fantastic….Anyway, moving right along to 8.168-70, which says…that you can do it either way, basically.

8.169: “Capitalize only the first element unless any subsequent element is a proper noun or adjective.”

8.170 is about the “more traditional rules,” which states, “(1) Always capitalize the first element. (2) Capitalize any subsequent elements unless they are articles, prepositions, coordinating conjunctions…or [musical] modifiers.”

All of this is preceded by a note explaining that, while the first rule is simpler, it is “beloved of some but disdained by others” — and that the editors of the Chicago Manual prefer the second.

So, the short version: leaving the “-blood” lowercase is not incorrect.It is also not preferred.

Dear Well, You’re A Little Overinvested In This,

In order: yes, and yes.

My dictionary has the same definition as yours, but it also has “hysterics” listed directly below that, to wit: “a fit of uncontrollable laughter or crying.”The use of “hysterical” as a synonym for “hilarious” is probably a reverse-engineered construction from “in hysterics.”I’ve heard this locution my whole life, and if it’s in the context of something being funny, it wouldn’t occur to me to find it offensive.

And yeah, when a woman is expressing a strong emotion and that emotion is dismissed as “hysterical,” that’s sexist.But to get offended over a connotation that nobody else is drawing?Like, you say something really funny, and your friend tells you you’re hysterical…you can’t figure out from the situation that the comment has nothing to do with your uterus, except that, coincidentally, you have one?

Do not go looking for more sexism than already exists in the world.There’s no shortage as it is.

Dear Crying,

You know, I’ve said this before, but I think that in some ways it’s a little easier for those of us who were there — right there — because, as horrifying and scary as it was, as much as I would never want to go through it again, as much as I was kind of in shock at the time and not necessarily processing everything, I was in fact dealing with it pretty directly.I saw the building come down, I ran, I walked home, I spent four hours trying to get out of the city — but it was happening all around me and I was having to cope with it.(Keeping in mind of course that I was very lucky in terms of what I did have to cope with, relatively speaking.)

For people who weren’t there or didn’t live in the city at the time, it’s different, I would imagine; I suspect that, for some of those people, it’s harder to get their minds around it, and as a result, it’s harder to incorporate that grief (or fear, or both) into the mental landscape, because they haven’t really had to in order to go about their daily lives.We have to go through subway bag checks; you don’t.Our terror alert level is always at orange, regardless of where the rest of the country’s is; yours isn’t.I have to take trains across bridges to get to meetings, sometimes right after the mayor has announced that NYPD Counter-Terrorism is on high alert; you don’t.And this is not about “oh, poor me” or “you don’t Get It,” at all.It’s that New Yorkers see and feel the effects of that day every day since it happened — plaques on firehouses, cops in riot gear, using the Empire State Building to orient north instead of the towers — and we’ve had to incorporate that into the business of living, and it’s not that we’ve gotten a callus, exactly.It’s that things changed around here and we had to change with them, or leave.And some people did leave, which I understand.I’m a little easier in my mind not living two blocks from the Empire State anymore, frankly.

With all that lengthily said, I think you do need therapy, because I think this is not about 9/11 at all, in the end.I think there is some sort of…I don’t know, steam, molten underground lake, whatever, of sadness or deep-seated dread inside of you, and it’s either from an event entirely separate from 9/11, or it’s a lifetime of little sadnesses and unshed tears that has no other way out of you except for you to fixate on and mourn this.Reacting to 9/11 in this way…well, what other reaction is there, really, but nearly five years down the line, I’m not sure its noticeable presence in your emotional life is about the attacks.I’m pretty sure it’s something else; it’s just taking 9/11 form because, whatever the other thing is, you don’t want to deal with it, or subconsciously think you can’t.

People and kindness continue because they can, and must.That church I passed on my way uptown that day, with the water cups and the orange slices — I don’t know for sure what time that was, but imagine what must have happened there.Imagine someone listening to the radio and figuring out that, soon, weary travelers would be streaming past the front door covered in dust, and saying, “Okay, here’s the plan.”Imagine the staff in the galley kitchen behind the nave, chopping oranges like it was a contest, lining up the little plastic cups and filling up each row, getting ready — how fast they had to do that.And it got done.Yes, there’s The Falling Man.There’s also a little church where the staff thought maybe some Vitamin C would help, and when a window into grace opens like that, you’ve got to look inside.It’s the only way to go on.

Dear Chew,

It’s all of those things.It’s scary, it’s exciting, it’s fascinating, it’s a boring hassle, it’s…just where we live.A lot of it, you’re not going to get until you live here, until you’ve lived here a year and you know your neighborhood, the dry cleaner doesn’t have to ask how your shirts should be done, you know which subway entrance shaves off two minutes of walking underground, you know where and when to catch cabs, you know how to layer for a March day.

But that’s anywhere.New York is unnecessarily intimidating to some people in that regard, but if you can think of it like I do, like hundreds of small cities all mooshed together, it’s less overwhelming — and again, you’d have the same experience getting to know Baltimore or Toronto or L.A.And every city has its unique quirks, of course, but you’ll have New York’s knocked after a while.

Living here is eminently doable; you’re lucky, because you’re coming in with a wing man.Don’t overthink it…and don’t count anything you saw as a tourist towards your decision, because that stuff is pretty much irrelevant to daily life here (except as sidewalk cloggery to be routed around by whatever means necessary).If you go to the Empire State Building again, it’ll be because there’s a drugstore inside.

You know the old saying that, when you go on a trip, you should pack, do your budget, and then take half of what’s in your suitcase and twice as much money as you’d planned?Same kind of deal.It’s expensive, and it adds up, but a lot of the baggage you’ve got as far as how scary it is to live here is just not necessary.You’ll be fine.

Dear Oy,

You…tell him that.”I don’t want to be cruel, but I don’t want to be with you anymore.””I’m sorry, but this relationship isn’t working for me anymore.””I can’t be with you.I’m unhappy, so I’m ending things.”

He’s going to be hurt; there’s no way around it.He’s not compatible with you; there’s no way around that, either.You don’t get to break up with a guy and have him not get hurt or mad, but if you want an omelet, you’ve got to break some damn eggs.

Sitting on the other end of the phone all “…eesh” whenever he brings up getting married isn’t really any less cruel than cutting him loose and moving on — and letting him move on.You’re giving him false hope, and you’re letting something you don’t want run your life.Grow a pair and break it off, because it doesn’t sound to me like you do love him, actually.It sounds like you’re used to having a boyfriend, but you’ve just got done saying it’s not enough, so: end it.

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