falling in love... with words
07.14.05 // 11:47 p.m.

David of Phenom Feat asked the following questions:

1. Tell me, Cindy, when did you fall in love with words?

2. Have you ever written any fiction?

3. Is there any one piece of your writing that you are especially proud of?

4. Do you get permission from people in your photographs (outside of family) before you publish them on your site?

I'm splitting them up. First up: falling in love with words.

I fell for a friend once. I fell so hard that I had to tell him even though I knew nothing would come of it because of our circumstances. We still have a tight relationship and see each other frequently due to school. Even though the intense feelings I felt for him subsided long ago, I still get this weird feeling whenever he gazes at me quizzically.

You may wonder how this actually pertains to the question. Hold on, I'm getting there. I've known this friend for years. He's been a close friend since the spring of 2001. Prior to that, we were just acquaintances, but I knew him and he knew me.

I have a lot of great memories of our interactions (some of them recorded here), but I am extremely bothered that I can't remember for the life of me the moment we first met. I can only recall the first moment I saw him standing next to a mutual friend watching from afar as I played an informal soccer game with a dozen friends in the winter of my first year. I can't recall our first conversation. I don't know the first time I noticed he had really cool shoes or that he possessed the most beautiful pair of eyelashes in existence. I can't remember his first joke, first time he teased me, or the first time he stared at me with the gaze I both love and hate.

In every other case, I can recall first conversations and other significant events when I initially met a new friend or (potential) significant other. With _____, I have no idea.

This is the way it is with words. I'm enamored by them and know that I've felt this love grow since I was just a kid, but I don't know the exact moment. I can't say it was when I read A Light in the Attic or when I had to memorize "Jabberwocky" in ninth grade. It wasn't when I discovered Chicana/o literature or when I took the creative writing course in bilingual autobiography and discovered that I really liked writing. I simply don't know. And yeah, it bugs the hell out of me.

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Me siento: fantastic
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