I won a prize for Arithmetic in Kindergarten. 'The Musicians of Bremen'...a Ladybird Classic. What I remember most is the word 'Arithmetic' written inside on a card. In broken letters. My love for addition and mental multiplication came up to that word.
Later, when my marks decided that English was to be my chosen path, that I was perpetually the best arranger of words on paper...I did not flinch. I who forever shrugged off labels no matter what the cost, accepted that the written word would be my facist hacksaw, would chop pieces out of me, hang menacingly over my head if I dared to pull away. I chose to choose to obey.
Then came the phrase 'just words'. I foolishly ignored it and down swooped the Dementor Dictator. Just words....JUST words, just WORDS, it was said with a shrug, with palms outstretched signifying disregard, helplessness, comfort...the 'just' with soft stress on the 'j' or the 's', 'words' amplified as much as possible. When I ignored it, I had the pleasure of mass-understanding, once I singled it out, I didn't know what to do with it.
My 16-out-of-20 and 21-out-of-25 marked essays, my mawkish, over-sentimental journals, the fragmented scribbles I consider my forte....words.
Expression, medium, language.....words.
Arithmetic didn't bring me to addition and mental multplication. They brought me to 'arithmetic.'
When I touched the keys of a piano, I thought of the word 'touch.' I couldn't listen to classical music because there were no lyrics. Then I started making up music-word associations and writing them down.
I had 'lyrics' for every composition I heard. When I played, I thought of 'precision' and 'wrinkles.' I loved my 'metronome.'
I don't love words because they give me images. I love images when they give me words.

Now, every situation, no matter how personal is story-material. Not for marking. For arranging and playing with words. I love word-ambigrams. I adore the tight, toxic distance I have with a guy I love because I can juggle adjectives about it.

:)
'smile'