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This past week’s workshops really helped me feel less nervous about the project, but I feel this way after the first round of workshops for every class. I am always happy to see everyone else’s creativity blossom, it inspires me. Creativity blossoming, like California’s Super Bloom, like the flowers that grow out of the cement cracks in my childhood home’s front yard stone path.

Flowers have a language. This could be referring to the ‘singing’ they do (I read something about this once, I forget what tool was used to ‘hear’ it). Flowers also have different meanings, but I don’t know that that’s the flowers’ language. It’s just humans applying their own language to flowers.

Thinking of language a lot more, I don’t want to stretch myself too thin trying to cram so many themes into my project. I will start by focusing on relationships between languages and see what blossoms from there.

A conversation I had with a friend:

“What’s the word? Cachuela?”

Friend says, “I don’t know that one [word].”

“It’s car, no? No, it’s not… what’s cachuela? Am I making that up?”

All language is made up.

Friends says, “Carcacha?”

They’re right. We joke around over my goof-up.

Finally, I get to my point:

“In Korean, car is 자동차 (ja-dong-cha). It reminded me of Carcacha when I heard it. So I was like: ‘Oh! Somos primos.’”

The languages are not primos, to my (logical, boring) knowledge. But when the words roll off my tongue, they are familia. I don’t consider Spanish my dominant language anymore, even though it once was, but when I learn words in other languages I can hear a familiar ring. When I diverge from English, there’s a certain feeling of talking with family again.

When I was in elementary, anyone who spoke Spanish to me was my blood relative. Not always literally (cold). But in my chest, in my heart (warm).

Language as family. Language as a tether to one another. I don’t think there should be embarrassment in getting it ‘wrong.’ I want more people to know. More people who speak to me and suddenly I am playing with my primo at recess again. Or is it supposed to be something sacred? I don’t know.