My passions may be selective, but when you get me to care about something, it consumes my life. We’re talking hyperfixations.

I started to care about writing in 5th grade, when my teacher tasked us with writing a monologue about anything. This boundless prompt guided me to Via the elephant, an alga (I just looked up the term for “singular version of algae”) who turns into an elephant by chance. Her story is one of navigating her newfound largeness and leaving behind the murky, wet home she once knew. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

My teacher gave me a standing ovation for my performance (every ten-year-old in the room remained seated). I just knew it was something worth pursuing.

Sentences are much like puzzles and finding the right combination of verbs, adjectives, nouns, conjunctions, gerunds, and whatever else miscellaneous grammar term brings me joy. I can pore over word choice for hours.

In short, ask me to analyze Phoebe Bridgers’ song lyrics or discuss the Miami Heat’s roster. There’s no in between.