A New Chapter
At the start of the year, I wrote Looking Back At 2023 about my less-than-fun year. Well, I’m happy to report that in February, only two months into the new year, things took a turn with the job hunt. Back in December, I shifted my expectations and reset my job alerts with Indeed for case management positions instead of being so stubborn with only looking for writing jobs. I wanted to get my resume noticed with my twelve years of experience in that field and applied to any agency where I could do something different.
Looking Back At 2023
If you saw people posting highlights of their 2023 on Instagram and cringed, you’re not alone. While last year wasn’t my favorite, and I’m glad it’s over, I’ll start this post with gratitude. You can’t do anything without good physical health, and you can’t be happy if you don’t have the ones you love close to you. I’m grateful to say that I was blessed with another year of health and still have my family and friends by my side. As I look back on 2023, I realize it was a year of learning for me that will flow into the growth I expect to see in 2024.
Our Summer
This summer has been one of change and growth. How appropriate during a new season, right? As I get older and the seasons on the East Coast dwindle to two–a long, cold winter with little to no snow and a short summer–I cling to those precious sunny, hot days where I can walk out in a t-shirt and shorts, carefree and happy, drinking in the sun rays while wearing my sunscreen, of course. Adulting is fun, isn’t it? Summer has become my favorite season because it only lasts a couple of months, so I miss it more. I also find myself drawn to the ocean. I don’t know how to swim, but now I see the beauty and power of the water. My childhood friend and I went to the beach for the weekend at the end of August, and I found such peace as the waves crashed over me. Even though summer can’t last forever, my family and I made the most of it, embracing the weekends and taking a week off from work in mid-July.
My First Runes Reading
Lately, I’ve been thinking about why things don’t happen when I want them to, so I scheduled my first runes reading in the same center where I got My First Tarot Reading. I had wanted to try a coffee reading for the first time, but that service wasn’t available. Before I booked the appointment, I had to ask the woman scheduling my session what a runes reading was. She provided me with the definition, and I was intrigued enough to make an appointment immediately
I Interview My Esthetician
I wrote about my journey with my skin in Barbie World, correcting my acne scarring and redness after struggling with cystic acne from 17- to 21-years-old. For this month’s blog, I wanted to have a conversation with my current esthetician, Stephanie Tarn, to provide you with some tips and information on our skin and skincare.
Burnout
Without even realizing it, burnout crept up on me and smacked me in the face. It’s hard to see it when you’re just doing the same thing every day, but when you start to feel exhausted even after getting the recommended eight hours of sleep, something’s off. Everything lately feels like work, from the actual 9 to 5 to the routine of getting my son Sebastian ready in the morning for school while simultaneously getting myself ready for the day.
Growing Up Latina
If I had to rename my blog it would be Growing Up Latina. Scrolling through my YouTube feed one day, a video popped up of singer Jessie Reyez on a podcast called Growing Up Latina. It was only the second episode and I’m so glad I checked it out. It was a great match because I watch a lot of podcasts and I love all things Latina; I guess the algorithm is good for something. Hosted by Alyi V of Puerto Rican and Dominican descent, this new podcast provides space for Latinas to share their stories, struggles, and successes.
Our First ER Trip
I was in the kitchen washing dishes when I heard a loud crash followed by my son crying. It wasn’t the sort of cry that lasted only a moment meaning his injury was inconsequential; it was the kind of cry that meant he had hurt himself pretty good. For any parent your child getting hurt is a rational fear. After all you’ve been tenderly caring for them since they were an infant neurotically ensuring their safety and well-being. But when your child is non-verbal, which is the case for my 4-year-old son Sebastian, it’s a whole other level of worry.
The House on Spruce Street
Reading Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street reminded me of when my family and I moved into our first house because the book follows Esperanza Cordero as she and her family move into their first house on Mango Street. I didn’t love The House on Mango Street only because it’s a book of vignettes and I’m more into traditional novels, but I fell in love with the author’s introduction where she talks about becoming an author.
My First Tarot Reading
For as long as I can remember I was fascinated by tarot cards, how they could foretell your future, warning you of something that would happen, but growing up Catholic I was taught in religion class and at home that tarot cards were forbidden. It was considered sinful to know what God had in store for you. I remember my dad took me once to the bookstore where I scoured the shelves, not looking for anything in particular until I found a book with tarot cards that promised to teach you how to use it.
Barbie World
My twenties were encumbered with painstaking efforts to treat my blotchy and scarred cheeks after struggling with cystic acne from 17 to 21-years-old (during my college years), a crucial period for evolving and socializing but that I, filled with insecurity and shame, refrained from. I paid for any affordable procedure that could correct my inflammation and scarring post-acne: chemical peels, facials, cryotherapy, microneedling; I invested in serums, exfoliators, and retinols to brighten my dull complexion.
30 Something
I looked up shyly at my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Vauple. She had milky skin with two bright red spots on her cheeks, shoulder-length brown curls, and bangs that strangely didn’t spiral the way the rest of her hair did. She handed me a hardcover book titled Maria Molina and the Days of the Dead. I was surprised to see my name staring at me and blushed.
Born Tired
One day, during my junior year of high school, I was transitioning from one class to another, resting my pile of textbooks on my desk when I felt something strange, a compression in my chest that felt like someone was squeezing my insides as I squeezed the sides of my desk.
Photo by Militza Molina
La Negra Tiene Tumbao
“I’m not Black! I’m brown!” These were the words angrily yelled by my Afro-Latina cousin as a child when someone called her negra, repeated to me years later by my aunt as she held onto the kitchen counter for support, her belly shaking with unbridled laughter.
Mi Gente
I’m not ashamed to say that I’m partly responsible for the million plus views the Super Bowl LIV halftime show garnered on YouTube after falling in love with the electric performance (and, in my humble opinion, one of the best half time shows ever) put on last month by Shakira, Bad Bunny, Jennifer Lopez, and J Balvin, the quintessential amalgam of veteran and emerging artists, making my screen look like the Latin Grammy’s.
Photo by Militza Molina
Quantum Leap
While watching an interview with the creator of the television show Workin’ Moms’ Catherin Reitman on BUILD Series, I connected right away with her words when she mentioned the rapid turn-around we often expect when it comes to establishing the life we envision for ourselves. We imagine taking a quantum leap when it comes to achieving our dreams, as if there can only be one fixed outcome and one arbitrary date of when everything must be accomplished.
Mami
Our relationship was often at odds because, unlike me, my mother could walk effortlessly into a party, shoulders back, head held high like a dame, drawing people like she was goddamn da Vinci. Everyone was her friend and they would rush over to greet her, exchange gossip, and share in raucous laughter over something or other.
Pelo Malo
I remember the first time I felt pain because it happened when I was four years old, getting my hair straightened by my mother’s friend. The hot comb, which had gingerly hovered inches from my face, suddenly slipped from my hairdresser’s hands long enough to brand me like livestock.
Anti-Confederate
Early this year while I was walking my Schipperke around my suburban neighborhood, I saw something that struck me so deeply I had to do a double-take. Surely, I hadn’t just seen what I saw: Positioned on the upper right hand corner, on the back windshield of a blue Ford truck, fastened like a badge, was the unmistakable “Southern cross” of the Confederate flag; to add insult to injury, the statement “Never Apologize For Being Right!” was emblazoned across the front.
F.A.I.L
Fall and Invite Loss. The best piece of advice I never got was to fail and to fail constantly because that meant you were actively trying to succeed. Throughout my entire high school education my parents repeated the same refrain: “You don’t have to work. Just get good grades. If you start working now, while you’re still in school, you’ll be lured by the appeal of a paycheck and won’t want to finish your education.”
Photo by Militza Molina
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