In a Different Place

Yesterday I went back to work after the federal government shutdown ended. I had mixed feelings about returning to work. After more than 30 days of being furloughed (out of work), I started getting used to the idea of being home. For me, it was like a test of what retirement could be. I was not bored or missing work. I focused on my writing and that brought a lot of joy.

At home during the last month, I had a lot of time to reflect about my life. My career, and being successful at my job, has always been a big part of my life – maybe too big of a part of my life. I have always been a responsible, dedicated, and loyal employee. As a manager, I embraced the responsibility of taking care of others. Eventually, that devotion and commitment took a toll on my emotional health. I allowed my career to dominate and define my life.

The last few years have been tough, especially after my dad passed in 2016. Besides the grief and emotional strain of losing my dad, I also started reflecting on my career. I observed organizational issues that bothered me and spent a lot of energy deciphering the best way to address the issues. These have been difficult times. In addition to management concerns, I was having a very tough time confronting the open disdain for minorities and Hispanics in this country, which compounded the pain. As a Hispanic in this country, I felt attacked and disrespected. The messages coming from the highest levels of the new Administration revealed a tone that made me feel uncomfortable. I was a government employee and the political rhetoric around minority issues impacted me at a personal level. My self-confidence was shaken.

During the recent shutdown and my stay at home, I found relaxation and peace. I feared going back to work and getting back to a place that would trigger sadness and distress. But I feel that I changed. I am in a different place. The start of my blog and the freedom to focus on my writing has changed my perspective about work.

I did a lot of self-reflection while I was out of work. In a way, the shutdown contributed to my journey of self-discovery, including bringing light and clarification on my life priorities. I realize that it is not right to allow my job to have such power over my life and happiness. I no longer want my job and career to determine my identity. My soul is so much bigger and richer than my job.

My career has been and will always be part of my life. But the key is to remind myself that it is a small part compared to my life’s full purpose and all the things I want to accomplish. There are a million things that I want to do, write, to feed my soul. Realizing the dream of writing is where I want to spend my emotional energy. It doesn’t mean that I cannot continue to be committed to my career. I still have a few years until retirement. I don’t intend to abandon my job responsibilities. However, having clarity on the goals that my soul wants to pursue means that I will be setting boundaries to ensure that my career doesn’t control my life.

My new perspective brings comfort. I have already started practicing a different outlook during my first day back at work. The renewed attitude aligns with who I want to be – with my soul. From now on, I want my soul to guide my life. The road ahead is not all clear, but I have started a journey and I am confident that my soul will lead me to the right place – a different place where I can pursue and nurture my passion for writing.

The Finish Line

I was just talking with a friend today and mentioned that I can’t wait for the finish line. I was referring to retirement. I was sharing with my friend that I can’t wait to retire and focus on my writing. His reply made me think about the term ‘the finish line.’

We have many ‘finish lines’ during our lifetimes. I have had many literal finish lines to cross during running races. In reality, they are milestones – goals that we set for ourselves. Thus, there are many finish lines or milestones that we create.

I have a good job, a good-paying job. But as I grow older, I have realized that my calling, my purpose, my passion, is not my job, but writing – writing about my life journey and discovering my soul along the quest is what I want to do. Creating this blog was part of following my passion and my dream.

As I grow older, I feel an enormous urgency to follow my passion and purpose in life. I feel that I need to be true to myself and become the person that I want to be.

“There is a very satisfying feeling that comes with being honest with yourself – a sense of freedom and peace.” — IS

I have questioned many times during this journey if I’m going through mid-life crisis. Maybe I am. Maybe as we grow older we question our purpose in life. We crave for answers of what we want to be and what we want to do with our lives.

“There is a need to check in with our soul to ensure that we are aligned with a purpose that brings joy to our life.” — IS

I sure feel that way. If this is mid-life crisis, then I’m glad I’m going through this abstract and transcendental phase. I’m glad that I’m questioning my purpose. I’m glad that I have the courage to search for my true soul.

Retirement is not a finish line. It is a transition to a world where I can exist in sync with my soul – a time where I dream of a world of endless opportunities in which my soul could live without boundaries. I yearn for the calm and peacefulness that comes with following my passion. I aspire to a time where I can give my soul the liberty and abandonment of full expression, with a voice that speaks the truth about who I am. Like Hamilton, I feel that I have a MILLION THINGS TO DO!

Thus, I dream about the symbolic transformation of my life after retirement, as I call it the ‘finish line.’ Almost there…JUST YOU WAIT!

But my friend reminded me that I don’t have to wait – that I can pursue my passion today. I realize that I have started following my dream. I realize that by starting this blog I have taken the first step in the rest of my life.

Suddenly the significance of the retirement ‘finish line’ loses its glory. Retirement is only one step of many during my lifetime. The odyssey of self-discovery have started. I’m already on my way to the most significant goal – I’m writing and enjoying the ride.

I’M NOT THROWING AWAY MY SHOT!

The Calm after the Hurricane

Yesterday I wrote about the difficult topic of encountering racism in the United States through my own experience and the experiences that others have shared with me. I purposely didn’t give any details of my experience.

I didn’t want to focus on the details, as what was important to me was to share that I, as many other fellow minorities, have been exposed to the evil tentacles of racism. My purpose was to bring attention to this topic and to let the reader know that it hurts.

Someone made disrespectful comments because of my Hispanic accent. At the time, I was discussing an issue with someone over the phone. The subject was complicated and I was asking questions and debating the issues at hand. Out of nowhere, the other person belittled me by implying that I was not understanding the subject due to my Hispanic origin. With a disrespectful and racially-minded tone, the individual asked me in a mockingly way if I needed for him to explain the matter in Spanish, as it looked like I was not understanding or following the discussion because I was debating the issue with him. I was shocked. I honestly can’t remember a lot of the details of what happened after the hurtful comments. I probably hanged up. This experience occurred at work and it was a work-related discussion. After retreating in pain, I eventually confronted the person and reported the incident to his management. I received a call from his manager, a woman, who apologized to me on his behalf and explained that the individual was officially reprimanded and ordered to take diversity training.

My experience happened many years ago, but it changed me forever. Going back is usually needed to move forward, so sharing the story helps me. Maybe you as the reader can also relate or can learn something about it. Maybe we should all reflect about not judging people based on their group identity. Maybe we should not put labels on people, but allow ourselves to discover people as individuals, as human beings – not as men or women, or Hispanics, or Americans, or members of a specific ethnicity or group. We are all different and we are all unique.

“Don’t judge. Be open minded when you interact with someone and allow yourself to discover that person, not as a member of a group or a stereotype, but as an individual.” — IS

The pain and the many questions that came to my mind after the experience ultimately contributed to where I am today – writing my blog and my story.

“Finding something positive about a negative experience is usually a healthy way of dealing with life’s unexpected turns – a way to survive and learn.” — IS

When something really awful happens, it might not be obvious immediately that there is something to be learned or that there could be a positive element that could arise later. When you are in that tumultuous hurricane, you feel like you are spinning out of control and it is hard to get free of the turbulence while you are disappointed or hurt. But I survived the hurricane. There was so much confusion and so much pain…but I survived.

I never knew then, where I will be today. I probably never thought about the positives then. As they say, hindsight is 20-20, and it is true. It is ok to be reminded of where I have been. Everything becomes clearer after the storm.

“It is easier to recognize the ‘positives’ after you look back.” — IS

There are scars, but I’m stronger and wiser. I am excited about this new path that I am carving as I go. There are probably many more mysteries ahead of me – the journey of self-discovery that hopefully will lead to a better place. It brings me happiness to be discovering new things about myself, life, and everything around me. To be in this journey is overwhelming at times, but also very comforting.

I turned a corner in my life and I am proud of myself to make the turn. Some time ago, when the hurricane hit, I was a wreck. Today I stand tall with my Puerto Rican coqui soul.

My Initial Encounter with Diversity and Racism

I left Puerto Rico more than 34 years ago, when I went to Michigan to pursue graduate studies. As a 21-year old heading toward graduate school, I really did not think much about the significance of that moment – my life changed forever.

I enjoyed graduate school immensely. I attended the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. The world became my backyard, as I met friends from all over the globe. I was like a sponge, taking in all the experiences as part of the journey. My exposure to diversity enriched my knowledge of people and cultures. But there was also a different perspective that was thrown into the picture – one that I have not previously experienced. In the United States, diversity began to take a different connotation focused on race and ethnicity.

I never saw myself as a member of a racial group before I came to the United States. I was Puerto Rican. In Puerto Rico, there is a kaleidoscope of skin colors – a mosaic that transcends a singular defined race. The road of racial differentiation started when I had to fill the application to attend graduate school. The form asked about race and ethnicity. Hispanic was in the list, so I checked the box. That was the first time that I distinguished myself as Hispanic. This event seemed trivial, but eventually impacted my views about diversity and my life experiences. From that point on, I was in a ‘box’ – the Hispanic box – and labeled a minority.

The minority seed germinated in my psyche, developing and growing as I was being assimilated into the American culture. I wondered about the inquiring questions of the application. Why did it matter? As it turned out, I got into graduate school with a minority scholarship, so I adopted the Hispanic classification with pride and moved on. I would have never being able to attend graduate school if it was not for that scholarship. Being a minority gave me the opportunity to go to graduate school. I did not think much about the full meaning of my new label.

Living in the United States I found out that the minority label never leaves you. The color of my skin and my accent always gave away the fact that I was different. Everywhere I went, I would be asked about my origins. Eventually I also discovered that the undertones of being a minority were not always positive. I learned that minorities also experience discrimination – a reality that was uncomfortable to bear.

As I entered the workforce, I participated in diversity awareness seminars and found out that employers were focusing on training employees to respect differences and prevent discrimination. I ended up in a leadership role for the diversity training in my workplace. It was assumed that because I was a minority I should be able to help train employees. However, I have never experienced discrimination and I was actually learning myself from the experiences of other minorities. I was proud to be Puerto Rican – and Hispanic. But I was also an American citizen, so I didn’t quite understood the necessity for racial differentiation. I ended up meeting some fellow co-workers that had experienced discrimination and I joined in the cause to illuminate others about diversity.

Eventually, as life would have it, I also ended up experiencing discrimination. I then understood the pain that other fellow minorities have experienced in the United States. The discriminatory experience resulted in a scar to my soul that still generates pain when touched. The scar is a reminder of the awful reality of racism.

I will never forget my first encounter with racism. It has never be easy for me to open up about my first experience with discrimination or about being a racial minority in this country. Living in the United States opened my eyes in ways that sadden me. I have been touched by the dark tentacles of racial discrimination. I’m no longer ‘virgin’ to the terrible impacts of its darkness. I now can relate to other racial minorities.

Today I gathered the courage to write about this. Bringing awareness to this tough topic is important and relevant to the times that we live in today. Many in this country are experiencing difficult times while the news relate the hate expressed to minorities in many fronts. The openness of this hate is hurtful.

When racism against minorities is expressed openly it hurts. It impacts my daily life. I can’t rip off my skin to show a different color or magically get rid of my Hispanic accent. The pain saddens my soul.

I decided to write this today because my sister had a recent negative experience related to this topic that inspired me. I also decided to write about this today because these type of experiences define our souls. Despite the pain, I believe it is important for me to confront these emotions, as they are part of my soul-searching journey and who I am today.

The Mirror Talks Back

“If you were looking at yourself in a mirror, what would the person in the mirror say?” — IS

(The following is a piece I wrote for my writing class where we were asked to write about what would the mirror say if we were looking at ourselves? To me it was a conversation with my soul, with my reflection in the mirror looking back at me and telling me what she saw – my self-reflection. I think it’s good to stop once in a while and reflect on what we see in the mirror.)

I know you have been thinking a lot about your identity lately. I can see you. I can see your face and your eyes looking at me. I know there is so much more to you than what I see. Have you thought about that? Who are you? What’s inside you? What do you represent? What do you believe in? There is so much more than what is on the surface… your purpose in life, your family, your upbringing, your life yesterday, your life today, and your dreams for the future.

“It is funny how we think that we know someone by the way they look, or their name, or what they say. In reality, we are all so much more complex than that.” — IS

I can see through your eyes, your determination, and your steadiness. I can see that you never give up, that you always get up again, that you search for me when you need a friend. I’m here to listen and I’m here to have as many conversations as we need so you can feel better, so you can explore yourself, so you can reflect on your life, so you can discover your soul, so you can find answers to your questions, so you can get to know yourself.

The road can be bumpy, long, and painful at times. But I assure you that it will be worth it. Talk back to me and we can share your self-discovery. I’m your soul and will always be with you.

The Duality of Language – A Glimpse to My Identity Journey

When I went to my first writing class, I had an encounter with one of the biggest dualities that I live with as a Puerto Rican in the United States. The example I will be sharing portrays a reality that I have lived with for many years, but that has been difficult to explain to myself. The situation is real and exemplifies many other situations throughout my life as a Puerto Rican in the United States.

I purposely decided to go to class early, as I have missed the first class and wanted to have a chance to meet the instructor. I had contacted the instructor by email after I registered for the writing class, but this was my first time in class. I entered the classroom and selected a desk. The instructor was in the room and recognized that I was new.

“Are you Ines?” the instructor asked.

“Yes,” I said.

The instructor then said, “Mucho gusto.”

(‘Mucho gusto’ means something like ‘nice to meet you’ in Spanish)

It is funny how this introduction reflected on many of the things that I have been thinking about before signing up for the class. I have sent the introductory homework piece to the instructor ahead of time, the title of which was ‘I’m Still Puerto Rican.’ Knowing about my piece, the instructor probably assumed that I spoke Spanish so she was trying to connect with me in my native language. What’s funny is that when I was confronted with the Spanish greeting, I naturally responded to her in English. I was not in a Spanish environment (I was in Michigan), so I didn’t think in Spanish. She proceeded to tell me that she knew a little Spanish.

In my head, I thought,

“That’s good, but I’m not speaking Spanish.”

What my head was thinking was brought up by the duality that lives inside me: Spanish vs. English; Puerto Rican vs. American. Of course, I didn’t say what my brain thought. That would have been rude or impossible for her to understand. I just nodded my head.

The instructor went on to tell me that the topic of duality that I shared in my introductory piece (‘I’m Still Puerto Rican’) was a good topic to explore. (The link to my introductory piece, I’m Still Puerto Rican, is included at the end of this post) The instructor’s comment brought a lot of hope and encouragement, as I have been thinking about this topic, and how to better understand it, for a while.

The duality of language – the way my brain works and reacts around both languages – was indeed an interesting topic to explore. I have debated a lot of questions about this topic throughout the years.

How I move from one language to the other. How it feels foreign and strange to think in Spanish while I’m here in Michigan. How I think in English every day of my life in Michigan. How I feel emotions in English. How it is easier for me to express my feelings in English. How I struggle in Puerto Rico trying to come up with Spanish words. How I have an accent in both languages. Yes, I have an accent in Spanish and English.

It should not be surprising that I think in English, as I have been in the States for over 34 years. I live and work in Michigan and my daily life happens in English, not Spanish. I only speak Spanish over the phone when I call my mom, or when I visit Puerto Rico. But even in Puerto Rico, it is hard for me to speak Spanish all the time, as my husband is not Puerto Rican and I don’t like to exclude him from what’s going on in a conversation. But sometimes I feel pressure to speak Spanish in Puerto Rico because that’s my native language and Puerto Rico is my native country.

Even with my sister, it is usually a mix of English and Spanish. We go back and forth, but English usually wins as we are expressing our feelings and emotions. My sister lives in Massachusetts and she has also been in the States for many years.

My husband is amazed that I can go from one language to the other. It might seem easy, but it is very difficult sometimes, especially when I’m trying to remember words in Spanish. Mostly, my language choice is determined by the environment where I am. If I’m in Michigan or anywhere in the States, there is no Spanish at all that comes to mind. When I’m in Puerto Rico around my mom and family, I speak Spanish. But there is an internal struggle that I try to hide as best as I can, although it becomes obvious to others when I’m forgetting words. Some friends in Puerto Rico brought to my attention that I have an English accent when I speak Spanish. That was quite a surprise to me. I know I have a Spanish accent when I talk in English, but now it happens both ways – English and Spanish.

Having an accent in both Spanish and English makes me think a lot about not belonging to either Puerto Rico or the United States. Sometimes I feel like a stranger in both places, which I will be exploring a lot more in this blog. This duality goes a lot deeper than just the language. The language duality triggers a lots of feelings (many I can’t explain). The language dichotomy awakens in me spurs of anxiety and uneasiness. I also realize that there is a confidence issue that comes up during the language struggles. For some strange reason my mind goes to a lot of places when I meet someone in the States and they quickly ask me where I am from. I have always assumed that they are asking me the question because they detect an accent. They don’t ask that question to my husband when we are together.

My usual response – and I have gotten better at it with time – is: “I’m from Michigan, but I’m originally from Puerto Rico.”

I always feel the urge to explain and clarify the situation. I have gotten pretty good at my answer. My husband usually observes with curiosity. He knows what’s going on in my head. He knows that the ‘question’ bothers me because it triggers a lot of weird emotions in my head. This is one of the reasons why I’m going through this soul searching journey.

Being a Puerto Rican in the United States, with an accent I should add, creates some complicated reactions in my head. My brain tells me that when I’m being asked the ‘question’ somehow it pinpoints the fact that I’m different – I have an accent, I have brown skin, I look different from other people in the room (most of the time). Being different brings awareness about being a Hispanic minority in the States. Somehow I feel like an outcast.

I know that the language issue and my reactions to the question of ‘where am I from’ exemplify the tangle of emotions that arise with my search for identity. My soul feels pulled by two different forces that clash. Am I Puerto Rican? Am I American? Theoretically, I’m both because as a native Puerto Rican, I’m also an American citizen. But sometimes I feel that I’m neither. I think the key is that I’m actually a combination of both identities, and maybe a lot of other things that I identify with.

My soul searching journey will explore many of the identity contradictions that I live with. I’m sure the journey will be long, but it will be worth it. Maybe there will not be an end to it. Maybe there doesn’t need to be an end, but an acknowledgement of the journey itself will be enough to find comfort and peace. Life is a journey. My coqui soul project is also a journey.

I’m happy to be in this journey with you, the reader. Maybe you can also discover something about yourself along this journey.

I’m Still Puerto Rican

Inspired by a Dream – The Track

(This is an essay that I wrote for my writing class. The short essay is inspired by a dream. Not a dream I had but one that I imagined. I was thinking about my dad when I wrote the essay. I wanted desperately to dream about my dad after he passed. I desperately wanted to see him again, even if only through a dream. The dreams didn’t come for many months after his passing. But maybe I dreamed about him, but don’t remember? I wanted this dream to be true, so I imagined it. Today, as I think about my dad, I decided to share this essay about my dad that brings comfort to my soul.)

She was running toward the track to meet him. She knew he was waiting for her and her heart started pounding faster and faster as she approached the track.

She saw a group of men walking in the track and one of them was wearing the very familiar outfit that she immediately recognized.

She ran faster and faster but the track kept moving away from her. Suddenly the track disappeared and everything turned white. She felt saddened as she wanted to run with him as they did every day.

She waited for what seemed an eternity and then decided to run back home. She started running so fast that it felt like flying. Soon she was among the clouds. She felt weightless and was flying as fast as the birds above her.

“I’m flying. I’m really flying,” she said, and she felt a joy that filled her heart.

As she was flying she realized that her dad was carrying her. They looked at each other as they were flying and, suddenly, all the colors came back. The clouds gave way to multi-colored houses sprinkled throughout the green rolling hills.

She knew she had found her way back home!

I Miss You, Papi – The Unimaginable

I found the title of this post in my iPad. Just the title, no additional words. I think I meant to write something about my dad – Papi – some time ago (maybe before my trip to Puerto Rico), but maybe I got too emotional and never got to it. Papi is an endearing name that we use to call ‘dad’ in the Spanish language. I didn’t want to trash the title, so I decided to write today. I miss Papi a lot, all the time. Losing my dad feels unimaginable.

I always get emotional when I think about my dad. I miss him. I didn’t talk with him every day. Mostly weekly – that’s about the frequency that I have resorted to by the time he passed. I used to call my parents in Puerto Rico about twice a week – maybe more frequently if there was something I wanted to share. But as my life in Michigan developed – becoming a married woman with a career and a lot of other things going on – the frequency changed.

I was just listening to one of the songs from Hamilton, the musical, and I ended up thinking about my dad. The song – ‘It’s Quiet Uptown’ – always makes me emotional. The song is about losing someone – the unimaginable. I always end up thinking about my dad and end up crying. I thought that trying to put some of my thoughts in writing might help calm me down, so here I am writing.

How I miss my dad? I miss that he doesn’t exist anymore in the physical world. I miss that I can’t pick up the phone and call him. I will never be able to hear him again, or his very unique laugh. I will never be able to touch him or look into his eyes. I always thought I had his eyes…

I was a daddy’s girl. I was the first born and was always at his side while growing up. I used to watch him working on the car – he loved cars and I do too. Maybe he missed having a boy at his side to teach all the car stuff, but he never said that. I observed him every day as he was taking care of the car – he dusted the car every day – and the love for cars is something I learned from him.

I was very attached to my dad. I never liked losing sight of him. I would get mad. My parents always tell me the story of when my dad was leaving for a baseball game – the baseball field was walking distance from our house – and how I started crying to such a degree that he took me with him to the game. I also remembered how everyone said that I walked fast. It was not that I was walking fast, necessarily, but that I learned the fast stride from walking next to my dad. He was a fast walker. Every time I realize that I’m walking fast, I remember him.

My dad was a joker. Always finding a way to make a joke about life situations. We didn’t always laugh, but he never gave up to try to make us laugh. I remember about how he used to compare people, especially when he was watching television. He would joke that someone looked like somebody else or something else. Sometimes his comparisons were horrible and we will tell him so. But it didn’t matter, because he would make us laugh anyway. I also joke sometimes and I now realize that maybe I inherited that gene from my dad.

There are so many things that we inherit from our parents. I know I can probably come up with a long list. But for now, I just wanted to think about a few, and mostly remember my dad. I wish he would still exist and that I could hear his voice. But that is not possible. I will just have to remember the memories and his laughter. I will just have to keep thinking that his soul still exists and that he is still around me keeping watch over me – just like I was always around him, keeping watch over him when I was a little girl.

I love you, Papi!

I’m Still Puerto Rican

(My first piece for my writing class, from 2016)

I am arriving in Puerto Rico today and I feel this immense pounding force in my chest, like part of my soul is awakening and need to come out. Looking through the window of the plane, I see the green rolling hills, the beach, the blue sky and puffy clouds, and the sun that you can almost touch. My heart palpitates, and suddenly an amazing burst of feelings follows… happiness, and after some contemplation, sorrow. With the feelings comes an array of thousand thoughts and an immense need to share… And that is how I decided to write this story.

Only someone from Puerto Rico can truly understand what I mean or what I feel. I want to explore these feelings and write about them so I can better understand myself and so I can share my journey of discovery. My hope is that you will learn something about me and maybe even discover something about yourself.

The dichotomy of my story – how I so completely adapted to my new home and life in Ann Arbor, and how much the feelings of my homeland, Puerto Rico, are still inside me and rush to the surface as soon as I approach “La Isla del Encanto.” The duality of being Puerto Rican. The internal forces that pull in different directions when you are watching a basketball game between United States and Puerto Rico. These dormant feelings hide in a little corner of my mind and heart, but they are certainly real and powerful. These familiar feelings also come rushing when I listen to “El Gran Combo,” or watch Miss Universe. There is a duality, but maybe I don’t have to pick a side, maybe I can survive in both worlds.

There is a balance inside me that I feel has shifted toward my current life – because I have adapted so much, so completely to my life with my loving husband in Ann Arbor (who reminds me about how much I enjoy running in cold weather). But somehow, that balance shifts very strongly the other way telling me that I am still, and will always be, very much Puerto Rican.

How I Started to Seriously Consider Writing

On April 21, 2016, I looked at a brochure of public classes given through my local recreation and education department. I saw a class listed – The Craft of Creative Writing Workshop – and decided to register for it. I read the description of the class and I said to myself, why not? The description included non-fiction and that is something that I have always be interested in. The class had actually started the day before, so I was hoping that they would allow me to join, even though I was late in registering. So I went through the registration process and – voila! I was in!

And that’s how I got hooked and started my serious writing phase. I have always love to write and I had journals and notes that I have kept throughout the years. But the writing class that I started in 2016 pushed me to seriously consider writing and sharing my work with others.

Writing was comforting to me, especially when I was going through tough times. I have always used writing as my venting mechanism. I have vented a lot during a couple of years prior to the class and have been thinking about putting it all together and writing a book. So, here was my chance to begin pursuing my dream of writing.

I remembered calling my husband after I registered. I was so happy!

Because I have missed the first class, I contacted the instructor to find out more about the class and what I missed. I remembered asking her about how the class/workshop fit into writing non-fiction, as that was my main interest. She ensured me that the class would be helpful for all types of writing, as the focus was on the techniques of good writing. She told me not to worry about missing the first class, sent me the materials and homework, and welcomed me to the class.

I proceeded to write my first piece for the class – a one pager introducing some of the themes of a potential book that was in my mind. The title of the piece is ‘I’m still Puerto Rican’ – see link below.

I’m Still Puerto Rican