Jumping in again…

Today I read an article about feeding your soul. Then, by chance, I got a notification that someone liked one of my posts. Serendipity? You bet!

In July 2020, I wrote a post about ‘jumping back’ to writing. I just read that post. I was so excited about getting back. I was full of ideas and excitement. But then…nothing happened. I just quit posting. I found out that I have written a ‘private’ post about ‘legacy’ and thoughts about what I wished to accomplish during my last two years of my career. I was hoping to write along my journey, but that didn’t happen.

It’s hard to recreate two years! I know I succeeded in what I had planned and wished to do. I know I worked really hard to build a legacy that I can be proud of. There is no reason to look back. I decided to move forward and continue my ‘soul’ journey, which is the reason I started this blog. I just want to write and get in touch with my ‘soul’ again.

I finally retired in May of 2022. That chapter of my life is done. I was given a beautiful ‘send away’ party (virtual due to Covid still lingering in the background). After that wonderful experience, I thought I might get back to writing, as I was getting what I wished for the most – endless time.

But life didn’t evolve the way I thought. I found myself ‘free’ with an endless amount of time. After 30 long years of an intense career where I devoted all my energy and passion, I needed to just rest and recover.

My loving husband also retired. Instead of writing, I devoted my time to travel planning. We love to travel and we have acquired a new hobby – camping – so we took on the road and have had a lot of wonderful camping trips since our retirement.

Now that I think about it, I realize that one of the reasons why I stopped writing is because we got into camping due to the pandemic of 2020. We had so many trips planned before the pandemic…but life with COVID had other plans. We ended up cancelling all our planned trips and decided to get into camping – like many other people out there. Camping seemed safe.

Our camping experience began with renting an RV in September 2020. It only took a couple of trips – with rental units – to convince us to buy a camper. But of course, we couldn’t just get any camper. We ended up buying a restoration project in October 2020. And that’s what happened after my last post. We found out a new hobby that took us into a new life journey. Her name is ‘Willow’ and I’m sure I will write more about her later.

For now, I’m just happy to be back here writing! A new chapter has been started in retirement and I’m sure there will be a lot of opportunities to explore and feed my soul.

Just jump in!

It’s funny to think about how many times I have told myself that I should go back to my writing. So many times…it has been months. Eight months! Amazing how time passes by… There is no reason to ‘think’ about writing or waiting for the perfect time or moment. I just need to jump back in…so here I am again!

I’m in my beloved sunroom. The place I remodeled last year where I spent most of my time when I’m not working. It is my relaxation space, my tv-watching space, my napping place, my ‘catching up’ with reading and email space, my talking on the phone place. It was also supposed to be my writing place, but that took a backseat to everything else.

Even though I have not been writing here, my head has been full of ideas. I have been ‘writing’ in my mind. I wish my mind would have recorded all the internal conversations and reflections that I have done for the last eight months. Every single time I would think about a subject that I wanted to share, I told myself that I needed to go back to writing…but it didn’t happen. Life took over my writing. My daily life suddenly began to fill with other things – nothing special, just daily things that I somehow allowed to take over.

And suddenly today I wake up and find myself writing again. It is such a relief and such a joy to be back. No reason to explain the hows and whys of my writing absence. Unfortunately, my many thoughtful reflections of life during the last eight months were never recorded and will not be remembered today. But there is no time for regrets. I’m just going to jump in and do it again!

Eventually, your life purpose returns. It might have been dormant, but not forgotten. I’m back!

My thoughts in 1984 – A time capsule found

Last week, as I was digging into a drawer, I found a time capsule from 1984. My discovery, as I opened the pink binder adorned with flowers, was exhilarating. Inside the binder were traces of my life from 35 years ago. More astounding were the memories that took life again as I opened the treasure.

The year 1984 marked important events in my life. I graduated from college in Puerto Rico that year. I also transitioned into my new life in Michigan, as I departed Puerto Rico to attend graduate school. These two very important events were forever linked into the binder, reflecting a turn in my life that will forever change me. Or maybe not?

What was perplexing is that while going through the pieces of paper that I carefully folded and kept for years to come, I discovered that my soul has not changed. Despite the many life turns and experiences during 35 years, I could easily relate to my feelings in 1984, as if time has not passed.

I felt overwhelming joy and melancholy at the same time. I was happy to re-discover friendships impressed in greeting cards from my college days in Puerto Rico and from those who I met in graduate school. I recognized all the names, but some are not part of my life today, bringing sadness and longing.

I read a poem from a friend, releasing emotions not forgotten. I also read a letter meant for my college friends as I said goodbye – the paper and ink intact. The letter touched on the many feelings of friendship that I so much wanted to leave for posterity in a piece of paper locked away in the binder. I could not remember if I ever sent the letter to my friends. The letter was full of emotion. Did I had the courage to share it with my friends? My memory failed to recall what I did, so I decided to send them the letter last week, as a reminder of my lasting love and friendship.

The binder also unveiled small cutouts with thoughts written by others. As I read the words of wisdom, a puzzle started to come together. The cutouts were from newsletters from my dorm during my first semester at the University of Michigan. Since I was a teenager, I have always liked to collect quotes. I found comfort in reading quotes that connected with my own thoughts. It was as if strangers could read my mind – knowing who I was or wanted to be. I ended up with a notebook full of reflections from poets and writers. The notebook was left behind in my bedroom in Puerto Rico. However, the urge to preserve words of wisdom, which aligned with my own beliefs, never left me. Thus, it was not a surprise that I have continued to collect written quotes that appeared in a hidden corner of the dorm newsletter – the section entitled ‘fuzzy words.’

As I relived the memories, a realization came to mind. The letters and cutouts from 1984 revealed a love for writing that has always being part of my soul. The letter to my friends showed me that I always yearned to put my thoughts on paper, wanting to capture and preserve the fragile and elusive feelings of my soul. The cutouts from the dorm newsletters illustrated my fascination for the written word.

I have always found magic in writing. In a mystical turn of the universe, I find myself today where I was in 1984 – listening to my soul and writing my thoughts and feelings in this blog.

Because you – the reader – are also part of my journey, I wanted to share some of the quotes that I discovered in the binder. They opened a window to where I was in 1984. But they also connect with who I am today. The quotes have a way to awaken the character and desires of my soul.

I hope you enjoy the quotes below, as much as I did reading them again. I also hope that you can find inspiration for your own journey. Enjoy!

“We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it — and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove lid. She will never sit on a hot stove lid again, and that is well; but she will never sit on a cold one anymore.” — Mark Twain

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a little bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden path, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Why didn’t you walk around the hole,” asked the Tin Woodsman. “I don’t know enough,” replied the Scarecrow cheerfully, “my head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him for some brains.” “Oh, I see. But, after all, brains are not the best things in the world,” said the Tin Woodsman. “Have you have any?” inquired the Scarecrow. “No, my head is quite empty,” answered the Woodsman, “but once I had brains, and a heart also; so having tried both, I should rather have a heart.” — The Wizard of Oz

“You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason, looking knowingly at Milo’s puzzled face, “but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way….”And it’s much the same with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.” — Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

“And remember, also,” added the Princess of Sweet Rhyme, “that many places you would like to see are just off the map and many things you want to know are just out of sight or a little beyond your reach. But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.” — Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

Have I felt this before?

There is something magical about the art of creation. It feels so exhilarating, so fulfilling. That’s how I feel when I write. Being in touch with my emotions, expressing my deepest feelings, my true feelings, is like nothing else that I have experienced before. But is it that true? Have I felt this before?

My memories started flooding my senses as I went back in time to a place that I have not forgotten. Tears start coming down as I realize that my soul was trying to tell me something many years ago. I tried to listen, but I was still a child and my dependent self couldn’t survive by itself.

When I was a young teenager I took art as one of my elective classes. There was not much thought about taking that step. There is not much thought about anything you do when you are in middle school. I was a very good student – all As, all my life through school. As every good student, your parents and teachers want you to focus on those hard math and science classes. You are supposed to set your sight into something bigger than art, something more serious, more respectable. So I never received encouragement to pursue the happiness of creation. I probably didn’t share with my parents or my teachers how I felt when I was doing the art projects.

I never talked about the ecstasy of forming clay with my hands until the shape of an abstract sculpture takes life. I could almost feel today my fingers working the wet clay and the smoothness of the process of creation when I let myself go. Those pieces still live in the abandoned shelves of my childhood bedroom – testaments of another path that could have been.

I did not share with anyone the joy of smelling the oil pigments while working on my masterpiece in the garage. The excitement of buying the tubes of colors and the pride of creating new members of the rainbow. The awe when a new color blooms – an infinite number of possibilities as the ochre mixed with white. A fresh shade created by my senses – an original never seen before. The masterpiece no longer exists in this physical world, but it will never leave my mind.

I had similar brushes with art in college, where I again decided to take an art class as an elective. This time was different though. It was an art appreciation class where we were asked to pick an artist and study the style. I selected a Spanish artist, El Greco. I still remember vividly the painting that I chose to analyze, the long bodies extending to the sky and the challenge of trying to figure out what lied behind the intent of the artist. As a writer now I realize that it is impossible to know exactly what an artist is thinking during the moment of creation.

“Art for an artist or a book for a writer are personal expressions that escape the conscious understanding of the viewer or reader; the viewer or reader can only attempt to decipher the emotions and feelings behind the creation.” — IS

But wait…there is one more memory that is awakening. There is another time – that innocent memory of my first performance when I was in primary school and I played the organ at the Christmas show. I was so nervous, but I felt so proud. I did something that was creative. It was my first meeting with the pleasure of owning the joy of art.

I didn’t know how to interpret the deep sentiments of my experiences. I don’t even know if I understood then the meaning of the emotions – the calmness, the peacefulness, the freedom of creation. I felt something – many things – but those feelings were foreign to me and I didn’t understand their true meaning. No one around me took the time to ask. Even if they have asked, I’m not sure what I would have said.

My soul attempted to rise from the depth of my being. My soul was shouting, but the noise around me was too loud. Those around me showed me a different path. I became a scientist. The voice of my soul was put aside in a corner of my brain where memories accumulated for a later time. I left my soul behind until now. Those memories today becoming significant as I again encounter the art of creation – the reconciliation with my soul.

My soul-searching journey uncovers an important piece of the puzzle. It is comforting to know that the pieces are starting to come together. The memories of the past evolve into who I am today. My soul is happy to know that I am listening now. I don’t need to depend on others to show me the path. I own my destiny and I can’t wait to continue discovering the mysteries ahead.

Everything is starting to make sense!

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 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!

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