What’s a Dreamer to Do?

I have been thinking a lot about what I want to do differently in my life going forward, but I haven’t really thought about the details on how to go about making those changes. I had an interesting conversation today with a friend of mine and she so nicely reminded me that I tend not think about how to follow through with the ideas I come up with. So I started to think about all the wacky enterprising ideas I have had in the past.

I admit I have a small problem with my short attention span. Don’t get me wrong, I am full of energy and great ideas, but I am not so full of initiative on how to implement those ideas and make them real.

I don’t know when or why I developed that bad trait. I had a lot of motivation and sense of urgency when I was younger. I planned and followed through as if my life and the life of my child depended on it. I waited for no one or nothing to make things happen. I made them happen. But lately, (the last ten or twelve years) I have been a little more complacent and nonchalant about what I want to tackle next. I think I just let things get in the way a lot. I like thinking about a new idea, planning it, researching it, and sharing it with my friends, who also think they are great ideas, then I encounter a hurdle, or I realize that the success of the idea will not be overnight and so the idea becomes short-lived and fizzles quickly.

So here are some great ideas that have fizzled over time:

Catering Business
So I thought I could be a really great cook, make a ton of food, and people would buy it. The problem is that even though I was inspired by “Top Chef,” I really don’t have a culinary background, I would need to get some kind of certification in food and safety, it is not legal to run a catering business from home, and I would have to market the business as well as invest a lot of money at the beginning. Not to mention, that I am only an average cook, I am better with smaller meals, and my strength is Mexican food.

This idea made a comeback recently when I thought I can create a “prepackaged” Mexican meal service, in which I would cook, prepackage it, and sell it as microwaveable meals. Yeah. Not such a great idea.

Ecommerce Site
My education and background are in user interface design, so I thought I could build a web site, make or find products to sell and put them online so everyone would flock to purchase them. The problem is that I didn’t know much about building a transactional site; I didn’t know what products to make or sell that people would want to buy. I didn’t have the funds to invest in building an inventory, and I never found the time to actually research what it would take to create an online store.

Selling Poems
Back when I discovered eBay, I thought, what could I sell on eBay that people would pay for, so, I thought I could write poems that people would want – customized for their mothers, or children, or for birthdays and holidays. I thought people would want to pay for a service like that, but after talking about it aloud with a friend, I thought this was a dumb idea.

Fashion Design
When “Project Runway” hit the airwaves, I got so excited at the possibility of designing and making clothes. I had done some sewing back when I was in high school, and I loved making my son’s Halloween costumes from sewing patterns every year, so I thought I would create and market a fashion line for women’s clothes. I actually bought some “how to sketch” and “history of fashion” books and embarked on trying to create a line. But I soon realized I couldn’t draw at all, and that I would have to sew without a pattern and the “outfits” were looking very similar on paper, so that idea went out the window.

Bilingual User Training and Web Site Design Firm
This one is bittersweet to remember, because this one actually did come to fruition. At first we did very well and the business concept seemed promising. The business had a location where I was training people to use different computer software packages and I even conducted training in Spanish. I had some solid web site clients and built some great relationships over the four years I had the company. But alas, the business ran its course; it was difficult to continue pushing for sales, and eventually I opted for full time employment. I consider it one of the high points in my life because I was able to fulfill the dream of having my own business, but it was a lot more difficult than I thought, and in the end, as revenues started to decline, it became too challenging to remain competitive.

It is difficult for all of us to see our imperfections, but I embrace the fact that we are all full of flaws. Although these are just some of the ideas that have noodled inside my head, I can attest that I have had plenty more. Some are fleeting instances of a flickering light bulb; others are deeper thoughts of “what if.” What I have learned about myself is that I never stop thinking about what I can do next, what I have to change is how I plan to make those things happen.

~A

Reflection

As the Christmas holiday quickly approaches, amidst the chaos and all the noise, I try to take a moment to reflect on the life I have lived in the past and the life I want to live in the future.

We all have made mistakes and we all have had great moments in our lives. I am grateful for the people who make up my life in any small or grand way, and I am thankful for the opportunities that have been extended to me with my education and in my career. I love the people closest to me who know my true heart and who understand the intricate details of how my mind works.

I have never rested on my laurels because there is always another mountain to climb or a challenge to surpass. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t feel compelled to look forward to the future. I don’t like sitting still, watching life pass me by, as others make things happen because I want to be part of that whirlwind that is living.

As I enter a new decade of my life in 2010, I hope to make time to challenge myself to do the things I said I always wanted to do. And since I seem to compartmentalize the years of my life into phases, this next phase is about growing in a different direction, exercising my creativity, and doing the things I have always been afraid to do.

• I have always wanted to be a writer, so I started writing again. I want to continue crafting my writing skills
• I would like to live a healthier life, so I can have the opportunity to lengthen my existence and enjoy the things that healthy people enjoy, such as traveling and exercising
• I have always wanted to take a cooking class or a few to increase my culinary repertoire and become familiar with new and exciting ingredients
• I want to save more money. There comes a time when we know we have everything, so why do we keep buying more stuff?
• I want to soak in the simple things and try not to stress too much over things that don’t really matter
• I want to be good to those around me and appreciate the impact they have had in my life
• I want to put myself first. This one is a hard one. I don’t really ever do that, I take care of everyone else, but I have a hard time taking care of myself

So, hopefully, 2010 is about accomplishing those goals. I always feel hopeful about new years because I get a sense of starting anew with a blank slate and I don’t know what it is about new decades that make the possibilities for change even more endless. I don’t want to become irrelevant or obsolete, I want the years I have lived to matter and to be my solid foundation for what comes next.

It’s healthy to get nostalgic, to learn from the past to help us move forward, and it is great to have this sounding board to pour my thoughts into. I hope we can all find a quiet moment to soak in the beauty that surrounds us and to reflect about a brighter tomorrow.

~A

Relax

OMG. Relaxing to me is an anomaly. I have never been able to relax and I have never made the effort to do so. I am quite perplexed at how I can manage to be so busy. I start off every week with the intention of living quietly and finding some time to relax, maybe catch up on a TV show or two. But if I sit down on a Sunday night to think about the events that may transpire that week, I go through every day in my head and I literally get exhausted. Take for example this week:

I work everyday until 6 or 6:30 p.m., which is already at least 50 hours of my week, including travel time.

After work on Monday: need to get dinner done or at least plan to make dinner, had to make a trip to the store to look for Christmas stocking stuffers, emails to check at home, check Facebook, write blog, mail to go through, start working on Christmas cards, computer problems getting labels out, finish making baby shower invitations for my sister-in-law’s baby shower in January.

After work on Tuesday: find time to make or get dinner, need to finish Christmas cards, need to finish and address baby shower invitations, had a meeting to go to after work, had to go to the store to look for a coat, some Christmas shopping, check emails on computer, check Facebook, write blog.

After work on Wednesday: still haven’t finished my Christmas cards, have some Christmas shopping, baby shower invitations are done and sent, check emails on computer, check Facebook, write blog, shopped online. Got a call for dinner and drinks with friends -- almost any day can consist of a spontaneous event that I didn’t plan for.

After work on Thursday: will be attending a Christmas pageant for a friend’s son, probably having dinner with them, maybe finish Christmas cards, catch up on emails, prepare for the weekend.

After work on Friday: almost always will go out, have fun with friends. This Friday my son comes home from college for winter break, that will be an event in itself, have to clean his room and stop using it as a closet (I probably should have cleaned it earlier in the week).

Saturday: help dad at the Family Business all day, plan for something in the evening, I usually go out with friends, dinner, drinks, and / or movies, sometimes have to go to family events, but not this Saturday.

Sunday: take a breath, stop for a minute, catch up on any household needs, groceries, laundry, maybe some TV, and plan for the following week, unless something else comes up, including a family or friends get-together.

Everyone tells me I live life way too fast. I just have never liked routine or structure. I trained myself to always have something to do or somewhere to go. I am literally never home. Any TV I watch is recorded so I can skip the commercials, or sometimes I don’t even watch anything at all because my DVR is full to capacity and shows get erased. I hate to miss anything that life may throw my way and sleep is for when I get old.

So, I don’t know what relaxing is. Even if I am on vacation, I have to have plans and something to fill every minute of every day. I want to enjoy my life and fill it to the brim. Some days, though, it is overflowing.

~A

Isolated in the ‘Burbs

I moved to the suburbs of Chicago in 2001. I had always dreamed about that house in a quiet area, close to schools, and where everyone drove. I was excited about moving out of the chaos, the noise, and the fears of the big city.

I grew up in Chicago’s neighborhood of Humboldt Park. It had its dangers, but I lived in an area in which all my aunts and uncles owned the buildings in a half block radius, so I always felt safe and it always felt like home. When we grew up and started moving away is when we really noticed the dangers of gang violence and crimes around us.

I was 16 when I left Humboldt Park to go live in a similar neighborhood, but in the back of my mind I always knew what I wanted – a sense of community and belonging. Although I never wanted the white picket fence or the 2.5 garage, I just wanted a place I could raise my son surrounded by positive influences and safety, a place where I could plant some roots and feel like I belonged.

But to all fairy stories there are also some drawbacks. Although I love my home, when I moved to that suburban neighborhood, there were things I definitely missed from the city. I missed walking in the neighborhood and visiting quaint shops and buying the unique products they sold. I missed seeing and talking to the diverse types of people who made up the community of Humboldt Park. I missed having ethnic and cultural influences around me. I missed not having family close by enough to walk over and talk about anything that day would bring. I also did not like that everything from stores to restaurants closed a lot earlier in the suburbs – I didn’t like that I couldn’t get a decent meal past 9 or 10 p.m. or that parties ended so early, when in Chicago, things always got started late.

Everything is quiet and still at night in the suburbs, so I missed the noise of cars, people, and music playing. I missed the unique restaurants from the different neighborhoods, the festivals during the summer, and the spontaneity of everything that is Chicago, because now planning a trip just to get a taco in Chicago would turn into an event.

I don’t miss shoveling snow to reserve a parking space on the street after a winter storm. I don’t miss parallel parking or finding a spot two blocks away from home. I don’t miss walking and feeling like I was being “watched.” I don’t miss being mugged, or yelled at by strangers on the street. I don’t miss the panhandlers, the long lines in the stores, or driving two hours to go around the block. I don’t miss the commuting on buses and trains. I don’t miss apartment living or the close proximity of noisy neighbors above or below. I don’t miss all those things that made me want to live in a house in the suburbs.

So I embrace the quiet sounds of suburban living, but I know I will always have that connection to Chicago, it’s where I was born and raised. So from time to time, I love taking that drive to my aunts’ or cousins’ houses. I love driving on Division Street or Pulaski Road. I don’t mind the occasional drive on 18th or 26th Streets or visits to downtown Chicago and I don’t take it for granted anymore. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and I truly do love Chicago, but I prefer the peace that my suburban living has brought me.

~A

Empty Nester

I wasn’t really your average typical mom. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have any regrets, I have always believed in living life to the fullest and doing everything I wanted to do, no matter what circumstance. I didn’t want to wait for things to come to me, I made things happen, and I wasn’t going to sit down and cry over spilt milk. So I did things my way when it came to having and raising my own child.

I was 17 years old when I gave birth to a baby boy. The minute I saw him, everything changed! I had always heard about that feeling, but I cannot stress enough the things that did change for me when the initial bond was built as he was growing inside of me and the even greater connection we had the first time I saw him.

Everything did change. I thought I was so selfish and immature before he was born, but after I saw him, I was ready to do anything for him or give my life up for his in a second. Some may say I thought only of myself, but in reality, I thought only of him and his future. I saw raising him as my responsibility to make him the best person he could be. So I didn’t do as others dictated, I may have listened and taken tidbits of things they said to teach my son, but in the end, I had to do what was best for us. So I did go to college, got both a bachelors and a masters degrees. I was always working, so I was not a stay-at-home mom, because I did not have that luxury. I worked, I went to school, attended most of his school functions and events as I could, he did spend time at baby sitters’ houses, day cares, and after-school programs. And he was taught the value of time and money, coupled with constant love and encouragement.

So now, 21 years later, he’s a junior in college, and I find myself feeling the effects of an empty nester. I do have the time to do the things I wanted to do, but the thing is I did do a lot of that with him. We did travel, we did go to parties, events, amusement parks, did all the sports, and we always had fun. He has had the best life I could have given him and now it’s time for me again.

I am excited at the next adventures of my life as I watch him fulfill his dreams. I have the time now to spend with my friends and family, to write again, to get in the car and go wherever I want at a moment’s notice. I don’t have the limitations that I had when he was a child, although I never really saw them as limitations. I wasn’t one to spend my weekends without him; I was the type to include him in all fun plans as possible. In reality, we both grew up together. He is used to getting up and going at the drop of a hat and he can interact with any adult, because he is used to them. It makes me happy that he has the confidence and self-assurance that I never had.

So idle hands have brought me here, to fulfill one dream I did put on the back burner. Although my life is full, and even though he’s not around, I still find myself rushing through life to get to the next thing I have to do. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I say, bring it on, let me climb another mountain, because given what I already have been through, nothing else could possibly be harder.

~A

Do you speak Spanish?

I love going to the Mexican grocery store. I love listening to Mexican music playing from the overhead speakers and hearing people talk to each other in Spanish. The prices are great and the produce is fresh and I love ordering meat products like chorizo and arrachera (skirt steak) from the butcher in the quantities I want. I love finding products that remind me of traditional Mexican meals and the years we lived in Mexico.

So it doesn’t bother me to talk to people in the store in Spanish. This is an interesting area of discussion, because I know that we are in the United States, and although I speak English fluently, I find comfort in speaking to people in Spanish when they talk to me in Spanish.

So when the cashier asked me if I spoke Spanish, I was happy to say yes. I realize that I may not seem like her typical customer and I could have lied to her and told that I didn’t speak any Spanish or maybe hidden under a quiet mutter of acknowledgement of her words, but not spoken any further. But it does not shame me, like so many others of my generation, to speak to someone who thinks they can relate to me because of the color of my skin. It didn’t matter that I was born in the United States and spoke perfect English; I could not change the fact that I was the descendant of generations of Mexican immigrants, so my features, the color of my hair and skin identified me. So if a cashier at a grocery store felt comfortable directing a conversation to me in Spanish, I could do nothing else but acknowledge who I was and respond in the same language that she so comfortably spoke.

Many argue that there is shame in being of a certain culture and they may insist that we are Americans, born and raised, and we should leave where we came from behind in the past. But it is my belief that we should try everyday to identify ourselves as individuals and people who do matter in this world, because of and regardless of our heritage. Personally, I don’t want to leave this earth without having contributed a piece of myself to history, whether it’s through my child, through my work, or through my actions. What I do find shameful are the stereotypes that surface because of what others conceive to be the truth. It brings me sadness that others of my own culture do not appreciate the hard work we have gone through to reach a point of acceptance by all cultures in this melting pot of a society. It’s liberating to know that we understand American politics or a certain genre of music, there is pride to feel as smart as the Ivy League graduate who happens to be working alongside with you on a project at work, and there is a quiet sense of accomplishment when we have a discussion with a colleague who happens to respect our opinions.

Isn’t that what we all dream about? Our ancestors wanted to find a better life for us in this country to be able to pursue the dreams that we could not have pursued otherwise. It shames me to think that all this sense of determination was wasted and the goals I sought after and taught my child to seek were for nothing. That no matter what I do, I will always be a statistic – part of a minority that is underappreciated, not respected, and looked down upon. So I will speak Spanish when spoken to in Spanish and I will speak in English the rest of the time, either way, I am still me, and that will never change.

~A

The Family Business

The concept of a family business is very interesting to me. In America today, there are a multitude of family businesses that have been successful and many that have failed. The family business may consist of brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, fathers and sons, but almost always involves the children of all those who have a stake in the business.

You may ask, why do I write about this today? Well, my parents have a “family business,” except because I am only one of two children, it is mostly about my parents and me. So what do you do when you find yourself inadvertently part of that family business, even though you never asked to be that involved with it?

For me, at first it meant helping my parents attain financial independence, helping them reach a goal they wanted for themselves, and also proving to myself that we had the brains to run a business. But today, it mostly means, no extra time for me, worrying constantly about how to help the business succeed, never reaping any of the rewards, because “helping” is reward in itself. It also means arguments, disagreements, frustration, contrasting work ethics, and basically no rest for my parents or me.

It also means that family time is no longer fun, it is about how many hours I can help at the store, how soon I can get there, what days off I have from my job to be available for the family business, and because it’s a retail store, it’s about missing other important events because we are open seven days a week. It’s about not having good memories anymore; about worrying what business will be like tomorrow, next week, or next month. It’s about not having vacations, missing meals, missing doctor appointments, and it’s about the customer always being the boss.

So how can a family business mean freedom from the 9-5 grind? I work at my regular job every day of the work week and I help at the store on Saturdays, but I love working my everyday job and I prefer doing that any day! It’s because that’s the career I prepared for, it’s the job I wanted, I worked for, I studied for, and is far more rewarding than the stress the family business brings.

The day my father conceived the idea about opening a family business, I believed in the initial plan and what it meant to have a business of their own. But three years later, it has taken its toll. I question its real worth today, and I don’t see it as a “family business” anymore -- just because I work there doesn’t make it spending quality time together. I miss the meaning of what family used to be.

~A

Do You Remember the 70s?

Okay. So I get this question a lot, and I answer it the same way every time. I really don’t remember the 70s. It’s not because I wasn’t there, or I blanked out for a decade. I was there - I was born in 1971. But my life at that time, as many have come to call it, was about me living in a cocoon.

My family is originally from Mexico, particularly my father and all his family, with who I primarily grew up with. So growing up in a Mexican household is different than growing up in an all-American household. Sure, we had our 4th of July barbeques and Thanksgiving celebrations, but it wasn’t without some drama, tortillas, or some type of hot peppers on the side. It was good, though, and I didn’t know any different.

So when people ask me if I remember watching the “Bionic Man,” “Charlie’s Angels” or dancing to disco music, um, well, I really don’t. My parents were working parents, I was the oldest, my brothers and I were in elementary school with a 7 p.m. bedtime, and any family TV consisted of well, the “novelas.” Novelas are the Spanish version of soap operas, except you can always tell the difference between a Spanish novela and a soap opera like “All My Children.”

A Spanish novela has a lot of crying, yelling, drama, hand flying, cheating, and someone is always someone else’s child. There are always huge secrets no one can talk about, villains, who are the most evil people to ever exist, and there is always the sweet, innocent girl, who is pure and naïve, so everything happens to her and everyone wants to save her. It was fun trying to remember all the characters, but the novelas always came on at prime time, so there was very little time for any other TV when all our homework was done and the chores were completed.

Our music was also very limited. I can name many Latin or Spanish artists and musicians, but didn’t have a clue about who was on the top Billboard 100 during any year of the 70s. My mom doesn’t remember them either when I ask her who she listened to, she says she was busy raising us and didn’t have time to pay attention to what entertainment was popular. But any typical household around us at that time in Chicago’s Humboldt Park, was most likely knee deep involved with any Spanish novela on the airwaves.

But we didn’t know any better. I love Latin music to this day; I can recall and I love the music of Camilo Sesto, Jose Jose, Vicente Fernandez, and Emmanuel. I can still sing to those songs that were full of sad lyrics and emotional angst.

What I do remember is being banned from soda pop and drinking lots of Kool-Aid, running outside with my cousins on the street where we lived, and having to learn English vocabulary from the dictionary because my mom wanted us to read, write, and speak English well. I learned both English and Spanish at an early age and had a great time at any of the many family functions. I don’t have the same connection to the 70s that so many others have, I don’t know the music, the movies, or the TV shows, but I do have memories of a simple childhood that still brings me a sweet sense of nostalgia.

~A

The rise of an underdog

I had been used to being overlooked, dismissed, and forgotten. My voice was never loud or strong enough to speak over people or command attention. I understood that to be my role, to go through life being meek and quiet as a mouse. If it weren’t for my insatiable appetite for success that overpowered me, I would still be sitting in the corner with my head hung down, hoping not to be noticed – because that was easier.

I remember my first day of high school back in 1985. Sitting in the classroom of an all-girl Catholic high school can be extremely intimidating. My eyes scanned every inch of the gray room; the mustiness was getting to me, and almost made me feel light headed. The excessive starch in my uniform skirt was rough against my legs and I was self conscious about how my blouse was clinging to me, I wanted to wear a sweater to cover myself, but the August 80-degree weather would only cause me to sweat even more. My mom refused to sew the hem on my skirt, so it was longer than I had hoped it would be – almost to my knees. Everyone else had their skirts shortened before the first day of school and I could see they had a lot more confidence than I did.

I had hoped that day would be different, like a fresh start and new beginning in my lonely life, the opportunity to reinvent myself and fight against the years of going unnoticed. I was tired of being the goody two-shoes, but I wanted people to like me and I wanted to be everyone’s friend. I wanted to learn about different personalities and be asked to the popular hangouts. I didn’t want to be my grade-school self anymore. She was the girl who everyone thought was smart and nice, but too shy, or not fun enough to hang with, I was the nerd of the group. I had been good enough to help write a paper or tutor in math, but never good enough to be asked to a party. I was every parent and teacher’s dream, but became the girl to avoid as those parents and teachers would compare them to me.

I told myself that it didn’t mattered. That I was ok by myself, watching out only for me, doing the best I can, to do the things that made me happy, while others struggled to fit in. I told myself I wasn’t going to try to be their friend, I wanted them come to me, I wanted them to see what a value I would be in their lives, how they would need me. So I confused their malicious intents to “be my friend” when they asked for help with their English papers or poetry assignments, and instead, I became their idiot.

So this first day as a high school freshman was all about being different and showing these new people that I wasn’t that weak person, that I wasn’t going to be taken advantage of, that I was competitive and smart, but also good humored and sensitive.

I didn’t know what was in store for me, but I loved the adrenalin that pumped through my veins as I looked towards who I could become.
~A

Thank you for stopping by!

When you are caught somewhere in the middle in life, it’s not an easy feat to figure out who you really are. It has taken me awhile to arrive to this page today, and by making this leap, I want to write passages that speak from my point of view and my personal experiences, but more than anything, this will allow me a sounding board to speak from my heart.

I often hear how hard it is to raise children, to keep a marriage alive, to keep a good job, to surpass adversity. The real dilemma for me has been to figure out who I am and where I belong in this great big world. I do have a lot of dreams to fulfill and yes, I am that day dreamer whose mind sometimes wanders to a different world, but in those occasional night dreams, I do see things, things about my life that oftentimes confuse me, thrill me, take my breath away, or that make me take a step or two back into my reality.

So, this blog isn’t about how to do something or how to solve problems. It’s about a little journey to my own self discovery. It’s my side of things – the way I perceive the world around me. It’s about the people who make me laugh, or cry, those who are out to help me or hurt me. It’s about the cultural differences between me and others, it’s about living. I find my life full of adventure, fun, heartache, and pain. It has days in which I am filled with low self-esteem, days in which I question my value or worth to days that make me feel like I am on cloud nine.

Through all those small nuances in my life and the anecdotal stories, I live my life as if I were on a trip to get to the real me. It could be a long road ahead, or perhaps I haven’t realized that I am already there, but, trust me, it hasn’t been simple so far. I learn every day and I make mistakes all the time. But I keep a positive outlook, a “live and let live” philosophy, I embrace my Mexican-American heritage, but I don't allow it to define me. I exist to make my life one to remember.

So you’re invited to travel with me, as you learn about my past, my present, and yes, that most wonderful future ahead of me. Along the way you’ll meet interesting characters, you’ll learn about the little things that make me laugh, but most of all, you’ll see this side of things in my world.
~A