Achievement Lately: When Netflix Inspires You to Get Off the Couch

I’ve been thinking a lot about achievement lately.

So there I was, deep into a House of Cards binge—watching fictional politicians claw their way to the top of the power ladder—while I sat comfortably on the couch doing the exact opposite. The irony, right? But in my defense, I was multitasking. Kind of.

Somewhere between episode five and a second bowl of popcorn, this familiar pounding started in my chest. Not anxiety. Not caffeine. But that persistent feeling that I need to write this book.

I’ve been dodging this story for a while because, honestly, it’s a heavy one. It’s complicated. It's traumatic. It’s the kind of story that makes your hands tremble before they hit the keyboard. But it’s also the story that could save someone else from making the same mistake.

And maybe that’s the reason it keeps tugging at me.

It was the most traumatic experience of my life. It opened my eyes to the dark corners of the world—and the kinds of people who prey on the naive, the hopeful, the trusting. People say I’m strong, and I appreciate that, but strength isn’t something you wake up with. It’s forged. And this experience… forged me.

The good news? Last night, I wrote.

And when I wrote, I felt okay. Actually okay. I expected to feel panic, or to break down, or to stop halfway through. But I didn’t. It was like something had shifted. Maybe years of therapy and prayer actually worked. Maybe I’m finally on the other side of it.

So why write it now?

Because the story matters. Because I’m not the only one it’s happened to—and I won’t be the last if no one speaks up. Because a man who once lured me with a dream was later arrested for grand larceny. Because closure isn’t always silent; sometimes it’s written.

I’ve drafted versions of this book for years. None of them stuck. But this time feels different. It feels right. And if God keeps nudging me toward it, then maybe it’s finally time to listen. Every time I ignore it, the guilt grows louder. And honestly? I’m tired of carrying it.

So yes, I’ll write the book.

But also, yes—I will finish House of Cards.

Balance, people.

Opposites DO Attract!

Last night, while chatting with the Comedian, it finally hit me—we have way less in common than I originally thought. And weirdly, that realization didn’t feel bad. In fact, it made me smile. After 2 ½ years together, I’m just now seeing our differences with a bit more clarity.

I’ve always been a social butterfly. I love people. If someone’s sitting next to me, chances are I’ll start a conversation just to cut the awkward silence. You never know what you’ll learn! Just this past weekend, I struck up a convo with someone who brews for Cigar City in Tampa—amazing beer, by the way.

Meanwhile, the Comedian? He’d rather stay home, watch movies, and chill. He accommodates my spontaneous energy, but for him, quiet time reigns supreme. That was a huge adjustment for me at first. My mom used to say I had “ants in my pants,” and she wasn’t wrong. I’m always chasing new experiences. Maybe it’s a little bit of FOMO... who knows?

But here’s the thing: he balances me out. I’m slowly—like sloooowly—learning to enjoy downtime. I’ve developed a real appreciation for those quiet nights on the couch, just the two of us and a good movie. No crowds, no small talk, just comfort.

Despite our differences, we connect deeply on the things that matter. Our humor is strange and sarcastic in the best way, and we share similar goals—when to start a family, what kind of careers we want, how we envision our life together.

The Comedian says something that always sticks with me:

“We spend our 30s fixing all the mistakes we made in our 20s.”

Whew. Truth bomb.

Looking back, my 20s were a rollercoaster. But I’m thankful for the lessons, and more importantly, I’m grateful that growth eventually caught up with me. Our relationship isn’t perfect, but it’s real. Two people who want to live a happy, honest life together. Simple—but powerful.

Oh—and speaking of happy, check out a few pics from this weekend. We had an absolute blast. The 80s really were the best.

Don't be alarmed. This is how we kiss...haha jk

Who knew ninja turtles looked so good!

The Comedian and I

The Friend Zone

Sometimes, I get calls from my guy friends—the ones who are still single—asking the same question over and over:
“How did I end up in the friend zone?”

It’s the one struggle they just can’t seem to shake. And I get it. It stings. It’s frustrating. It’s confusing.
But here’s the truth I always tell them: a woman usually knows what she wants within the first 30 seconds of meeting you. She may change her mind later, sure. You may grow on her. But let’s be honest—that’s the exception, not the rule.

The biggest trap of the friend zone is when the guy becomes infatuated with the idea of the woman. Suddenly, she’s not just a friend—she’s the one. The fantasy grows: “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”
But most of the time, she won’t.

And yet, my sweet, hopeful, slightly masochistic guy friends cling to the dream. They convince themselves that one day, their dream girl will wake up and realize it’s been them all along.

Listen—I’m spiritual, yes. I believe in timing, energy, divine intervention. But I’m also a realist.
When the right person comes into your life, you will know. It won’t be a tug-of-war. It won’t leave you guessing. It will just feel… right. And if it doesn’t feel that way? Don’t force it.

Here’s a hard truth:
A lot of people who end up in the friend zone have a common trait—they’re too scared to make a move. They wait. They stay silent. They play it safe. But here’s the thing: most women want a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. A man with confidence. A man who leads.

And if you do walk away from the “friendship” and they come back? That’s your moment to take control of the narrative. Let them know where you stand. That you’re looking for something real. If they can’t give that to you, let them go—without resentment, without bitterness. On your terms.

You’ve probably heard the adage:

“If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours.”

But here’s the part people forget: don’t lose yourself waiting for something that may never return.

There’s one particular person I’m thinking of while writing this, and it breaks my heart to see people I care about in pain over someone who doesn’t reciprocate. I know it’s hard. I know it feels cruel. But if someone is dragging you along while reaping the benefits of your emotional labor, that’s not love—it’s manipulation.

And honestly? That kind of connection becomes a slow poison. It erodes your self-worth.
Let. It. Go.

I’ve done it. I’ve cut the chord. And guess what? I’m still standing—and so much happier for it.

Women (and men, for that matter) don’t always know what they want until it’s right in front of them. But that doesn’t mean it’s your job to wait around just in case they figure it out. Especially when feelings are involved—someone always gets hurt.

So here’s my advice:
Walk away. Reconnect with friends who see you just as you are. Invest in yourself. Live your life fully. Because when the right person comes along, it will feel different. You won’t have to beg or prove your worth.

You are not a backup plan.
You are not someone’s “maybe.”
You are not meant to sit on the sidelines of your own love story.

Only you are responsible for your happiness.
So if you’re stuck in a cycle that’s driving you nuts, it’s time to choose you.

No more salt on open wounds. Heal. And move forward.

The Cycle

“I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it.”
— Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

Growth is inevitable—or at least, it should be. I’ve never been the kind of person who’s okay with staying stagnant. I want to keep learning—about the world, about life, about myself.

I know I’m not perfect. None of us are. We’re all walking definitions of the choices we’ve made—or the ones we never realized we were making. Some people don’t even know how they ended up where they are.

I remember back in college, my roommate—who was also a friend at the time—was doing a research study on Puerto Ricans and their role in society. Her focus was on Chicago, and specifically the "cycle of poverty." The idea was that Puerto Ricans, as U.S. citizens eligible for government benefits like welfare, were often trapped in low-income neighborhoods, surviving but not necessarily striving. That environment, passed from generation to generation, became their normal. And so, the cycle continued.

Sure, there are always exceptions—but that’s the thing. They’re exceptions, not the rule.

That concept stuck with me. It explained a lot about why people operate the way they do: sometimes, they just haven’t been shown another way.

I’ve always been a student of people. I watch behaviors. I analyze reactions. I’m curious about why people say the things they say and do the things they do. That curiosity served me in dating… until I actually liked someone and got frustrated when they didn’t see the potential I saw. The potential for something great.

Thankfully, God had a plan. And in walked the Comedian. I am forever grateful for that.

I didn’t learn everything I needed from my parents. They gave me a foundation—how to be kind, how to care about people’s feelings—but they didn’t teach me about money, love, or how to handle sketchy people. My mom was never into makeup or fashion. She’s a peaceful, reserved woman. I, on the other hand, came out like a thunderbolt—loud, animated, ready to light up the next social gathering.

She has silky straight hair. I was born with wild, curly locks. People still call me Shakira. I had to teach myself everything—from how to blow dry my hair (shout out to YouTube) to how to apply makeup (thanks, eyeshadow palette instructions). I figured it out because I wanted to. I wanted to express a version of myself that felt fun, confident, me.

I love fashion. I love shoes. And my mom still can’t figure out why I own so many.

But that’s the point. You get to choose who you become.

Like Carrie Bradshaw said, I know I’ll never be the girl with perfect hair who can keep her white outfit clean through a meal. For whatever reason, I always manage to spill on myself. I’m also the girl who walks into poles, trips in public, and laughs through the embarrassment. And I accept that.

Whatever I want to change, I’ll change. But I do it on my terms.

I know I’ll never be a statistic—unless we’re talking about how many pairs of heels I own (guilty as charged).

So here’s the truth:
Love yourself as you are. You are unique. If you don’t like the situation you’re in, change it. You are the designer of your life. Don’t let excuses become roadblocks.

Because the truth is—wherever you are right now, you got there.
And that means you can get somewhere else, too.

The Road to Self-Discovery

I finally did it. I figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

It’s taken time—and more than a few detours—but I’ve landed on something that feels right. The beginning of this year came with its fair share of struggles, but somewhere along the way, I stepped onto this road of clarity and self-expression. And let me tell you, it’s been enlightening.

If you know me, you know I don’t always express myself best out loud. But give me a pen and paper, and suddenly, I’m fluent in emotion. Writing has always been my safe space, my outlet, my translator. And lately, I've been learning so much about myself—especially in relationships. This current one? It's been a mirror. It's shown me who I really am when I care deeply about someone.

I’m stubborn. I don’t always know how I feel until twenty minutes later. And when I’m angry, I stutter. (Yes, really.) Looking back, some of my past relationships were filled with arguments, which now feels so foreign to me. I’m not naturally aggressive. But some people... they just know how to push your buttons. Still, I’ve always been patient. I try not to let things get to me—but what does get to me is inconsideration. Or people who are always looking for the easy way out.

Maybe I come off a little intense sometimes. My business upbringing wasn’t exactly all hugs and rainbows. There’s a little birdie in my head constantly chirping, “Don’t do anything half-assed.” And because of that, I hold others to the same standard. But I’ve been working on softening that edge—reminding myself: They are not me. Relax.

Anyway, I know what you’re wondering: Okay, but what do you want to be when you grow up?

Fine. I’ll tell you.

I want to be a Corporate Trainer. I want to create and lead training and development. I want to teach, guide, and empower adults—and yes, I get to write in the process. Boom.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Why not just be a teacher? Here's the thing—I'm not a kids person. I love the ones in my life, truly. But dealing with other people’s kids (and their possibly questionable home training)? Not my lane. And that’s okay. I have so much respect for the teachers who do that work and do it well. Thank you for showing up, for shaping the future.

As for me? I’m stepping confidently into this new direction. I’m excited to grow, to lead, and to finally merge my passions in a meaningful way.

See you at the finish line. 🚀

I'm Rubber, You're Glue

It’s late and I really should be reading an article for class—yes, I’m back in school pursuing my MBA. I’m not entirely sure where it’ll lead me, but the future feels full of promise. For now, I’m in one of those late-night reflective moods. A little random, a little philosophical.

Lately, I’ve found myself becoming more and more a student of human behavior. The more I experience and learn, the more I notice how easily egos can be bruised—especially when the hurt comes from someone we hold in high regard. I’m not immune to it. Sometimes it feels like one careless comment can slash straight through your confidence.

But then I remember that childhood comeback: “I’m rubber, you’re glue—whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” Kids really had it right. What changed? I think puberty turned us all into emotional puddles.

We forget that the present is all we truly have. Not the past we can’t change or the future we can’t predict—but the now. And now is always the best moment if we let it be.

I’ve always tried to be an advocate for living life happily. Sure, bad things happen—losses, heartbreak, setbacks. But those are the things that teach us. They push us to grow. And through it all, I’ve realized one thing: the less you care about what people think, the more you get to be yourself. Fully. Unapologetically.

I know my friends and family love me for exactly that—my love of life, my goofy laugh, my corny jokes, and my random trivia I feel everyone must know. And that’s the best kind of love: the kind that grows when you stop shrinking yourself to fit someone else’s comfort.

So let the criticism bounce off. You’re rubber, remember?

Let people love you for being you.

No One Likes the Same Flavor of Ice Cream

ice cream cones

In the mornings, I like to indulge in a little talk radio. I know it’s not the healthiest habit, but there’s something comforting about listening to other people ramble about their opinions—until the topic turns shallow. That’s when I quickly changed the station to something with no talking, just good music.

The other day, though, one segment really got to me. The hosts were discussing whether people get upset when they spend time getting ready—hair, makeup, outfit—and no one compliments them. Honestly, it made me a little sad. Not because of the topic itself, but because it showed how many people rely on validation from others to feel beautiful.

I might sound judgmental saying this, but really—who cares?! Beauty comes from the inside. I’ve learned over the years that when I exude confidence and feel beautiful, others notice naturally. Growing up, my younger sister and I couldn’t have been more different. She was thin, popular, the one everyone noticed. I was awkward, insecure, and unsure of myself for most of middle and high school. She made it a bit of a competition to have all the boys like her, and for a long time, I felt invisible.

Then, one day—someone liked me instead of her. Shocking, right?

But here’s the thing: it didn’t really matter. Because I came to understand something powerful—the same guys who liked her weren’t going to be into me, and that’s okay. We were different. We are different. Different styles, different personalities, different everything.

And that’s where my favorite analogy comes in:

"No one likes the same flavor of ice cream. They just might not like my flavor."

That doesn’t make my flavor any less awesome.

What bothered me about that radio topic was the way it justified insecurity. Like if you spend two hours getting ready, it only matters if someone notices. But the truth is—do it for you. Get dressed up, take time for yourself, wear the thing that makes you feel like magic. That glow? That’s yours. And you don’t need applause for it to matter.

There’s a saying:
"Dress for the job you want."

But I’d argue—dress for the life you want. Show up for yourself in a way that reflects how you want to feel. Beautiful. Confident. Whole.

You don’t need everyone to like your flavor.
Just make sure you do.