Dear beloved readers,

I had a week worthy of a romcom written by someone like Ryan Murphy, who, by the way, has me blocked on Twitter since 2012 for reasons I won’t be publicly disclosing maybe ever…But yes, what a week, so many ups and downs, twists and turns, moments of complete happiness and joy, and moments of deep existential crisis, of doubt and fear, of overall, a clusterfuck of a mess.

I extensively wrote before about how this ending, this grand ending of my M.A program, didn’t feel nostalgic because it felt like it couldn’t have ended more perfectly…I mean, I ended it as a medallion winner writer, as the best student in class, with two essays, from my collection of essays (aka my M.A project) published and thriving. I mean I am yet to graduate, the official ceremony will be on Monday, but it feels like every expectation I put on the program, and on myself, was exceeded, it went above and beyond, and I truly don’t have any room left to feel nostalgic because of how perfect everything feels…

But something really strange happened after I received my medallion before symposium, after I hit every joke from my essay perfectly in front of the audience, after I was washed with a sense of pride never before felt, that made me feel sure, that I was in the right place and path. I felt less like a writer than I had ever, ever felt. I realized that the thin-veiled idea of a professional writing, that moments ago had felt so real to me, was held steadily by the walls of academia, and now with that being over, the next professional writer step would be publishing a book, something that feels, and maybe actually is, a pipe dream.

I guess it’s the nostalgia washing over, or maybe it’s that old Holden Caulfield complex of being scared of what is ahead. I went to see my friend’s symposiums, I looked for this feeling in their eyes, but even when I found it, it didn’t feel reassuring to know I wasn’t alone in this boat. 

There’s a feeling I’ve been trying to express for months now, that consumed me when I watched the Hulu show, The Bear, which was like, one of the best TV shows I’ve ever seen. I may have even talked about this here before, but the way I felt after watching that show could only be described as an existential crisis. The show captures so perfectly the environment of a professional kitchen, with that almost claustrophobic feeling, that euphoria, mixed with blood, sweat, tears, grief, joy, and pure chaos. It freaked me out, truly. But it also felt like the most fulfilling thing in the world.  

The realization it lead me is that I was doomed for a boring, office job, ala Severance, and no part of me wanted any of that. I even expressed this to my second reader at one point, while she tried to convince me that I had enough charisma to be a social media personality, and I think the words I used were “Fuck no.” The show arose me the desire to learn how to cook, and it only made sense because now that I have a husband, I find myself almost as if nesting everyday as I wait for him to come home to me – I know it may seem patriarchal, but it feels bigger than me, instinctive, you know? 

This whole desire to learn how to cook, and at the same time, insane fear of working in a career that would make me unhappy, gave me the realization, and this may seem very unrelated, that in this life I am going to be many things worthy of labels, I am daughter, I am wife, I am friend, I am writer, and I am cooker at home too. I am going to be many more titles worth of labels, and I may never get to just be one thing ever, because that doesn’t even feel real, does it? There are going to be so many boxes where I fit in, that I should never settle for one of them, I can have and be them all! 

Maybe I won’t ever publish a book, make a single cent out of my writing, or even be rewarded a night of autographs while young, Latina girls tell me how much my story helped them. Does that mean I will be less of a writer then? Okay, maybe one thing I must do more than accepting that I will be many things at once, I must learn about not stressing about the future when it is not yet here, thus, nothing to worry about, right? 

Yeah…I didn’t buy this one either. I hope this feeling of “Okay, now what?!” fades, I hope I take a long, deserved break, I hope I work on this collection until I am pleased with it, and I know I will be…And if it’s not good enough for the world, I just want it to be good enough for me. 

Don’t forget that next week, due to my mother coming here, I will be off all week. But please stay safe, and out of trouble but, if you don’t – oh my god, tell me all about it. 

– Your Girl On The Go