The Problem with Now (English)

I just returned from Cancún, México. It felt surreal because I stayed at the same resort I visited four years ago. Back then, I was on the edge of a decision: to leave my remote consulting job and finally give myself a full chance to live my dreams as an actor, writer, and singer.

The job I left wasn’t a bad one. In fact, it was aligned with my passions; working in the arts and cultural sectors, conducting studies that proved their economic value. But I felt like a coward for keeping a “day job” instead of diving headfirst into the life of a star.

When I was suddenly offered the chance to produce a short film, I took it as a sign from the universe. I quit. I jumped in with two feet. For the first time, I felt like a free bitch.

The Highs and the Crash

Producing that short film was a crash course in the realities of the industry. Thankfully, I worked with an incredible team of women, and the film went on to win awards. But once it was over, so was my job.

I lived on savings and threw myself into acting and music. I joined a CrossFit gym for structure, wrote songs every week, and even started a Latin band with a friend. But as weeks turned to months, my finances dried up, my relationship unraveled, and my career felt stalled. The yellow brick road I thought I was on seemed to vanish beneath my feet, and I was certainly far away from Kansas.

Detours That Were Vehicles

Eventually, I had to go back to work. First, at the front desk of a yoga studio, which led to a scholarship for a 200-hour yoga teacher training. Then at a Cajun restaurant in Carencro, where I’ve worked for the past year and a half. Later, I worked for a jewelry company, working at trade shows across the country.

At the time, these jobs felt like detours. Now I see them differently. They weren’t obstacles to my dream; they were vehicles. They gave me stability, resources, and unexpected gifts: discipline, perspective, and confidence...Malentía.

The Real Problem with Now

Looking back, I see a pattern: I treat the present as if it’s an obstacle instead of part of the story. When progress feels invisible, I panic, switch paths, or label the moment as failure. But the truth is, now is never wasted. My problem with now is…I haven't had the guts to trust it. Damn. There it is.

But I don’t have a reason not to trust it. In the past four years, I’ve played the lead in Violet Butterfield: Makeup Artist for the Dead, one of the best films I’ve ever worked on. I’ve grown stronger and more confident through CrossFit. Played Mimi Márquez in RENT. I’ve written music, built a band, and performed. I have an album on the way (November 2025!!) and I produced a full-length feature film, The Cramps: A Period Piece. All of that happened in the now, even when I was convinced I was off track.

I’ve wasted time focusing on the absence of what I desire, instead of the presence of what I already have. I’ve lacked the trust to know that I am unfolding with life and that all I need to do is keep having the courage to be myself. I need only trust that the path unfolds with me. Ugh. Que perra. Let me lay it out for myself again, not to avoid it again:

I simply haven't had the guts to trust myself.

A New Way to See It

So I take a deep breath. The now isn’t the whole movie (duh).  It’s just a scene, and my story is still in production. I don’t know the ending yet, but that doesn’t mean the plot isn’t unfolding. Each day is another episode. My character is still developing.

The work, the waiting, the detours, they’re all part of the story. The problem isn’t with now at all. Maybe the problem is that I keep trying to find the path instead of trusting that I am on the right path.

"Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string," Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mucha Malentía

-MM