Mornings: Café Bustelo and Chaos

Every morning starts the same—me fighting with my alarm clock like it just insulted my abuela’s cooking. I’m not a morning person, yet somehow I’ve built an entire routine that demands I get up early. The key? Coffee strong enough to wake a hibernating bear. I’m talking about Café Bustelo, the staple of my Cuban-Mexican upbringing. You ever try opening your eyes while the smell of Bustelo fills the kitchen? It's like a warm hug from your ancestors and a simultaneous slap to get your act together.

While my coffee brews, I remind myself I’ve got a laundry list of things to do. And by "remind myself," I mean scroll on Instagram for 20 minutes while pretending to be productive. But hey, we all need our small moments of procrastination.

If you’re a breakfast-for-energy type of person, good for you. Me? I stick to my café con leche and maybe un pan tostado if I’m feeling classy. I like to believe that skipping breakfast helps me stay sharp, even if the science says otherwise.

The Morning Walk: Inner Peace or Just Wifi?

Here’s where things get a bit unconventional. My morning doesn’t truly start until I’ve had my little stroll around the neighborhood. It’s hot, and by hot, I mean Houston levels of humidity where you feel like you need gills to survive. But there’s something grounding about walking through the East End—the sound of tejano music spilling out of an open window, the old señoras power-walking and gossiping in Spanglish.

Honestly, though? Half the walk is just an excuse to check my phone outside because my apartment’s wifi mysteriously cuts out sometimes. The other half is me convincing myself that walking counts as cardio. But hey, there’s no judgement here. You do what you have to do to get those steps in.

Mid-Morning Hustle: Writing...and Fighting My Attention Span

By late morning, I’m at my desk, ready to tackle my writing projects. My desk? It’s the corner of my living room with just enough space for my laptop, a notepad, and whatever random candles I’ve bought but never light. Hustling as a writer is a mix of inspiration and low-key panic because deadlines are everywhere.

Some days, the words flow like agua fresca on a summer day. Other times, it’s like trying to start a car that ran out of gas three weeks ago. Whenever I get stuck, I think about the Houston neighborhoods I’ve written about—the bakeries on Airline Drive, the all-night taco trucks that saved my soul in college. My neighbors' stories inspire me to keep going, even when a blank Word document mocks me.

My ritual here is simple: every hour of writing earns me a tiny break (usually involving scrolling through Zillow listings of houses I’ll never afford). It's all about balance, right?

The Afternoon Reset: A Meditation Attempt (Emphasis on "Attempt")

Meditation sounds like one of those things you need to do to "find yourself." And I’ve tried, really. I even downloaded an app during my “new year, new me” phase, but let’s just say my attention span is about as short as a Bad Bunny song intro.

So instead of full-on zen moments, I perfected my own version of meditation: sitting in my papasan chair with a playlist of throwback reggaetón hits. Is it spiritual? Debatable. Does it make me feel like I’m one step closer to enlightenment? Maybe not, but "Gasolina" playing softly in the background does something for the soul.

If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that recharging your mind doesn’t have to look a certain way. You can sit cross-legged in silence, or you can vibe out to Daddy Yankee and call it balance.

Evening Treats: Cooking as Therapy

By the time the sun starts to dip, my favorite part of the day arrives—cooking dinner. For me, cooking has always been about more than food. It’s therapy, tradition, and pure creative freedom rolled into one. Some nights, I go old-school with arroz con pollo. Other nights? A creative experiment like “What happens if I add chipotle to literally everything?” Spoiler alert: it’s always delicious.

Growing up, meals were a family event. My mamá would ask my siblings and me to help with prep work, handing out knives with a level of trust I now find questionable. But that’s the thing about food in my culture—it’s communal. Not just eating it, but making it too. Cooking alone in my little Houston apartment, I feel connected to that spirit, almost like my family secretly approves from miles away.

Now, if I’m being honest, I don’t always get it right. I’ve burned tortillas, under-seasoned rice, and started small fires (oops). But to me, the kitchen is like life: messy, loud, occasionally chaotic, but always worth it in the end.

Nighttime Rituals: Yes, I’m a Skincare Girlie

As the day winds down, I indulge in the holy grail of self-care—the nighttime skincare routine. Look, I didn’t grow up with all these fancy serums and sheet masks. My mom’s best advice for clear skin was "drink more water and stop staying up late.” (Good advice, but tell that to my 16-year-old self romanticizing insomnia.)

Now, I treat my skincare routine like a sacred ritual. Cleansing, toning, moisturizing—it’s part necessity, part me taking ten minutes to just be with myself. It’s also when I reflect on the little wins of the day—finishing an article, connecting with a friend, or even resisting the urge to order Uber Eats instead of cooking.

Honestly, skincare isn’t just about your face. It’s about taking moments to feel like you’ve got things handled, at least for a little while.

Reflection: Living My "Telenovela" Life

If I had to sum up my life in a single phrase, it’d probably be “A little bit of chaos, a whole lot of corazón.” My days aren’t perfect—far from it—but they’re mine, stitched together by routines that sometimes feel like inside jokes with myself.

From my Cuban-Mexican upbringing to my freelance writer hustle, every part of my day feels woven with stories—some I’ve written, some I’ve lived. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s this: life doesn’t have to be Instagram-perfect. It’s okay to be a little messy, a little unsure. As long as you’re showing up for yourself (and maybe indulging in a good café bustelo now and then), you’re doing just fine.

So, next time you’re drowning in to-dos or struggling to find your groove, just remember: your day doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. Start where you are, with what you have. And maybe add a splash of reggaetón while you’re at it. It never hurts.