I’m not a big fan of fortune cookies, but every now and then, they get suspiciously close to life truths. Last time I cracked one open, it read: “What you stand for defines who you are.” Honestly, I half-laughed and half-shrugged it off as snack wisdom. But after pondering over it, I realized it’s kind of... true. Life, love, and the messy in-between are clearer when you know what you stand for.

As a writer (and someone who’s survived her fair share of awkward first dates and family matchmaking attempts), my core beliefs shape not just how I live but also how I write. For me, it all comes down to three big ideas: authenticity, connection, and growth.

Authenticity: Dancing to Your Own Rhythm (Even if It’s to Celia Cruz and Beyoncé)

When I was ten, my tia once told me during a family party, “Mija, you’ve got to dance as if no one’s watching—or as if everyone is cheering you on.” It was her way of telling me to be bold and unashamedly myself. Back then, my “dancing” was a lot of weird flailing to Marc Anthony (because I didn’t know what I was doing), but the sentiment stayed with me.

Authenticity isn’t just about being you—it’s about being the real you. The goofy, messy, complicated parts included. In relationships, it’s tempting to put forward the Instagram-filtered version of ourselves, but there’s something magical about vulnerability. And yes, I get it—vulnerability equals scary. It feels a bit like showing up to a first date with salsa stains on your shirt. Not ideal, but hey, it’s you.

Here’s the thing: People connect to who you genuinely are, not the curated version you think they’ll prefer. When I write—and when I love—I aim to be as real as my abuelita’s frijoles recipe: classic, honest, no unnecessary additives. I share my stories because sometimes we all need reminders that we’re not alone in the chaos of figuring ourselves out.

So whether you’re showing up as your best-dressed self or rocking mismatched socks (been there, done that), let your authentic self shine. Trust me, your weird quirks are someone else’s bonus features.

Connection: From Viral Memes to Real Bonds

There’s this beautiful moment that happens during live salsa performances—two strangers lock eyes across the dance floor, and bam, they’re moving together like they’ve been rehearsing for weeks. That’s the kind of connection I think we’re all searching for, even if it’s not necessarily on the dance floor. (Though if you ever get the chance to dance to La Sonora Santanera with someone? Please do. It’s borderline euphoric.)

For me, relationships are less about grand gestures and more about the little moments. Like when you offer someone the last slice of pizza (true love, honestly) or when a text message at 11 p.m. makes you laugh-snort so hard you wake up your roommate. Relationships thrive when we stop trying to win points and start trying to understand one another.

But connections aren’t just romantic; they’re also deeply personal. I stay connected to my roots—the vibrant East End streets of Houston where murals, mariachi, and hip-hop collide—and to the lessons my tightly knit family instilled in me. Those connections are a reminder that even in a huge, chaotic world, it’s possible to find comfort.

And while we’re on the subject: Real connection isn’t passive. It requires listening, showing up, and sometimes biting your tongue when your partner insists pineapple does belong on pizza. (This is a hill I refuse to die on, but love means letting them live with their questionable taste.)

Growth: Getting Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

Growth is tricky. It’s like going to a dance class for the first time: At best, you feel a little stiff; at worst, you completely step on your own feet. (True story: I once twisted my ankle learning bachata because my brain and body were NOT communicating.) But that’s the thing—growth hurts sometimes because it requires effort.

We’ve all been there in relationships: You realize you’re holding onto an outdated version of yourself because it feels easier than having the hard conversations—either with your partner or with yourself. But growth is what moves the needle. It’s what turns breakups into breakthroughs, awkward silences into meaningful conversations, and ordinary moments into monumental ones.

What I’ve learned along the way is this: Growth happens when you embrace discomfort. It’s learning to communicate your needs instead of hoping someone magically figures them out. It’s saying “no” to the situationships that don’t serve you and “yes” to the person who treats you like the main character of your story.

Personal growth is kind of like finally figuring out how to make arroz con pollo without burning it—hard at first, but incredibly satisfying when you get it right. And relationships aren’t any different. The goal isn’t perfection; it’s progress. Can you show up as a better version of yourself, one little adjustment at a time? That’s what growth looks like.

What This Means for My Writing (and Why I’m Rooting for You)

Writing for me is an extension of what I believe makes life meaningful. It’s about sharing stories that help us feel less alone, that celebrate the imperfect glory of figuring life out—whether that’s learning to love, to let go, or simply to laugh at ourselves. I try to bring pieces of my Houston upbringing, my bicultural identity, and my own stumbles into the mix because I hope it resonates with you.

Relationships, like writing, are messy, full of rewrites, and sometimes require deleting entire paragraphs. But they’re also where we grow, connect, and ultimately figure out who we are. My hope? That no matter where you are on your journey—from flirting to familiar—you’ll find something in my words that feels like a warm abrazo or a pep talk from your best friend.

So go ahead, show up as your messy, beautiful, authentic self. Dance to a rhythm only you hear. Trip over your own growth. Share a meme that made you laugh louder than expected. And most importantly, don’t be afraid to rewrite your story as many times as necessary.

Chat soon, friend—and remember: Every story gets better with time.