Thoughts,
Ideas,
& Journeys
A place for thoughts, dreams, advocacy, and written word in Mobile View mode.
THE TRADITIONAL “ABOUT ME”…
Hey there friend,
I’m Thalia and this is my blog. I am an aspiring author and future best-seller (manifesting). Originally from Upstate NY, I now live in the green and moodiness of the Pacific Northwest.
I won’t bore you with the traditional about me section because honestly, I want you to get to know me through my words. However, here are a few things to note:
In a happy and beautiful relationship with my partner, Miguel.
Cat Mommy to two: Pretty Boy & Nena.
Former Educator.
Masters in Inclusive Childhood Education.
Bachelors in Business Management.
The Good Stuff
Below is my official blog: It goes from my first blog to my most current so that people are encouraged to follow the story. Click the button below to skip to my most recent blog if you prefer.
Blog #1: Every Journey Begins With The First Step
July 8th, 2026
I've recently decided to take a risk on myself and pursue my dream of becoming a published author. Currently, I am working on my first book (I've had this one in mind for many years and it has changed even more times).
I've never struggled with writing. It's something I've always excelled at. Expressing myself through written language has always been easier than words for me. And I am excited to share this journey with you all.
I want to use my platform as a new author to share my journey, my mistakes, tips and tricks I learn along the way, and hopefully inspire others to follow their dreams while I try to follow my own.
Thalia, out. ✌️
Blog #2: Lesson One, AI Writers Block
July 8th, 2026
The first thing I am learning: AI is one of the greatest writing blocks.
I've spent a lot of time sharing my ideas, thoughts, and research with my AI assistant. It's been easiest for me to keep track of all of my thoughts that I have so I don’t forget them. Eventually, when it came to starting my book over... again... I asked it to give me a summary of everything I'd said to it based on the topic so I could start forming an outline for my book and also remember a lot of what I've said.
It gave me summaries and chapter suggestions that I inputted for the bones of my book.
Big Mistake. HUGE!
Now that I have the time to sit down and start writing my book, it’s hard to cypher through what’s me and what’s AI. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve written for long enough and edited plenty of others papers/resumes/etc to know my writing voice very distinctly. But the time it’s taking for me to scrub stuff that clearly isn’t mine is so time-consuming that I might as well have started fresh with no AI summaries.
I’m not sure where I stand on it completely. I can see the benefit in having a virtual assistant to assist in keeping logs of my thoughts and notes. However, you would have to be very specific in your prompts that it’s logging your words rather than taking them in so that when you go back for it, it’s your words, not AI’s summary.Also at the same time, I think it can be challenging to then separate yourself from the assistant and can lead to writer's block for people who are really dedicated to their craft.
Anyways, I just want to share my experience so that others can learn from my mistakes, follow my journey, and take tips from my eventual successes.
Thalia, out. ✌️
Blog #3: The Humility of Growth
July 9th, 2026
Growth is such a funny thing.
As I work on one of the chapters of my book, I can’t believe there was once a time where I denied my Blackness. Or rather, didn’t even know or understand that I was Black. As a Puerto Rican person, the nuance of race is almost x’d out. Or at least it was. You were simply Puerto Rican. You weren’t Black, you weren’t White, you were Puerto Rican and that’s it. “Pure Blooded”. Such a laughable thought that a mixed people could be pure blooded. But when you think of the attempts of colonial government to erase Blackness in Puerto Rico, it makes sense why I grew up with that notion of understanding.
I’m baffled by the things I’ve done, all in the name of “not being Black”, whether I realized it or not. Relaxing my hair till I had scabs on my scalp, dying it blonde and light brown until it looked like stalks of hay, laughing in Spanish (trust me, it’s cringier than you think), and the constant game of cat and mouse I played with the sun during the summer, all in the name of not getting “too dark”.
I’m shocked by the things I’ve accepted. Getting upset when people confused me as Black or Dominican and “proudly” claiming my “pure blood”. Allowing the word “nigger” around me in White spaces because I was too scared to speak out against the status quo, even though I knew it was wrong. And, if I’m being honest, because I was too scared to be the nigger in those social situations, as I have been labeled and called so many times in my life. I was escaping a domestic violent relationship at the time and really just wanted a safe space and that felt like my only option. Regardless though… it wasn’t right. As someone who has always believed you “stand for something or fall for nothing”, I can’t believe these are things I accepted. I’m disappointed in myself, truthfully.
For the longest time, I hated my Blackness (even though I didn’t realize it) because even though I grew up very Black and in Black spaces within our dominantly White city, I never truly understood MY Blackness. Never embraced it. I knew I was a nigga but I didn’t understand that I was Black. As a grown woman looking back at the mixed kid I was, I get it. The disconnect makes sense.
As an adult, I can now look back and see how laughable my childhood understandings were. But I can also see the damage it can cause to someone’s idea of identity when they aren’t properly versed on who they are, where they come from, and ALL of the parts that make them beautiful. I wish as a kid I really knew and understood that Puerto Rican’s are a mixed people. I wish I understood that I’m Black. I wish I understood that my skin color carried my DNA’s memory of the sun, that my hair hosted the familiarity of adversity AND culture in it’s coily texture and braid downs, that my forehead was the bark path laid by native ancestors, and that my sharp nose was only one defining feature of the defeat of my people’s culture by the colonizers.
I’m grateful to have learned my roots. Accepted my identity. And found peace in my soul.
Thalia, out. ✌️
Blog #4: I did it… I left teaching.
July 15th, 2026
So it’s finally sunk in.
As the new school year prepares to once again cycle around, it is time for a little update.
After five years in education, I decided to take a leave of absence. At first it felt unreal. Teaching is something I feel that I was called to do but in the words of Cookie Lyons, “I gotta put myself first Lucious!”
When I first started teaching as a substitute, I felt I had finally found my calling. Felt I had finally found my purpose in life; to teach kids and change the narrative of their school experiences. That idea is as important to me today as it was then and I’m proud to have been able to serve in that.
I never would have imagined that in my last year of earning my Bachelors degree in Business Management I would have found out that I actually wanted to teach. It happened upon me. Attending an HBCU and being surrounded by teachers who looked like me, understood my life experiences, gave me grace, but did NOT give me any excuses… it was life changing. It was in those moments that I realized how important it was to have someone you can truly relate to. I never cared during primary and secondary. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I loved learning. I always have. But I never cared for school because I didn’t feel as though anyone truly cared for me. Kids can always tell, you know. They can feel when people don’t like them or treat them as “others”. Justice as a kid is so linear that I knew I wasn’t getting what I needed but I never knew how to communicate it.
As a 23 year old, non-traditional college student, I felt I had figured out what was wrong with the education system: there wasn’t enough teachers that looked like me teaching kids like me.
Being someone who was always of the idea, do it myself to do it right, you can imagine how my life changed. My resolve was determined. I’ll become a teacher and change education for kids like I was.
Yeah, I’m laughing too.
I’ve had many ups and downs through this experience. From having my skin gouged out during student meltdowns to turning all of my students into published authors. I’ve literally given blood, sweat, and tears to this career path. Highlights include making a music video with my seventh grade Spanish students, getting a Las Vegas Raiders player to visit our school and speak to our third graders, making over 70% growth in my kids reading scores (a few times), moving one of my kids from a PK reading level to a 2nd grade reading level in just one year, transforming my classroom into a jungle via donations from my friends and family, turning my third, fourth, and fifth grade classes into published authors, working with Black and Brown youth across multiple states, and elevating my first fifth grade class to sixth grade.
Teaching has been so rewarding, fulfilling to my soul, and truly filled my cup. Even as my grandma died while I was student teaching and working on my Capstone, I had the dedication to serving my community's kids to get me out of bed every morning and keep me going.
So why am I leaving?
Because this job has also been the most depleting to my mental and physical health. Because this job is another avenue off of Wall Street. Because the political climate is more interested in stripping funding from kids for their own gain than being interested in the literacy rates of America’s children. Because I’m an Afro-Boricua woman in a country and world that unfortunately, will never fully respect her or treat her as worthy as she is.
I remember the first time I was told that “school is a business”. It shocked me. I was denied receiving Magna Cum Laude honors at my Alma Mater, Clark Atlanta University, because I hadn’t completed enough credits to qualify under the school’s requirements. Not a national requirement, a school requirement. “I’m a transfer student.” I replied. How can I possibly meet the credit requirements as a transfer student when I don’t need that many credits to complete my degree? The answer was that I hadn’t put in as much “blood, sweat, and tears” as the other students who had been going there the past four years. Eventually, I understood after the office lady told me I could take another semester instead of graduating to earn the honor. It wasn’t about credits. It was about money. “So what you’re saying is I have to pay more money in tuition to earn those extra credits even though I don’t need them in order to get the honor I deserve?” She replied, “Well, school is a business.” That was the beginning of my disappointment in the education system.
Since entering education, it has been my dedication and commitment to only work in Title 1 Schools: Schools that are full of lower-income families and tend to be under-resourced in support and money. These schools also tend to have the lowest literacy rates (per opportunity gaps) and the most behavioral hurdles (its hard to behave when you’re just trying to survive). It hasn’t been easy. I’ve worked with 8th graders reading at a third grade level, students who didn’t believe they’d ever be able to graduate even though they wanted to, a class with four students who spoke no English with no ESL teacher, large class sizes (28-35 students), several IEP and 504 students woefully neglected by the education system, foster kids navigating through an entirely different system, CPS calls for students who reeked daily of animal pee (mandated reporter), thrown chairs, explosive tantrums, rooms trashed, teachers dragging kids across the floors, and many, many tears.
But it wasn’t the kids that was the most challenging. It’s been the state of education in America. The lack of resources that are still currently being stripped away by this administration. I remember saying during my masters program that I’d never get caught up in the politics of education. How laughable that was. To be educated is radical. To educate is radical. Every move you make, every top down decision, every student placed in your classroom is there by political and systemic design.
I’ve dealt with White teachers who felt they could “son” me in my own classroom just cause they were veterans. I’ve dealt with racist administration questioning my teaching skills because it wasn’t robot like how they wanted. That same administration questioning the integrity of my students test scores because it was “too” high for my teaching style (gag is, I wasn’t even there the day they tested my students). Racist administration constantly visiting my classroom to later berate me. Administration threatening to keep eyes on me once I left the school. Administration telling me that there was no point to a library field trip because “our students can’t afford to make it there” and telling me they’d fail their tests regardless because of their low IQ’s (our school was mostly Hispanic/Latino by the way).
I’ve dealt with districts conning me out of my hard-earned and deserved money. $20k from one district after they decided to change their verbal agreements (that was my bad for not knowing I needed to have EVERYTHING in writing) and then schools trying to cheat me out of my salary simply because they could (I advocated for myself and got my pay). Horrible health insurance in one district because they couldn’t conduct business well, which resulted in me being charged hundreds of dollars and having to fight to have it paid. Being surplussed from schools that couldn’t afford to keep me anymore (lowest seniority) even though that same district paid out a superintendent $600k to leave (but couldn’t afford to pay it’s teachers).
And don’t even get me started on the constant babying and savior complexes when it comes to Black and Brown kids. That on top of this age of “gentle” teaching that leaves kids with no grasp on empathy or accountability. Trauma comparing. Focus on testing rather than skills. Focus on experience rather than learning. . . and so much more, y’all. It’s exhausting.
After five years, I am depleted. The real: I’ve gained 30lbs since being in this profession. I’ve had so many health hiccups. Pinched nerves. Dead arms. High anxiety resulting in dizzy spells. Worsened OCD symptoms. Infections. Colds. Depression. No time or energy for myself or others. No motivation to be active once out of work. Consistent and persistent migraines. High blood pressure. Worsened teeth grinding at night. Nightmares about my job and students.
Trying to maintain friendships, and family relationships, and personal love relationships has been nearly impossible. Trying to write my book has been impossible. Trying to love myself and devote time to myself has been impossible. Even on breaks when I should have been relaxing, I was working, planning, or trying to catch up on sleep and rest. I’ve lived a lot of life in my bed these past five years.
Finally, I’ve decided to take a chance on myself. I’ve decided to get back to me.
At the beginning of this school year, I had my kids dream. I shared with them that I never really dreamed for myself. Every dream I had was with the goal of making enough money to get my family out of struggle and poverty. Sure, I had things I loved to do and hobbies. But I never had a dream that was just mine and no one else’s. Never a dream that was just for me. I wanted my kids to dream beyond their struggle; and this was hard for some. I still had students that chose careers that would financially alleviate burden to their families but after talking one-on-one, we figured it out. I’ve always been a firm believer that I’m not going to ask my students to complete a project or work assignment I wouldn’t do myself. So, of course, I also dreamed. I drew a photo of me as a published and best-selling author.
I won’t say that I’ll never return to teaching or education. I’m good at it. I love it. It makes me happy to teach kids, watch them learn, see them blossom, and also learn from them.
But for right now, this next phase in my life is for me. This is the moment to take a chance on myself. To follow my dreams. To chase them with every bit of energy I have. It’s also the time for me to care for myself. To find myself again. To find my voice again outside of the classroom. To reset, refocus, and reclaim my energy and happiness.
I’m ready… so stay tuned.
Thalia, out. ✌️
Blog #5: Wedding Season
July 28th, 2026
Hello peeps. I apologize for the lapse in blog submission. I’ve been busy with wedding and travels over the past two weeks as Miguel and I attended the wedding of one of his friends in Long Beach. It was aboard the Queen Mary and literally tear provoking. Congratulations to the newly married couple, Veronica and Mark.
I will say it was nice to take a moment of pause, meet so many different and wonderful people, and also get the opportunity to bounce my book off various minds. The consensus has been great and I am so proud to hear how many people find my book thought provoking, relevant, and needed.
As I return home from the wedding, settle back into routine, and continue brainstorming, thinking, and creating, I am so excited to continue working on my book and pouring my heart and soul into the words on the page. I am also excited to share many blog posts that I’ve been pondering for the past two weeks, so expect much content coming soon.
Until then, enjoy this photo of Miguel and I from the wedding. <3
Thalia, out. ✌️
Blog #6: The Nuyorican Proximity to American Blackness
July 29th, 2026
This afternoon I was chatting with my mom (shoutout my momma), and I was updating her on my book progress. I just finished writing a portion that explores a portion of my identity that is American Blackness strengthened and affirmed from growing up in Baptist Church as my Church Home.
Our conversation naturally started swaying towards the differences in Black Ricans vs. Islander Puerto Ricans (Mira-Miras) and we finally determined that Black Ricans tend to be Nuyoricans (Conn./Mass./NJ) and our culture is just so heavily different from island Puerto Rican culture that it’s hard to feel comfortable in those spaces. If anything, it’s always an underlying feeling of judgement. Either from not growing up on the island, being “too” Americanized, not speaking Spanish in the same tonality and dialect, and/or many more various factors. Throw our mixed Puerto Rican and Black babies in there and you get a whole other realm of judgement from the White Puerto Ricans who still haven’t realized they are a product of the Whitening.
Eventually, the determination in me and my mothers conversation was that, at this point, Nuyoricans are so influenced by Black American culture and vice versa that we’re inextricably wound together in our own upper East Coast way of being. In the city, our families are mixed and integrated. Puerto Ricans giving birth to Black American babies and vice versa. Combined living. Combined celebrations. Combined culture. We are one in NY, it’s just how it’s always been.
This led into a conversation about the influence of Nuyoricans in Black American Culture, more specifically Hip Hop, and alternatively the influence on Black American Culture in Nuyorican Culture, more specifically Reggaeton. I referenced a video I’d seen on TikTok by the user @The_Illustrious_Deron_Harris where he discussed the question: “Should Puerto Ricans be considered when discussing the origins of Hip Hop?” Deron addresses his original comment on a post where he said: “There are different elements of Hip-Hop. There is graffiti writing, there’s breakdancing, there’s DJing, and of course there is MC’n. Puerto Ricans most definitely were there for the inception of all of those things.” (Video linked below.) I thought Deron had a lot of great talking points and gave very good firsthand experience examples.
TikTok Handle: @The_Illustrious_Deron_Harris
TikTok Link: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTA5FWVpU/
One of the points he brings up is that younger people unfamiliar with that time will often say that Puerto Ricans weren’t around. This brings up another point that I’ll expand on in a different blog which is the unwritten history of Puerto Ricans in America. It’s not that we’ve had our history here in America erased, it’s that records of it simply don't exist in mass.
The fact of the matter is that Puerto Ricans have been state-side for a very long time participating in and contributing to Black Culture and Black History for equally as long, whether that wasn’t noted because of the lack of visual division between us or what, I’m unsure. But some examples:
Deron brought up the 1970s Urban Crisis in the Bronx. Prior to and during this time, Black Americans and Puerto Ricans lived together side by side where we went to the same schools, same parties, same hangouts, and also shared in the same struggles. I won’t expand on this because I think he did a magnificent job and I encourage you to go watch his video for more information.
Deron also references Black Pioneers like Africa Bambata who founded the Universal Zulu Nation with Black and Puerto Rican members from inception. And Puerto Rican Participants/Contributors in Hip Hop as cited by Deron: Crazy Legs, Frosty Freeze, Lee Quinones, Lady Pink, DJ Charlie Chase.
The Harlem Hellfighters, one of the first predominantly African-American regiments to serve in World War 1 also had members who shared in Afro-Puerto Rican heritage. 18 of the 44 members were Puerto Rican.
Thalia, out. ✌️