It's a Thursday and there's a full moon in Barcelona...

I’m sitting in front of my laptop in my roommate’s apartment in El Born.

I’ve gone in and out of this draft so many times.

This is perhaps my third attempt at trying to keep up with a blog.

In the past I’ve shared bits from my travels with stories I thought were worth telling and then left things just at that. Lately, I’ve felt the desire to come back here but secretly dreaded it. It’s not getting to the keyboard that’s difficult, it’s having the courage to keep everything you write and not delete it.

Blogging has been intimidating to me for several reasons. Besides promising commitment, there’s endless issues with self-deprecation. I sincerely admit I am critical, but most importantly I am critical toward me. I am constantly doubting and questioning all of my actions and thoughts and wondering if anyone else has caught on to the idea that I’m really not as great as I am. That maybe my writing, photography, personality, or work is not like-able, interesting, or worth spending time with. Placing myself in the spotlight with these issues seems like the opposite of what I should be doing sometimes.


In addition to having a “judgey” and sad shadow self, I am a late twenty-something-year-old who is still figuring her life out. There is an immense, real fear of admitting this because it doesn’t look so sexy at this stage of my life where the amount of marriages, home purchases, and babyshowers increase with every passing year. It’s anxiety inducing to share. Especially on the internet where any member of my family is free to see. There is an expectation that each generation in the family must do better than the previous. As a daughter of an immigrant pediatrician, it’s a pressure I feel tremendously. Whether it is discreetly or blatantly said by someone or not.

It’s a doom I feel on my own. Every. Day.

I arrived to this point in a somewhat casual way. My career has gone in unexpected directions. I worked in nonprofits in the art community for years after coming out of art school in Chicago with a BFA. Unfortunately, even with a degree and many years of interning I was not as prepared as I could have been to take on the professional world. Luckily, I found the library and remained there since my senior year of college. I grew very fond of the patrons at the many libraries I got to know. I learned invaluable lessons about compassion and kindness. I had the privilege to even be seen as a leader to most there. I worked with mostly older adults, seniors, and teens. Each of them adding to my development in becoming a good human being. I will never forget those things. However, over the years, after so many incredible interactions and experiences, I couldn’t put away the dream of traveling for an extended period of time and looking for opportunities elsewhere, outside of the U.S. I felt I was living in a rut even with having a fun job. There was no ladder in these job positions I tried at the library and I had to be honest with myself. The library was not where I imagined I would be when I wrote down my future at seven-years-old on a paper layout of my farm.

I saved money over the years and quit my job to travel for over six months. It was incredible and to this day I can’t believe I did it.


After my trip and after a devastating event, I found myself in Chicago again trying to get back on my feet. Not knowing really what to do, I went back to where I swore I wouldn’t. The library.

It was a temporary thing because I was trying to find an opportunity that would fit my new stage in life, my interests, and align with my ambitions for my future. I applied to over 50 jobs. Never got one single interview.

I felt helpless every day. It has undoubtedly been one of the hardest years of my life.

To this day there is uncertainty, even where I am now and doing what I am doing. I will explain more of the present next time.

I say all of this to say that this is my journey. These are my insecurities, and I present them because they are my reality. You will not find the blogger/creative with the perfect life to be envious of, although I am extremely fortunate to have the life I have.

I am not a perfect person and this is where I am in life. I won’t pretend that I’m somewhere or something I’m not. I honor these insecurities because they have protected me in their own way and have taught me what I needed to find out about myself. Nonetheless, they expired their stay a long time ago. They don’t serve my highest good and my purpose. It’s time to let them go and rest.

Here is where I will let them lay.


I thought extensively about the many ways I could start off this blog post. This seemed the truest to me because I’ve grown tired of trying to prove myself to me and to prove myself to others. Instead I just want to focus on living a truthful life and what I share has to reflect what it really is for me.

With this introduction, I say to you reader, that the following posts you will see are my perspective. My perspective on life, inner work, stories I find, important topics of the diaspora, projects I work on, photography (of course), day to day occurrences, travel, freelancing, women’s issues, spirituality, life as a minority, career paths, collaborations, musings on art, bits of helpful information, people I find interesting and I’m sure much more. Phew, thanks for reading that.

All the while coming from a twenty-something-year-old U.S. born Latina who is just sitting impatiently and jotting down notes in what Oprah often calls the “school of life”.

Without further ado. Here’s Diana Andrea Delgado Pineda.

See you soon . . .