I was in the second grade when it happened. Our teacher handed us a piece of construction paper and instructed us to draw and color what we aspired to be when we grew up.
The boys drew police cars and fire trucks. The girls drew chalkboards and rulers because most of them wanted to become teachers.
But I drew something different.
I drew a stick figure representing myself, and a microphone as big as the size of my head. In front of that stick figure I drew a camera - it wasn't the best looking camera, but I was seven at the time so don't judge me.
When the teacher came to my desk and asked me what I drew, I proudly waved my drawing in the air and said, "I want to be a reporter maestra!" Maestra means teacher in Spanish in case you didn't know.
It was at that moment when I realized I was onto something different.
I was at a major disadvantage when I entered college because many of my advisors and close friends of mine frowned at my decision of pursuing journalism. Many advised me to choose a different career path because being involved in journalism was going to be difficult, and it was unrealistic because not many people make it.
And difficult it was.
I lived in a small town with a population of 70,000 people. There weren't any reporter jobs available unless I landed a job in our small town newspaper - which wasn't hiring by the way - or if I moved to a big city. And God knows I wasn't ready to move away at the time!
But despite the fervent opposition from those around me, there was something in the pit of my stomach that told me a different story. It told me to hold onto my dream and fight for it at any cost.
And fight for it I did.
My gut instinct landed me a job in Turlock's local paper. My gut instinct told me to take a leap of faith and move to Santa Clarita to work at The Signal.
My gut instinct is still telling me to hold onto my dream.
So hold on I will.