The American Dream: A Journey from Hollywood to Homegrown Reality

Ever since I was a little girl, I had the American Dream in my sights, thanks to Marty McFly and the endless Hollywood movies that showed me a life of mansions, high-paying jobs, and investments in stock markets I didn’t fully understand.

My aunt and uncle were the poster children for this dream. They had the mansion, the fancy cars, the impressive job titles, and probably some secret stock tips they’d never share.

Naturally, I thought, why not me? So I prayed, I dreamed, and I aimed high, hoping that somehow, someday, the universe would toss a mansion my way, wrapped in a big red bow.

But...life doesn’t quite work that way.

Let’s just say it led me from one disappointment to another. Failed relationship and divorce from the person whom I thought aligned to my values and moral compass. This is something that I thought that killed the inner child in me.

My dreams were like those store-bought cupcakes: too good to be true, but with too much frosting to swallow.

Then came the realization: maybe the American Dream doesn’t need to come in an American-sized box. Maybe it’s not about the mansion or the stock portfolio (which, to be honest, still sounds a little overrated).

Maybe it’s about finding happiness in the unexpected packages life hands you.

Enter my surprise house.

I honestly have no idea how it happened. It was more about sheer willpower and a face made of stone (and a really good motto: “Just go with it”). But somehow, I got my own place.

And I decorated it in the grandest, most “foreign-country-living” way possible. If this house was going to be a home, it was going to be the home I had dreamed of in my head—complete with inspirational quotes on the walls and way too many throw pillows.

Fast forward, and now I have a daughter living in the States. I’m here, in the Philippines, with the perfect reason to follow her and embrace that American Dream. But...wait for it... plot twist.

I looked around at my house, my job, my life—and I realized: this is my American Dream. Right here. In the Philippines.

Who knew that a cozy house, a steady job, and a passion for writing could actually fill the very same dreams I once thought only existed on the other side of the world? I may not have a mansion (yet), but I’m living the dream in my own little slice of reality.

So, to my younger self, who thought the American Dream only came in one form—big, shiny, and full of investment opportunities: You were wrong, girl. It’s way more personal than that. And it comes with less drama and more peace of mind.

Now excuse me while I sip my coffee and enjoy my homegrown version of the dream.