[Re]introducing Me!

Hi!

I thought that since I have the new blog site I wanted to reintroduce myself and rattle off my life story, some favorites, and some fun facts. I meet 3,000 new people a day at work and I feel like no one really knows everything about me these days (that sounds sad, but it’s not!). I already have a difficult time keeping up with my friends, but now they’re all scattered across the country; it’s extra lonesome sometimes. So, I wanted to make a comprehensive guide to Willianny!

So yes hi, my name is Willianny Reyes. I don’t have a middle name. I was named that way after my dad, William Reyes, who also doesn’t have a middle name. He’s married to my mom, Nancy Reyes, who actually does have a middle name. William and Nancy met when they worked at the same job around 22 years ago in Connecticut, and they had me on November 7th, 20024. It was the day after my Godparents’ wedding, and my mom went into labour at the reception (I yearn to be the center of attention, always). We lived in Connecticut until I was five years old, and then we packed up my little life and moved down to southwest Florida, where I grew up!

This is my last month as a 20-year-old. This year for my birthday, I’m going to Las Vegas. Since I turned 18, my parents and I have swapped a big party with my family for a fun adventure. For my 18th, it was New York City. For my 19th, it was Puerto Rico. For my 20th, it was Walt Disney World. I almost canceled my trip to Disney though, because I had made a big leap to move there in January anyway.

Yeah, since the beginning of January, I’ve been living and working in Fantasyland!!! I remember the day I applied for my CP vividly. That morning, I was an hour and a half late to work because I was shattered at the breakup I’d had the night before, that spilled into the next day. When I finally made it to my desk and logged into my computer, I had an email from the Disney Programs mailing list, saying it was time to apply. I took it as a sign.

Being here has been the most magical, difficult, altering, confusing, fun, adventurous, costly, depressing, and best time of my life. I’ve made so many good friends. I had a great boyfriend for awhile. I’ve been to new places and tried new things. I’m not so scared of everything anymore. I’ve grown so much and learned so much about myself.

I grew up a really scared girl too nervous to do anything or say anything. I played a lot of sports. I tried soccer, but I spent more time talking to my best friend at the time than scoring goals. I tried basketball, and it was fun but it wasn’t my sport. I worked my way up to a purple belt in Tae Kwon Do, but when my instructor left so did I. Softball was the one that stuck. I liked softball because my family liked softball. I took after my Yankee-loving cousins and uncles. I wasn’t particularly great, and I knew that. I had fun and it was a good little 10u player, but travel ball was too big of a Goliath for me to take on. I was too scared of not being good enough. I switched gears and moved on to arts instead.

I went to an art school for all of middle school and most of high school. My first day of sixth grade is one of the most cherished memories in my heart. I grew up with a big family, and I was always the baby of the bunch. The youngest of my cousins, I spent so much time creating idols out of them. My love for sports, for softball, comes from my cousins. My love for hair comes from my cousins. My love for Spiderman comes from my cousins. My love for my favorite movies and my most nostalgic songs comes from my cousins. I’ve always felt different from my cousins. Too young and too uncool for the older ones, I spent most of my time when I hit my big age as a pre-teen with my younger ones, subconsciously attempting to imitate the effortless mentor-esque image that I had felt when I was their size. Even then, they were all the same age, and while my older cousins had each other to hang out with, my younger cousins had themselves to hang out with too. There was always a bond I never felt I could step into with my cousins. They have inside jokes and game nights and moms that are best friends. It’s all my dad’s side of the family. They all grew up together, my aunts and uncles. My mom, they love, but she and I are the same: we aren’t the same as them. While my cousins all have each other, they have their siblings and their best friend kind of love, it was me and my parents against the world. I’ve spent my entire life thinking the world of my cousins, praying and hoping for them to love me because they love me, not because we’re cousins. That glimmers on rare occasions, and those occasions mean more to me than anything will. My first day of sixth grade was one of them.

Nine of my cousins and I were all going to the same school. We had a little first day of school celebration, taking pictures and eating breakfast together, at my madrina’s house. Then, we all piled into two cars and made our way. I was the youngest, going into my first year of middle school. When we all got to school together, the sixth graders were funneled into the large theater, and everyone else was ushered into their first periods. As I went down the right path, scared and alone, my cousins waited to make their way down the left path until I found my footing in through the doors. They stood there and waited, cheering and yelling and clapping and screaming and I’ve never felt more loved than I have in that moment.

In elementary school, my two best friends were dancers, and I was too shy to perform on a stage if it wasn’t school-mandated. I was a tomboyish little kid, my biggest influences being of course my boy cousins. I didn’t want to dance. But in sixth grade, we had to take a dance class. We had to take all of the general arts electives, it being an arts school. I really found my footing in that dance class. I knew I wanted to go the photography route, that was really where my interest laid, but maybe ballroom wouldn’t be so bad. I’d spent 10 years latin dancing at quinceañeras already anyway. That was the start of a big, fun journey for me.

I didn’t have a lot of friends when I hit high school. I was at the same school with most of the same people. My cousins were almost completely gone already. The friends that I did have weren’t the best. They sort of stopped talking to me. I still don’t really understand why. I switched schools.

My sophomore year of high school is the year I spent at a regular public school. It was a brand new school, only ninth and tenth graders. It was an interesting experience. That was the year Covid hit, so I never finished my year. It was rural but suburban at the same time, fun yet horrible at the same time. I made a couple friends for life, though. I was the only brown girl on the softball team, and it was known and obvious. I was one of 13 girls to try out, so I was one of 13 girls on the team; I was a pinch hitter, usually. I loved it, actually. Running the bases has always been my favorite part of the game because it’s the part that I’m best at. I know with absolute certainty whether or not I’ll make it to the next base. I remember one game we played at a Catholic high school in the next town over, I was on second base. It wasn’t a force- there was no one on first- and the ball rolled right passed shortstop. I took off. My coach yelled and yelled at me. I made it home. I was taken out of the game and the next practice I ran drills over and over again until my legs gave out. I didn’t mind much; I knew what I was doing (even though I definitely should’ve listened to Spivey). I think that I’m most confident in myself when I’ve got batting gloves in my back pocket and all my breath sitting in my lungs, waiting to be let out until after I hit the plate.

I went back to my art school and it was so, so, so much better. I found a place to forgive my old friends and make so many new ones. I was more confident in my writing, in my Spanish, in my photography, in my dancing. I was in a pretty good spot. I was in love with Taylor Swift and UCONN and Gilmore Girls and going on long drives after school with my friends. I got my first job at Aeropostale in my local mall when I was 16. I was the accessories specialist, which meant nothing except for I was fully in charge of making sure everyone hit their perfume sale goals and making sure the shelves looked pretty. Once they stopped giving the high schoolers hours in favor of the college girl who had open availability, I quit and started working with my sister at Carter’s. I don’t talk to my sister anymore.

My sister is my best friend, Bri. We had been friends since we were six years old. The day we met sits up there as one of my fondest and most vivid memories. Like I’ve mentioned, I had a really hard time making friends. I had this debilitating social anxiety that seeped into everything I did, said, or thought. But when I was swimming at the community pool and a kid came up to me, I got a little bit louder, a little bit nicer, a little bit friendlier. It was easier. Then, my mom or their mom would be ready to go and I would never see them again. I never asked for names or gave my name, until Bri came.

Closer than close, after I met her at the pool and asked for her name, the next week came the first day of second grade, and by some universal gift, she was in my class. We’d been attached at the hip ever since. My grandmother babysat us. I was there the moment her sister (who was also my sister) was born. We had hopes and dreams of living first together, then in matching next door houses with our husbands and kids and dogs. The closest and most classic of best friends, until earlier this year. We got into a fight, a stupid fight, one I still don’t really understand. She hasn’t talked to me since February. Everyone who has ever known me has known Bri. Anyone I’ve met since then has watched me weep over something they can’t help me with, something they can’t understand, because they don’t know my sister. They don’t really have the full story.

I’ve gotten a little bit better at making friends, though. This is the longest blog post I’ve ever written and one of the most personal, I don’t want to look at it anymore, so let’s do a little speed run conclusion.

When I started my DCP, I thought I would take a break from reality and play merchandise princess. I’ve made so many of my closest friends here. Really I was just meant to find this place. I’ve found Derek and Dj and Victoria and Brandon and all the other girls I love that are coming to visit for my birthday. I found Sophia and Caileigh. I found Gabe. Gabe was my boyfriend for awhile but he’s not anymore. It’s okay though. It was really great while it lasted. I learned a lot about myself. It was supposed to happen. All of this was. From my first day in that Connecticut hospital to being outside my apartment typing this all out, my little life was made especially for me, happening exactly how it’s supposed to, and I’m really excited to keep living it.

“Well, that's my life. Thank you so much for spending time with me. I hope you enjoyed it, because I know I did." -Lizzy McGuire

xoxo, Willianny

P.S. These are some of my favorite songs, in case you were wondering!