Me

produce plays—written by her—and it is there where I had my first experiences as an actor. My cousin was no older than eight or nine, but she was incredibly brilliant for her age. Apparently I liked it, because later when I was in school, each time they put on a play I was the first one to sign up. I even became an altar boy, because to me, helping the priest was like being onstage, since he was very much “the star” of the show. When I was onstage I felt complete and alive, so naturally I wanted to find that sensation at every opportunity.
    Every so often I think about what would have happened if I had not chosen this path. It’s almost inevitable to ask yourself these questions, and it’s interesting to think about what would have become of each of our lives if we hadn’t turned into the people we are today. What would I be had I not become an artist? What other profession would I have chosen? Psychologist? Dentist? Lawyer? My grandmother had always hoped that I’d be a doctor, but unfortunately I could never fulfill that dream. Since the moment I realized what I wanted to do with myself, I’ve worked tirelessly to make that dream come true. But I always ask myself what would have become of me had I listened to my grandmother’s advice, or had I taken some other path. For example, when I was eighteen, I auditioned for the Tisch School at New York University, one of the most renowned drama schools in the country. But just a few months before classes began, instead of enrolling I went to Mexico to meet some friends, and there I landed—there really is no other way of seeing it, as it was such a coincidence—in the theater.
    What would have happened if I had stayed to go to New York University? What direction would my life have taken if I had found success in acting instead of music? My path would have, without a doubt, been different. But I like to think that whether I had chosen acting, music, or dance, I would have somehow or other always chosen a path that in the end would make me feel happy and fulfilled. The truth is that what you do doesn’t matter so much; what matters is that you love it and that you do it to the best of your ability.
    Passion is a vital aspect of my existence. I consider myself to be a realistic dreamer, and my life is full of intense emotions. I live and feel deeply. Some people may think it is wrong to live life so passionately, but the truth is that ever since I was a very little boy, it has been passion that has propelled me on the extraordinary trajectory that has been my life, so I see no reason to stop it. Had I not embraced my instincts at a very young age, I think I would have never gotten to where I am today. To me, part of the beauty of childhood lies in the fact that it is a time of extremes: When we are happy, the happiness is absolute, and when we are sad, the pain is devastating. Life at that age is very intense, but at the same time it is also utterly pure and genuine. As we grow up, we learn how to soothe the emotions that are too overwhelming, and though to a certain degree I’ve also had to grow up, I have always made an effort to stay in touch with my inner child—that passionate, energetic, and happy child who was never afraid of anything.

ABUELA
    MY PARENTS SEPARATED when I was two years old. Needless to say I remember nothing of what was going on in my life at the time that happened, but I do know that I started spending a great deal of time with my grandparents on both my mother’s and my father’s sides. My grandparents played a key role in my life. I don’t know if it’s cultural or simply spiritual, but my relationship with them was always—and continues to be—very important to me. I will never forget what they taught me, and I will strive to pass their teaching on to my sons.
    My paternal grandmother was an intelligent woman, independent and confident, a woman who was well ahead of her time. She was into metaphysics long before it became fashionable. She was also an artist; she painted and made sculptures. I remember her as always being busy, doing one of the thousands of things that interested her. She didn’t understand the concept of “staying still” and always had some kind of project going on. My great-grandmother—her mother—was a teacher, so my grandmother was practically raised in a classroom, listening to her mother’s lectures. She graduated from high school at fourteen, and even wrote two books and became a senior