Me

I wanted to rest and watch television, too! So for my last year with Menudo, I asked the manager to assign that job to someone else. Basically, all I wanted to do were the shows. Fortunately, they accepted my conditions and that’s how we did it.
    It was not arrogance on my part, nor did I want to be difficult. I just really wanted to leave the group. Aside from being tired of the grind, while the rest of the guys gave themselves the good life with sports cars, motorcycles, and everything else, I was receiving a salary of just $400 a month. The reason is that when I joined the group, my parents and their lawyers decided, in order to prevent any misunderstandings, to put my money into a trust from which I could only withdraw $400 monthly; everything else would stay frozen in the account until I turned eighteen. It made me furious that they gave me so little money when I was working so hard. I know there are a lot of people who work a lot harder than I did and earned less than what I got in those days, but you have to understand that I was a young boy and my point of reference was the other members of Menudo. So I felt I did not have anything, and it made me angry.
    In my mind there were plenty of reasons to want a change in my life. I was tired of the pace, I was tired of not having money, but more than anything I felt I needed a new challenge. The years spent with Menudo had changed me in so many ways: I was on the brink of adulthood and all I really wanted now was to have a chance to think—to really think—about who I wanted to be and what I wanted to make of my life.
    So, in July of 1989 I left Menudo. My last concert with the band was in the Luis A. Ferré Center for the Arts in San Juan. It was the perfect venue for me to finish my career with the group, since that is where I had debuted with them. It was finally time to close the chapter and move on.
    After the show, I returned home without a clue as to what I was going to do with my life. Yes, I had to finish high school, but as far as my career went, my future remained uncertain. For the time being, I needed to reconnect with my family and relearn how to live with them again. This is a difficult task for any teenager, but I think the circumstances made my adaptation even more difficult. It had been five years since I had last lived with them, and the experiences I had lived through had nothing to do with the life I had at home with my family. I felt disconnected, lonely, and even a bit lost.
    Many people believe that the song that best describes me is “Livin’ La Vida Loca,” but really they are mistaken. The one that comes closest to describing my life is a song written for me by the great artist and composer Ricardo Arjona, entitled “Asignatura Pendiente” (“Pending Assignment”). The lyrics brilliantly capture the day in 1984 when I left Puerto Rico for the first time. From your tiny hand waving good-bye / That rainy afternoon in San Juan / With the kisses that I carry with me. Without knowing it, the day I left Puerto Rico I was leaving behind those who loved me; I was leaving my childhood behind. I looked forward and saw only blue skies and a massive universe open to all possibilities. Now that I was back at home, that same sky looked gray and confused, and the many possibilities that before had looked open to me were now dissipating into the horizon.
    The lyrics of Arjona’s song reflect the challenge and wonder of success. Success is a double-edged sword, because for everything that one does, something else is sacrificed; for every road taken, another one is left uncharted. It is the law of life. I chose the stage, being in front of an audience, hearing the applause and feeling the adulation. It is a feeling that fulfills me and brings me great joy. But now, at this age, I know that the love of my fans sometimes is not unconditional. The warmth of their love may be wonderful, but the intensity of fame can sometimes burn.
    In my culture, we have a saying: No hay mal que por bien no venga (which loosely means “Everything happens for a reason”). We should instead have an expression that says, “Today, I choose the path that has always been mine.” To say that leaving Puerto Rico on that day was a mistake is to forget all the wonderful things that came afterward, all the extraordinary things I would have missed out on had I not left home. I don’t think that leaving Puerto Rico, or having spent time in Menudo, was all good or all bad.