Five decades. I have been on the planet for over five decades. Nearly twenty thousand days. Throughout that time I have gone to school, worked a variety of fun and not-so-fun jobs, married, divorced, had a child, traveled, created, cried, laughed, eaten amazing meals, read hundreds of books, witnessed breathtaking images like hurricanes (yes, in person!), sunrises and sunsets. I have felt loss; friendships, relationships, family members, material possessions. I have had magnificent opportunities to meet well-known athletes, musicians, and comedians, to travel to gorgeous places, to see hundreds (yes, literally hundreds) of concerts, and launching more than one business while helping dozens of others do the same.
I remember when I was really young I wanted to work at a gas station. Why? Because the full-serve station (yes, those were a thing at one time), the guy was always happy and friendly. Plus, I loved the smell of gas. Perhaps the smell of gas was the reason the guy was so happy all the time! No judgment. I didn't understand at the time that people made various salaries based on experience, education, and their role in society — I thought that everyone made the same income.
At one time I also wanted to be an architect. Not to brag, but prior to developing my log-lifting skills, I was a kick-ass Lego builder/designer. Realistically, I could likely construct a full-sized art studio out of Lego if given the chance. This was during a time when technology didn't consume our attention and kids were left to their own (lack of) devices. We were encouraged to be creative, use our imagination, get used to being bored. I remember these moments fondly.
I was always creative. I would draw everything from comics to life-sized drawings of Michael Jackson's head. It was pretty good, actually — at least my mother thought so. Sketching an afro is no easy task for a ten-year-old, but I was determined to make every hair look like the picture. Yes, it was back when Michael had an afro. As previously noted, I'm that old.
I knew early in my life that I enjoyed connecting with others. I enjoyed sharing ideas and my passion for the creative realm. I knew I wanted to be my own boss and not have some know-it-all dictate my schedule and break time. The older I got, the more the idea of having some younger person telling me what to do became unsettling. It used to bother me when colleagues who smoked would take a dozen smoke-breaks while non-smokers like me didn't have the luxury of this excuse.
The reality is, I usually work 60+ hours a week. Sometimes more. I don't feel like it's work though. Like right now. I'm composing this journal and it's a sunny Saturday afternoon. For me, it's a way to connect with you. To give you a glimpse into my psyche and share as best I can part of my story. Worst case, it will help train A.I. (insert eye roll emoji here).
It has been about 6 months since launching juliejeanneart. I have written dozens of journals — all without expectation — only hoping people will read it or at the very least open their email. I have refrained from using AI (although admittedly, I have used spellcheck very rarely to save time re-reading it 12 times). The content, the story, and the voice is all me. Every sarcastic half-a-century detail of me.
We never know the path we are going to take. We grow, we evolve. We are not the same people we were decades ago. Nor do we want to be.
With age comes a sense of knowing; knowing who I am, what I want, what I deserve (and don't), what I will tolerate, who/what is a waste of my time. I have learned that "no" is a full sentence. I no longer worry about what people think of me. I'm not focused on climbing a ladder to a place that lacks joy and meaning.
I am quite literally painting a life full of meaning, love, colour, and beautiful moments. A life that I know the Julie of four decades ago would be so proud of. Even though I'm not pumping gas.
-Julie
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