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Our school nurse saw me perform in a play once and told me that she had sat transfixed, hanging off my every word. “Jasmine, maybe you should be an actress”, she said.
“Jasmine we all know you’re a talented writer, even without trying. But just imagine what would happen if you did”. My favourite English Teacher in high school, Mr Uzscinski.
“You speak so well in front of the class Jasmine. I wish you would show up more”. Salvador, my University Lecturer.
“I know this is a sad day, but I could have listened to you speak for hours”, said my Uncle. It was June 2014 and I had just delivered my father’s Eulogy.
In 2015 on a girls trip to Vanuatu my new years resolution was to start writing a blog. In February of that same year I made a note in my phone of things to write about, I even created a wordpress page.
It is now February 2021 and I have barely written a thing. Those notes in my phone lay untouched. Unwritten subjects stare at me accusingly, wondering why the pages of my life’s work are so blank, when the pages in my head are pushed to their margins. So as I sit in traffic driving to a job I no longer really want, I wonder the same. I've been making this commute for nearly 10 years and the only real growth that comes to mind is the fact that I no longer have to catch two buses to sit at a desk day after day, I can actually afford the $20 to park my Toyota Corolla in the basement next door. That’s not to say that I haven’t learnt anything but perhaps the kind of lessons I’m interested in have been eluding me for the past decade. Though if I’m honest, I think it would be more accurate to say that I’ve just been sitting at the back of the class staring out the window.
In the early 2000’s at the ripe old age of 15 I, like many of my friends, was certain I had life all figured out. My plan went a little something like this:
Get an OP1 (Of course! Easy), meet the man of your dreams at 20 (because 20 is so far away), study a Law Degree with previously mentioned tenacious and motivated boyfriend who by the way has the compassion of Jesus and the body of Zeus. Complete your degree whilst simultaneously getting engaged (because at 23 money is no obstacle), marry at 25, carve out a career as a Lawyer, buy a house, enjoy a lavish European Summer every year and last but not least have children whilst also maintaining a body similar to Jenny from the Block due to a strict diet and 4 workout sessions a day which you easily fit into your schedule as a wife, mum and career woman because not only do you subscribe to the notion that YOU CAN DO IT ALL, you also subscribe to the notion that YOU MUST DO IT ALL. With “it all” being achievable before you turn 30. Naturally.
What actually happened went a lot like this:
Work your butt off at school only to open the mail and receive an OP 8. Cry like a baby because at 16 your whole life is so clearly ruined and there’s no coming back from it – you’ll never have it all. Start your Law Degree, realise you are completely out of your depth, change to a million other things before settling on Business, have your first serious boyfriend at 21, fall head over heels in a matter of weeks only for him to move overseas, attempt the pain of long distance for 4 years, lose your father in that time, grieve your father and turn into an unrecognisable version of yourself (who by the way makes very poor decisions), light a match and watch your whole life burst into flames. Throw out the idea of marriage, break your boyfriends heart, regret breaking up with your boyfriend, tell him so, have him break your heart because he knows you SO well and reminds you that you don’t really love him – not like you used to, cry because he’s right, cry because you’re scared, change your University major for the 28th time and watch your HECS debt skyrocket, attend your graduation ceremony two years later (two hours late), argue with your Mum because you miss your Dad, buy a single self-help book thanks to the annoying persistence of google adverts, guess your way through meditation, Namaste your way out of the flames, start from scratch at 29 and commence a full rebuild of your very messy, very ashy life. $1 Billion dollars in psychology fees later - no law career, no house, no husband, no kids.
Who knew that Kanye West would be right? When it all falls down, it really does fall down.
What I didn’t know at 15 is that 30 isn’t as far away as you think it is. What I didn’t account for at 15 is that I would spend a lot of my time getting drunk, I would spend a lot of my time looking for attention in all the wrong places, I’d be spending money I didn’t have on things I didn’t need to impress people I didn’t know and I’d be spending a lot of my time blissfully wasting my time.
I’m now 31 years old and only just realising that Mr U’s words have subconsciously plagued my otherwise occupied mind for a number of years. “We all know you’re a talented writer, even without trying. But just imagine what would happen if you did”.
I ponder on that thought as I let go of another $20 to park my car while the motivational speaker blaring through my Bluetooth tells me that once again, I’m wasting my time. Life is short they say. Do what you love.
I won’t deny the rolling of my eyes. These overused sentiments don’t exactly inspire change in me, they bore me. I am all too aware of the fragility of life, I know that with every passing day we inch closer to the burning end of the rope. What I don’t know is how to turn this love of words into a lifetime of pages.
My writing isn’t particularly clever or poetic. I’m not an author and I don’t aspire to be. There are no fictional characters in my head begging to be heard. The only voice I hear is my own with the ultimate question being – will anyone want to hear what I have to say?
For a while there I wasn’t so sure. I guess that’s why Jrunk Talk was just a nameless idea. A thoughtless dream I had parked in the far corner of my mind with the so called intention to live it when life finally got out of the way. When I had more time, when I had more money, when I felt more secure in my life to dabble in a hobby.
I recently figured out that I will have more time when I make more time, the extra zero’s on my paycheque represent the holes in my conviction, security is the excuse of the insecure and dabbling in a hobby is the key to starting a life.
You’re probably wondering why I called this Chapter None. Well when I began writing I didn’t really know what this would be. All I know is that it’s not one, it’s not three. It just is, it’s just me.
With love, always
J
