
Starting first. Figuring it out later.
When Jennifer and I decided to start a podcast about local history, it meant trying something completely new at this stage of life — something neither of us had ever done before. Like, EVER.
I mean, we'd talked with like-minded friends about all sorts of historical stories, people, and places, but we'd never recorded anything to present to the public like this. But at least it was just audio. We could just sit down, talk, and figure things out as we went. No one could see us - we didn't have to think about what we'd wear or if we had fixed our hair that morning... so that felt slightly more doable. A little safer.
Then we decided to add video. Yikes! That’s when things got interesting. The first time we hit “record,” I suddenly became very aware of my hands. What do you even do with your hands on camera? I kind of had my own little "Ricky Bobby" moment right there.
So now we’re dealing with cameras, lighting, sound, editing, where to look, how to sit, how to set everything up, and how to act as if having a camera pointed at you while you chat with a friend is a normal thing. There’s a lot more to think about than I ever realized. I think I can speak for Jen on that point, too.
There is definitely a learning curve. And I’ve found myself thinking something more than once lately: I would never have done this 30 years ago.
Thirty years ago, I would have wanted to know exactly what I was doing before anyone ever saw it. I would have practiced. I would have researched more. I would have waited until it looked polished and professional. I probably would have invested in several new wardrobe pieces.
Thirty years ago, I wouldn’t have started until I felt ready. Now I know ready isn’t something you wait for — it’s something you become.
If I didn’t feel confident I could do it perfectly well, I probably wouldn’t have done it at all.
Back then, I had this idea that if you were going to do something, you should already be good at it. Or at least look like you were.
And there’s also this pressure we carry, whether it’s real or just in our heads. By this point in life, we’re supposed to be the ones who know what we’re doing. We’ve spent years becoming capable. We handle things. We figure things out. We’re not usually the beginners anymore. We're the competent adults, right? By this point in life, we’re supposed to have it together. We’re the competent ones now — at work, in our families, in our communities.
So there’s a part of me that wonders what people expect when they see us trying something new like this. Shouldn’t she be more polished? Shouldn’t she have this figured out already? Why is she wearing THAT?! Overthink much, AJ? 🙄
But here’s what I’m beginning to realize: most people aren’t watching as closely as we think they are. And the ones who are? They don’t expect perfection. They’re just along for the ride. We're thrilled to have so much support!
So I'm glad we didn’t wait.
We didn’t wait until everything looked professional. We didn’t wait until we felt completely comfortable. We just started recording and trusted that we’d figure it out as we went. We're learning so much!
I’m sure people who follow us will see improvement over time. The lighting will get better. The sound will improve. We’ll get more comfortable on camera. That’s the plan — learn as we go and get a little better with each episode.
Because that’s how this kind of thing works. You don’t get good first and then start. You start, and getting better happens along the way. That’s probably the biggest difference between who I was years ago and who I am now. Back then, I wanted to look capable from the get-go. Now I care more about continuing growth. I don’t need to impress anyone. I don’t need to prove I know what I’m doing right away. And I definitely don’t need to hide the learning curve. That wouldn't even feel like me.
I just need to be willing to try something that feels a little uncomfortable and keep showing up. There’s something really freeing about that because if I only stuck with the things I already know how to do well, life would get pretty small and boring.
Maybe one of the quiet gifts of this stage of life is realizing this: it’s not too late to try something new.
We don’t need to be perfect before we begin.
We just need to be willing to start… and let the improvement come later.
I'm looking forward to the kind of life this philosophy being me!

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This space is where I share what I’m learning (and unlearning), the tools that are helping me along the way, and the little things that bring joy, healing, and clarity—even on the hard days.
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This isn’t about perfection or pressure. It’s about finding what supports us, what lights us up, and what brings us back to ourselves—together.
You’re invited to join my newsletter, Finding What Works—a weekly-ish note from me with practical wellness tips, nostalgic nods for GenX souls, and honest reflections from someone who’s still figuring it all out (but loves sharing the good stuff along the way).
This isn’t about perfection or pressure. It’s about finding what supports us, what lights us up, and what brings us back to ourselves—together.
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✨ My blog exists because I know what it feels like to keep everything jumbled in your head — like a messy pile of clothes you can’t sort through.
Writing it all down brings clarity, calm, and sometimes even healing answers I didn’t know I was looking for.
Honestly, that’s why I keep showing up to write — it helps me make sense of things.
Even if you have no intentions of ever publishing your work, I highly recommend writing stuff down. It doesn't have to be a literary masterpiece or even full, grammatically correct sentences... just dump those random thoughts onto paper... you'll see what I mean.
*This blog centers the GenX experience, simply because that’s the lens I live through—but anyone looking for connection, natural wellness, grief support, or a little real-talk in this messy stage of life is more than welcome.











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