Health Assurance

Votes have been cast. History has been made. And every one's pissed off on Facebook.
Yes it's clear the new health care reform just cannot please everyone. But it was about time for the President to stop asking around and just make it happen. And he did. And I am THRILLED.

Ya know, I just said to one of my friends, "97% of the people who are angry about this HAVE insurance". So in my little liberal minded opinion, they can't REALLY know or REALLY even care for that matter. You don't know what you've got til it's gone. I certainly didn't. And now as an uninsured, 20something woman living in America- I PRAY for the day I'll get to go see a Doctor again if I'm so inclined. Grateful as I am that this lack of ability to go for some years now has lead me to find great cures and assistance from Homeopathy and healers - I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't mind some amoxycillin once in a while! And does it scare the shit out of me that I can't get a mammogram even though I really should? SURE IT DOES but I try not to think about it! Would I love a dermatologist considering skin cancer runs in my family and the "cute beauty mark" I have on my leg could be killing me? You bet your ass but instead I'll opt for self tanner and a small prayer ceremony, "God wait until I have more than 500$ in my checking and then give me bad news".

For those of you who don't know- I will share with you. In 2007 I was attacked and it goes way beyond those words the awful things that happened to me. It was the beginning of summer and I was insured through my Mom and by being a full time college student. After my attack I required a little over a week of physical recovery. Thankfully my hospital stay and prescriptions were covered by insurance. When I returned to NYC I lasted all of a week before breaking down mentally. I called my best friend and my Mom and begged to come home. I hate the term, but I dropped out of college. I lost my health insurance. I left NYC in August of '07physically "ok" and deeply dangerously depressed. Through time I began to come around to the best of my own ability. But when I wanted to seek help I was unable. Is that fair? Well what's fair? Yes I made the call to drop out of college which was providing me with health coverage...but I could no longer walk down the street without thinking I saw my attacker. There were several occasions where I would "see" him, start sweating, panting and then vomit. I could not stand loud noises, if you "snuck up" on me as a joke- it took me about 2 hours to recover, I couldn't sleep , and I was afraid to be alone. My whole world was crashing around me. What should I have done? I don't know. But I came home and today I am glad I did. I was lucky enough last year to find a therapist who saw me on a "forgiveness" basis. Meaning I had a free appointment with her every week and she never took money from me. She said, "you need someone and I can help you. And so if you stop for coffee on your way, grab me one - if you write a book, give me a copy. Otherwise....no worries" This is rare I know, but I also know she saved me. She helped me go from someone who was running yellow lights hoping they'd get into an accident to someone who is so thankful for everything around me everyday. But I am lucky I found someone as wonderful for FREE. RARELY is that the case. Now , is that fair? To deny someone the chance to be well. To be whole? No, that's not fair. It's not right.

Listen- you don't get a CHOICE about insuring your car. And that's you CAR! Whats wrong with telling people that they HAVE to have insurance on their body....quite frankly this is one decision I don't mind the government making for me. Right on!
Last night while we were watching the 11pm news they read message board comments and one guy named David wrote something to the effect of, "I expect to pay more. As we all should expect to help ourselves and our neighbor" I wanted to find David and hug him. Because WOW, what an idea. Helping your fellow man. I KNOW we all have burdens to bare, and we have to watch out for ourselves and our families. But you give back too. And if you don't, you should. If this planet operated as more of a family than a world full of acquaintances and people only on the lookout for themselves...don't you think we'd be the better for it? I do.

XOXO
JAC

This Cat's an Asshole

Ahh unemployment. Home each day. Much needed beauty rest. Taking a little time to "enjoy The View" at 11am. Going to the gym -my new running mantra being, "you can't be FAT and marry the Track Coach"- they LOVE to hear me chant that one. Learning the joys of crock potting. Contimplating 50 easy ways to cook chicken. Learning lessons the hard way like- leaving defrosted chicken in the microwave (we put it in there so the cat can't get to it) for over 48 hours can lead to one awful smell. Organizing. Masturbating. Food Shopping. Not always in that order but you get the idea. I guess I'd become so focused on being A REAl Housegirlfriend of South Jersey, I had neglected Franki, my cat-my son. The former "man in my life". That was until Wednesday when I saw a black hole. His asshole.

My cats asshole was black as night. And I was beyond perplexed. Now picture it: my kitchen, in, "The Woo" as Mike Angelini calls our town. I am unpacking groceries -trying to throw all my stew ingredients in the crock- and my cat lays down to basque in the sunlight and THE BLACK ASSHOLE is out for all the world to see. "what the hell..." I said....I couldn't figure it out. Did he manage to break into the fireplace and only dip his asshole in the soot? I looked downstairs and our fireplace was still closed. Did he eat some petrfied wood which had escaped from the cinders and now passed the soot through his asshole? The Litter was clear, so no. Did he merely have a soot/asshole fetish? I STILL don't know. I only now his assholes white and fluffy again and I would just prefer it stay that way. Coaxing a cat so it will let you study it's asshole is no simple task and I'm fine with it if it's one I never have to complete again. This isn't one of those things your Mother prepares you for when she's telling you how to keep a house.

Back to this Housegirlfriend business. While I am pleased as punch to announce I was offered a job yesterday which I will begin this Summer- I am really enjoying keeping house. I'm not that great at it but I like it. I just f'ing hate vaccuming. Ugh. And the fact that it doesn't matter how many times I windex my stovetop (the actual oven- not the stuffing)it will inevitably have paw prints on it within 5 minutes. And now maybe even cat's black asshole prints. I'm in the midst of organizing our office. Which is , and well deservedly (is that even an f'ing word?) a shrine to Mark's many athletic undertakings and accomplishments. But I see now reason why "we" should limit a rooms potential and would like to cover any open nooks and panels with highlights from my theatrical career and the many headshots of Ann-Margret and George Michael. I also intend to spend a good portion of my future earnings at The Container Store and put those purchases to good use. But even just as it is- I LOVE our home. Mark's never made me feel like a guest. Or that I'm just passing through. Even our first "sleepover"- I had an overwhelming notion that this was where I belonged. I was thinking of this last night. Anytime I've thought of "going home" or "I want to be in my house" - I've in previous times thought only of my Mom's house. And while that will always be a home which is open to her children, this house- OUR house is my home. It's where my things are, where my heart is, where my love -THE love is. This life we've cultivated and continue to nurture is so lovely. And yes there are parts which are routine- around 11:13pm we take the big pillows out from the bottom of our pillow stacks and thrown them on our respective sides of the bed and flip the navy and white striped pillows to the top- I do this because that pillow is softer and the temperature is cooler/ I think Mark flips his because the gray and white checkered pillow he has is thicker and gives him more support- I play coy most times- I don't take ice and he knows this and I love that- he asks me almost everyday if I talked to my Mom. He will always make 3 parts to a dinner- So do I but at least one part is fucked up when I cook. These are things you can be sure of and I love that. Everything else is a big surprise and even the things at aren't ( I know he will be home by 2:45pm on a typical day and that time feels like Christmas morning everyday) are still wonderful everyday. When he plays guitar and sings it's the sweetest most romantic thing ever and I worship it. Yes folks , Heaven is right here in this house with a green roof. I never doubt that for a second.

~so listen~ I am gonna get going for now but it is my intention ( I know I say this a lot) to start updating at LEAST on a weekly basis. I swear it, on my Cat's asshole.
XOXO
JAC

So Happy Together

A month. A month and a week. A month and a week of being happy. Who knew!?
I sit here blogging, from my new home. My cat has joined our little happy family and he is quite perplexed by his litter box being next to a heater and the idea of stairs. Franki has never lived in a house with stairs before. But he loves the sunlight, the squirrels , and the mere idea of being around me again.

So it's been a month and now a little bit more than a week- and we're together everyday. And we'd be together more , I think, if we could be. He makes me laugh harder than anyone on the planet. He makes me dinner. I've come home every Sunday to fresh flowers....its insane. 3 Bruce Springsteen Concerts, one trip to the ER (I'll explain later) 2 semi-decent attempts to cook for him , and about 30 some odd nights of going to sleep, safe and blissful....I didn't know I could love someone like this. Or rather, someone could love ME like this. About once a week I wake up after he's left for work and there's a note or some lyrics taped to the mirror and it's always something gorgeous, but I keep telling him I wake up ready for the note to say, "I just can't" or "I am gay" or "please pack your things and go" or , "you're chicken was dry; I'm thru"....but instead I get, "I love you" , "Have a great day" and song lyrics that leave me practically in a puddle on the kitchen floor while I make my coffee. He asks me if I'm "sure" I want what he wants. I am more positive than a test at the free clinic. I love him. And that will never change. I can't believe 3 months ago, I just met this guy who played guitar and was cute, and had the greatest smile I've ever seen and now this is the person I lay next to at night and tell everything to. I trust him completely. He has given me everything I ever wanted and things I had NO idea I wanted.

I just want to be ANYWHERE he is. And I so look forward to anything and everything our life together will be because it will be with him.

"Darlin Won't You Ease My Worried Mind..."

Hello my lovely readers!???? Miss me!?!
I missed YOU!

I'm back after a lengthy hiatus. 6 months. YIKES.
Well as most of you know , I was in an emotionally abusive relationship that would rival the screenplay of a LIFETIME movie , from last January until the end of July. Happily though I am free and my life has been something along the lines of a dream come true lately. I mean I could always be thinner and have more money but the feelings of contentment and self worth I've come to know lately....along with the most perfect love ever...I'm just one happy pigeon.

In July I took a vacation with my now X to Jamaica....and of course while I was there I couldn't stay away from our resorts piano bar. Where I of course sang, "FAITH" numerous times and ended up competeing in the Talent Competition belting, "And I Am Telling You" only to receive a bottle of rum and hear the phrase, "there's no winner....everyone wins here!"...I'm still not over that. If it's a competition, SOMEONE better win, and it BETTER be me. - But I digress...
So I'm singing "FAITH", spreading the gospel of George Michael and when I'm done this nice guy approaches me with his lovely wife and says, "that was great...you don't happen to live in Jersey do ya?"....."well as a matter of fact I do!", "really, where?" "Cherry Hill-ish" and he was from Deptford (like for realsies what are the odds) and looking to add a girl singer to his classic rock cover band. And as we all know, Little Jaclyn has been dying to join a classic rock cover band for some time, just had no idea how that would ever come to pass. But here was an opportunity! So I come home from Jamaica, dump the boyfriend , stay in touch with the guy from Jamaica and by mid August I'm singing with the band, Loose Cannons for the first time. And I get up there with these guys at a gig , basically just to jam and see how things go and it's heaven. Like 30 songs I LOVE LOVE LOVE and I'm just living my dream of "fabulous career woman by day/Dana Fuchs' little sister by Night". SO I joined the band.
Now not only do I get to sing my favorite songs but I play with the best guys on the planet. Like, I LOVE my band. We've gotten SO good since we started, it's just incredible.

My first gig went off without a hitch obviously, and yea we had a ways to go and still are growing but from that first night, one thing was clear: I had CRAZY Stevie Nicks/Leslie Buckingham chemistry with my guitarist. Like we just fed off each other, would wink at one another and laugh and chat in between riffs and I just thought he was totes cute and that was that. And then he sang, "layla"....and I was done. I joined in on harmony and that last , "darlin won't you ease ...myyyyy worried.....miiiiiiind." DONE. DONE. DONE. But nothing happened. No drama. It was just clear we were adorable. But it's funny how you throw another skirt into the mix and it all changes. :) Our last gig, "coach" as we shall call him, brought a date. A DATE. in his defense...it was a set up and I had never revealed I had any genuine feelings for him. But I saw this chicklet chatting him up and drinking a beer with her clip in hair and I was about to get Glenn Close. I started texting Sasha, "true life: I am in love with my guitarist but he has some piece here with acrylic hair and a spandex shirt on" to which my bunny responded, "f*ck acrylic hair; go get your man".....after 3 more sets of sexual angst and rock n roll- of busting his balls about bringing a date when everyone knows "sundays at southwood are for flirting"- of him giving me sexy eyes and me telling him to "send michelle home" and half joking that I paid this huge biker guy, Don (who farted on our dance floor) to take her off his hands - I followed him out to his car to see if he needed any , "help". To which he said, "he was fine" and my confidence shriveled up and died momentarily and I started to walk away....he grabbed my arm,and said, "hey...are you serious?" and I said "yes, yes I am". And to be fair- I was serious. I was seriously attracted. All about some sexy guitar time , a little nasty nasty. But we kissed and had there been a word bubble above my head it would have read, "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck". Because he kissed me, I kissed back and I basically got clubbed in the knees like Nancy Kerrigan. There's been no turning back. A day later , sitting in a local bar , sharing drinks and stories and finally talking to someone who I actually CARED about what they were saying....I knew I was in love. With my best friend no less. CRAZY. And here I am feeling this and kicking and cursing myself because I had my 'plan'. To be single now, to go to New York in november and hunt for peen with my girlfriends and start taking yoga and learn french once and for all. And so I went to the therapist and told her how "coach" had thrown a monkey wrench in all my plans. And she looked at me and told me I needed to be 100% honest with "Coach" because not only did he sound like a good guy overall but she was pretty sure I had met my soulmate. And so was I.

I tried to have "talk" with "Coach"....."we're at different points in our life....I don't know what I'm going to want in a year or 5...blah blah blah" and then in an instant I just blurted out, "I want to be with you".....and so I am.

I haven't felt this way since I met Brian when I was 16. And I always say to Brian, I listen to that John Mayer song, "I'm gonna find another you"...that it would and could only be someone I had THAT connection with to make me feel this way...and my therapist and I talked about how my person would have to be someone I connected with on that "brian" level, minus the drugs and drama. Someone who, like the dreaded X, had something to show for life but didn't give to get and didn't use me. Someone who wanted to take care of me but not fix me or "keep" me.

And here he is. So the answer seems to me: love him. Love him. stay with him. stay up late kissing and playing songs on the guitar. Just treasure this incredible love that I KNOW does NOT come around that often. He is magnificent. Kind and caring in a way that I had begun to doubt exhisted. Solid to the core. Knows who he is and wants nothing more than for me to be who I am and will do anything to encourage that I am that person. I'm just thanking God for him every minute because he is an angel. I love him. Love him. I know I sound like Renee Zelwegger in "jerry maguire" but I love him.

More to come....
xoxoxJAC

I'm Getting My Act Together

To say the last 24hours has been a nightmare .....that would be the understatement of the year.

To say it was a self inflicted hell ....that sounds  accurate.

I came home Monday morning (having spent the night at Mark's sunday after YAGMCB closed) to grab my salad and yogurt and all my other nonsense and as per usual went to give Franki a kiss. But he wasn't on my bed sleeping. And he wasn't in the basement playing. And he wasn't in the bathroom leaving paw prints on the bathtub....where the f was my cat?

I noticed there was a huge pile of cat SHIT on the porch...and that although there seemed to be no NEW rips in the screens...the small hole I had covered with bricks and such...was pretty exposed and I soon realized my cat was gone. Gone, and probably had been for some time. Panic. Panic , despair, DRAMA, blame....you name it, I felt it.  I just fell apart. I called out of work, and I just sat at my kitchen table and looked out the window.  What else could I do? I know now....I could've done a lot more.  I mean on one hand...yes, I'm glad I stayed home and if he had come back I would've been there but...I should've carried on. I should've kept myself together. And I realized this only today when the cat came back and I regained clarity and perspective. 

 I don't want to be this person.  This, as my boyfriend calls it, "delicate flower" who falls apart and that's that and everyone just takes it in stride and tip toes around it.  I crawled into bed yesterday and closed my eyes and shut out the world and I'm so mad at myself .

If I am going to define myself as a strong woman who works hard and doesn't take any bullshit....well I should probably start living that way. And I really don't know that I do.

I think there's obviously a difference between a soft heart and a soft head....I'm smarter than how I've been living.  Falling apart the way I tend to do simply demonstrates  a lack of control.  Which doesn't work for me...because I am the ONLY ONE who has control over who I am and what I become.  So I'm done.  Yes, I'll still be dramatic. I'll still weep openly every SINGLE TIME I watch , "The Way We Were" and I'll still assume Tony's going to live at the end of , "West Side Story".  But I'm just going to hold it all together with more than a thread from now on.

Luck O' The Irish?

Remember how the Cherry Hill Mall had the WHYY store???  Dear God if that wasn't my favorite place in the WORLD at the time.  And basically my babysitter while my Mother wandered around SEARS trying to figure out which credit card my StepMother hadn't run up.  It opened right around the time WHYY started broadcasting CATS and LES MIS in concert on a daily basis.  And so, not only did I spend my time in the store itself ; I spent my time in there pretending to be: Baumbalurina, Ruthie Henshall, and/or Wishbone (remember Wishbone?).  

And then came Michael Flatley.  The LORD of the Dance.  Mind you, I didn't give a SHIT about Riverdance. I mean it was cool and all but.....it wasn't Lord of the Dance. It didn't have the singing and the excitement and the story. Which is probably why Michael Flatley shot that shit out of a cannon and it became a phenomenon.  I was beside myself over it.  I wanted a claddagh ring, I started reading Irish fairy tales and planned on changing my name to Bridey(THANKS), I dyed my hair red again, I claimed I could speak "celtic" because I had memorized one of the traditional songs from the show and when people tried to call me on it I would say, 'I don't feel like it right now'.  Then I made my Mom buy me a VHS tape that supposedly taught you how to Irish Step Dance with one of the Riverdance guys teaching it.  .......I sprained my ankle trying to learn a reel and that was the end of that career path.  

The only thing left to do?  Why, feature Michael Flatley as the topic of my spanish collage in 7th grade, of course! Wouldn't You?  It went something like, "Michael Flatley e soy dancer. NO gato.  No Loco."....I obviously didn't get a very good grade. Considering I couldn't speak spanish and featured an Irish step dancer as my subject.  Oh Well.  That's true love.

XOXO

JAC

Stick it to Ya

It's always when you're just starting to feel confident about something that life turns around and smacks you upside the head .

I was just starting to really getting the hang of driving stick last friday.  I basically ran errands all day. And from major highways to small shopping centers , I was doing beautifully.  I could listen to music and shift at the same time....life was good.

That was all about to take a drastic turn (for realsies) for the worst.

My final errand was a run to Target for some last minute Charlie Brown things and to try on dresses that were only cut to fit an Olsen Twin.  I was on my way home chatting with Brian on the cell.  The cell was in my lap and on speaker and I still managed to shift and breath and talk......I was a PRO.  As I turned off of Rt 38 onto the exit ramp for the Garden State Shopping Center/Rt70 I looked ahead to see a stop sign. "Shiiiiiiiiiiit" I thought.  I'm really no good at the stop signs pre-major highway.  Mainly because this puts my car on a slant. And then I'm just completely and totally screwed.  You see, there's a "sweet  spot" with the clutch and the gas when you are going from a start into 1st gear....and it's not so hard to find it on level ground but on a slant. Not so much.  So picture it.  Car on slant. Stop. Start. Car begins to roll back into oncoming traffic and as I attempt each time to get it to go.....each time it stalls out.  And so now, not only am I compromising lives...even worse than that I am inconveniencing people beyond belief.  I start to sweat. I start to cry. And my legs begin to shake uncontrollably.  So I am doing everything I can to talk myself off the ledge but by now I am WAY too far gone in my head to get myself back, and even if I wanted to I couldn't get this car to go.  My clutch leg is shaking like Shakira's ass.  I decide that seeing as I am going to A: have to live here on this ramp. B: Miss my opening night and C: Kill myself , I should just roll the windows down and start screaming.  SO thats what I did.

About a minute later, the woman behind me gets out of her car (presumably to kill me) and approaches my window. "I'm SORRY I yell", "Ok calm down....do you think if you could get it to level ground  you could get it to go?" she calmly asks, "YES" I sob....."Ok , I'm gonna give you a push"....and so, this ANGEL, THIS GODDESS proceeds to physically push my car forward on the ramp.  And I just go , and yell, "Thank you, I'm SO SORRY".......and then I went to Wegman's and had a cookie and a water for lunch.  

Now I have to decide if Im ok with avoiding ramps forever or if I will attempt this death defying stunt again.  Considering there are ramps en route to the mall and my boyfriends house....I should probably consider another attempt.  Does anyone have a xanax?

XOXO

JKB