Anyway, on Friday night I got a tattoo. I’m so pumped about it. It just makes me want my sleeve now now now. Which will happen, but every time I plan a tattoo I notice I have less and less space for it. So it’ll be bittersweet when I’m all done up. For now I’ll just enjoy what I’ve got.
Ft. my faded-ass snake
I worked 12+ hours a day this week and I feel ill and v v sleepy, but in two days the walk is upon us. Please donate. It’s actually a good cause and even just $15 is helpful and we’re accepting donations all the way through June 6th.
Team Hyacinth is behind in funds raised, but we’re not giving up. Today we’re at Fatto Americano all day collecting donations and eating pizza. The establishment has agreed to donate 10% of all sales to Team Hyacinth from 11am to 2am tomorrow. So if you’re in New Brunswick and you’re hungry, eat for a good cause. Plus I’ll be there and pizza is my favorite and it’ll almost be like I’m not working even though I’m working so I might be in a good mood.
I’ve started a new Instagram account for JACLAND per the advice from my life guru Page Neal. From her advice I’ll also being making changes to the format of the blog little by little. Once AIDS Walk is over I’ll be able to pick up a new hard hitting project to re-energize the new changes coming my way. Speaking of which, I’ve been hired to work for AIDS Walk San Francisco in July. So I’m not done being annoyingdonate.
I dunno the specifics yet but for at least a couple weeks I’ll be working from SF. Yay having a job!
I won’t have time for much else this week. It’s back to regular work hours on Monday, thank God but also help me. After work on Thursday I fly to Nashville to see Cousin Elias. More on that when it’s happening, yeah?
So wish me luck this week and DONATE TO MY PAGE, COME ONNNNN.
Hi There. I’m Jac, a 29 year old thirteen year old with big dreams. I’ve kept journals my whole life and amidst these journals are notes I left myself, advice to make my life better, things to try that always interested me. The time has finally come for me to turn the notes into action and fulfill all my dreams. And here’s a snapshot of who Volume One’s Tiny Jac turned out to be:
v drunk, don’t talk to me
If you’re just getting here, welcome. There’s very little point to this blog. Enjoy. If you’ve been a loyal reader this whole time (mom), thank you, I’m sorry, thank you. My dad once said he wants to read my blog but I use the F word too much. So, there’s that.
Volume One took me to REALLY cool places. I went to some museums, to a tiny tiny island off the Bronx. I tried prayer and didn’t click with it. I’m trying cooking and not clicking with it. Life is wild, and I want to learn everything, do everything and have fun.
As I get into Volume Two, I will be bringing with me the wisdom (projects) I’m still interested in from Volume One. Meeting people, opening up, not worrying. Going, doing and having fun. Giving up shit talking (adding no shit talking to/about myself… I’m kinda mean to Inside Jac sometimes), learning everything (starting with cooking), helping people (starting with AIDS Walk – donate to the cause!). I’m learning about UV and infrared and writing a book. Yes, I’m tired.
I’d like to introduce you to Lil Jaci of Volume Two. This journal (like a few others because I’m a resourceful bitch) was used first in 2005. Then I skip four or so months and start in March 2006, where I left off from Volume One. I open the journal with lyrics to the Killers song “Somebody Told Me.” I dunno…
Out on an excursion for the first time in two months post mono
The first half was used as a bible study journal. So heads up, I get real religious for a sec. The second half of the journal Danny, the first boy I held hands with for a long time, and I are breaking up and getting back together and breaking up. I meet Zack Weiss who has become one of those friends I don’t see for years and then we take a road trip across the country together. I get mono which leads to a million other illnesses and consumes the second half of the book.
*Delicately reaches for the shit puddle.*
My parents were always strict with me growing up. I’m there only daughter, and at the time I was brewing to grow up and be the person I am now. Which means I hated being told what to do, I always wanted freedom, and had a deep desire to make snap decisions on a whim… But I was (am) a good kid. Always concerned about doing what was right, always trying to be the best version of myself. I was a little good, a little evil. Like clowns. I was a clown.
She dressed like a character in a Tim Burton movie back then.
The process of covering all the projects in this volume will take a little longer. There are 100 things to do. This is the first journal where I draw boxes that eventually get checked off.
Over the next few months you’ll see me doing some of the following: reading loads of bible verses, giving up cursing (DAD YOU CAN COME IN NOW), giving up complaining, getting into poetry, listening to Miles Davis (thank. god), going roller skating on a date and making my mom breakfast in bed (Skype breakfast, of course). There’s also a note to save $5000 for a trip to Italy, which we’ll get into later. I might even finally tackle eating healthy and exercising. Or I’ll quit the blog. Stay tuned.
Because the AIDS Walk is coming up quickly and tomorrow is my last day off until Memorial Day, I’ll be doing an easy one first.
No shit, one of the things in this journal is to organize a group to raise money for charity. I’m so pumped to cross this one off because my current profession is to organize many many groups to raise money for AIDS services. Woop! If you’re in New York or New Jersey and you want to walk with us, please email me (jaclynm@aidswalk.net). The event itself is amazing, 10,000 people walk with us through Central Park and Upper West Side. Margaret Cho is going to be there, drag queens from Ru Paul’s Drag Race will be there, cast members from Orange is the New Black will be there. It’s going to be a hoot.
If you want to support us but don’t live here, can’t make it or hate crowds (Hi, I see you, you’re valid) you can sign up to be a virtual walker! You create an account and then have access to a portal that you can promote to your friends, coworkers and family and ask them to donate to you. Alternately, you can donate to me! I’m a part of the Hyacinth AIDS Foundation Team. Not only am I personally fundraising for the team’s efforts, I’m their representative in their partnership with the host of the event, GMHC (NY’s premier AIDS Services establishment). My personal, individual goal is to raise the team $300 dollars. My professional goal as a rep is to raise a minimum of $200,000 for the Foundation overall. It’s a small number. GMHC’s goal this year is $5,000,000.
So, like, help me make my loose change goal of $200k. My pals Eric Champion and Molly Adair donated already. Thanks friends! Who’s next??? $15 donations or more are greatly appreciated!
For all of you who are only here because you’re so anxious for me to talk about infrared and UV, the wait is over. I understand it, and it’s boring. Not boring in an informational way. Existence is insane. Colors have temperatures, and non-colors (INVISIBLE COLORS, see also UV and infrared) also have temperatures. And the things we see on a daily basis are pretty much made up of temperatures that absorb or transmit wavelengths producing the colors we see. The actual facts are fascinating (and not as simple as the Crayola version I boiled it down to which is only mostly accurate). I just mean it’s boring as a topic in a theme-less blog. No one came here for this.
I got my cook on this week. Uncle John’s pancakes. I don’t actually know his recipe but I pulled one from the internet. It required real milk and I used almond cause who still drinks animal milk? Like, ew. It’s 2019, let’s move on. Sure, I eat things with milk in them, and probably a few times in the last 10 years I’ve purchased milk for a recipe, but we have alternatives now. You’re an adult. Stop drinking from the teet. The pancakes were great, Myles loved them. I have no idea if the lemon had anything to do with it, but I’m keepin it. I made a kale salad, which isn’t cooking and is also disappointing to eat. I made a burrito bowl with too many vegetables and not enough of the good things (I’m realizing now that I only like pancakes).
Speaking of making snap decisions, grief is wild and I bought a ticket to go see my Cousin Elias in Nashville from May 24th to May 27th. Super normal, nothing weird or irrational about it. I’ve never been, so it’ll be cool to see my third brother and hang in Nashville for Memorial Day weekend.
I went and saw The Prom on Broadway. It was cute, the dancing was insane (like, I think we should check on some of those kids) and the people were crazy talented.
My boss: “Let’s see Prom. It’s about two lesbia–” Me: “Yes.”
This coming week will be insane. It’s pre-Walk week. Long days, lots of work. I only have Saturday off this weekend, then work through to the weekend of Memorial Day when I promptly fly to Nashville. (It’s fine, make decisions and stick with them, it’s fine, I’m fine).
If no one reads this blog, at least I have peace of mind at the end of the week when I feel like I don’t do enough. No wonder I’m always cranky.
Next week I’ll be shifting the blog a little. I’m taking on a lot of projects at once, and in an effort to make them all worth it and have their own space, I’ll be fulfilling the project elsewhere and linking it here. I’ll talk for days if I’m not stopped, and these posts are long as is, but the actual information is being lost in my (poor) effort to be concise. Anyway, don’t go anywhere, I’m trying to make you more comfortable.
I wish I could say I took the last week to live life to the fullest, to really reflect and apply everything I learned in the wake of losing one of my favorite people. Grieving is weird. I’ve honestly never done it before. Some days I feel like I can take on the world, like I have this one life and I want to love everyone like Uncle John did, and be happy like he always seemed to be. Somedays I feel like I should take something away from this, like I should’ve learned something. I can’t clearly keep a hold on whatever that lesson is and the focus keeps shifting. Somedays I meltdown for no reason (Sorry Kean University. I don’t usually cry during presentations).
I remembered a thing. A bit of information dawned on me. Something that no one else would ever understand or maybe even care about. Only him. I keep wanting to tell someone, to share this secret, but the laugh I know I’d hear from him could come from no one else. And I’ll never get to tell him this secret. Part of me feels a warmth around it, like I’ll have something in my heart that belongs only to him. Part of me feels like I’ll just tell him when this is all over. But, when all of what’s over?
And work went on, and life went on and I was being dragged behind but every once in a while I stood up and ran with it.
On Monday I went to Central Park for some tree therapy. Myles and his friend Johnny joined me. We walked around in Central Park looking at these massive trees, making up scientific names and sometimes being in actual awe of size, texture or shape. We walked through the city and happened upon a giant dumpster stuffed full of balloons. It wasn’t full of much else, just some wood (?) so naturally we climbed in and played in the balloons for a substantial amount of time.
We laughed so hard, and wound up taking strands of balloons with us down the street. We took the balloons into a restaurant and laughed through a delicious meal and I had so much fun.
Dumpster balloons, dumpster people
I got home late, and couldn’t stop telling Myles how much fun I had. I crawled into bed and saw my Uncle’s memorial photo and for a split second, it was shocking all over again. I had such a fun night I forgot all about it. Which I’m terrified of, but so grateful for. Grief is next level. Sometimes I hamster wheel all my feelings and thoughts and can’t get out of this hole of feeling his death every second of the day. So though forgetting is painful, temporarily feeling joy was so good and so necessary and so hard to find regardless of this tragedy.
But of course everything reminds me. We went and saw Beetlejuice on Broadway. Aforementioned Johnny is a dancer in the show, and my boss got he, a coworker and myself some tickets. The show was wild. From start to finish you were laughing and clapping. The humor was relevant, the actors are SO talented. The set was probably one of the most impressive. The lighting reshaped the house over and over. They made giant set pieces and chased people around stage. It was wild.
And I only cried once. When Lydia was in the Netherworld and talked about how she was so afraid to forget her dead mom.
Then Johnny brought me and my coworkers backstage for a tour. We met Beetlejuice, who’s very much like Beetlejuice in real life.
The show was great. The set was insane, Johnny’s crazy in the show but still adorable. Go see Beetlejuice.
The rest of the week was filled with getting home too late, waking up early and only realizing I had eyes and mouth by around noon each day.
I did cook this week. I made an absolutely disgusting dressing for a corn and black bean salad. I made a pretty delicious vegan tuna salad out of walnuts and carrots. I tried to make Uncle John’s bagel specialty. It tasted amazing, but his also looked amazing. Mind did not.
This week I’ll try his pancakes. Because I’m actually nervous to try eggplant parm.
Anyway, this week I started research on the last thing I was curious about in Volume One.
With no context whatsoever, Tiny Jac left the following Q:
3-8-09 (def meant 06) “What is infrared? Ultraviolet? What’s it used for?”
She had yet to see Predator.
Well, I started digging in. I have the basic, uneducated understanding of both infrared and UV, but I’m not doing these projects to be basic, okayyy. First thing I will say is as I started researching it became abundantly clear that I do no understand science to any degree. If someone knows wavelengths and electromagnetic business I’ll buy you a drink to teach me. Or Skype me. I’ll do the entire conversation as my teddy bear Cinnamon as payment.
Second, I’m not giving up. Tiny Jac wanted answers and I’m going to get them. It’s just going to take me longer than a week to do it. So this is what I’ve got so far:
Infrared radiation, or infrared light, is a radiation with longer wavelengths than that of visible light.
Since even that most basic description means literally nothing to me, I have to go backwards. WT actual F is a wavelength? I get the basic, middle school text book diagram explanation, but how does something emit a wavelength and how does it related to light and help.
I’m an egg or chicken kinda guy when it comes to understanding anything that doesn’t involve a punchline. What’s the origin story, etc. So I’ll be getting my science on until I can actually, genuinely understand this shit.
We (I) made it through Volume One. This week I’ll be starting my last project, one that couldn’t be more important than it is now. Also on this 3-8-09 (06) day I said went to BOW, Bible study On Wednesday or something like that. I don’t remember this experience, but here you go:
“BOW this morning really helped me. Not so much in Christ but to be a better person. I want to help people.”
Uncle John was always helping people, and I’m so incredibly self centered, I could do with being selfless from time to time.
I want to first start by saying, I currently work for AIDS Walk New York. I’m the representative for the Hyacinth AIDS Foundation who provide HIV and AIDS services to communities in New Jersey. Our funding is primarily received through government grants, and often gets tied to specific allocations. AIDS Walk is imperative for us to continue providing education, prevention and services to the HIV and AIDS communities in New Jersey.
So help me out, help Hyacinth out and support us by donating as little as $15 to us for AIDS Walk New York.
From now until the event date (Sunday, May 19th, come walk with us) this’ll be how I’m going to help people. I haven’t personally started fundraising because I’ve been begging other people to support us, but I can practice what I preach for 3 weeks.
Beyond AIDS Walk, like all my other long-term projects, I had a list of things that would assist in my journey to help people. This list includes making 10 new friends, volunteering and learning the subtle art of actually listening to people when they talk. I suppose helping doesn’t necessarily mean helping elderly people across the streets, or giving people the clothes off my back, but can also mean being a good friend, using reusable bottles or accepting peoples differences.
Volume One has been sweet, even kinda simple, sometimes slightly annoying. I learned a lot, I tried a lot and I think I’m still figuring out the point of the blog. But I guess I’ve kept these journals my whole life because I wanted to remember to try the things that sounded interesting. I wanted to remember the things I already tried and how I felt about them. And now I’m finally getting around to it. I want to look back on my life and feel like I gave all my dreams a shot. I want to feel like no stone was unturned, that I got to experience a million things. I want to look back and think I had fun, I guess.
So to recap what I’ll be taking with me into Volume Two; I’m writing a book with my pal Bryson (and taking too long to edit). If I get two published copies for him and I I’ll be satisfied. Tiny Jac had it right with not worrying. I don’t always remember, but nothing gets done by worrying. Going and doing and having fun, though, that’s where the real money is. I did a lot of things I’m not sure I would have if it weren’t for this project.
Opening up and meeting people isn’t my specialty but I do find value in it. I’m a shit talker, and I don’t want to be, so I’ll keep chipping away at that. I’m learning as much as I can starting with cooking (it’s going bad) and will now start a journey to help people as well as learn science-y smart stuff.
This has been fun and hard. I’m overambitious at times and want to do it all at once, but I also live a life. So I guess part of what I’m learning here, besides how to make good scrambled eggs or where the best trees in New York City are, is that even if we used every second of our day productively, sometimes it all just can’t get done.
Whatever. Remember all the cool shit I did?
Next week you’ll meet Lil Jaci. Volume Two continues her curiosity about growing up and being in a body and having societal expectations. We’re still amidst her weird obsession and hatred of Danny (love you, Bud) and also she gets Mono. So the world is ending.
This is a rough one. This week, unexpectedly, my Uncle John died. If you know me, then you know at least something about him. He was like a brother, he was a friend, he was even like a father at times. He was my Uncle.
When I was nineteen I needed out of my hometown. I was overwhelmed by my impending adulthood, I was overwhelmed with the expectations vs the way I behaved. I needed out and I needed it fast.
I called him up. I had only met him maybe three times at that point, and asked if I could move in with him. He could’ve said no, he could’ve called my Dad and they could’ve kept me home. But that’s not Johnny Mac. Of course he let me live with him.
He always made me feel equal. Never made me feel like a kid, that I wasn’t welcome, that I didn’t belong. It was the first time I felt like someone really trusted me, and I trusted him. More than almost anyone. Still to this day.
He was all the things I want to be. Humble, a good friend and brother and uncle and husband. He didn’t worry. He always said, “It’s all kool and the gang.” He was happy, he was an expert at listening and making people feel heard and valid. He always made me feel like the person I was becoming was okay. And he was so fuckin’ funny. He could remember every movie line he’d ever heard. I think most of the time he spoke it was in quotes.
He loved talking about the time it snowed four feet while I was living with him. I’d never really seen snow like that before and he took me with him to shovel driveways around town. We worked in a cul-de-sac that had been plowed and all the snow was pushed into the middle into a giant mountain. I climbed to the top and dug a hole just big enough for me to fit in and crawled in. He looked for me, shouting and shouting until he saw my little feet sticking out. He couldn’t stop laughing. Every time he told the story he laughed. Somewhere in the world is a picture he took of me stuffed into that little cave.
His whole life he lived the way he wanted. He did what he wanted, he loved everyone he knew, he always gave out more love than any one person should possess.
Last summer he married the love of his life. As I grew up, every time I’d come see him he’d scold me for a new tattoo I got. Man, he hated my tattoos. Then met Sue, and the two of them were crazy about each other. They went and got tattoos.
How does something so beautiful like that happen so late in someone’s life, only to be taken away less than a year later? I just don’t get it. I saw him, looking like a wax version of himself in his casket and I just don’t get it.
All the plans we made, all the things we had, it’s all gone now. And I guess I just, I’m not ready. I don’t understand why it had to be him. Why did it have to be him? I thought I was going to have him until I was his age. I’m so afraid that I’ll forget. That he’ll fade away as I grow older, when I’m 60 and things have changed. He was supposed to see me become the person I’m going to become and it’s just not right.
Anyway, he’d call and tell me “It’s all good in Johnny-hood” so in honor of the man who half raised me to be the person I am now, I’m going to keep being the person he taught me to be. I’m going to write, and journal and do this dumbass blog. And this week, on my absolutely disgusting journey to feed myself edible food, I’m going to cook all my favorite foods he used to make for me.
Uncle John made a BOMB eggplant parmesan. I never like eggplant, but he begged me to just try it and he did not disappoint. He also used to make me these bagels that are essentially just a toasted bagel, a fat slice of tomato, and cheddar cheese broiled over top. Simple. His pancakes were amazing. I think he used lemon, we’ll find out. And he made tomato sauces that I think were from a can, but somehow they always tasted fresh.
I’m heartbroken. It’s fucked up. He was 61, in regular health. Its just not supposed to be like this. But it’s hard to not think of how wild his life was. He was so cool. He was a Harley rider for life. I loved hearing his stories about riding across the country on his bike. He was always up for a good time, always available for an adventure.
Bababooyow, Uncle J. You always inspired me, you always made me feel like I was okay. I love you and I miss you. Fuck, I don’t even know how much I miss you yet.
Peace and hair grease. I hope you’re poolside sippin’ Johnny Walker with Lennon.
This week heavily compensated me for the rude bitch it was last week. My one year anniversary in New York was on the 10th. Woop. Whimsy is my biggest strength and New York is my best example. I basically slipped on a banana peel and ended up in NYC. So, that’s cute.
My parents came to visit a couple months after I got here. My mom is so cuuuuute.
Also this week I cracked into a brand new journal, Volume 60. The big 6-0. My journals can retire in a few short volumes (they won’t though, cause they love working and wouldn’t know what to do with all the free time). Stellar news, my pal Yancy’s surgery went well and the tumor isn’t cancerous. Double woop! Lastly, it’s pretty legit to say now that Jeff Bryson, the friend who helped me with the outline of the Damsel story, has agreed to do the art! Brb, updating my fb status to “In a Relationship.”
Last episode I mentioned how Tiny Jac was upset at herself for talking about her friends in a bible study. So, in an attempt to ease her sweet, innocent little mind I decided to not talk negatively about people for one week. Turns out I’m much more of a shit talker than I thought I was. I caught myself taking my frustrations out by complaining about the people I believed to be causing my frustrations. Let’s just all get this straight; I’m only ever frustrated at myself, I just have a tendency to make it seem like it’s because of someone else. Sure, sometimes living, working or existing with people is hard. But also sometimes a casual solution is communication.
For Tiny Jac’s case, she thought she was gossiping because she was saying personal things about her friends to people who were in a better place than said friends. In that case, is it gossip or is it the act of putting forth positive energy against other peoples’ seemingly negative situations? Is it fair to be the one standing above someone saying their situation is negative simply because I deem it? Was it gossip because Tiny Me left feeling guilty?
I will say, being aware of how you behave is never a negative and because of this I’m going to keep chipping away at this project. I even prefaced gossip this week (“ok, so you know how I’m not supposed to be shit talking, well I’m hella going to shit talk right now.” – me, verbatim all week long).
This also leads to prayer, which I think I’m going to back burner for now. I only say that because I spent this week continuing my vapid genie wish list of all the things I wish I did better. Then I talked to my parents, who are both Christians, about prayer and how hard it was for me. My dad talked about how it was about a relationship with God but I think what really struck me was that before I got off the phone with them, my mom said “You know, Honey, we pray for you every day.” (Which I 100% need every day, my life is a nightmare). And that’s when I kinda realized prayer isn’t about wishing. It’s about acknowledgment. It’s about bringing people to your mind, holding them there and hoping good for them.
So, I think I got it. And it turned the second half of my week around. But I also know that it’s going to come back up in later journals (I get heavy into Christianity through Volume 7). It may find me at a time where it feels like less pressure to pull my whole universe together to find the things I care about other than myself. I’m really, very selfish. Taking pointers for how to get out of my own ass.
The go, do, have fun of the week led me to dancing. I went to the cute queer party called Hot Rabbit. I casually got sick from the food I ate before I went out, but I started to feel it right after I pretend ate an imaginary ball as a dance move. Still, Hot Rabbit was worth dropping by. I spend a lot of time in male dominant settings so it was really refreshing to be around a bunch of queers. I haven’t mentioned this much, but I tell people I’m a lesbian because it’s easier than begging them to follow me on the whimsical tour of my identity. The truth is I’m queer. I have no identity other than that, I have no idea what I want or who I am. It’s not new, according to Volume One:
1/1/06 12:40pm
“I am one girl who doesn’t know what she wants.”
Hi, hello. Fast forward thirteen years and I have the same haircut. It’s me.
I deal more in just living how I want until something catches me. It’s not an efficient way to live, but it is a way to live. So being in a space full of people who identify and express themselves in ways I’ve never even considered makes me feel like maybe I haven’t found myself because I haven’t been to all the places I might hang out. I’m crazy for queers who don’t identify, for body hair, for feminine men for masculine women. I’m crazy for people who look and feel and act like everything all mixed up into one and aren’t asking for permission. And sometimes, existing in the straight world makes me forget. So thanks Hot Rabbit. A dance party and a vehicle for self reflection.
I finally hit up Albertine, the French Bookstore I mentioned a while back. So worth it. What I didn’t know was that it was inside of a restored mansion. Seriously, it’s called the Payne Whitney House and it’s amazing. You walk into a gorgeous, empty, marble covered entrance adorned with busts and full body statues. One gated off viewing room is the favorite and preserved room of the late Helen Hay Whitney and is gold with a harp and beautiful furniture. Then you walk back to a French bookstore. Mostly in French but a few English language, French origin books. They have quite the variety and when you go upstairs you see what makes the store famous. Actually pretty reminiscent of the mosaic at the Museum at Eldridge, this ceiling was painted a swirl of blue and yellow with planets, stars and constellations. It’s very magical.
The adventures of this week may lead me to find a variety of temporary tattoos. I have a fantasy that all the creative, artistic friends (which I’ve only a few of at the moment) come to my house (in my fantasy it’s the Payne Whitney House) and we have a party where everyone puts temp tattoos on each other. You’re invited.
I’m also going back to the music scene of 2006. The same Audrey Jordan mentioned Neon Blonde, which I want to say was more popular than Test Icicles and was considered in the realm of a band we listened to called The Blood Brothers. One of their songs is called Princess Skullface Sings. So it could really go both ways. Or lend a creepy name to the book. If you’ve listened to their only album or saw them live or have an anecdote I can use hit me up.
When does music you loved as a kid (2006 Jac like Sugarcult) become the music you’re embarrased of? Or, when and why do you grow out of it? Cause I’m 100% not still listening to My Chemical Romance (though Umbrella Academy was dope, so I’m still on the Gerard train).
“What the hell? I’m such a bitch. All I do is complain about how my life isn’t perfect. Suck it up.”
So little has changed…
Museum at Eldridge Street. And me waiting for someone to come out of the shadows and tell me I’m a wizard.
Last week I resolved to just stop worrying and have fun (as an actual task, not as a romantic notion). That led me to having a very Jewish Monday. I took a trip to the former synagogue, Museum at Eldridge Street. It’s like stepping into the cathedral-esque setting of every YA novel about a girl with dormant super powers. A stunning space with a rather interesting history. Well worth it (pay-as-you-like on Mondays, so quit your job and dig it for free).
The guide Jan suggested I go to Yonah Schimmel’s Knishes for a knish (which I’d never had and now need a separate bank account for). A hole in the wall on Houston Street, Yonah’s is a low-key spot with a few seats and knishes coming out of the ceiling. I got a blueberry and cheese knish and almost died (from all the cheese) (also because it was stupid good). Next, Jan sent me to Economy Candy on Rivington St. All the candy from a variety of cultures throughout history. I bought her favorites, Turkish Taffy and Carrafelo Piemonte Classico (the latter of which is my new frenemy). All in all, thanks Jan. You’re a bad bitch.
Forest Hills. Where all the blue birds are actually animated and the deer dance to the sound of flutes.
Tuesday I went to Forest Hills, which can only be described as a missed opportunity for the setting of Once Upon a Time. Every house looks like a cottage from Snow White. A beautiful and wealthy community where people pick up their dog shit. I had fruit Jian Bing which is kinda like a crispy, eggy crepe and it ruled. They also gave me a poison apple mug from Snow White. Which was too much, honestly.
And then on Thursday I agreed to view a stranger’s film for $25. It was strange and I got $25.
“A City Island resident not born on the island is known as a ‘musselsucker.'” Population: 4,387 (2010)
All in all, it was an indulgent week. Little Me wanted to look back and see fun times, and I’m with her. But Big Me wants to look forward and see not-scary times and I’m very poor. So I suppose, this is why sixteen year olds aren’t responsible for anything. Still, I’ll continue to do weekly weird stuff. If anyone wants to join me this week in NYC, I’ll be exploring (the hopefully creepy and weird) City Island, a tiny island community in the Bronx. (Follow me on Instagram for story updates throughout the week).
As promised, the big project I’m working on for this journal is the Damsel meets Knight story. I’ve transcribed the note so you can see, more or less, exactly what I left for myself…
Story
Knight – Damsel, Knight = Prideful (until he meets Damsel)
Damsel (love has been “stolen” by “merlin figure” Knight loves Damsel
Damsel can’t love knight because love is stolen
Must Kill “Merlin” to get back love
Knowing this would be my first actual project, I milled over ideas right when I cracked into volume one. Then, I casually ran the idea by my champion story guru Jeff Bryson, a co-worker and 3D artist, who almost instantly had a better idea than any of the ones I came up with. Thanks Bryson and don’t go far, I’ll need you for the next story project (see his work here). So I wrote the whole thing already. I’m unemployed. I’ve got loads of time. It’s not all knishes and tiny islands around here.
Thus far, I’ve written (almost 100% Bryson’s idea) that the kingdom is plagued with bad crops and the King and Princess summon a wizard to save them. He takes her ‘heart’ as payment and she becomes evil. A Prince goes to see them after the exact same thing happened in his kingdom and the wizard took his mother’s ‘heart’. He vows to find the wizard and see if they can make another bargain for the return of the love taken. So he and the Princess, with the help of three annoying pixies, set out to find the wizard and in hopes of restoring the love they’d lost.
Or some shit. I’ve conveniently left out how proud the Knight is and how he’s in love with the Princess. I’m just not that kinda guy anymore. Sorry Tiny, hetero Jac.
Anyway, I’ll be working on edits this week and would LOVE a second/third/fifteenth pair of eyes if anyone wants to sacrifice themselves to a short, roughly 20 page essay. Updates to come next week.
I’m adjusting my quest to not worry this week (spend less because I don’t have a job, get a job so I can spend more), but it’s a great sentiment. Don’t worry, have fun. And I have been. I will also be diving into Test Icicles. I wish there was a less gross way of saying that, but there it is. The band circled our group of friends pretty much only because we liked the Blood Brothers and this is similar. Other things I may get into: Albertine French bookstore, check out the Sisyphus Stones, and give drawing another go. It never had a proper first go, so I guess this is first go number two.
Welcome back to JACLAND, a blog following me on the journey to fulfill the dreams of every version of myself. Prepare to be dazzled.
12-18-05
“I never know how to start out journals. I always say something like, I’m Jaclyn Rose MacDonald.”
My flagship journal starts just after I turned 16. I had the emotional depth of a dog bowl, I was going out with Danny, who’s been dating my best friend for almost three years now and I hated my parents. I really hated my parents. The amount of times I call my mom a bitch is staggering (sorry Mom, you’re perfect I love you).
My loose interpretation of “Scene” at the time. True scene is a little more eye liner, a lot more black, tighter clothes and hair that looks like your head actually exploded.
To give a broad overview of the times, it’s important to say that all my friends were in hardcore bands, and we were all very connected with the local scene. At the time, the Scene mostly meant getting all your friends together to smoke cigarettes while they took turns playing music for each other. My parents didn’t like my participation in the scene. They always thought we were getting into bad stuff. Really, Danny and I were just buying little army men and bombing each others troops with bouncy balls.
I was also terrified of love. Danny was the first person I was serious about and it totally freaked me out. I was heavily influenced by the anti-love movie How to Deal and considered myself to be one with Mandy Moore’s character. I recently rewatched the movie and if you need a visual of who I was at the time, and also hate yourself, give the flick a spin. The tagline is “A Lesson in Love for Non-Believers” and features a father who cheats on a mother with a younger woman. You know the trope and the implied affects it has on young women…
The classic and relatable tale of having divorced parents, a best friend who gets pregnant just before her boyfriend dies and falling in love with a guy who almost kills her in a car accident.
Volume one is very Vampire Diaries in how I thought writing down my woes would make them important. I over dramatized everything and was deeply convinced I was crazy. From this version of Tiny Jac, we get what I thought were the answers to it all.
In season one of JACLAND, we’ll revisit the music of the time with the bands Neon Blonde and Test Icicles (yes, a play on testicles). The Blood Brothers were big amongst our group and these knock offs were floating around the scene.
We’re going to dig deep into my young desire to learn everything, complete with a hefty list of things I’ll be learning over the weeks (how to pick locks, the history of women in rock and roll, chemtrail conspiracy theories, and morse code to name a few).
And we’ll discuss the answers to really dumb questions like “How can coconuts have cholesterol?” (They can’t and they don’t).
Next week I’ll get started on the one big project I left behind in this volume. An atrocious concept I’m surprised even Tiny Jac would be interested in entertaining.
I’LL BE WRITING A DAMSEL-MEETS-KNIGHT FAIRYTALE… So, if you thought this blog would be about interesting or forward thinking topics, you were wrong.
I’d like to end this post with some advice wise young me left for dumb old me. And like all the advice I’ll be taking from Tiny Jac, I’ll practice it completely for the week I write on it, with updates to come in the following post. Maybe some of the advice will fix up my bad attitude or shake out some real interest I’ve got lodged in my head sludge.
1/1/06 12:40pm
“…I just want to open up and start making friends with everyone. Just live up life and not worry. Not worry about school, Danny, friends, parents nothing. Just go, do and have fun because you live once and I want to think that I had a really fun life I guess.”
I first took this at face value. Stop worrying, have fun. Then I realized over the years I’ve wanted to do loads of fun things I’ve never done before and, really, that’s the point of this blog. So, starting next week, I’ll be doing a weird weekly adventure. Some examples include make a fortress of solitude and spend a day in it, mini golf, birthday cake shots, night swimming, Ninja Turtle day (!), revamping my temporary tattoo collection, and other things that make me a cute, quirky date (ladiessss). If you’re in NYC and you’re looking for a weird time, callmebeepme.
So join me in our first experiment. This week, let’s not worry. Not worry about unemployment, debt, the future, our purpose, nothing. Choose your own adventure, and let me know how it goes. I’ll be going places that sound interesting, doing what feels right and having fun because YOLO and I want to think that I had a really fun life I guess.
Wish me luck, and try to make some friends this week.
JACLAND 