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Jack always snuck into his father's workroom late at night. Michael (because Jack called him that sometimes, when it was prudent to be reminded this man wasn't his real father) had been drinking a lot these past months, and usually always had passed out by the time the moon rose. Jack dutifully completed any homework (or anything that looked like homework, and could render him basically invisible to Michael's eye) until he heard the grunting snores from the living room. Michael hadn't slept in his own room for any two consecutive nights since February. Jack knew why, or thought he knew why, but none of that had any impact on him now standing in the workroom, panning the flashlight around.

The jars were still lined on pristine oak shelves, each brandishing a thin, identifying paper strip, scrawled in a bizarre code Jack had yet to crack. If it was even a code, and not just terrible handwriting.

The flashlight changed the jars' contents from a purply shadow to a shape imminent in form and meaning. Jack had just started sex ed in 7th grade, so he knew what he was looking at. Why did Michael keep such things? They were a woman's business, and he remembered nothing about keeping them in jars.

At least four times a month (once a week), Jack thought about asking his teachers about these jars. But something always stopped him, and Jack was hesitant to call it love.

But Michael had saved his life. When he fell into the underfrozen river that cold January. When the Subaru ran the red light. When the doctors said only an expensive surgery could fix his heart. Somehow all these events held Jack's tongue, though he knew on a basic level that no one should keep these fleshy sacks in jars, mummified in a thick liquid that looked like cough syrup. He held a love in his heart for his adoptive savior. If he told anyone about the jars, he would lose him.
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Some more stuff related to the whole fetus-story thing. This poor kid is gonna be so fucked up, if I ever get around to actually writing the thing.

I leave Germany in eight days. That is basically a week. I am mildly freakin' 'bout the shit I have to finish up before leaving, mostly in relation to finding my goddamn Hausmeister and checking out, jesus. Can't the man just be in his office once.

My past week started out meh, but then I bitched all over the stupid cold that tried to ruin me. I ate 5 apples, 3 bananas, a pomegranate, and balanced meals over the course of two days and learned that bug. Coughing up phlegm at 4am and drowning in multivitamin juice (yummm) might have played a role as well.

Eventually, sometime in my future, I can see myself going to graduate school. It just seems that everything worthwhile (i.e. rakes in the dollars) needs a master's degree. I don't know if I want to get a Master's in German. I still am really interested in computer science, and even education at this point. Loyola has a nice looking CompSci program (also a pretty website) but my god it will cost bare minimum $22 000. What am I going to do with a degree in just German? I was even looking at College Park's library science program, because hey I've worked a few years in a library, that should count for something...

I just spent maybe 5 hours reading a free book at Google, and I have since completely lost the steam and stamina to finish this in a productive fashion.