Marcel and Jayne

Marcel and I had been on silent, yet comfortable, terms since mid-March. I had gone about my days either working industrially at the school or doing a bit of traveling, and she came home too late to actually merit any decent conversation. I didn't mind, though, as I myself was too caught up in my own life to really miss the company. Consequently, I barely noticed her decreasing health, and I attributed her sulky disposition to the apparent lack of beetles for munching purposes. I had left her to her own devices, which, in retrospect, probably was not the best of ideas.

Enter Jayne.

Jayne seemed a nice enough guy. I had encountered him a few times in the past, and he had always made a point to exchange pleasantries with me, no matter how awkward the situation. (I don't care how many people state otherwise, it is always awkward to find someone crawling around in one's sink at 7:00 in the morning.) I didn't ask questions, for Marcel's (or Marcelle, as she has now taken to being called while around Jayne) personal life was none of my concern. A "don't ask, don't tell" policy, if you will.

When I was not busy improvising lessons or booking flights, I did notice that Marcel's living area was slowly expanding, and I had recognized some of Jayne's belongings added to the pile. And only a couple of days ago did I realize that Jayne was here to stay.

Imagine this guy, but as a spider.

Needless to say, it was a jolt. Marcel had not asked me for my input on Jayne as a roommate, nor had she asked me about my opinion of him in the first place. I mean, sure, I've mentioned that Jayne's a nice enough guy, but I don't trust spiders, period. Marcel's had been a special case, and she knew damn well that she was taking advantage of my hospitality.

But, before reaching for the vacuum cleaner to suck the both of them into oblivion, I remembered how Marcel's depression prior to Jayne's appearance had affected her, and how Jayne's presence had markedly helped her regain her biting personality. And though my fear of spiders lingers even now, I have to give Jayne credit. He's one hell of a guy to be able to do that.

So, with two roommates residing on my ceiling, I am now considering demanding rent from them. If I can split rent three-way, having roommies may not be a bad idea at all...

February, gone already?

Buh? When the hell did March appear? Yes, the correct answer is "today," but I won't hear it. I'm still wondering where January went.

February was an eventful month, at least on the Jen scale of events. Immediately after my return from Brussels, I fell ill and missed two days of work before returning for a day and a half...and then being sent home that half-day because I had a terrible coughing spell that almost met an unhappy end during my class with 3c. So, two and a half more days missed. After much prodding from my family and friends online and off, I swallowed my pride and visited an Apotheke. The Loewen Apotheke in the Altstadt, to be exact, and the rather helpful pharmacists gave me a vial of cough syrup to fight against Bronchitis. Yay. Bronchitis. It's no fun being sick. (As I'm certain most of you know, unless you have an immune system of steel. In which case, I'd like to punch you.)

As a lingering result, though, I've had a difficult time sleeping since then. I've purchased one of the many "doctor-approved" herbal teas here in Germany (Schlaf- und Nerven Tee), so we'll see if that helps at all.

When I did return to work 80% healthy, I received a very pleasant surprise. As I was preparing for class with Suzana, Petra, the homeroom teacher for 3b, hurried over to me and said that she had a birthday gift. I was confused, particularly since I do not work with her, but we had always been on good terms. I waited until I got home to open the gift, and I was delighted to find a beautiful necklace of fake pearl and light green ribbon. The next day, as Suzana and I chatted during our break, I found that Petra wanted to give me something that left a more permanent impression of my stay here than, say, a plant. So, she got her neighbor to make me a necklace. I'm amazed at her generosity and at the fact that the necklace is just my style. I have nice coworkers.

Barring the adventure with Marcel (who keeps changing places on me, by the way; I refuse to acknowledge that I may have multiple spiders) and the horrible UAH shooting, there's not too much more to tell. I ended up subbing for Suzana last Tuesday and Wednesday, which went very well; Kathrin, the substitute, basically just lets me take reign of the classes, so I managed to improvise with each class because of Suzana's lack of lesson plans. Both 3b and 3c behave very well when there's a substitute. 4c, not so much. Overall, though, it was a very positive experience, and it's nice to know that I can take charge of a class if necessary (only with certain classes, though).

I should pat myself on the back for updating about normal life here. The weather is getting better, which makes for a more upbeat me; the snow has melted, the sun is at least trying to shine through the grey clouds, and it's getting warmer. Spring is just around the corner.

The Story of Marcel

Before I start into a fascinating story, I have one extra link concerning the UAH shooting. Yesterday marked the return of students to the campus, and a local therapy dog organization, Therapy Partners, was also at the scene to--well, what else? To comfort the still-stricken members of the UAH community.

WHNT, a local news station, has posted online its interview with Connie Gates, a Therapy Partners volunteer. Click here for the link. For those of you who are curious, or for locals who want to help out, here is the Therapy Partners' website.


The Story of Marcel

So, as a sort of "welcome back" to posting about Ze Deutschland, I now present you the story of Marcel.

Marcel and I had met back in January, and I suppose one could say that I happened to stumble upon her. At first, I thought she was just gender-confused, but I eventually realized that Marcel just emitted the confidence necessary to adopt a masculine name. How very literary, I thought, hearkening back to the witty and often biting prose of such greats as George Eliot and George Sand (the Georges of the literature world). Additionally, I felt that Marcel was in fact very Proustian, and I was proud of the fact that I could make such abstruse, snooty literary references for future blog posts. Though German, Marcel adopted the French lifestyle, and never in my stay here in Celle have I had to prepare so many baguettes smothered with brie. Although not myself a fan of Bordeaux wine, the drink's aroma caused Marcel's eyes to water with nostalgia of days in the French countryside, and the stories she told were among the most heart-wrenching I have ever had to pleasure to hear.

I thought her preference to remain on the ceiling, however, was a bit strange. But, seeing as it didn't hinder my daily life, I shrugged it off and went about my business. Her little corner of the room suited her, actually, and it occurred to me that, after living together for a month, her habits were curious and a bit discomforting.

For instance, she would lie still for great amounts of time, never flinching or breaking her gaze from her unassuming prey--a moth, or maybe even the lone beetle who crossed her path. There were periods when she would keep her living area clean, though now and again I would notice a limb or two from her previous breakfast hanging from the glistening white ceiling. And then there was the time when she completely packed up and moved all the way to the other end of my flat, without any notice or any consideration for my well-being. It just so happened that one morning, after having risen from a late night of chatting with other friends of interest (I had been wandering for some time now), I spotted her in my kitchen area.

Being a mild-mannered young woman, I said nothing of the matter and carried on as if nothing had happened. Sure, I would talk about Marcel to my friends back home--about her sudden relocation and her increasing weight--, but nothing had passed that would have caused me to talk to her about this new and unexpected situation. Sure, she was in my space, but I remembered the days of yore when she was a new and interesting friend, and when my pantry was safe.

This past Sunday morning, however, Marcel had disappeared from my sight, and she was nowhere to be found. Well, shit, I thought to myself in a slightly panicked tone, That damned spider is gone.

As someone who is trying to overcome her fear of spiders, this was not good.

After cautiously making myself breakfast and going about my day, I realized that most of all I was hurt. Marcel had betrayed my trust by breaching our pact: that she remain on the ceiling, a small, unassuming arachnid with the valor of a rock. No, she had to disappear, and, as some of my friends/therapists have suggested, to lay eggs. And it is quite possible that come spring I will be invaded by many other mini-wannabe Frenchies.

In this vein, I mildly contemplated exterminating Marcel if I were to catch her. Fortunately (for her), I spotted her yesterday, once again in her original position on the other side of the room. And I will admit that, when I saw her, the old affection returned. My friend was back, and for now we have agreed to a temporary truce.

...until she crawls off that damned ceiling, that is.