The Morning After

Dear Clara,
This isn't a post about birth-control, sorry about the misleading title. No, this is a post about my least favourite day of THE WHOLE YEAR: They day after Christmas. This year it is especially awful, for a multitude of reasons. One, because we are separated. This is a time for family and friends, and now that you are this hybrid of family and friend, it feels wrong that we are not in close physical proximity. You know, they tell you that it's a time for family and friends, but everyone knows it's really just family. If you try and hang out with friends, your mom or dad look at you, and then say things like,
"Well, if you really think now is a good time." and
"Well, if its really important to you..." or,
 "Its two days before Christmas! Its family time." or,
"Its two days after Christmas, its still family time." it never ends.
Christmas: You will never see your friends again. Even if my parents don't say those things, I know. I don't even try anymore. And none of it even matters because my cuddly Poncho is  A GAZZILION MILES AWAY, FRATERNIZING WITH CACTI. Yuck.


Reasons number two: Homework. Winter Break homework is a bitch. (ooh, the black keys just came on my iTunes shuffle, so this is about to be a very angsty rant.) So, break starts, and the work disappears for awhile. You think: I'll do it after Christmas, its not that much work. Lies. I have so much work, and by so much work, I mean the fact that I have work at all. When we began attending SOTA, one of the many perks was that winter break was 3 WEEKS of fantastical, wintry playtime/sleepy time, AND that the semester ended at winter break! Ergo, three of the least stressful weeks you will ever have in your life. Well, we had that strike in September that screwed a lot of people over. I mean, the whole thing was just a giant poo-fest. And it carried over. INTO MY LIFE. Into my stress-free, fantastical wintry sleepy/play time. So, I am still in bed, staring at my pile of unwrapped goodies, trying to pretend that I don't have a veritable mountain of things to actually think about and accomplish.


Which brings us to the other portion of our program: Unwrapped presents. Presents are at the height of their being when they are in the process of being ripped of their mystique. Right now, however, they are sad. They are no longer presents. It's just a pile of stuff that's yours now. If we were between the ages of 2 and 7, this would not be the case. Well, maybe a little bit, because toys loose their magic a little, but at least it's a toy. When you get older, you don't get a lego set or a doll, you get clothes and useful things. It blows. Because come the morning after, you are sad that you have nothing to play with. The highlight of the 26th is running around between all the other depressed people at the mall, returning what doesn't fit.


Poncho, I miss you, because I got quite a few fun things for Christmas, but I don't have you to share them with. (By share, I mean let you look, you can't actually touch my new things. They are mine.) I can't wait for you to come back from Cactus-land, and I can't wait to escape the hellish gray of Kitsap County. Dear God, there are no useful buses here. It's a giant trap, made to look like a quaint, suburban  area. It's doing nothing for my disposition. I hate today.


-Hannah (the very unhappy holiday Llama)


P.S. Sorry for all the CAPS. It's a hard day for me...