i always have ulcers at finals

and it's not because I care so much about them.
It's because by December I've lost patience with my migraines. So tonight it was two mt. dews, four pills from a bottle that said headache, and crackers for dinner. And maybe I shouldn't still be up at 1:07 a.m. to be experiencing this, but I'm getting the shakes, there's an uncomfortable hole being dug in my stomach, and the headache is coming back. I promise I normally take better care of myself.

I'm going to do nothing but do yoga and listen to vinyl all Christmas break. La la la, here I come The Byrds.

I.
If I could make this finals week last forever, I would. On Saturday my best friend, JG moves home and I'm trying not to think about it. And in April, E graduates and moves away, too. My biggest motivation to graduate is that in five months these, my closest dears, will all be gone and I'm going to want to bust this town. The thought of this impending depression spurs me to set goals. Goals like a December 2010 graduation (and I will not be walking. gross.) and internships. I just emailed Radiolab about internship possibilities with them. I'm also looking into the This American Life int. even though I think the staff and I would kill each other because of how FORMULAIC they are. Clever and lovely, but formulaic. You see, if I worked at TAL I could get a job anywhere I wanted. It would only mean loss of soul but growth of character and curriculum vitae for 60 hours/week for 6 months.

II.
I have a claymation set in my living room that I try to cover with a blanket when guests come over because I get embarrassed when people ask about it. Their reaction of awe makes me feel so awkward. And the plasticine kindergarten children are out of their crayon-colored cardboard chairs and are all in the fetal position on the plywood kindergarten floor. They look like casualties of nuclear fall-out.


III.
How, at 22 years old, do you make sure that your loved ones know they're loved? How do you have Christmas heart at the "selfish" time of life? I'm loss of words'd when it comes time to say you made my life, my soul is like claymation clay and you've become a permanent, vibrant strip in its plasticine pattern, you've got super8 mm style nostalgia written all over you, we're bound by yarn rope, you warm my heart more than a yarn pet or than the hallmark commercial from the 90s where the little boy is digging for a toy under his bed.
I learned from accidentally leaving my horrible and emotional teenage angst creative writing papers lying around the house that it was OK to say things in a fairly butchered way as long as you said them. So I probably won't be able to say these thing to you in person but I'm writing you all secret love notes (in a teenage angst way?).

I have almost used as many adjectives in this post as a certain S. Meyers uses.

Love you.
M