urg

[zebralittle52]

Too much caffeine too late at night... on top of my bed time reading turning rather unexpectedly gory there at the end (Ok, yeah, it's Lifeblood by P.N. Elrod, and yeah, it's about a vampire, but it hadn't been that... graphic... in the first two thirds!) on top of being worried about my broken down car's got me wound up to much to sleep. And I -need- sleep, it's something I've been sorely lacking these last few days.

But David's going to be up soon, and if I take anything to sleep I'll be out of it till after noon.

*whine, bitch, moan and complain* *oh, and pout too*



And now for something completely different... Half asleep ramblings that border on the self absorbed ahead. Turn back now before it's too late.

You know what I miss? I miss my fascination with Schwarz. Sure, I dabbled with Weiss Kreuz, wrote a few fics, but it was Schwarz that really caught my attention. (We're going back years here... Before Gluhen, before Knight Hunters, a long time ago.) Before the formulas had been done to death, before I twitched from overexposure, before Yohji/Aya made my skin crawl, there had been these sparks of mystery simply waiting to be unraveled... How powerful they must have been, to survive the brainwashing machine, to keep there core selves and not buckle under their conditioning. What they could have accomplished, what they did accomplish... Every possibility there was fertile ground for my (albeit twisted) imagination.

And then it went away. Poof. Replaced with other boys and other dramas, poisoned by the taint of poor handling... and sometimes. Just sometimes, mind... I miss it.

But is it really them I miss? Or the fact that, except for a Cowboy Bebop one shot, they were really the last fandom I had that inspired me to write on my own. Before role playing, before Higher Ground... it was all my own. And I felt confident, wasn't second guessing my words or thinking no one would care. The stories were alive in my head, and I felt alive in their telling.

I used to feel each story written was a piece of blown glass, displayed on black velvet for others to enjoy. Some were huge things, elaborate in their twists and turns, sparkling with detail. Others were simple, maybe whimsical, but no less enjoyable. Something I felt proud to share, if only because I enjoyed each newly made bauble too much to keep to myself.

Maybe I miss the characters and the feelings, both. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be struck with new stories, new boys willing to play my games... Something to call my own. *shrug* Who knows.