I am such a wuss when it comes to getting sick.
Hey remember when I used to write stuff? Yeah so do I. Good times, good times.
I miss writing. I miss my laptop. I miss all the fic stuck on my hard drive. I am an ass for not saving everything to disk.
My life is now separated into two houses literally. Well, not literally, because that's not the proper word for it - tis a figure of speech actually.
The new room is painted a calming, soothing grey-blue. It disturbs me and makes me miss the old colors of greys, blacks, and whites, like being caught in a storm out at sea during the night. Yes, that for me is a comfort.
In the other room, I can hear my dad watching Curb Your Enthusiam. He's such an HBO whore, even bigger than me - he's now pimping Unscripted to me like mad. I dunno if I'll crack, he also pimped Entourage, and frankly, that show was okay, but not fantastic.
I've been having Farscape-longings, pangs of fic-writing, I had such a short 'career' in writing it - just some drabbles and a handful of fics, but I'm simply not enough of a sci-fi plot writer to really dig into the meat of the story, to make all those wonderful themes really sing against a backdrop of that insane ride. But I keep on wondering about Aeryn and John post The Peacekeeper Wars, and oh, isn't it clear that that was only a pause before everything's torn asunder yet again for Our Heroes?
That doesn't mean I'll abandon any of my other fandoms, o'course. I probably won't write the Farscape anyways - I just don't have it in me at this moment. There's no laptop here to write it all down, just handwritten notes that even I can barely decipher.