~~sounds of silence.

*dances about*

gahd i love this song so much. so. damn. much.
and this journal's not been as prolific as it has been-- though i mean, it's winter break. i need a break. sort of. y'all know how it is.

just in case y'all don't read silviakundera's journal, it is my sworn duty to link to her secret santa's fic, `up to no good'. it was a bit prosey and expository, but really sweet and yet not too much so. hope everyone's having a good day holed up in a warm cozy room with a candle or two, hiding from the snow. or maybe that's just me.

i -still- haven't finished my secret santa fic. *guilt* today, though. today.
    but at least i'm writing -something-. i feel so bad, not having even -read- some of the fics on my list-- from some of my favorite writers, too. since when did it become a dutiful pleasure? i don't know. i feel like i'm not giving the wondrous writers the ego boost and loff they deserve-- it's like, if i don't review, do they think i didn't like it just as much as if i wrote half a page about it? because that's not true. enunciating things is easy, but still not the same as merely feeling things, heh.

if you're on my friends list, i try to read every single fic you write, and i probably appreciate something about it. people don't really flunctuate -that- much, although they do fluctuate some. i mean. i seriously think there are people who just have consistent quality, every single time, and that's why i'd recommend an author-- say, neil gaiman-- and not bother recommending any particular story of his. though naturally, a lot of writers have a masterpiece, something that transcends their usual quality, and becomes a work of art almost unconnected to the limitations of their identity and amount of talent.

but anyway, all that is obvious. i'm just saying, i'm not a reader who naturally expresses herself by analyzing a piece of writing or art. my mind tends to naturally explain myself and my feelings, so it sounds all thought out and everything-- but really, my most common compliment is mute appreciation. aja, cassie, penguin, amalin, silvia, ivy, maya and well, y'all know who i like-- they strike me dumb. i worship and i give love. and i suppose i just want to revel in that, too.

that's where my words come from-- from that wordless place. from that intense sensation of being swept away, of being enthralled, enraptured. i fall in love with stories, and i just express that the only way i know how-- with words and pictures. but even deeper lies the silence, and the laughter and tears and the way i feel more alive because of you.

and i know love seems too big or too insincere or too cliched of a word to use-- but i truly love the writers of these stories. it may not be like "normal" love one has a for a person, it may be more meta and more abstract and more purely of the imagination than most people understand as real. but this is more real than anything, to me.
    so even if i'm not saying as much, even if my words all went away, i'm still reading, and still adoring. even if that sounds kind of fangirlish and lame. what can i say, heh.

EDIT: and yes, `the lodger' was kind of cute, in that really long-winded post-war fic without even one snog sort of way. i refuse to wholeheartedly rec fics without even one snog. it's a matter of principle.