I'm good.
Something I wrote a long while back actually applies now.
So I was thinking about Owen, because that's what one is lead to do these days, and I realized that I had written a few lines of a fic that never happened once about Owen, and that it turns out they were pretty accurate:
"I never liked the dark. As a kid, I'd beg my mother to leave the light on in my room when I went to bed, and she'd smile and humour me. But then I'd wake up, middle of the night, and the lights would be out, and I just hated that. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't some wimpy kid who couldn't sleep without a night-light. I just didn't like the dark. I preferred it bright."
Somehow, Owen just fits the first person voice, I don't know what it is, and it seems clear the writers agree. And as it turns out he now has good reason not to like the dark. I think that I'm pretty astute, if I do say so myself. *grins with self-satisfaction*
I could see it in Owen, I guess, this constant searching for the light. All the things he thinks he's lost, the being unable to feel anything. I think it was both something that was already the case and not at all; something he was always afraid was so. That he couldn't feel anything--he thought he was numb--and spent a great deal of time pursuing various kinds of feelings just to show himself he could.
It's too bad I never finish any fics.
I can't completely remember where this fic was supposed to go, except that it's sitting in a file with some other paragraphs about Jack going into the dark place when he dies as well, so it seems to genuinely be related to that and not just to Owen's desperately justifying having a night-light.
So I was thinking about Owen, because that's what one is lead to do these days, and I realized that I had written a few lines of a fic that never happened once about Owen, and that it turns out they were pretty accurate:
"I never liked the dark. As a kid, I'd beg my mother to leave the light on in my room when I went to bed, and she'd smile and humour me. But then I'd wake up, middle of the night, and the lights would be out, and I just hated that. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't some wimpy kid who couldn't sleep without a night-light. I just didn't like the dark. I preferred it bright."
Somehow, Owen just fits the first person voice, I don't know what it is, and it seems clear the writers agree. And as it turns out he now has good reason not to like the dark. I think that I'm pretty astute, if I do say so myself. *grins with self-satisfaction*
I could see it in Owen, I guess, this constant searching for the light. All the things he thinks he's lost, the being unable to feel anything. I think it was both something that was already the case and not at all; something he was always afraid was so. That he couldn't feel anything--he thought he was numb--and spent a great deal of time pursuing various kinds of feelings just to show himself he could.
It's too bad I never finish any fics.
I can't completely remember where this fic was supposed to go, except that it's sitting in a file with some other paragraphs about Jack going into the dark place when he dies as well, so it seems to genuinely be related to that and not just to Owen's desperately justifying having a night-light.