I feel like a dog on a leash. There's an energy almost buzzing under my skin today. A restlessness, a need. It's like being horny, although it isn't a sexual urge.
I want to fuckin' create.
The immediate impulse is to blame it on one of my muses. But the muse is asleep, because I don't have any specific ideas to work on. Doot, not having any toys to play with, is sitting in a corner and staring into space. And Muse is silent, though that may or may not mean anything.*
This isn't a new feeling. In hindsight, since getting back from Mount Rainier I've had the jitters. And I've spent the time in overdrive. Look at Firefoxborn. Look at Egregore. And my Fireborn campaign is sprinting back into action, with the players ducking for cover against a hard and fast rain of plot twists.
By all accounts, last night's game was enjoyable, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves - but I feel like I've failed, because I feel like it wasn't enough. This is patently ridiculous. I ran out the clock at 2 AM still raring to go, with players remarking that they were going to have to review their notes to make sure they had gotten all the implications of all the new information. (This tends to happen when you create stable time loops by passing messages back to your past selves. But over the course of the last two sessions, virtually every group with a hand in the plot has been scrambling for new positioning thanks to the PCs' assassination of a major villain. My game notes now start with virtually a full page of "Current NPC Status and Goals" before I even get into that session's potential events.) And aigh! IT'S NOT ENOUGH.
The worlds inside my head are seething.
I need more outlets.
* We have already established that Muse plays a very long game.