wheels were turnin' without sense

[melannen]

I'd forgotten how time-consuming computer coloring is. And how addictive.

Also addictive is doodling celtic knotwork, which I thought I had cured myself of, but apparently not.

Tonight was the last Writer's House event of the year: Decland Spring of New Directions publishing. He was awesome, and I have a sudden urge to A) get an internship at a publishing house; B) go to Vertigo Books and spend my entire savings account.

Hmm, y'know, if I wanted to do the hobbit birthday thing this year, that'd be the way to go. Hmm.

Poll for people reading this journal, courtesy of James Laughlin, Vladimir Nabokov and whats-his-name from Writer's House:

If you were sliding down an icy cliff, about to fall to your death, and could save yourself by grabbing the ankle of any living writer, whose ankle would you choose?

Afterward I got in a conversation with starfishumd. She may be rooming with me next year! She was recently introduced to HP slash, and knows anime! She's the only other science major in the Writer's House! She's now on my friends list! I am excited.

I also somehow agreed to get Johnna directions to Burnt Mills park, so the writer's house can take a bike/picnic/writing excursion at the end of the semester. It is an absolutely beautiful place. But if I'm going to beg Dr. Prestegaard for directions I really oughta finish my overdue labs first. *sigh*

At ten tonight is the Dorchester House spring ball; semi-formal, swing and jazz. Debating going. Upside: Annoying all the boys I've refused to go to dances with. Downside: Might be expected to actually dance. Hmm.

Obligatory quiz result:
I am 63.90533% Geek - Extreme Geek. Wiigii! w00t!