My writing skills will be severly judged come Thursday, when my whirlwind project will be distributed with the daily newspaper, Morgunbladid. I've been working on a Schedule of events for the 100 year anniversary of the town of Hafnarfjordur. Am kindof nervous about the whole thing. Writing in solitude is nerve-wrecking, I don't know how writers deal with it. It's like my one and only documentary - I showed it once ('cause I had to) but never again... too nerve wrecking. I am a closet perfectionist. 

Guess this is something I'll have to overcome... or not. I could be one of those lonely old people that when they die people discover them as one of the great writers/documentary film makers of the 21st Century... OR they'll say: wow, she really WAS a loon.

Either way, I will neither know nor care by then.

So... I missed the Bob Dylan concert which made me sad. But I did catch the performance of the Iceland Dance Company and Carte Blanche on Saturday - which was really good. 

Afterwards, me and Sólrún went to Hildur's to watch Eurovision, where Edda later joined us.

Like good Eurovision fans we had a marvellous drinking game, capitalizing on the contestants' tendancy to over-indulge in teeth-whitening agents and tanning creams... with extra points for obvious plastic surgery and bleached hair. 

Boy, were we wasted.

Hey, I love how my Apple takes pictures, here I am at work, pretending to be working while actually taking a photograph of myself. Kindof egocentric, huh?