Cynthia Rowen was born sometime when the Sun was high in Capricornus and the moon was dancing with the Gemini at about the same time the Rooster was strutting its way jauntily into the month of Janus to the Epiphany. She originally hails from the City of Angels found in the Golden State, so named because of the peculiar hue of the vegetation in Summer during the time when dragons have their national Smoke-out. This lovely sanctuary of much envied temperate weather is currently situated in the Land of Hicks and Hippies (and home of England Lite) due south of the Land of Hockey but in the next few million years most likely will be due west of Hockeyland according to the The Will of Plate Tectonics, however in compensation it will gain the privilege of confusing hours of daylight long awarded to the great Northern Icebox.
She likes to wander in the woods which is considerably difficult in her current state of residence unless you count high rises and ghettoes as the 'Woods' which is most likely an arguably apt title. She also likes to draw more than she should and is currently the slave of the Muse of Vaguely Discordant Harmonies and has sold her soul to Random and Eccentric Music. She also likes to write really long, nonsensical bios which undoubtedly lead some people to come the conclusion that she is decidedly odd. The artist does not currently concur with this theory. The artist also would like to point out that she has a bad caffeine addiction and wakes up earlier than the average college student. She also plans on avoiding the real world as long as possible.
She is currently studying the scribbles of the Really Old Dead White British Males Club (R.O.D.W.B.M.C.) and is firmly convinced after a year in England that 1) the Classics are antiquated and highly celebrated pornography and 2) UC Berkeley in fact does not exist thanks to the wisdom of one Arielle Lafleur. She has also come to the conclusion that all literary criticism is simply a highly elaborate academic conspiracy in order to make it appear like Literature Professors are actually doing something meaningful and useful for society with their time. Which suits her fine, as she's always wanted to be part of a conspiracy particularly if she can make up a phantasmagoric conspiracy theory out of it.
She is now spending her time after exams, when not drawing 'meaningful art' either contemplating the correct velocity and angle of a thrown frisbee in order to achieve an effect where said flattened orb floats on the wind with the grace of an overweight pigeon or strategically placing frightening and pointless drawings on her friends' doors. She also regularly plots her escape from reality by utilizing the cover that she is actually planning her future.
And due to the fact that it means the delay of becoming a useful member of society, she has come to the conclusion that she must attend Graduate School somewhere, presumably studying on how to be an obscure species of dolphin with art school on the side in order to gain some real art technique so she can spend the rest of her life drawing sequential art, which would be a considerable feat should she actually be able to become said dolphin.
She wishes to thank Tracy for the webspace and Jay for his mad HTML skill0rz; this being a technical term.