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There's a cat that has been virtually adopted by the landfill after he showed up there earlier this year. That was the poor guy's intended destination: he came from the local vet's, but they botched the euthanization procedures badly. Poor thing was wandering around, confused. He's skittish but extremely friendly. I'm really impressed by him: he licked death on the nose and ran away. He simply should not be alive right now, but there he is. I've been joking that he's a shaman cat now, or at least I think I was joking.

Maybe I've been taking all of this too seriously. Perhaps all of my anxiety really is meaningless. Soon, I'll graduate, and maybe even after going to Alaska Pacific, perhaps I'll never make it as an illustrator, but I don't need to care. I can survive regardless.