  Went to see Thespian's play, "Enemy of the People". Definitely good shit, wrought with superb performances. It seemed to take a lot of energy to perform, too; a lot of emoting, and a certain amount of pontificating. For two frigging hours. Most impressive. Despite being set in Europe, though, it seemed somehow American. It was as though there were ghostly American flags wafting in the background, nothing really concrete, but just vaguely American. Yeah, I don't know what I'm talking about either. I don't want a job. I want to want a job, though. Feeling sort of useless again. It would be entirely daft to get a job now, since we'll be off to the City for Christmas. Maybe I just want to take care of more cats. Animal therapy. I'm starting to think that perhaps i missed my calling; i think I'd make a good vet, although, i'm certain I'd be sad a lot of the time.
Maybe a vet's assistant; but I'm not entirely sure there would be much of a job market. Maybe I should just talk to WAAG about how to get more involved. My mom was telling me the other day that a dog in the City got poisoned by anti-freeze by some sick fucker; people are so entirely strange. When i was living there, someone kidnapped three dogs, and took them to a huge park, where they were ripped up by coyotes.
I think only one lived. What has to be going through your head to do something like that? Why would you poison a dog? And why is it easier for me to accept atrocities done to people than it is to animals? Soft heart, or soft head: you be the judge. 
