(no subject)

When I went to groggily feed the beasties this morning, I realized there were only three of the usual four. Running a quick (for being sleepy, i.e. slow) inventory, I realized Petrov was missing about the time I heard angry, upset yelling from downstairs. I was worried that he might have gotten himself hurt or trapped somewhere (he's been trying to get into the drop ceiling for ages), but it turns out he somehow got into the laundry room behind shut doors. As soon as I opened the door, he streaked out to the food dish, apparently very worried that other cats were eating without him.

I still don't know how he got in there. We keep the doors closed, and I couldn't see any other means of entry; none of the ceiling tiles were out of place, even. That's just weird.

assholes on the internet

The comment sections of most blogs really make me hate humanity sometimes.

despair and depression

Kierkegaard on the couch

Philosophy prof Gordon Marino on the Kierkegaardian distinction between despair and depression. Personally, I'm not so sure it's a map with clearly marked borders separating the two. My own despair, as I understand it, feeds my depression, though my depression tends not to feed my despair so much; it's much more self absorbed, self contained (to the extent that anything that colors the subjective perspective of my world can be. I think the distinction, for me, is that depression is always about me in relation to my perception of the world, whereas despair seems like more about the world, without me necessarily as focus).