"Hey buddy! Howya doing? How's it going? Did I wake you up?" My 'dead-beat' father is a morning person. I'd been half awake for hours, so really it was just like having a human alarm clock. He has this tendency to repeat the same 4 or 5 things in slightly different ways, like an advertising rep. giving a 60 minute pitch on 5 minutes of inspiration. I spoke English but I don't remember this; I just sortof assume it.

My Thanksgiving this year was thankfully traditional. Back in college, I made a habit of booking a reservation for this Chinese restaurant called The Mandarin every year. There were quite a few people with me on one occasion, but usually I ended up sitting by myself: admiring the smoke spiraling up from my cup of tea, pawing at my spicy sesame chicken while the same 45 second loop of crappy blues played on; it was special crap in a way, reserved for those occasions where noone was there. The whole restaurant was always practically mine.

So in that vein, Gran and mom had gone off this year to do their own thing and I was left to forage for whatever I wanted. I squandered the day on editing and talking with other Turkey Day outcasts, but really I just vacantly stared at the IE bar of my browser, wondering what to do as I checked my mail for the 5th time in 20 minutes.

But suddenly I heard that noise echoing again. The good captain phoned me to say he'd be in the area for the whole weekend. We made plans and I felt a little lighter as I waded through advice/mentoring/counseling for the evening. This has become a regular thing nowadays, like some weird elliptical life-path orbit back to my middle teens, only people's problems don't get to me anymore. The highlight then was giving Drew some advice on being assertive that actually seemed to stick. I got a mild headache in return. Eh, I've had worse.

Friday was much of the same, with me talking to Nikki about some issues before she and Noah had a huge fight, after which she evaporated like mist before the morning sun, off to join the Choir Invisible or some pit of obscurity next to Fairport Convention and Max Headroom.

Eventually, the Captain picked me up and he, his brother and I got into some discussions about the emphasis on science versus the humanities. We used college funding as an indication of how important each realm of study was to people in general. We concluded that while the sciences, by the nature of their equipment, generally need more money, they also fall more in line with the idea of Capitalism and are seen as more immediately important. For example, in a given field, from chemistry to geology, you can sometimes take findings and apply them in practical ways for consumers, be it the general public or a small minority.

By contrast, in the humanities, even in Art (which "produces" something), the emphasis isn't on it being immediately important, but the more long-term idea of enrichment and cultivation: things that enhance or complete a foundation (in the 'real' world). Sure, being able to make inside jokes about the Classics or discuss literature "is nice," but (as we concluded others might think) you can't really objectify the worth of what you learn there; there's no tangible widget of production value to raise to the heavens.

In essence, people agree to have the humanities possess worth, but the sciences themselves have a tangible worth based on their ability to produce either marketable or physically tangible discoveries.

The discussion aside, we watched Harry Potter part one before seeing the second film on Saturday. Many more have already written about it elsewhere, so I'll just say that I liked the flow of the first one better, but the mystery and detail of the second one more.

And today, Sunday, was fairly quiet: the Captain and I had lunch, watched the special edition of Lord of the Rings DVD and then had dinner. I complained about the same things as usual: feeling out-of-place and without a clear purpose, not studying for the graduate school exam, etc. He himself was worrying about homework and if he can make it through the next two weeks in his Masters program for education. Arrogant as it sounds, I envy my position: I don't have to prepare or suffer through a 'Finals week' for a few more years, perhaps never if my plans radically change.

First thing tomorrow I'm mailing my manuscript into the Magazine for Fantasy and Science Fiction. Hopefully it'll be accepted..and hopefully I'll find the impetus to write more often soon. Mostly I've just been helping good friends sort out their problems...which gets tiring, but it's a good sort of tired. I know, I know, time for the self and all that horseshit. I figure 2 weeks of not being selfish can't be a major carcinogen in my life just yet.

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