In a movie I once saw someone said that happiness is the hopeful expectation of good things to come. It's not simple satisfaction that can end at any time, it's the belief in the boundless opportunities and possibilites of the future. I've been having that a lot lately...it's not a bad feeling. I got that one from The Hours, a fantastic film. Meryl Streep is truely an amazing actress; that was the first film I've seen with her in it (I think), and I was blown away. She dominates every single scene she's in. It's an acting clinic...everything her character feels is expressed on her face, all in logical, flowing procession. I could watch a full-length film of just her in character. It's very interesting to watch movies from the acting perspective, it peels back the layers of meaning behind every line and camera angle. Of course, tons of movies dont have much depth, but good ones do. I read an article in the paper the other day about how there's so many young actors coming out of schools, and fewer and fewer roles to play. It's kind of disappointing, considering how acting is sort of my dream. According to Mr. Nelson, an acting career is something to be avoided at all costs...oh well, some dreams are just better left unexplored I guess. I don't think I have what it takes to make it in that field anyway. There are other dreams to chase. My Thanksgiving this year was much cooler than usual. Usually it involves going to Lexington to share the meal with my upper-crustish family from my mother's side. Not upper-crust really...more like middle class that pulled themselves up an echelon. Anyway, it's usually a pretty boring affair. This year was about the same, except in Connecticut with another uncle's family, and the day afterward we visited the other side of my family on the coast. It's such a contrast between the two sides, as it probably is with most families. My mother's side is very all-American, my father's side is a bit more erudite, more cultured. They have the feel of old money, even though they lost most of it a while ago. Not snobbish at all, just more refined. They're all artists too. The output of paintings and etchings is incredible, really...we ran out of space for it all years ago. We actually went to New London to visit my Uncle Bob and Aunt Ruthie in order to pick up some more artwork by my late Grandpa Roger, my dad's dad. After we had loaded the stuff onto the roof of the car, we went for a stroll on the amazing New London beach. It's so beautiful. There wasn't any snow, but it was bitterly cold, and the wind whipped up short little breakers on the surface of the ocean. The beach itself is massive, stretching for as far as you can see in both directions, and at least 100 meters wide. The sand is white, calcium carbonate grains created from the shells of ancient creatures millions of years old and ground down into tiny bits by the pounding waves. It was quite a feeling...what it is about the sea that makes us feel so much closer to our dreams? Is that what happens whenever we approach the infinite? Victor Hugo wrote that the only thing bigger than the sea is the sky, and the only thing bigger than the sky is a human soul. "To approach the infinite is to approach the mirror image of our own soul, which is God." Or something like that. I picked up a nice seashell to keep the place fresh in my mind. This has gone on long enough, I'll end it right here.