Weblog Archives

Good news and bad news:

Good news: G4 did the official switch from Pong to real programming at 12AM EDT this morning. My show, Arena, even has it's own page on the website now. I just checked it out, and they've added TONS of stuff to that page. You can click the little 8-bit picture of me, and see all sorts of spiffy stuff.

Bad news: I am officially sick. I have some sort of sinus infection thingy. My head is so stuffy and my throat hurts so badly, I may have to go see a real doctor (I much prefer those guys who dance around you and chant, while shaking a stick that has a complete set of A-Team dolls tied to the top of it.)

Even though I was feeling like hell last night, I went out to our official launch party, where everyone from Comcast down to the janitor in our building watched the programming switch from Pong to Blister. It was a strange feeling. I felt like we've been pushing this rock up a hill for months, and we've totally been able to control where the rock is going, and how fast it's rolling...and now it's over the top of the hill, and on it's way down, and we just have to keep up with it, and hope that it doesn't roll too far away from us.

It's still a bit surreal to me, because Arena evolves heavily from our first episode to our fourth, and we're just now hitting our stride...so it won't be until the third or fourth show is on the air that I'll feel that sense of accomplishment and excitement that I always feel when a something I've worked on is put in front of an audience.

The thing that's totally new and different for me is that I'll be constantly producing new material, so I won't get to sit back and think, "Man, Episode 107 was GREAT!" Because Episode 108 is right around the corner.

It's good though, one thing I've never liked to do is sit back and rest on my laurels.

Oh! One last thing before I go back to bed: I drove over a screw a few days ago, and my tire was going flat yesterday, so I took it back to the tire shop, and got a free replacement, because I'd bought that stupid road hazzard insurance for like 8 bucks. Hmm... 8 bucks or 200 bucks? I was happy to save the 200 bucks.

So I bought myself a cool new shirt for 25 bucks (Or should I say, Vega$ bought me a shirt?! Oh YEAH BABY!), and called it even.

Thought For Today comes from the Tao:

"The sky is everlasting
And the earth is very old.
Why so? Because the world
Exists not for itself;
It can and will live on.

The Wise Man chooses to be last
And so becomes the first of all;
Denying self, he too is saved.
For does he not fulfillment find
In being an unselfish man?

Well, I'm still sick. I've broken down and made a doctor's appointment for today.

I was reading loren's site earlier today, and I have found a new purpose in life: Geocaching. As soon as I get some time and some scratch, I'm totally getting a cheap GPS, and taking the kids to do this. It looks awesome.

Thought for Today:

"If you sacrifice others for yourself, you will suffer the consequences."

Today's title comes from The Vandals album "Fear of a Punk Planet." One of the true classics, if you ask me.

Doctor update: I have a sinus infection, and the doc put me on antibiotics. I didn't want to take them, but he agreed to dance around me with a stick chanting the theme to Knight Rider if I did, so we compromised.

I have heeded countless email requests, and I've put up an eBay auction. It's an 8x10 of me in the spiffy red spacesuit. Interesting fact about this photo: it's the only one of me from TNG that I really like. Of all the publicity photos I ever did, I think I look the least lame in this one. The auction is set for 5 days.

Also, I've updated the library selections on the right side over there. I was going to let them stay for another week or so...but when I saw that Hitchhiker's Guide was out, I couldn't wait. I am such a geek.

So check it out: if this auction goes well, I can totally buy a GPS, and start geocaching...how cool would it be to make a WWDN geocaching team?

I'm taking the kids to see Spiderman tonight. I hope it doesn't suck.

Funny, isn't it? In a post-Episode I world, every time I get excited about a big movie opening, I am reminded of how ripped off and angry I was when I left that movie, and my excitement is tempered...then I recall how much I loved X-Men, and my excitement rises again...and then, while I'm basking in that warm feeling...I remember Jar-Jar, and [whine] "My name is Anakin, and I'm a peson!" [/whine]

Well, at the very least, Kirsten Dunst is hot. :-)

Oh, and speaking of hot...maybe Episode II won't be so bad after all. Meow.

I'm off to work now. I hope everyone has a great weekend!

Oh, and....GO LAKERS!

Hey, guess what I got today? I got my very own desk, here at G4!

Normally a desk wouldn't be something to get excited about, but having this desk means that I have more space for stuff, and that means those cool Simpsons action figures I've bought over the last year or so have come out of the cabinet at home, and are now proudly on display. There's something oddly comforting being observed by Professor Frink all day, while I'm sitting here with the writing and rewriting and the emailing and the Heeeyyyyy!

Honestly, when I got this job I told my brother to come and smack me in the head if I ever cared too much about where I sat, because that would mean that I'd gone totally corporate, but I really do like the extra space. I think I'm going to get some of those little chili pepper lights, and put them around my cubicle walls tomorrow.

NOT!

Jesus, what do you take me for? Come ON!

So, onto the weekend.

Friday, I took the boys to see Spider-Man.

I really liked it a lot. I was never much of a Spider-Man weenie, like I was for Batman, so I can't really go Comic Book Guy on it, which I guess is a good thing. I wonder how many otherwise enjoyable movies are totally ruined for us because we go Comic Book Guy on them? That's something interesting to think about...

I'm going to hold off on the big review for a few days, so I don't lone-gunmen-are-dead it for anyone.

My favorite thing? I sat next to Nolan, and more than once he tuged at my sleeve to tell me, "Wil, I LOVE this movie! I can't wait to get it on DVD!"

Other than that, it was a very uneventful weekend. I brought Silent Hill 2 home from work, and really enjoyed that, too. What a scary freakin' experience that was...on the advice of a guy I work with, I played it late at night with all the lights in my house turned off...and after about 2 hours I had switched on a light, and had called Ferris to sit with me.

Yeah, I'm a sissy like that.

Speaking of video games, Anne and I took the kids to the Pakk Man Arcade in Pasadena on Sunday. It's this arcade that I've been going to since I was too young to drive myself, and it's really awesome to share that place with my boys, and see them experience the excitement that I once felt.

The thing is, the Pasadena City Council, in their infinite "wisdom", is on the rampage to close down the arcade. They've been at it for years, but it looks like they may have finally found a way to do it. I'm beyond furious at this, and I'm joining the fight to keep the arcade open. If you live in or near Los Angeles, or Orange County, please consider coming to a huge rally that is being held to save the arcade, on Saturday, May 18th.

If you're planning on attending, email me and let me know. I'll look for you there, and we can make up some sort of WWDN battle cry to holler at the rally. It'll be cool.

Speaking of cool, the auction ends tomorrow, and I can't believe that it's over 200 bucks. I think that's really cool. I'll be able to pay for a GPS device for geocaching with my kids, and I'll have extra left over to pay some bills. Cool! :-)

It's time to get back to spinning in my cool chair before my meeting.

Thought for today:

"We live in age when unnecessary things are our only necessities."
-Oscar Wilde

This is just too good to pass up.

I just found out that my weblog is going to be featured on The Screen Savers tonight.

So I got to thinking (always a dangerous thing) that if they show a screen shot of my site, this entry will be at the top.

So it would be like I'm in the background at a baseball game, waving to someone through the TV.

*wave*
*wave*

God, I am such a dork.

I swear to god.

I hope these useless motherfuckers from Enron die a slow and agonizing death.

We all knew this was going on, and we all screamed about it last year, we all knew that this deregulation of the power industry in California(pdf) was a BAD IDEA but those incompetent morons in the California legislature and that mouthbreather in the governor's mansion didn't do a damn thing about it.

You know what makes me so goddamn angry? "Kenny Boy" is such a close friend of "President" Bush, and Enron has bought so many members of Congress (You know, those people who are supposed to represent us in government?) not a damn thing will happen to him.

Me, and thousands of my fellow Californians will be paying for his hubris for DECADES, and he is going to walk.

Grrr.

If you're interested, there's lots more Enron info here, and here.

*whew*

Sorry. Got off on a bit of a rant there.

Hey, it happens.

On my way home from work about an hour ago, a really weird thing happened to me.

I was sitting in traffic, waiting for a light to change, and I looked at the car to my right. The driver was a girl, probably in her early 20s, talking on a cell phone. She was crying, really hard, and seemed to be really frustrated with the person on the other end of the line.

As I watched her, I noticed something: we were separated by only a few feet, but we were completely isolated from each other in our cars. Different cars, different clothes, different ages, different music on our radios (unless she was listening to Return of Saturn also)...just looking at her, I couldn't tell if we would have had anything in common, other than our basic humanity.

I watched her, and I began to feel really badly for her. Just by watching her, I could feel her frustration with the person on the other end of the line, and it made me really sad, and I began to cry.

I cried, really hard, for close to 5 minutes, because of a person who I have never seen before, and will probably never see again.

I thought about what a metaphor that was for life, and the way we all deal with one another. We move through our lives, passing closely to hundreds of people each day, and we're total strangers to each other. We keep our heads down, averting our eyes, rarely looking up to say hello to a stranger in the hallway. Even in our own families we isolate ourselves in our metaphorical cars, and stay in our own metaphorical lanes.

I wonder how different the world would be if we made an effort to roll down our metaphorical windows and say hello more often.

When I was a kid, I traded my Death Star for a Land Speeder and 5 bucks.

The kid who talked me into the trade wasn't really a friend by choice. He was the son of some of my mom and dad's friends, and we'd play together at his house while our parents listened to Fleetwood Mac in the den with the door closed, giggling about stuff that just didn't make sense to me, at all.

So we were like prisoners of war, forced share a cell together, knowing that once the war was over, we'd never talk again.

I was aware of this situation, even at 8, so I was naturally skeptical of anything he offered me. He was already 10, and in Double Digits, so I knew that I should be a little wary of him.

The offer came to me one afternoon in his backyard, next to his parent's swimming pool. I'd brought over my Death Star and some Star Wars figures, so we'd have something to do. There was no way I was going to endure a repeat of the last time I'd been there, where I my only entertainment was watching him organize and gloat over his collection of exotic matchbooks.

So we were sitting by the pool, which was doubling for the shore of an exotic new planet, where the Death Star had been relocated. He drove up his Land Speeder, and as he began to help his passengers out, I casually admired it.

He immediately offered a trade, but I declined. There was no way I was about to give up my Death Star for a Land Speeder that didn't even have any obvious guns.

He expressed some shock at my reluctance, showing off its exciting and retractable wheels, and exquisitely-detailed dashboard sticker.

Although I was intrigued, I resisted. I really liked my Death Star. It had a cool Trash Compactor Monster.

He then let me in on a secret that only the ten year olds knew: Death Stars were lame. Land Speeders were cool.

This was news to me, and gave me pause for consideration. Did I really want to keep this Death Star, knowing that it was lame? How many of the Big Kids were laughing at me while they raced their own Land Speeders around, as I sat with my Death Star, wheel-and-stickerless?

While I wondered about this, he made a very generous offer: He would trade me the Landspeeder for the Death Star. He didn't need to worry about what the other kids thought, he told me, because he also had an X-Wing Fighter and Darth Vader's TIE-Fighter. This combination, he went on, was even cooler than a Land Speeder, so he was alright.

While I considered this new information, he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He would give me five bucks to sweeten the deal.

Five bucks?!

I didn't need to hear another word.

I made the trade, willingly handing over the deed to my Death Star without so much as a handshake. He gave me the Land Speeder, followed by five bucks from the front pocket of his Rough Riders. Shortly after that, my parents came out of the house, telling me that it was time to go home, after a stop on the way to pick up many bags of potato chips and pretzels.

Now, I know this seems like a shitty trade, because it was, but at the time, five bucks was as good as one million, and that Land Speeder did have wheels, man! WHEELS!

With those wheels, I thought, I could ferry four of my Star Wars figures across my kitchen floor with just one push!

One push was all it would take for Princess Leah and Luke Skywalker escape the dangerous prison The Empire had built from Tupperware cups and a Styrofoam drink cooler in the shadow of my parent's refrigerator! They could be accompanied on their journey to the safety of the Rebel base, which was cleverly hidden from the Empire beneath the breakfast table, by C3P0 and R2-D2, who would be attached to the back of their seats via amazing foot-peg technology! This vehicle was all that stood between the rebel alliance and victory! I couldn't believe that I had even considered for a moment not trading my very un-cool Death Star for this magnificent chariot.

The entire drive home, I sat on the back seat of the 1971 VW Bus, paying no attention to the cool strains of the Grateful Dead playing out of the 8-track. My mind was focused on the coming prison escape, and ensuing battle, where I just knew the Empire would enlist the help of GI Joe and He-Man. Good thing Luke and company had this new Land Speeder to get them out of danger!

Sadly, once I was home and on the kitchen floor, the reality of the trade did not meet the grand build up it had been given by my young imagination. That single push did not send my heros to quick safety. Rather, it sent them forward about 6 inches and to the left, coming to an anticlimactic rest against the front of the dishwasher. Only the constant presence of my grimy 8 year-old fist would give them adequate propulsion away from danger. And the foot-peg technology was quickly replaced by the more reliable scotch-tape-and-rubber band technology.
The novelty of rolling that Land Speeder around the floor quickly wore off, and I really missed my Death Star.

Fortunately, all was not lost: I had that five bucks. Five bucks to spend anyway I wanted. I was rich, man. Filthy rich, and that made me a god amongst the kids on my block.

For weeks I sat in my bedroom, atop my Chewbacca bedspread, holding that 5 dollar bill in my hands, just looking at it, admiring it, basking in the glow of unimaginable wealth while the noe-forgotten Land Speeder gathered dust in the back of my closet, behind Mister Machine and a partially completed model of the USS Arizona.

I capriciously thought of ways to spread my new found wealth amongst the other kids in our group...A pack of Wacky Packs stickers for Scott Anderson, some Toffifay for Joey Carnes, maybe even the invitation to Kent Purser to play doubles on Galaxian, my treat.

I was going to be very generous with my new wealth. I was going to be an 8 year-old philanthropist. Maybe I'd set up a foundation for the kids around the corner, who always wore the same clothes and smelled funny.

Maybe I'd stand outside the doors of Sunland Discount Variety, offering low-interest loans to kids wanting to play Gyruss or Star Castle.

I even thought about opening a savings account at the local Crocker Bank, where I'd get my own passbook and a set of Crocker Spaniels as a thank you gift.

Ultimately, though, like any normal 8 year-old, I kept it for myself, and there was a brief but shining moment in the summer of 1980, when I was allowed to ride my bike all the way to Hober's Pharmacy, stopping at every intersection to check the front pocket of my two-tone OP shorts to ensure that my 5 dollar bill, which I'd folded into a tight little square and tucked into my Velcro wallet, hadn't somehow escaped my possession. I took that five bucks, and bought myself Wacky Packs, a Slush Puppy, and enough surgical tubing to make several water weenies. I even had enough left over after playing Bagman, Donkey Kong, and Asteroids Deluxe to take a chance on the intimidating wall of buttons that was Stargate. It was one of the grandest days of my young life, and helped soften the disappointment that came when my friend Stephen proclaimed that my Land Speeder wasn't "rad", but "sucked."

I recently went back to Sunland, hoping to pick up a Slush Puppy, and maybe see one or two of the phantoms of my youth haunting those stores, but they were nowhere to be found. I ended up getting a Mellow Yellow-flavored Slurpee from 7-11 and heading back home, where I spent some time looking for that Land Speeder in my garage.

I don't know why, but I still have it. There's an inscription on the bottom which proclaims "THIS IS WIL'S LaNdSPEEdR! kEpP YOU hANdS OFF OF It OR ELSE!!"

I took it out of the box, and dusted it off. I held it in my hands for the first time in twenty years, and suddenly that trade didn't seem like such a bad idea, after all.

Look out, Darth Vader. You can build your Prison Fortress on my kitchen floor, but the Rebel Alliance has a new escape pod on the way, and you'd better "kEpP YOU hANdS OFF OF It OR ELSE !!"

Everyone who emailed and commented seemed to really enjoy the last entry, and I'm really happy about that. I am very proud of it, and I'm going to see if I can get it published someplace. This is an odd feeling for me, because I am usually very critical of everything I do, which prevents me from sitting back and saying to myself, "Hey, Wil! You did a good job! Enjoy it!"

Anyway, I'm going to submit The Trade to This American Life, and see what happens. Cross your collective fingers for me, if you don't mind. :-)

Anne shared a sentiment with me last night, which I think she heard from my mom, and it is the thought for today:

"A mother is only as happy as her saddest child."

In response to numerous emails: I'm not dead. I just haven't had anything worthwhile to write about.

But!

I got my Garmin today, and I'm taking the boys geocaching tomorrow after school. I'm sure I'll have something cool to write about, then. :-)

Soapbox is completely screwed up. I don't know why, but the database keeps crashing. I don't have time to work on it, I'm really sorry. I think we can work on it later in the week, when I get some free time.

The Need To Win

When an archer is shooting for nothing
He has all his skill.
If he shoots for a brass buckle
He is already nervous.
If he shoots for a prize of gold
He goes blind
Or sees two targets-
He is out of his mind!

His skill has not changed. But the prize
Divides him. He cares.
He thinks more of winning
Than of shooting-
And the need to win
Drains him of power.

-Selections, Chuang Tzu

Well, I just found out that FHM named me one of their sexiest cover girls.

Not too bad, considering that I haven't worked out in over a year, wouldn't you say?

FARK is totally responsible for making this happen. You can read about it here.

Seriously, I love it that I can be part of something so silly and fun, without having to wear a bear suit and sing patriotic songs.

The family and I successfully found our first geocache yesterday, which I will write about at length later today.

Last night, at the Los Angeles Underground Film Festival Awards Dinner, Jane White is Sick and Twisted won best comedy, and my friend Danica won best new director for her movie Speechless, in which I have a small part.

How cool is that?! I'm in two movies which won awards, and I got to meet Zack Ward, who played Scut Farcus (He had yellow eyes...so help me God, yellow eyes), who was hosting the awards ceremony. It was funny...during the opening of the ceremony, he's reading his prepared jokes, which are really funny, and he looks at me (I was sitting near the stage) and he totally stops and says, "Hey, Wil Wheaton! How you feeling?" The whole room is staring at me, so I say, "Uhhh...singled out." Which is really funny, you see, because I was sitting next to my friend Chris Hardwick, who is not only in Jane White, but also hosted Singled Out on eMpTyVee. Unfortunately, I was the only one in the room who enjoyed the ironic humor.

You know, this is also a good time to share with everyone that Jane White has gotten rave reviews, and has also won quite a few awards! I'm extremely proud of Jane White, because it's the first movie that I've done that is really just 100% comedy (on purpose, unlike The Curse).

When we were done at the awards dinner, Chris talked me into going up the street to The Laugh Factory, because he's friends with Bob Saget, and Saget was doing a set. Now, here's the thing about Saget: He's insanely dirty, profane, raunchy, offensive, and hilarious in person. He is so unlike the stuff he does on TV, and if you ever get a chance to see him, I highly recomend it.

Three random things:

I noticed this morning that searching for "Wheaton" on Google Images gives rather interesting results.

I had an interesting thought about why Geocaching appeals to me so much, especially as an activity to do with the kids: it's about the journey, much more than it is about the destination.

My step-kids have spent so much time around hyper-competitive Little League and Soccer parents and coaches, who put the focus on winning at all costs, rather than just playing (despite what the various organizations claim about sportsmanship) that I want them to be in an environment where their enjoyment is in the doing, rather than based solely on their success. Geocaching puts the focus right where I want it to be, and even if we don't find the cache just taking the hike and spending the time together is awesome.

Some birds are building a nest in my breezeway. I think that's really cool.

Thought for today:

"If you hate your parents, the man or the establishment, don't show them up by getting wasted and wrapping your car around a tree. If you really want to rebel against your parents: outearn them, outlive them, and know more than they do."
-Henry Rollins

I hope everyone had a nice weekend...mine was spent with the boys, because Anne headed up to Portland to visit one of her friends for her birthday.

I was really looking forward to a cool "just us guys" weekend, but the boys were really in a lousy mood most of the weekend. They just wouldn't stop bickering with each other, and Ryan had on his "I'm 12 and you're an idiot" pants most of the time. I bet he found them in my box of stuff from my parent's house...I think I'll go burn the "I'm 14 and you're an asshole" pants before he can find them. Nostalgia be damned!

We did do some cool things this weekend, though.

Nolan had a soccer game on Saturday, and I thought I was going to miss it because I have a class on Saturdays, but the teacher gave me the OK to come late, so I could watch the game. Nolan's playing indoor soccer in a different league than the evil AYSO league he played in last year here. It is really non-competitive, with the focus put 100% on the kids having fun and goofing off. The parents and the coaches were really cool, except for one parent who was sitting next to the kids and me while we were waiting for Nolan's game to start. This guy's kid must have been, oh, five, maybe six years old, and his dad thought it was extremely important that he scream at the kid to "ATTACK THE GODDAM BALL, JUSTIN!"

Yeah. He's lucky I wasn't wearing my "I'm 29 and you're a shitty parent" pants, because I'd have let him have it.

The coolest thing happened at this game, though. Nolan had invited my parents to come and watch, as well as two of my friends. My friends never showed up, but my folks did, and I wish I could recreate for everyone the look of pride and joy that filled Nolan's face when he saw that they'd come to watch him.

They walked past the goal where he was standing, and he just lit up, and came running over to us, and threw his arms around my mom and then my dad, and said, "You made it! Thank you for coming to my game!"

He's seemed a little unhappy recently (I think there's some stuff going on with his dad), and it was really awesome to see him so joyful for a change.

He played a great game, in pretty much every position. He did not allow a goal when he was in the net, and nearly scored three different times. The game was a total blowout, but I could tell that all the kids, on both teams, were having a great time. I guess it makes a difference when parents aren't wearing their "I'm middle-aged and unhappy with my own life so I'll try to get some vicarious glory through my kids who just want to play and have fun" pants.

Saturday night, Ryan spent the night at his friend's house...he told me that they spent the evening singing karaoke with his parents.

I'm not too sure I'm so comfortable that. ;-)

So Sunday came, and I took Ryan and Nolan geocaching.

We started out looking for this one, but it just didn't want to be found, so we headed off to another one, which Ryan found really easily.

Filled with the flush of success, we headed up to this one, which was my favorite of the day...what a beautiful hike, where we saw some deer, and a spectacular view of where I grew up in La Crescenta!

We were all feeling tired, and thinking of heading home, but the kids insisted that we go try one final cache, which Nolan found, much to his delight.

I realized that the best part of it for me was not the actual finding (although we were pretty frustrated to not find the one at the bridges), but the spending time with the boys (oh, how I wish I could call them "my boys," but that's another story) and discovering new places that we had never seen before.

We've gone looking for 5 different caches here in the last week, and each cache has been in a place that I've driven past about three hundred times a year, but never bothered to look at closely.

For example, I drive over the Colorado street bridge at least 4 times a week, and I've never been down into the Arroyo before. If any of you live in Pasadena, I strongly suggest heading down and walking the path that leads beneath the two bridges. It's really beautiful, and great for dogs. Just watch out for the poison oak!

I thought back to the metaphor about ignoring things which are right in front of us, and I was really greatful to the people who placed the caches for giving my an excuse to explore these areas, and spend the time discovering them with the kids.

Anne came home late last night, after numerous flight delays, and all was right with the world. It was a good weekend, indeed.

Thought for today:

"People inflict pain on others in the selfish pursuit of their happiness or satisfaction. Yet true happiness comes from a sense of brotherhood and sisterhood."

UGO has a really funny interview I did with them to support the release of Jane White is Sick and Twisted. Don't forget to scroll past the advertisement, or you'll miss the whole second half. (When I read it I thought, "Hey, didn't I say a lot more stuff?")

I'm in my garage, digging through a box of stuff, trying to find my Awful Green Things From Outer Space game.

I'm on the cold concrete floor, looking through the open box. I move aside some books and find my game. As I lift it out of the box, it reveals this Cadet Wesley Crusher action figure, just sitting there in the bottom of the box.

I look at him, wondering whether I should just look away and pretend that I didn't see him, or take him out and say hello.

After an awkward silence, I pick him up and say, "Hey, how you doin'?"

He just stares back at me, silent and stoic from within his plastic cell.

I consider him for a moment and tell him, "you know, you look sort of cool in this uniform. You should have stuck around a bit longer, so you could have worn it more."

He gives no response, and I pause a moment to admire his perfect hair. I run my hand through my own unwashed hair, and my fingers get thick with yesterday's water wax. I wonder if his perfect hair still smells like Sebastian Shaper hairspray.

His eyes burn into mine, his blank stare mocking me, and I can't take it any longer.

I put him back into the box, and as I'm about to put an unopened box of 1990 Topps NHL trading cards on him he says, "Wait!"

I lift up the box of cards, and he's looking up at me, his smug confidence replaced with sadness.

"Hey, I don't want to stay in this box any more. You gotta let me out." His green eyes implore me to release him.

"Sorry, Wesley, but if I take you off of that card, you're worthless."

"Well, at least let me come sit on a shelf in your house! This box is cold and dark, and since you took out the Ren and Stimpy plush toys in December, there isn't even anyone to talk to!"

I think of the years he and I spent together. I think back to our falling out, and I can't believe that someone I was so close to has become such a stranger, and I know what I must do.

"You're right, Wesley. You can't stay in this box any longer. It's just not right. I'm going to find you a new home. Someplace where you will have lots of other action figures to talk to, and maybe even a collectible plate or two."

"You mean...you're going to put me on eBay?"

"Yep."

"No! You suck, Wheaton!"

"Shut up, Wesley."

When I come home late at night from E3, I toss my keys on the table, and say hello to Ferris.

I drop my fully-loaded "X-Box" bag-o-schwag on the floor, and sit down at my computer to check emails and make sure the website is running okay.

It's late at night, and the rest of my house is asleep. The only sound other than my typing is that soft comforting hum of the fan in my computer. The room is dark, except for the light falling off of my monitor.

He's sitting on my desk, just outside the monitor's soft glow, staring at me.

"Hey, Wesley, I've got some good news."

"You've had a change of heart, and you're going to put me in a Jello mold with Counselor Troi and Princess Leah?"

"No. First of all, Princess Leah isn't even the right scale for you --"

"Who said anything about scale? I'm articulated!"

"Do you want to hear the good news, or not?"

He sighs the perturbed yet insecure sigh of an 18 year-old. He strains his little plastic body against the twisty-tie which is holding him to his cardboard backing.

"Yes."

"You're way more popular that I thought. People have bid nearly 300 dollars for you on eBay! You're a hit, Crusher! They love you!"

He stops straining and looks at me, incredulous.

"What?"

"Yeah! Take a look."

I pick him up and turn him to face the monitor.

"Hey, slow down, jackass. You're going to give me motion sickness."

I wonder if this is the correct doll. I wonder if I've picked up the Evil Wesley Crusher, instead. I spin him around again, and look for the tell tale goatee, but it's not there. I guess he's just cranky.

"Dude! Take it easy!"

"Sorry."

I slowly turn him back around, and point him at the monitor. I click the URL, and show him the bidding.

"See? Isn't that cool? All this time we thought people hated us, but they like us, Wesley! They really like us!"

He is silent for a moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion.

"Yeah. That's....well....that's really cool," he says, and I swear I can feel the cardboard shudder a little bit in my hands.

"Hey, Wheaton,"

"Yeah?"

"Can you just put me down on the desk for awhile? I've...uh...I think I have something in my eye."

"Are you crying, Wesley?"

"Shut up, Wheaton."

The time has come.

I've been putting it off over the weekend, attending my best friend's wedding, going geocaching with my step-son.

But it is time. Money has changed hands, and I have an obligation to fulfill.

I pick him up from my desk, and avoid eye contact as I carry him into the dining room.

I gingerly put him down on my dining room table, and he looks like a patient about to undergo some sort of surgery. Strangely, I feel more like Doctor Giggles than Doctor Green.

He looks up at me and says, "Hey, Wheaton. What do you say you let me out of this box, and take me for a spin in your landspeeder?"

"Can't do it, Wesley. First, you're the wrong scale, and second, you don't belong to me anymore."

He doesn't reply. He knows that I'm right.

I uncap a gold paint pen, and get ready. The familiar burn of acetone and paint hits me in the face, and a series of convention memories blurs through my mind, in hyper-real Hunter S. Thompson-o-vision: I sign a plate, a photo, a poster, field a question that I don't know the answer to, politely decline the offer of a hug from a large woman in a "Spock Lives!" T-shirt. The memories race past, and I watch them with a certain amount of detachment, a spectator to my own life.

Although the places and people changed, there was little difference from one hotel convention hall to the next: The same questions, the same jokes, the same inescapable smell...the memories engulf me with a frightening and surprising lucidity. I think that I've allowed these events to drift into the distance of memory, but they come back, immediate and insisent, as if no time has passed.

He looks at me, daring me to give voice to these thoughts.

I realize that we are very interwoven, whether we like it or not, and as I open my mouth to speak, something I'd never thought of before comes into my mind: I can exist without him, but he could not, would not, does not exist without me.

Suddenly, I feel free.

I lift the pen up, and touch it to the plastic, and write what I've been asked to write:

"Vincent -

"I am sick of
following rules and regulations!

-Wil Wheaton"

It's done.

I sit back, and regard him. He's obscured by my writing, which casts a lattice-work of shadows across his face and body. The symbolism of this moment is not lost on me.

"You know, that was a cool line," he says. "Remember how cool it was to stand up to Picard?"

"Yeah. It was fun being you back then," I tell him. "I watched Code of Honor last night though. Jesus, you were a dork, man."

"That wasn't me, dude. That was Wesley Crusher, the doctor's son. I'm Cadet Crusher, the bad ass. Wesley was a dork. Cadet Crusher was cool. Need I remind you who waxed Robin Lefler's ass?"

"Why do you have to talk that way? People have a certain image of you, you know."

"Hey, they can kiss my shiny plastic ass. I have never been responsible for the things I say. I can only say what someone tells me to say. As a matter of fact, I'm not even talking now. You're putting all these words in my mouth."

"So my Tyler Durden is a 5 inch action figure? That's just perfect. At least you can't force me into some sort of Project Mayhem."

"Oh, I can't?"

I can't tell through the gold paint pen, but I think he's sizing me up.

"You're such a pussy, Wheaton. We were cool when we wore this spacesuit, and you know it. Fucking own that, boyo. If anyone has a problem with that, they can fuck all the way off. "

I'm a bit shocked to hear this come out of us.

"Uh, Wesley, you really can't talk like that."

"I just told you, it's not me. It's you, cock-knocker. Now put me in the box, and find some other cool thing to auction. I think I saw a plate in the closet."

"Why didn't we ever talk like this before? I never realized that you were cool. Really. I mean, I hated you, man."

"Yeah, you and every other insecure teenage boy. Listen, and listen good, because I'm not saying this again.

"You have always cared too fucking much what other people thought of us. Go read your stupid website, and listen to your own advice. You'll be much happier. Now put me in the box and let's get this over with."

I look at him, and a touch of sadness passes over me.

"Wesley, I have always been, and I always will be --"

"Oh Jesus H. Christ! I can't believe you were going to quote Star Trek. I am so embarrassed for you right now. Just close the fucking box and send me on my way."

I do it. I put him in the box, drop in some packing stuff and a few stickers.

We drive to the post office in silence.

I walk to the mailbox, and open it.

I think to say goodbye, but I know that Wesley won't be talking to me anymore.

I place the box on the edge, and lift it up. The box falls into darkness.

I am Wil's freedom.

I am under a brutal deadline at work, and I'm working on The Next Big Thing(tm) right now, so updates are going to be a little thin for a few days.

However, I would like to share a couple of spiffy mentions I've gotten this week:

First, I was mentioned in McPaper as one of the Top Ten Celebrities We'd Like To See Back On Television.

I'm guessing that G4 doesn't count just yet, since we're in a relatively small number of homes :-)

Speaking of G4, when I was at E3 last week, I did an interview for HomeLan Fed, which came out pretty well.

Finally, tonight on the JKvS Show our guest is Save Ferris! If you're in LA, it's really worth it to come and see the show. They're a great band, and we're going to have lots of fun tonight.

Hope everyone has a good weekend. I should have some good stuff next week.