Weblog Archives

Day Nine

All this week, we’ve been doing emotionally draining scenes. Each day, I come to work and put myself into the skin of this guy who’s lost everything in his life, and is struggling to find meaning in the aftermath.

Now, when I get this tired, I suppose I could “fake it,” but that comes across on the screen (go watch Kevin Costner or Tom Cruise, if you’re want an example of what I’m talking about...or if you really want to torture yourself, sit through “Glitter.”)

So, “faking it” not being an option, I have to take time before each scene to focus and immerse myself in pain and grief, confusion and despair. After 5 days of this, I am really, really tired and totally emotionally drained. I understand what people mean when they’ve suffered a great loss, and they just can’t cry any more, and it’s getting harder and harder as the day goes on to find the energy to bring this guy to life, but there is no other option, so I dig deep and Just Do It(tm).

The crazy thing is, even though I have to keep putting myself through the emotional wringer, I am still having a great time on this picture. We made it across Donner Pass some time this morning, and we haven’t looked back.

The crew has been so jovial today, and there has been much laughter, and I’ve faced an additional challenge: leaving the mirth and joy of geeking out about D&D with the boom man, and geeking out about Final Cut Pro with the first AC, to plunge back into the emotional depths of this character. It’s a welcome change from yesterday, when I felt like we were sitting atop a powder keg.

As I write this, we are finishing up the last scene of the day (fortunately not a gut-wrencher, so I can relax and catch my breath by writing for a little bit before they call me in). It just feels wonderful to be so close to finishing up a great week of work.

I’m so grateful for this weekend, and I’m even more grateful to have a role which is so demanding, I really need the weekend to recharge.

Have a great one, everybody. Hope to see some of you at the gallery opening tomorrow.

Ouch

I am writing this while I lay on my back in my living room, my iBook sitting atop my chest...because this morning, Anne and I were doing some planting, and I threw out my back.

How did I do that? Oh, I was doing something very manly and difficult...I was lifting a half-empty watering can and moving it. I was bent at the waist, and when I turned to put it down, I felt my back sieze, and I fell to the ground...it was very "I've fallen and I can't get up!"

So we spent the day trying to get my hips to relax, and take the pressure off my back. Thankfully, my parents live nearby and I was able to sit in their spa for an hour...I'm feeling better, but I'm nowhere near 100%, and I am really freaked about working tomorrow...I checked the schedule and I'm sitting for most of the day, but damn, man, sitting really hurts.

And can I just say that typing while laying on your back isn't the easiest thing, either? It's yet another nail in the coffin of my camwhore dreams.

So the gallery opening last night was really fun, and CROWDED! My friend Sean said that there was a bigger turnout than he had ever expected...oh, and the show was amazing. It'll be open until the 30th, so if you're in town, you should check it out. I met a few WWDNers there, so that was spiffy. I hope you guys enjoyed the show. It was the first opening I've taken the kids to, and they really dug it. I think it helped that there were pictures of skateboarders and punk rockers all over the place. I don't know if they'd appreciate a Mark Ryden or a Clayton brothers show...but we'll find out soon enough.

I hope everyone had a great weekend. I work all day with Chef tomorrow...so I'll have some lame fanboy stuff to share with you all.

Update: I just saw this over at boing boing. Coolest. Thing. EVER!

Dramatic Lighting

FADE IN:
INT. STAGE - FRANKIE’S LOFT -- EVENING

The crew settles. WIL and MAUREEN take their marks. A BELL RINGS and the crew falls silent. The CAMERAMAN, a serious, artistic Spaniard in his 30s speaks.

The GAFFER begins to work. Wil gets a mischievous glint in his eye, and dramatically takes his mark, stomping his foot on the ground and presenting his hands, upturned in front of him.

The crew LAUGHS.

WIL and MAUREEN collapse into giggles.

People are strange

I cried today.

Hard.

A lot.

The interesting thing for me was that it was very, very easy to call forth the emotions necessary to bring this scene to life...but it was equally hard to let them go, again.

When we finished this scene, I wanted to go into my dressing room, and just sob until I got it all out of me...but there wasn't time, and I have this little knot in my chest, just below where my sternum ends.

Strange.

In a very bizarre twist of "six degrees of Anne Wheaton," a real-life doctor, who treated her for some stomach trouble earlier this year, was playing a doctor in the movie today.

Also strange.

Tomorrow is my last day with Isaac Hayes. I'm debating whether or not I should take my "Shaft" soundtrack and my 18" Chef plush toy and get an autograph.

Not sure if I will though...it could end up being strange.

Day 12

Well, I chickened out. I didn’t bring anything to work for Isaac to sign today. I guess it’s just my natural aversion to getting autographs, and the fact that even though I sign them, I’m shy about asking for them myself...I’d rather just have the memories of hanging out with him, I think, and I don’t need a really cool signed Shaft CD, or an even cooler autographed-by-Isaac-Freaking-Hayes-Himself-In-The-Flesh South Park DVD that I can show off to my friends and bring to parties as a conversation piece.

Aw, who am I kidding. I blew it, big time. DAMMIT!

Well, he’s working in 2 scenes tomorrow, so maybe I’ll take advantage of this second chance, and at least get something signed for a friend, who is strangely also named “Wil.”

So today, I got married in the movie. I spent the day in a tux, smiling and laughing, standing next to an absolutely beautiful bride. It’s ironic, because tomorrow is my 3rd wedding anniversary in real life. So standing around today, all decked out in wedding gear, watching the assembled guests and stuff, I couldn’t stop thinking about how happy I was on my actual wedding day with Anne, and more than once I caught myself getting giddy little butterflies remembering that day.

I can’t tell you how nice it was to have a break from the constant crying, grieving, and depression that this role has demanded of me each day the last three weeks.

That's a Wrap!

First of all, I got it. I screwed up my courage, and told Isaac that Anne and I were introduced to our wedding reception to the Theme From Shaft, and asked him if he’d mind signing my CD.

“Are you kidding me?! I’d love to!”

I had to hold in a girlish squeal of delight, but somehow I managed.

We walked to my dressing room, and on the way, he told me how much he loved Star Trek, and how excited he was to be working with me.

I really couldn’t believe it. I mean, people tell me that they love Star Trek all the time, and these days they usually aren’t following up that admission with, “but I really hated you, jack ass. Now get off my lawn, and take your umbrella with you.” But still...hearing from someone who I really admire that he admires me back...well, it was great.

Now I know that I’ve really beaten this horse to death, buried it, dug it up and beaten it again, so I’ll stop.

Today was the last day on the movie, and I approached it the way I always do when a project is over: with a mixture of relief and sadness. Relief because I know that I’ll be returning to a normal life again. Relief because I know that the movie is completly out of my hands, now, and I can let go of the character.

Sadness, because I’ve formed very great friendships with my fellow cast members, and with the crew, and we’ve all created this little world which we’ve lived in for the duration of the production. We all know that we’ll be leaving this world, and it’s a one-way road out.

I had a wonderful time on this picture. The hours were long, the work was demanding as hell, and it feels like it was over as quickly as it started. But the crew was wonderful. They were the hardest-working bunch of dedicated artisans I’ve worked with in years, and I will forever cherish this experience.

The cast was amazing. They assembled a fantastic group of performers, who all worked their asses off to bring this script to life. Their character choices were clear, and their commitment to bringing them to life never wavered.

As the days go on and on, it’s easy to get tired, and fall into a “let’s just get the shot” trap, and compromise on performances. I hate it when that happens, but it does, from time to time.

I’m happy to report that I never felt that way on this picture. We had this amazingly dedicated cast and crew, and we were all lead by a wonderful director.

I am incredibly excited to see this finished product, and I haven’t felt that way in years.

Lots of people have asked about my back. I spent the whole morning Monday flat on same, watching
Dogtown and Z-Boys on my iBook at the set (holy shit--what a great movie!) and I think it really helped. Lots of water to keep my muscles hydrated, focus on correct posture, lots of stretching, and Tiger Balm made the difference. I’m back to about 90% tonight.

Finally, today is my 3rd wedding anniversary (w00T!). Thank you to everyone who wished us well today. Tommorrow, I will be leaving for a weekend with my kick-ass wife, so there won’t be any updates until Monday.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

11.11.02

Today is Veteran's day, and I've been trying to think of a way to thank and honor those men and women who have ensured that I can sit here, safe and warm in my house, and proclaim, "George W. Bush is a Jerkass."

Well, I have a friend, and she and her husband are both veterans. She wrote the following, and reprinting it here is the best tribute to Veterans, and the best way of saying thank you that I can think of.

This weekend, with Veteran's Day coming up, a friend asked me "What are some things about people serving in the US military that you think we civilians under-appreciate or don't understand?"

It was a tough question. On Veteran's Day, it's not only about those who have died, but those who have served and sacrificed and come away forever changed.

The military is really a separate culture within American culture. When we'd talk about "civilians," it was almost like talking about a different species. How can someone understand, truly understand "Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die" without living in that culture?

Before joining the military, I'd hear on the news "40 US troops were killed in today's bombing of such-and-such" and think, "Gee, that's sad." But you know, in a way, it was just numbers. After joining the military, the word "troops" took on a whole new meaning. "Troops" meant me. My husband. My friends. My brothers and sisters. It meant loving, caring, intelligent, funny human beings were dead or injured.

When CNN would report, "The US has deployed several thousand troops to somewhere," it meant that mothers were being sent away from their children. Sons were being sent away from their parents. Families and friends and lovers were being separated, never knowing if they'd ever see each other again.

Some of them WOULD never see each other again. Would never be able to get
that one last hug, a last kiss, hear a word of kindness or forgiveness. Yet these troops went willingly into that uncertainty.

When you hear "troops," when any civilian hears "troops," what does it mean to you? It's such a sanitized word.

Another thing I wonder if civilians understand is this: service is often boring. Really boring. Running preventive maintenance checks on vehicles and equipment in the hot North Carolina sun at Fort Bragg. Sitting in a tent in a field in Korea in 10-degree weather waiting for aircraft to land. Driving through the desert in Saudi Arabia where everything looks the same on your way to your camp. Sitting in a foxhole in Panama in the rain, watching. Constantly going over common task training: how to treat a sucking chest wound. How to get your protective mask on as quickly as possible. How to disassemble and reassemble your M-16. Over and over.

Preparing, trying to stay prepared.

How boring is it? Someone sent a box of romance novels to my old unit when they were in Saudi. The guys in the unit snapped 'em up to read faster than the women did.

No one talks much about the sitting around part.

The "troops" are people. They do wacky things too. Some of the guys in Saudi were going through magazine ads, writing to every company they could find saying, "We're in the Persian Gulf. Could you send us a sample of X?" Some companies sent samples -- and a few of the tents got their own pink lawn flamingoes and artificial raccoons.

There's also some adrenalin rushes like when you get caught in an Anti-American riot in Seoul or run into an area marked with signs for chemical attack in the Saudi desert. Or get shot at.

Or have to shoot back.

In the back of your mind is this: you could die. You could lose an arm or a leg. You could die in a training accident. You try to keep this very, very far back in your mind.

But I think it's always there.

Probably most importantly, and most difficult, is you have to trust in the chain of command that they will not use you poorly. You've taken an oath of service to your country, and you must trust that the orders you receive will allow you to be of service in some positive manner. I hear people say all the time, "If I were in the military, I would never have gone to Saudi" or "I would never have done those kinds of things they did in Vietnam/WWII/etc." Truth is, maybe they wouldn't -- but they probably would.

Or they wouldn't be in the military.

Because that trust is essential, even with the training we have in the Uniform Code of Military Justice and what constitutes an "illegal order." You go where you're deployed. You bomb the targets you're supposed to bomb. You place the Claymore mines "front towards enemy" and you trust, you hope, it's for a greater good.

You must live with it if, later, you find that there was little to no positive effect from your actions. Think of finding a baby bird and putting it back into its nest, after which the mother rejects it and it dies. You were trying to help, but nothing good came of it. Now imagine being involved in a military action where, at the end, nothing of significance has changed.

Military service changes you forever, even if you serve only a 4-year term in peacetime. You'll never get those years back. Never.

And through all this, you know that civilians don't much care about you. Not really. Oh, perhaps they'll come out on Veteran's Day and Memorial Day, maybe lay out some flowers, wear a ribbon, but most will just see it as a day off from work.

Still we serve. We serve because the Constitution of the United States promises something good and true. We serve so that opposing viewpoints can take the stage, or the microphone, and protest actions they feel are unjust. We serve for ourselves, for our families, for our future. We serve for a variety of reasons, some selfish and some pure, in the hopes that something positive will come of it. On Veteran's Day, I would wish that everyone would remember and think of the men and women who have served in the past and who serve today, and honor their humanity. The laughter, the tears, the love, the pride in a new baby, the intelligence, insight, and humor that is part of all of us. I wish people would take one moment to think of that girl in a tent somewhere in the desert, or that
guy in a foxhole in the jungle, and understand that it could be your daughter, your son, your wife, your husband.

Instead, I fear that when they hear "25 troops were killed in some foreign country today," they won't bat an eye.

It was just "troops."

Of all it means to be a veteran, perhaps that may be the hardest thing of
all.

12.11.02

I'm putting my time into finishing my book this week, so updates may be infrequent, but I wanted to give up a couple of computer things:

1. Over at Lockergnome's Penguin Shell, Tony is running a great week-long tutorial on using procmail to get rid of spam. I'll be following it all week, moving closer and closer to getting a sendmail server working here at home.

   Yeah, that's right, sendmail. See, I've been having a real good time with computers for about a month now, and I need a reason to hate them again.

2. Tonight, at 6:20 PM PST, I'll be a guest on MacRadio. I'll be talking about my iBook, Linux, my upcoming book, and stuff. It should be a good time, and you can listen in right through your browser.
   

Finally, my friend sent me this page of really cool fractals he made. I wish you would like it.

Now, I am leaving to go buy the good version of Lord of the Rings, before I park my ass beneath a tree in a park to write.

Life is good.

Anthem

Made some good progress on the book yesterday.

I'd been blocked for several weeks on this one part, and it was driving me crazy. So I heeded some advice from MV: "give yourself permission to suck, and fix it later."

Strange that I'd need to hear that from someone else, because it's advice I give to people all the time, but I'm glad I listened to her. I wrote some stuff that sucked, and I still haven't fixed it, but I was able to get past the block, and write some good stuff. I want to have my first draft finished by the end of the day tomorrow, and it's looking like I'll make that deadline.

The plan is to have it finished and available in time for Xmas, so we'll see. =]

STFU

Took the day off today, and went on a long walk with Anne.

She pointed out that November is her favorite month, and it was easy to see why, with the sun warming our shoulders, as we walked beneath the bluest blue sky I've seen over Pasadena in years.

As we walked down Colorado Boulevard, in and out of the cool shadows cast by stores and the occasional tree, we hit upon a wonderful, awful, Grinchy idea: We'd walk quickly to a movie theatre, buy tickets for the next showing of Harry Potter, and we'd race ourselves home, manufacture a reason to snatch the boys from school, and take them to the movies.

It was brilliant. We hit the theatre at 11, bought tickets for the 12:30 show, and had time to grab a bagel before we made it back home. We took the kids out of school for "personal reasons" and settled into our seats with time to spare.

Now, I don't go to the movies too often. It just strikes me as stupid to pay money to listen to other people talk on their phones and smack gaping mouthfuls of popcorn while slurping the last drops of Coke out of their super-sized drink cups.

I don't know why people can't stay quiet, and respectful of their fellow audience members for a few short hours. I suppose they feel that their ticket entitles them to behave however they'd like, so I usually stay home, and spare myself the aggravation.

Well, if you were in the 12:30 show today, I'd just like to say, as a member of the audience: WOULD. YOU. PLEASE. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP! Talk in your home, talk in your car. Talk anywhere, really, but shut the fuck up when you're in the theatre.

Sorry. A teeny bit of pent-up aggression there. =]

The movie was entertaining, though I didn't enjoy it as much as the first one, which I watched in silence in my own house. I haven't read the books, but Ryan has, and he told us that the film was a more-or-less faithful adaptation. I think it could have been about 30 minutes shorter, but I also think the theater could have been about 30 times quieter.

It was worth it, though, because the kids had an amazing time. We ensured that they wouldn't be missing anything vital in school, and I think we helped create a fond memory today.

Thought for today:

"Not all those who wander are lost."

Useless

I'm beginning to think that I am the world's worst Geocacher, man. I've gotten to enjoy many nice hikes, which is really cool, but I rarely find the cache, and today was no exception.

After breakfast this morning (made by yours truly for the family while the wife slept in, thankyouverymuch) we took the kids to find the Rubio Haunted Area, but after 40 minutes of searching an area of about 40 square feet, we gave up. We did get to see a deer climbing up the mountain, though, which was really cool.

Been listening to the Oingo Boingo Farewell Concert while I've been home today. Boingo is one of those bands which for whatever reason is only associated with positive memories:

• Gates McFadden dancing around to "Elevator Man," way back when we were on TNG.

• Darin and me cranking Boingo Alive while driving down to Disneyland on one of our numerous Annual pass holder's trips during high school.

• Going to a Laserium show at the Griffith Observatory to see the KROQ show in 10th grade, which was my first introduction to "Grey Matter."
  

Actually, I do have one sad memory associated with Boingo: The Boi~ngo CD was one of my favorites back in the day, and it's nowhere to be found in my collection. Sadly, it's out of print, so I'm reduced to digging through the bargain bin at the Car Wash in hopes of finding one amongst all the Bob Goldthwait comedy albums. Oh, and their official website seems to be down.

So that's two things.

But I saw a deer today. (ECHO $LAME_STAND_BY_ME_JOKE)

UPDATE: 10PM PST: Thank you to all the people who emailed me about picking up Boi~ngo on eBay, or half.com! I spoke with my best friend Darin, and he has a copy of thhe CD that we used to listen to at his house! I'm picking up a copy from him tomorrow. (That's ethical, right? I bought the CD once, and it got lost, and it's out of print anyhow...so getting a copy...that's cool, right? Maybe I'll "bid" on it from him.) =]

1 wish, granted.

It absolutely, positively, does not get any better than this.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

"It's 4:00 PM?! Holy shit! How did it get to be FOUR FREAKING IN THE AFTERNOON?!"

It's 4:00 PM, and I only have thirty minutes before I have to leave. Anne will come home while I'm out, and I've been spending the last few hours cleaning the house, so she won't walk into chaos when she arrives. It's taken me longer than I intended, leaving me little time to iron my pants and my shirt.

I'm a ball of stress, because when I try to handle an iron, I may as well be using my feet. I'm a ball of stress because Ferris refuses to eat, and really wants to play with me while I'm adding wrinkles to my shirt. I'm a ball of stress because I've been invited to the formal dinner at Ruddock House, at Cal Tech, and I can't pull myself together.

See, I desperately wish that I was a smarter, nerdier, more educated person than I am, and I'm about to go sit in a room full of people who know more about math, physics, engineering, and how to creatively blow things up than I ever will. So I am very nervous. I want to make a good impression, and I want to participate in the discussions intelligently. I also know that most of the room will be people who are at least familiar with Star Trek, if not full-on Trekkies, and it's going to be really embarrassing when they realize that the smart kid from TV totally doesn't rate.

So I've asked my friend Shane to come with me. He is a Cal Tech alum from 1992, and he lived in Ruddock House. I figure that if I clam up, he'll help me feel comfortable, and draw attention away from what a lamer I am.

it's 4:15, and my clothes are actually more wrinkled than they were when I started. For a brief moment, I wish polyester was back in fashion. This wish passes quickly as I remember what it felt like to actually wear polyester when I was a kid. I decide to kick Ferris out of the room, and focus, dammit.

I get the wrinkles out of my shirt, and hang it up, expecting it to fall onto the floor. Thankfully, it does not. Ferris has parked herself outside my bedroom door, and is sniffing at the space between it and the floor.

It's 4:25, and my pants are looking good, but the area near the pockets is giving me trouble, so I add water to the iron, hoping for steam.

What I get is a puddle on my pants.

The door begins to breathe.

I shake off the pants, and press the iron into the puddle, turning it mostly to steam. I hope it will dry before I get to Tech.

The doorbell rings. It's 4:30. I let Shane in, and while he entertains Ferris, I choose a tie. I wonder if I should go for my Star Wars tie, or my Where's Waldo tie. I hold them both up, and decide that I'll go for a much more conservative tie, which I call my "1950's Science Teacher Tie."

Shane changes into a shirt and Looney Tunes tie, and we're ready to go. I sure hope my pants dry.

We make the short drive to Tech, listening to Boingo Alive, catching up. I don't get to see Shane at all these days, as a consequence of our schedules and stuff, so it's nice to get a few minutes to talk about what we're doing, and how our lives are. I don't tell him how nervous I am, and if he notices, he doesn't ask.

We arrive at Tech, and make our way into Ruddock. We find Abe, who has invited us to dinner.

Abe and his roommates are dressed casually, sitting in their room. Shane and I realize that we're an hour early.

Oh jeeze. At least my pants are dry.

I don't' want to make this guy entertain me for a whole hour, so I tell Shane to take me around the campus. I haven't seen it in over 10 years, so it will be fun. We tell Abe that we'll catch up with him in the dining room at 6, and head out.

Shane gives me a very nice 25 cent tour, and I wistfully long to be in college, when the primary cares in the world are getting good grades and hooking up with a DG on the weekend. I think about how much there is for me to learn, how much there is for me to understand. I think about how much knowledge I don't have to pass on to my step-kids. I envy the people on the other side of the walls, as we walk past the various residence halls.

Thirty minutes later, we've circumnavigated the entire campus, and we're back in the dining hall. Fifteen minutes later, and the residents begin filing in.

I talk with many of them, answering questions about Star Trek and my website. I find out that Abe is one of the editors of a humor publication for Ruddock House called The BFD, so we talk about satire and comedy. Shane sees people he graduated with, and he slips through the crowd to go talk to them, leaving me. I look inward, expecting to find panic...they're going to realize that I'm not cool, I think...but the panic isn't there. Though I'm not nearly as smart as these people, I'm amongst friends. I am amongst people of a similar mind, and I feel welcome and at home.

We joke about nerdy things, though I quickly become aware of the difference in our ages. I'm much older than these guys, so some of my nerdy references sail over their heads -- not because they're dense, but because I'm talking about something that happened before they were born.

Dinner is served, and we take our seats. I really enjoy the company of the people I'm sitting near, and the meal is excellent. The time flies by too quickly, and dinner is finished.

The president of Ruddock stands up and says that there are several guests tonight, and now is the time for them to be introduced.

A student at the end of our table stands, and introduces his guests, and the student sitting across from him does the same. I begin to get nervous, knowing that I'm going to be standing up in front of all these people in less than a minute. I close my mouth and run my tongue across my teeth, hoping that my Standard Issue British Teeth haven't snagged any food for later. Finding none, I turn my attention back to the students who are now standing across from us. It's the Ruddock librarian, a very nice, mirthful young man who was introduced to me earlier in the evening as "The Biggest Star Trek Fan Of All Time." He stands, and announces to the dining room, "Hi. My name is Wil Wheaton..."

There is much laughter, and I shout out, "I hated you on Star Trek!!"

There is even more laughter. I allow myself to smile...that was pretty funny.

It is Abe's turn to introduce me, and I stand up.

"This is Wil Wheaton," he says. There is applause and some whistling. I feel really embarrassed and self conscious. It's really strange to me to feel this way, but it happens every time I'm the focus of people's attention and I'm not on stage. I manage to wave at them all, and say "Thank you," before settling back into my seat.

The rest of the introductions are made, as well as some announcements, and the dinner is done.

I could hang out all night with these people, talking about Lord of the Rings and The Simpsons, but Shane has to teach a class early in the morning, so we must leave.

As we're on our way out, a guy asks me if I'll participate in the good-natured teasing of their RA, a very pretty girl who, he tells me, had a big crush on my when she was young. I ask him what he has in mind. He tells me that I should go up to her, and kiss her hand. I decline, because it seems a bit presumptuous, and I suggest he think of something else while I sign the Ruddock guest book.

When I return, he has a devilish idea: I should walk over to her, and tell her that I'm a big fan of hers. I agree.

I walk across the room, and she looks up. I guess the group of guys is following me, because she blushes, and proceeds to describe to them the various ways she's going to dismember them.

"Can I shake your hand?" I ask her, taking her hand in mine. "When I was a kid, I subscribed to Hot RA Magazine just so I could have your pictures on my wall!"

She laughs, I laugh, and the guys laugh. She describes further acts of torture they'll be enduring, as I produce my camera from my pocket. I ask her if she'll pose for a picture with me, and she agrees. We snap the photo, and then it's my turn to pose with some people for a few others.

We thank Abe for the invite, and he tells us that we can come back for a non-formal dinner any time.

I can't wait to go back and enjoy their company again. The genuine kinship these people seem to have is warm and wonderful. I hope they realize how lucky they are, and don't take this time for granted.

I certainly didn't.

Scratch

Ferris is playing this game:

1. She picks up the soggy remains of her rawhide bone, and drops it on the ground.

2. She backs up, tail wagging, and stares at it.

3. She growls at it, then lunges forward, picking it up as she runs around the living room.

4. She brings it to me, and drops it in my lap.

5. I say, "that's really interesting, Ferris," and drop it on the floor, where she picks it up, and takes it back to the middle of the room.

Then she goes and does the whole thing again.

See, Anne went up to Oregon this weekend, and the kids are with their dad, so it's just me and Ferris hanging out. This is how we entertain ourselves in the absence of any real responsible people around.

It's actually a good weekend for me to take a break, because I've been writing and re-writing pretty much non-stop since last Friday --dramatic pause-- and I finished my first draft of my book on Thursday. It went off to my editor yesterday morning, and I'm anticipating doing some rewrites next week.

I'm really excited about it, and I hope to have a limited first printing ready in time for Xmas. I'll post details when I get it all worked out.

The weekend so far:

I went with some friends to see Die Another Day last night at the Arclight. I'm not an action movie guy at all, but I love James Bond, and this is easily the best Bond picture I've seen in maybe five years, aside from some inexcusably terrible miniature and FX work, the script is fun, paying tribute to some of the my favorite Bond pictures.

This morning, I went on a hike with my brother and my friend Mykal. We were hoping to find the Dawn Mine Geocache, but we couldn't even get on the right trail to the damn mine before we ran out of time and had to get back to the car. We went up to a beautiful waterfall, though.

Oh, and last week, when I took the kids to find the Geocache at Rubio? Yeah. I walked RIGHT. FUCKING. THROUGH. Poison oak. It is all over my right forearm, my left bicep, my forehead, on my left knee, my neck, and my right ankle. I think I qualify for some sort of "complete dumbass" award for not seeing it.

Lame.

The really cool thing, though, is that I sort of look like one of those guys in "Scanners" right before they blow up. And kind of like pictures of the moon. And also sort of like an alligator...but a scary X-files mutant alligator from hell who shoots death beams out of his eyes and creeps out of your bathtub at night to suck your skin off, and sing Copacabana in your living room.

I read somewhere that massive itching can make one go a little batty...but I don't believe it.

Last Place You Look

It's so windy here in Pasadena today, it's snowing leaves. There is this large area of a hillside in Burbank where there was a massive fire a few months ago, and a huge cloud of dust hovers over it, like a sandstorm.

The Santa Ana Winds are in full effect, and my dry skin, nose and throat are a small price to pay for clear blue skies and warm temperatures in November.

So here's something unexpected: I did a voice today on this new show for the Kids WB! The call came on Friday, and here's the cool thing: the director, a wonderful woman named Andrea Romano, who has won seven emmy's called my agent and requested me, based on my work with her last year on "The Zeta Project."

I can't say what voice I did, but I was told when I left today that they were so happy, I would probably be asked back to do the role again in the next thirteen episodes.

The episode I did was written by this really nice guy named Marv Wolfman, who co-created and wrote "Teen Titans" for sixteen years, created "Blade," and was just an all-around cool guy. We spent some time geeking out about comic books today...it just killed me that he was referring to Alan Moore as "Alan."

Animation is really fun, because it's really quick work (usually less than 4 hours for an episode), and the people who do it are all really cool...but it's also very hard to break into the animation world, because the community is extremely small, and very protective. Being asked by a very respected director to come back, based on her previous experience with me, is just HUGE, and it makes me feel really good, and it may signal my entry into the world of animation.

A few months ago, I made this major decision in my life: I would stop applying a singular focus to getting work as an actor. I would continue to accept auditions as they came along, but I wasn't going to break my back, or sacrifice time with my friends and family to play Hollywood's game.

Since I made that choice, stopped caring so much about acting, and started focusing on writing, and being a husband and father, I've gotten two jobs almost immediately.

So I guess I'm going to have to start calling myself "Writer-Slash-Actor."

You'll note that I did not say "Actor-Slash-Writer." This is a very important distinction.

Mojo

I think about things like this all the time...if you had a chance to make a difference in someone's life, however small, would you do it?

Read on...

"A short while ago, on two occasions I believe, you requested some "mojo" from your website fans, of which I happen to be one (I don't care what others think, I liked Wesley on ST:TNG). And, upon your request, was one of the people who took a minute to "beam some mojo" your way.

Well, although you really don't owe me squat, I would like to ask the same favor in return.

You see, my daughter, "Katie" to her friends, and "Boodlie-Face" to her daddy; don't ask :) is having an operation tomorrow morning. Specifically, she is having a Bilateral Ureteral Reimplantation to fix her Bladder Reflux problem. She needs this done, as she has Reflux Grade 3 on the left side, and a high Grade 2 on the right. At any rate, it's pretty bad, and without this, her kidneys are almost certain to become damaged.

Understand, this is what everyone tells me is a "routine operation". But frankly, my mind has been awash with the most horrible scenarios. I'm told that this is normal for a father, especially for a first child. It doesn't make me feel any better, however. My 16 month old beautiful baby girl is going under the knife, and there is f*ck-all I can do to help, and the feelings of despair and helplessness that a father feels at a time like this can be quite overwhelming.

I'm not a very religious person, although I was raised to be a good Protestant boy. I have found myself silently praying over this, though, in part to try (unsuccessfully) to ease my own mind. I have come to the conclusion, though, that *anything* done is a positive manner can help. I do have my own website, although I get absolutely nada for traffic. Some of us don't have the name or face recognition of Uncle Willie. I don't have 50,000 monkeys that I can draw upon to try to get the mojo working for my daughter to help her through her operation successfully. I can only ask you. Could you put a small blurb on your site, just asking your huge fanbase to send the love, the prayers, the positive energy, the white light, the mojo, the *whatever* my daughter's way tomorrow morning?

Her operation is tomorrow morning, November 26, 2002 at 8:00 am. CST, and is supposed to last for 3 hours. It is taking place at the University of Iowa Hospital, in Iowa City, Iowa. Did I mention it's in Iowa? It's in Iowa. You know. Corn. Soy beans. Iowa. :)"

I have been so blessed since I opened this lame website. People have sent me warm wishes and deeply personal stories when they've responded to the things I've written. Growing up in a medical family, I have come to believe that there is no such thing as a "routine operation" when you or someone you love is the subject.

I hope that you'll take a moment tomorrow, and spare a thought for Bob and his baby girl, who are in Iowa.

Iowa. Iowa. Iowa.

Mojo. Mojo. Mojo.

:)

Play for today

To everyone who took a moment of their time and sent positive energy to Bob and his daughter in Iowa: Thank you. There are so many comments in that entry, and so much positive energy...someone commented, quite rightly, that if more people would take a moment out of their day to focus on the positive in life, and share that happiness with others, we'd live in a much better world. Thank you all for making a difference. I mean it.

Haven't heard back from Bob, yet, but when I do, I'll be sure to let everyone know how Katie did.

Today, my friend Kevin and I went down to sixspace to get a closer look at the Glen E. Friedman show, because it closes on Saturday, and have lunch with my friend Sean, who co-owns the gallery. It was awesome. The art scene in Los Angeles has come a long way in the last 5 years, and Sean and Caryn's gallery is set to be one of the leading galleries in the city. I'm really excited for them, and I can't wait to go see their next show.

Also, while googling for links to put into yesterday's entry, I stumbled onto this review of "python," which would be the worst movie I ever did, if "The Curse" didn't exist. I just classified it as a "pay the bills while dressed up like a punk rocker" movie, but for some reason, they actually liked it, and gave it a "B-."

Be gentle.

UPDATE:Some of you masochists have actually talked about wanting to see this movie. Here's an Amazon link. If you really need to see this POS, and you get it from this link, I'll get twenty-five cents. Which is twenty-four cents more than they spent on the snake. ;)

Iowa. Iowa. Iowa.

Last night, as I was getting ready to hop into bed, I did one last check of the email, to see if there had been any update from Bob in Iowa about his baby girl.

There was.

Read on...

Date: Tue Nov 26, 2002 20:43:06 US/Pacific

Subject: Boodlie-Face update from Bob

Wil,

I absolutely do not know how to thank you enough. At this very moment,
despite what you are reading, I am at a loss for words. Forgive me if this message is more rambling and incoherent than my last email, but I'm
basically just typing this as it slowly comes to me.

I am sorry for not responding to you until now, but I just got back from the hospital. First thing I did when I booted up my computer was to go to your site. I was astounded, and shocked, and pleased, and happy, and overjoyed that you took the time to a) post my message, and b) send me the mojo. But as astounded, shocked, pleased... is there a word that encompasses all five of those emotions?... as I was at that, I was completely blown away by the huge, and wonderfully loving, responses that it drew.

I read each and every one of them. I felt, in fact I *knew*, that I had to. I am sitting here, a grown man with a wife and child and ALL MAN BABY AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!!!, and I am crying. Not a sobbing, heaving, snot-running-from-my-nose, I've-lost-all-sense-of-composure crying. Rather, it is a joyous, thankful, I-cannot-believe-how-incredible-complete-strangers-can-be-in-times-of-need, I-want-to-hug-the-whole-freakin'-world-and-I-just-can't-hold-it-in kind of crying. To you, Uncle Willie, and to all who sent the love, prayers, and mojo to my little Boodlie-Face, I just want to tell you: you made a grown man cry, and in the words of The Martha, "it's a good thing".

I have barely slept since I wrote that last email to you. We had to get up at an ungodly hour to get Her Royal Highness to the hospital on time, which we did *to the minute*, I kid you not. After she went in for the operation, my beautiful wife, my wonderful mother, and I were in the Day Of Operation Waiting Room. And this, well, this is the kicker: all three of us felt, at various times, a little dizzy for no good apparent reason. And not necessarily in a bad way, either. Well, not so much dizzy, but more like light-headed. For no reason, well, no reason that we could think of: remember, I had no idea Uncle Wil had posted my email or that I was, at that time, receiving some MAJOR positive energy from ALL OVER THE WORLD. And, despite my trepidation... and that is an understatement... before the surgery, I was much calmer and my mind much less troubled when the operation was actually happening. I wouldn't lie or exaggerate about this: it would besmirch the incredible outpouring of awesome good-will that Katie, my wife, my mother, and I received.

Bottom-line it, Bob! Okay, voices-in-my-head, here goes: the operation was
a complete success! No complications, nothing unexpected, everything went
textbook-perfect. Katie and her mother are at the hospital even as I write
this, and if all goes well, my beloved Boodlie-Face will be home tomorrow
evening.

But that's not the real bottom line. The real bottom line is that I fully expect that the post-op stage will be as hitchless... is that a word? hitchless?... as the operation itself. I now believe that fully and completely. I didn't just see the result of the mojonation in a successful operation; my mother and wife and I actually felt it. I wrote in my previous email that I'm not a very religious person. I am now going to reassess that stance. One cannot feel what I have felt, and am feeling, without being touched very profoundly, and I have Wil and all the
well-wishers to thank for that as well.

- Bob Roth, WWDN fan, and one very happy daddy to one beautiful little girl

Stop for a second now.

That feeling you have? That one that starts in the center of your body, and radiates outward to your fingers and toes? That joy? That astonishment? That feeling.

With just the tiniest bit of effort, you sent kind, loving thoughts out to a complete stranger, expecting nothing in return, and this is the result.

I defy anyone to tell me that we don't have the power to change the world.

on being thankful

I really like Thanksgiving.

I love gathering with my family, spending the day with people I don't get to see very often, and sitting down for a massive dinner that I didn't have to cook.

Is there a better time for a List Of Seven?

Today, I am thankful for:

1. Creative energy, used to bring Joy into the world.
   
2. Seeing my cousin Dustin today.
   
3. My invitation to the Cast and Crew screening of Trek X
   
4. Finally looking back on my teenage years with more joy than regret.
   
5. My wife cuddling me because she loves me...not because she's trying to stay warm.
   
6. Ferris, when she looks at me and says, "What?"
   
7. I am thankful for this website, and the readers who have come together from around the world to share in my stupid life, riding the roller coaster of success and failure, triumph and despair. I know for a fact that I never would have grown from struggling actor-slash-has-been to aspiring writer-slash-actor.
   

Our extended Thought For Today comes from Bob in Iowa, Katie's father:

What I Am Thankful For
----------------------

I am thankful that my daughter's surgery went smoothly and successfully. Her kidneys will not develop horrible problems later in life, and a small scar is indeed an easy price to pay for her health.

I am thankful for the skill of the pediatric urology surgeon and the team that worked on my daughter. Their skill has proved in her case, as in many others I'm sure, that disciplined modern medicine is something that we should all be glad for. I am thankful for whoever the person or team was that invented the careful system of moving around and passing instruments in the modern surgery room. I am thankful for whoever the person or team was that sterilizes those instruments at the University of Iowa Hospital, and indeed in all hospitals.

I am thankful that my daughter's recovery has been as impressive as the surgery itself. She is home now, running around like a precocious 16-month-old should, and she will be able to enjoy a Thanksgiving Dinner with her family.

I am thankful that my daughter is running around like a precocious 16-month-old, and I will try to remember that the next time she gets into something that she knows she shouldn't or knocks something over. I am thankful that she will continue to grow up healthy. I am thankful that I have a daughter.

I am thankful to Wil Wheaton, who responded to an email I wrote at a time when I was at my worst, my most desperate. That simple request, which was fulfilled despite Wil's having absolutely no obligation to, lead to an outpouring of love that not only affected me very deeply and helped my daughter in a very real way, it seems to have affected everyone involved in some way.

I am thankful to the complete strangers who, upon reading the entry in Wil Wheaton's blog, made a simple choice to take a moment from their day and send some love my daughter's way. I swear to God that I felt it, and I believe in my heart that it helped both with the surgery and with the swift recovery. I just wish there was another word to describe a person whom I have never met besides "stranger", because that name is so ill-fitting to the people who took the time to help my daughter.

But most of all, I am thankful that despite the horrible things that we see every day on television and read about every day in newspapers, there is enough love in the world to selflessly help a little girl in need of love, and that we really are a loving and caring race. More often than not, we seem to forget what we really are. I am thankful that this opportunity arose to remind us all.

Thank you all for your compassion and kindness. Katie is recovering wonderfully, and I don't doubt for a second that all of your goodwill and love is a MAJOR reason for that. I really cannot thank any of you enough, other than to say, "Thank you." May you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving surrounded by family and friends.

- Bob Roth, WWDN fan

Fun with LEGOs

I submitted this story, which I first saw on Fark, to Slashdot, but since none of my stories ever make it, I'm submitting it here, where I have an "in" with the webmaster:

"A self-proclaimed "dork" has built one of the best models of Enterprise D I have ever seen (and I think I speak with some authority)...entirely out of LEGOs.

I can see my house from here!"

UPDATE: Holy crap! It got accepted! It got accepted! I submitted a story to Slashdot, and it got accepted!!

/geekout

Attention Holiday Shoppers!

I've done some work on the store, redesigning all the images to be much higher resolution.

I've also added several new products, including thongs for the ladies, perfect for throwing at me while I'm on stage.

If you're interested in an autographed picture, check out this page, but act fast. I only have a handful of 8x10's left.

Happy shopping, everyone.