WIL WHEATON dot NET: 1.5

If you'd like to read my most recent blog posts, head over to WIL WHEATON dot NET: In Exile, my backup blog at Typepad.

Hi there. WWdN is currently undergoing a redesign and some maintenance. If you'd like to know what the status of the redesign is, or see some of the older WWdN files, read this entry.

What in the wide world of sports is going on here?

Way back in September of last year, I attempted to upgrade Movable Type, the blogging software that powers WWdN. I also attempted to move a few thousand entries and hundreds of thousands of comments into a newly-created (and faster) MySQL database.

And, uh, I broke it.

Actually, I didn't break it. Someone who left a comment broke it when they used a seemingly random string of characters to indicate a break in their comment. Unbeknownst to me and them, it was the same string of characters MT used to indicate the end of an entry and its associated comments. When MT was moving all the data into its new (did I mention faster?) database, it came to that string of characters, and said to itself, "Oh boy! I get to start a new entry now! Let's see, what's the TITLE of that entry?"

Look . . . look . . . look . . .

"Uh-oh, there's no TITLE. I'd better look some more."

Look . . . look . . . look . . .

"Yeah, it's still not there. Well, I don't know what the next entry is TITLEd, so I'm going to just barf all over the server now, and fail. I'm sure one of the Users I heard about in TRON will figure this out and fix it quickly. There's no way my User, Wil, would stay in some backup blog for six months!"

Ha! Stupid smug software. I've been in Exile for nine months! Who's laughing now, jerk? Who's your daddy! Say my name, bitch! Yeah!

Uh. Sorry about that.

Off to Exile

I didn't know how long it would take me to figure out the problem, fix it, and get back here to WWdN, so I set up a backup blog at Typepad, called WIL WHEATON dot NET: In Exile. I intended to hang out there for a couple of weeks while I worked on this blog, but I quickly discovered that WYSIWYG editor at Typepad is great, and since it did all the heavy lifting for me (formatting, marking up links and inserting and modifying images) I had much more time to just take creative ideas and put them into my blog. Around this time, I also got some new writing jobs that actually put money into my pocket and food on my table -- jobs writing about poker for CardSquad, writing a column on classic gaming for the AV Club called The Games of our Lives, and editing the geek news at Suicide Girls. In my spare time, I played a lot of Texas Holdem Poker at Poker Stars (where I'm a member of Team PokerStars) and did things with my family. I had one of my first real "grown up" moments the day I realized that there really are only 24 hours in a day, and I had to choose very carefully how I wanted to spend them. You know what I didn't want to spend them on? hand-coding html and tweaking software settings. It's sad, and I'll probably lose a 3d20 geek points for saying it, but those days are way, way behind me. After a day of making freelance deadlines, the last thing I'd want to do is try to repair and redesign my website, and since I was happy in Exile, it just wasn't that important to me.

The database was eventually repaired, thanks to the efforts of Mike Pusateri and his co-worker Yoshi, who managed to scrape the entire blog for me, and put it into a MT-readable format as an Xmas gift, and the technical support staff at Six Apart, who figured out what the hell was wrong with my dabase in the first place. Repaired database in hand, I found myself with a delimma: return to the now-totally-outated and badly-in-need-of-a-redesign WWdN, or continue using Typepad? Mostly, it was Typepad's awesome WYSIWYG editor that was keeping me in Exile, but there was also the redesign issue: no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with anything that I really liked.

A few weeks ago, the design problem was unexpectedly solved, when I wrote a series of posts in exile (part one, part two, part three) that helped me clear out a bunch of mental logjams. Seconds before I hit publish on the final one, the way I wanted the redesigned WWdN to look sprung into my mind fully-formed. I grabbed a piece of paper, sketched it out, scanned it, and e-mailed it to my friend, who is working on it at this very moment. I've found two great replacements for the WYSIWYG editor I loved so much: ecto, which is a desktop blogging application for Windows and Mac, and Performancing, which is a free Firefox extension that runs on just about any platform in the world, and is optimized for WheatonIX. (In fact, I composed and published this entry using Performancing. Yes, it's that easy to use.)

So this post represents a bridge between WWdN, and WWdN 2: Electric Boogaloo. All the links you would see on the front page of the old WWdN are in this post, so if you're new to WWdN you can explore some of the old (and massively outdated) sections.

WWdN will be re-launched very, very soon. Until then, you can use all the nifty information to explore what's already here. You can also come over to WIL WHEATON dot NET: In Exile to find out where my mind is right now.

Thanks for stopping by.

Old WWdN Content

• If this is your first time here, you should read this.
• By popular demand, you can now see or hear me read from my books Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot! If you like what you hear, you may want to pick up a copy of Just A Geek: Teh Audiobook. Or not. Whatever. I'm not the boss of you.
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• Technorati Profile

Posted by Wil at 09:38 PM | Permalink

Pauly:

If more Americans read books every night instead of watching TV, we'd live in a more productive society. If more Americans watched the news and read real newspapers and magazines, instead of crappy programs like American Idol, then I'm confident that George Bush would not be our president. But heck, that's what our leaders really want deep down... a mindless, uneducated populous that will work 40 hours a week so they can earn enough money to buy things to keep them distracted from the evil deeds that our leaders and suits in Fortune 500 companies are conducting everyday under your noses.

Posted by Wil at 03:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

Dinner is finished, and Anne is helping Nolan with some homework at the dining room table. I'm sitting outside by the fire pit, enjoying the fruits of our weekend of patio labor. I am surrounded by freshly-planted wildflowers, two types of tomatoes, and the sweet smell of lavender, roses, and just-turned dirt.

I was listening to Big Tracks on XM, through DirecTV, on our home stereo. I sang REO Speedwagon's Keep On Lovin' You a little too loudly while I sipped a Stone Pale Ale and digested the most amazing chicken soft tacos (marinated in tequila, lime, salsa and Tapatio) I think I've ever cooked, when Ryan came out to the patio from the kitchen.

"Can I turn off XM and put on Live Aid?" He said.

"No, you can't," I said, a little perturbed that my REO Speedwagon rocking had been interrupted.

"But you've been monopolizing the TV, and you're not even inside," he said. Very reasonable.

" . . . I meant that I loved you foreverrrrr, and I'm gonna ke--" I sang. "Dude. I'm trying to get my rock on, and you're totally harshing my mellow."

"You're trying to get your rock on . . . to REO Speedwagon?" He said, incredulous. Tough to argue with that. "You're the only one listening to this, so isn't it fair to consider the rest of the family?"

Dammit. I raised him to think like this. I'm so proud of him, but . . . Big Tracks, and Stone Pale Ale, and sitting by the fire pit! Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Did you ask your mom what she thinks?" I said.

"She's going to say that she doesn't care, because she's helping Nolan with his homework." He said.

REO Speedwagon ended, and Asia began: "I never meant to be so bad to you . . ."

"Okay," I said, "let's go inside and ask your mom what she thinks."

We walked into the house, and found Anne and Nolan at the dining room table. Ryan related our discussion, and asked Anne if she cared if he changed the channel.

"I don't care," she said.

Ryan jumped up and pointed at me. "Ha! I told you!"

"I don't care about the radio, either," Nolan said, with a pointed smirk at me.

"Yes! I get to put on Live Aid!" Ryan said. He started toward the living room.

"Uh, wait." I said, "we haven't reached consensus."

"Oh, we totally have, Wil," he said with a grin, "you're 25% in favor, and mom, Nolan, and I are
75% opposed. We have a majority."

I was done. I'd lost, and now it was time to take it like a man.

"Dude, I have, uhm, extra . . . uh . . . powers." I said.

"What?" Ryan said.

"Yeah, I went up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start," I said.

"Okay," Ryan said, "so you get extra lives on Contra. What does that have to do with the radio?"

I don't know how he knew that it was the Konami code, but I'm sure he picked it up from me, somewhere over the years.

"Okay," I said, "just because you knew that, you win. Go put on Live Aid."

Queen is blasting out We Will Rock You, from Wembley Stadium in 1985, as I type this.

Posted by Wil at 07:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

This is funny because it's true.

Posted by Wil at 09:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (1)

Eventful is getting lots of press, which is great for Brian and his entire team, because I believe that it's a tool that indie artists and guys like me will be able to use to connect with our audiences in ways that just weren't possible as recently as a year ago.

But I'm getting really tired of reading things like this:

The Eventful demand system is still new, and right now the system is overwhelmed by a collection of demands to hear former Star Trek actor Wil Wheaton speak. But don't let that put you off.

I'm sorry, but why would that put anyone off? Because it'd be better if Eventful was filled with demands for huge artists that don't care about meeting their audience, and wouldn't listen to demands, anyway?

Yeah, it's a really terrible thing that I hopped on board with Eventful, and consulted with Brian before it even launched, because I believe in it, and my upcoming trips to Montreal and Boston are perfect examples of how it can work, right? And it's equally off-putting that because of Eventful, the people who read my blog and I have a way to figure out where and when I should come perform, right? Yeah, that's just terrible! It's so off-putting!

And excuse me if this puts you off, Mr. Web 2.0 writer, but could we maybe retire the phrase "former Star Trek actor?" I know it's hard for you mainstream media types to understand that I've done a few things with myself since Star Trek ended over a decade ago, (like publish two books, write several weekly columns, and provide voices for several video games and animated series,) but I have a lot more in my life than just being a "former Star Trek actor," which you would have known if you'd done your homework.

Update: The article's author has apologized:

I'd like to apologize to you, Wil. I did not mean to offend nor to diminish your work. My tongue-in-cheek comment about how a ton of Eventful Demand posts to see you might be overwhelming to people trying to set up their own demands was not meant as a slight to you personally (although I can see how it was insensitive). As I said to one person who wrote an email to me, it's clear that you've done a lot for Eventful and Eventful has done a lot for you. That's how good business gets done.

I'll buy a ticket to see you when you come to SF.

Thank you, Rafe. Whenever I hear "former Star Trek actor . . ." without any mention of anything else I've done with my life, I do feel diminished and slighted. Apology accepted and appreciated very much.

Posted by Wil at 09:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (72)

Today is Towel Day, a day when all geeks can carry their towels with them in tribute to the hoopiest frood of them all, Douglas Adams.

I absolutely love that I'm recording an all-geek podcast on this most sacred of days.

Updated: Oh! You know what I love even more? Spending 2.5 hours working on the podcast, then losing the entire thing to some weird confluence of system lockups and crashes.

I'm taking a long, long, long don't-break-anything walk, and I'll try again in the morning. Sigh.

Posted by Wil at 03:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (1)

Today is Towel Day, a day when all geeks can carry their towels with them in tribute to the hoopiest frood of them all, Douglas Adams.

I absolutely love that I'm recording an all-geek podcast on this most sacred of days.

Posted by Wil at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

I am about to begin production on Episode 9 of Radio Free Burrito, but before I get started, I wanted to share a hilarious John Kovalic cartoon with you all.

More to come later . . .

Posted by Wil at 10:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (1)

Presented without comment.

Posted by Wil at 07:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (2)

I wrote a column for The AV Club about my trip to E3, and it hit the web about an hour ago. It's my first foray into my version of gonzo journalism, and I'm really happy with the way it came out.

Take the largest video arcade you remember from your childhood. Now quadruple its size, put it in the middle of Shibuya Crossing, dim the lights, and crank the volume to 11. Toss in a bunch of celebrities, charge $300 for a stale slice of pizza and a soda, crank the volume up to 11 one more time, and you've got E3: the Electronic Entertainment Expo.

E3 started during the halcyon '90s, when Pets.com ruled the world. Now every May, gaming giants like Nintendo, Microsoft, Sony, and Sega gather at the Los Angeles Convention Center to present their newest hardware and software releases to a very select audience: about 30 percent entertainment media, 5 percent distributors, and 65 percent people who have managed to scam press passes so they can spend a day playing video games and checking out booth babes (who this year are required to wear nothing more revealing than miniskirts—the trade-show equivalent of burkas).

[. . .]

Four televisions, eight guitars, and a small crowd stood beneath a mockup that looked remarkably like a concert stage. I could hear Kiss' "Strutter" being played with varying degrees of proficiency as Gen-Xers rocked out in the highly anticipated co-op mode.

"Hey, isn't that Guit—" Spencer asked.

"Muh… guh… huh…" I answered, walking on autopilot to the front of the booth.

"Hi, I'm Wil Wheaton," I said, "and I love your game." Probably not the most professional way to introduce myself, in retrospect. "I'm writing about Guitar Hero II for The A.V. Club."

You can read the entire story at The AV Club, and while you're there, you can check out my Games of our Lives column for this week: Congo Bongo.

I feel really good about this column, and I'm really happy that the type of writing I've perfected over the years on my blog earned a spot in an actual print publication.

Posted by Wil at 05:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

I found this photograph of Wesley, Beverly, and Captain Picard that goes with the scene I posted earlier today. I look like a total dork who is so excited he's about to burst, but I'm cool with that -- it was exactly how I felt the day we shot that scene. I never noticed until just now that Gates looks like a proud mom, and Patrick looks like a proud, uh, Patrick. I wonder if they were channeling real emotions like I was, or if they were just acting really well?

I had to scan it at a low resolution, because I'm pretty sure Viacom's goons would come after me if it was printable and whatnot, but if you always wondered what that scene looked like, well, now you know.

Posted by Wil at 01:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (44) | TrackBacks (1)

While executing a mission in the War on Shit All Over Our House (Operation Feng This Motherfrakkin' Shui) last night, I came across a little bag of stuff in my closet. Inside it, with a bunch of business cards, some old incense (Nag Champa is a constant in my life, it turns out) and a bunch of change, I found my sides and call sheet from the first day I worked on Star Trek: Nemesis a few years ago. (One page of my sides is scanned and pictured at right. Click to embiggen, but it's 1.3 MB, so don't complain if your modem screams at you and doesn't want to have a second date.)

There were a lot of things in my closet that were clearly important to me at one time, but it was as easy to throw them away as it was to open the closet door and dig them out: old T-shirts, shoes, hats, and a few little bags of stuff like the one which contained my sides. It was a sort of time capsule of the 2001-2005 versions of me, and I loved identifying the threads that have tied me together all these years: Converse shoes, collared bowling and lounge shirts, nerdy T-shirts, and baseball caps from the Cubs and Dodgers (why I end up with new caps at least twice a year is a great Mystery of the Universe.)

Every time I go through my stuff and find things that used to be important to me, only to jettison them into the great beyond, I feel a certain amount of freedom and serenity that I won't trade for anything. It's good to feel like my stuff doesn't own me, because it's pretty easy to get rid of my stuff. The other side of that coin, of course, is when I find things that I'm happy I kept, like these sides. I sat on my bedroom floor tonight and remembered holding those sides in my hand, even though I'd known the lines for days, when I was walking from the makeup trailer to the stage when I worked on Nemesis, and I'm glad that I have a physical touchstone from that day. The obnoxious red polyester shirt with the houndstooth pattern and slightly-too-big collar was a nice bonus, too.

Posted by Wil at 06:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

Anne and Ryan were out on Friday, which left Nolan and me to goof off at home when I got back from working on Legion of Super Heroes.

We had big plans: some Magic: The Gathering, a little Brawl, and maybe some OGRE and heads-up poker.

But when I got home, the goddamn pine tree in the front yard dropped a huge ball of pollen down on my car, and I spent the next four hours on the couch sneezing and trying to fight off the allergy-induced headache that felt like it was going to split my head in twain. Good times. Good times.

Nolan ended up playing Diablo II while I watched the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles pwn the Los Angeles Angels of Not Los Angeles Because We Play In Orange County But Our Idiot Owner Wants To Have Los Angeles In Our Name Because He's A Moron.

For those of you who missed the sixth inning massacre, the final board was:

LAD - 16 25 1
LAANLABWPOCBOIOWHLAIOWBHAM: 3 10 2

Of course, the Dodgers did their best to blow their fifteen run lead, by letting Carter come in and give up three hits and a run, and though I normally don't like games that are total blowouts, watching the Dodgers on the winning side of it for a change, and especially at the expense of the stupid Angels who swept us last year, was awesome. I should also add that the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles shutout the Los Angeles Because We Play In Orange County But Our Idiot Owner Wants To Have Los Angeles In Our Name Because He's A Moron to complete the sweep, and move up to 1/2 a game out of first in what is probably the weakest division this side of 7 year-olds playing little league.

Speaking of the Dodgers, yesterday, my dad took me to Chavez Ravine for some LAD vs LAANLABWPOCBOIOWHLAIOWBHAM action, and it was awesome. There are pictures in my buzznet blog, including a shot of Tommy Lasorda, who is the closest to royalty you'll see at Dodger Stadium, who got a standing ovation from our entire section when he walked from his seat to wherever it is you go when you're Tommy Fucking Lasorda and you rule.

Anyway, back to Friday: After the only team on the field worthy of having Los Angeles in their name blew the game wide open, I picked up my bag of comics from Free Comic Book Day, and finally had a look at the books I picked up. Most of them were a solid "meh," but that's the whole point of FCBD: to see new stuff that may not excite everyone, but introduce new readers to new material. If you're a guy like me who is already pretty narrow in tastes, it's unlikely you're going to find much that excites you. However, there were a few things that I really liked that I'll pick up next time I'm at my friendly local comics shop:

• Shadowhawk, from Image
• Dead at 17, from Viper
• Superman/Batman from DC

The Bongo freebie was also funny (and funnier than the average episode of the Simpsons these days, which is not meant as a backhanded complement) and the Fantagraphics Funnybook was fantastic.

Around ten, my antihistamines finally started to work, and my headache began to subside as it was overtaken by drowsiness. I fell asleep watching Dark City, which is still a hell of a lot of fun to watch, whether you've got a head filled with antihistamines or not.

Today, Anne and I opened up a new front in the War on Shit All Over Our House and Yard (Operation Enduring Yardwork) and pruned the hell out of a tree in the front yard, as well as tearing out all the weeds that had attempted to establish a beachhead in one of our front yard planters. Rain threatened all day today, but never arrived, which was great, because the combination of breeze and humidity provided just the right level of comfort for fighting the forces of Bermuda grass and their allies the tree-looking things that spring up all over the goddamn place. In a fit of planning ahead, I did my best Sean Penn imitation and snorted a whole bunch of Flonase (relax, I have a prescription) before I started the work today, and I was able to work for about five hours before simple exhaustion overcame me (rather than the sneezing and allergy-related misery I experienced Friday night.)

After all my yard work was done, I decided to take a break and play a little poker at PokerStars, so I hopped into a 4-player heads-up sit-n-go (I was inspired after watching the Heads-up Championship on NBC this morning.) I really like those matches, because most of the players at the lower buy-ins are very straightforward (so you know your pair of kings is no good when they bet into you on an A-high board) and you only have to beat two players to win three buy-ins, instead of 8 players in a regular sit-n-go. At one point, my first round opponent had me down to just a few big blinds, but I got insanely lucky and bounced back, tilting him in the process and taking it down. My second round opponent had the classic online tell: he'd check the "check/fold" box when he was in the BB if he didn't like his hand, so I'd call and if he insta-checked, I knew I could bet no matter what on the flop and get him to fold. I rode the right combination of luck and trusting my reads to victory, turning my mighty five dollar buy-in into twenty dollars when I flopped TP and a flush draw with AT and got him to call me with KT when my flush missed.

Okay, now it's time to go watch The Simpsons, in the lame hope that it manges to be funny this week.

Uh, okay, the whole opening bit with the attacking couches? Brilliant. Even if the rest of the show veers off into that weird Jesusland they've been hitting so frequently this season, that was worth the price of admission.

Wait. The baseball bit? Very funny. This "homer is the relationship counselor" bit? The polar opposite of funny. Are they hiring old 1970s sit-com writers? This is like a rejected Three's Company script. Give me another monorail, please. Please, I beg you.

Posted by Wil at 08:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

I've spent all my time today catching up with all the things I've wanted to put into my blog over the last few weeks, but haven't had the time or energy to complete. This is the last bit of the Catching Up Trilogy, soon to be a major motion picture starring Jack Black as the cab driver, Jimmy Kimmel's Cousin as Wil Wheaton, and a special appearance by William Fucking Shatner, as himself.

"I wrote earlier today about not having time, and feeling like there isn't enough time for things, and I think the conclusion I've reached from this already-too-long post is that we have to give ourselves permission to make time for the things we really want to do. In my case, I need to have full access to my creative brain. Fear is the enemy of creativity, and I have to just stop being afraid of not providing for my family enough, so I can write some creative things that will provide for them."

More Than This

I have to say this, so I can get over it once and for all: Most of my experience with the release of Just A Geek completely sucked. Rather than building on the momentum I created with Dancing Barefoot, I felt like I was right back where I started, when the whole thing was finally over. I felt taken advantage of, mislead, and ultimately just discarded. That book was really my baby, and the damn publisher handled it (and me) so poorly, it was just devastating to me.

When it became apparent to me that the publisher wasn't going to market it correctly, and when I realized that the company was never interested in doing more with it than just cashing in on my blog and the audience I'd worked so hard to create, I felt like a total chump. I worked harder on Just A Geek, and spent more time and energy on promoting it and making sure it was as good as it could be, and I actually earned less, and sold fewer with a major publisher than I did with Dancing Barefoot, publishing it on my own. In fact, the only real publicity efforts or signings that had any impact on sales were ones I set up myself, or came to me because of my blog. Yeah, that was really worth the huge nightmare of constantly begging them not to promote it as a Sci-Fi book or a Star Trek bio, only to be ignored or dismissed. Never again will I rely upon a publisher to do what they said they would do, and never again will I ignore the instincts I've spent a lifetime developing when they warn me that something just isn't right.

"You have to do another book like Dancing Barefoot," Anne told me last summer, "because we had such a good time with it, and you're too stubborn and passionate to work for anyone, anyway. Then you'll feel better about the whole thing."

She was right, of course, and the idea for Do You Want Kids With That? to be another small book very similar to Dancing Barefoot was born.

The entire process of working on that manuscript was very similar to the Barefoot experience: I spent long hours on my Debian machine, cutting and pasting stuff from my blog and editing it in OpenOffice.org, and sending tons of files back and forth with my friend Andrew, who edited almost all of Dancing Barefoot, and the first two drafts of Just A Geek with me.

Our goal was to have it out by November of last year, but in the early weeks of October, I realized that it wasn't going to work. The problem was easy to identify: though it was a collection of several short stories all relating to my experiences as a stepfather, it was essentially the same story over and over again: I love my stepkids, and I love it so much when I can feel them accept me and I see myself reflected in them. It's hard to be a stepparent, but it's totally worth all the extra work. That's great for about three short stories, and the occasional blog entry, but anything longer than that is just too much, and it gets old. I know how to fix it, but I am just not willing to tear the curtains back on Ryan and Nolan's lives the same way I'm willing to do it on my own, and without doing that, I can't write additional stories that will give the final draft the ebb and flow it needs to truly work. I also don't want to spend a whole lot of time and energy talking about what a jerk Anne's ex-husband is, and how hard he's worked (and continues to work) to drive a wedge between the kids and me, which is very important context to understand just how remarkable it is that I have any relationship with them at all, let alone the fantastic, loving, trusting, bonded one we do have.

But I had material that was written and edited, and it seemed foolish to let it go to waste, so I pulled together three of the stories that I liked the most, and Andrew helped me edit them into the chapbook More Than This.

Every step of the way, from the selection of material, to the re-writing and editing, to the layout and printing and release, made me insanely happy. I felt like I was in charge of my life, and helping to support my family by doing something I love, and don't totally suck at. (Yes, I realize the irony of saying that I don't suck at writing while ending a sentence in a preposition. With. At. Of.)

(At.)

I felt like I could finally feel good about writing and publishing again, and a lot of the unhappiness and frustration and depression that tainted and then ruined the Just A Geek experience was washed away. It was like Dancing Barefoot all over again, and I couldn't have been happier:

When I picked up my chapbooks from the printer, I had the same happiness and sense of fulfillment that I had when Dancing Barefoot first arrived at my house almost exactly three years ago.

When I took them to the Grand Slam convention, and people expressed an interest in reading them, I felt the same excitement that I felt when people picked up the first pre-release, I-made-them-at-Kinko's copies of Dancing Barefoot at the same convention in 2003.

When I created the blog entry about the chapbook, and orders started to come in, I felt the same surprise, excitement, happiness and joy I felt when Dancing Barefoot was first accepting orders. In fact, I saw a lot of names that I recognized from back then, and felt doubly happy that so many of you reading this have continued to come back for so many years. (There are a lot of places you can visit on the Internets, and there's a lot of media competing for your time and attention; that you choose to spend some of it with me makes me feel very, very happy, and I'll continue to do my very best to earn your time and honor your support.)

When I filled the orders for the chapbook, and Anne and Ryan helped me put them into envelopes and apply the stamps, I felt the same happiness and excitement that I felt during the summer of Dancing Barefoot's first release, when Anne and I sat in our living room with our friends and stuffed envelopes, applied postage and mailing labels, and took them to the post office for shipping.

Man, the summer of 2003 was so much fun: Anne and I took our ultra-awesome  road trip to Tulsa  for the Trek Expo, where Dancing Barefoot sold out, I did signings at Powell's in Portland and Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego, and I couldn't wait to get Just A Geek (which was already in production at the time) finished, so I could build upon all that momentum. It's the happiest I think I've been since we got married, which remains the happiest day of my life (as cliche as that sounds.) Everything was working back then; my writing was clear and interesting (to me, anyway) and everything was coming up Millhouse. I expected the same success and excitement -- better, even -- with Just A Geek, and when it became painfully clear that it wasn't coming, and in fact was designed not to come, it made the crash from the Dancing Barefoot high that much more painful (obviously, as I still lingers a little bit today.)

The More Than This experience is like Dancing Barefoot, only smaller and more intimate this time. I really, really like that. I sincerely hope that those of you who ordered copies (the first shipment is arriving, according to e-mail, and the second shipment is going out as soon as I post this and drive to the post office) feel like your time and money is well-spent.

I don't know what will come next on the literary front. I've been working so hard to keep my head above water with my "for hire" work, I haven't had the time to just take a long walk up the mountain and see what I bring back. I have some fiction ideas, one in particular that is very exciting to me and may get out of the "wouldn't it be cool if . . ." stage and enter the "I'm working on a story about . . ." stage. I've also thought about collecting the best of my blog twice a year, and doing limited print runs like More Than This, with added commentary and a few other things that should make it worth your time. I am also going to take the material that would have been in Do You Want Kids With That? and turn it into an audiobook, unlike anything else that's out there right now (to the best of my knowledge) and release that in the near future, sort of like Just A Geek: The Audiobook.

I told my friend Shane a couple of days ago, "starting tonight, i vow to spend less time online, less time playing poker, and more time reading books, listening to music, exercising, and enjoying the things in life that are worth enjoying -- it's just not worth it to be tied to the fucking computer all day, every day."

I think that's good advice for tracking down my inspiration and finding my writing muse again. I can't expect to hit a single home run if I don't take batting practice, you know?

Here's an interesting bonus result from my blogging today: in the process of catching up, I feel like I've purged a ton of stuff that's been clogging me up for a long time, and I was able to sit down at my dining room table, pull out a pen and a piece of paper, and sketch out a WWdN 2.0 layout for my friend Russ to work on. He says it's awesome, and can have the new design ready really soon. I may just get to leave Exile before Duke Nuke 'Em Forever ships. Everything happens for a reason . . . maybe I needed to get all this out so I could go home, and pack up for that long walk up the mountain.

Posted by Wil at 05:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (41)

I've been too busy to write about some cool things that I've experienced, recently. I'm taking the next few hours to catch up . . .

Free Comic Book Day

In 2003, I took Ryan and Nolan to Free Comic Book Day at my local comic shop, Comics Factory in Pasadena (Colorado, just West of Hill, if you're ever in the area). It's a great shop, run by people who love comics and really take care of their customers.

FCBD is exactly what it sounds like: a day when you get to choose from a bunch of different comics -- for free -- at your friendly local comic shop. The idea is to get new people interested in reading comics and graphic novels, as well as convincing current readers to give a different book or genre a risk-free try. (Note to industry: how about Free Game Day?)

When I took the kids two years ago, they picked up a bunch of X-Men and Batman and stuff, and were really into comic books for about three weeks before losing interest and returning to Harry Potter (Ryan) and Reading Sucks (Nolan, who has grown into quite the reader in the last 1 months) I, on the other hand, picked up Fables, which is the coolest Vertigo title since Sandman, and found my love of comic books re-kindled. For most of a year, I went into the comic shop twice a month and picked up new books and read them all. I was terribly sad when I had to admit that I couldn't justify the time and money invested, though, and I didn't read much more than a few graphic novels for most of 2005.

So I have a pile of great books from Free Comic Book Day that I think I'm going to read this afternoon, as soon as I finish my writing commitments for today.

Uh-oh. Commence rambling:

I love to watch and read Sci-Fi and Fantasy. I love to play geeky games like Illuminati and Talisman and Frank's Zoo. I love to read comic books, and I wish I had the time to paint 40K armies and go to gaming cons and comic cons and just be a total nerd. I want to go for a hike to Echo Mountain, and I want to go Geocaching. I wish I had time to go out to plays and hear live music and see midnight movies and take my family on trips to see things like Yellowstone and the Smithsonian, or just go to the beach and enjoy one of the reasons we still live in Southern California.

Somewhere in the last couple of years, I've allowed my sense of responsibility and my need to be a good father, husband, and provider completely overwhelm me. I've lost a sense of Balance in my life, and all those cool nerdy things that defined me for so much of my life are struggling to get up there and have the floor, too.

When I went to Free Comic Book Day this year, I felt a connection to some of the happiest days of my life, those days when I sat on the floor at Darin's house and we read Sandman, and Killing Joke, and Dark Knight Returns together. The smell of paper and cardboard and books and that nerd-funk that can't be described reminded me of all the hours I spent in game stores like The Last Grenadier, and the hours I spent at home reading Uncle Albert's and rolling up GURPS characters, just because I could.

I fully realize that an adult with two kids and a mortgage can't have the sort of time and freedom to goof off the way he did when he was a teenager, but I think there has to be some way, even as an adult, to find Balance, and give yourself permission to goof off from time to time. You know that saying, "We don't stop playing because we get old, we get old because we stop playing"? I grok.

Oh, which actually brings up another interesting observation: In On Writing, Stephen King says that you can't expect to be a creative writer if you don't make the time to read. All the really good poker players I know say a similar thing about playing cards: if you don't make time to study your game, and talk with other players who you respect, you can't expect to play your best game. The same thing goes for athletes; they say that Tony Gwynn and Ted Williams took more batting practice than anyone else on their teams, and Michael Jordan spent more time practicing free throws and anyone else on the Bulls. It makes sense, doesn't it?

I wrote earlier today about not having time, and feeling like there isn't enough time for things, and I think the conclusion I've reached from this already-too-long post is that we have to give ourselves permission to make time for the things we really want to do. In my case, I need to have full access to my creative brain. Fear is the enemy of creativity, and I have to just stop being afraid of not providing for my family enough, so, uh, I can write some creative things that will provide for us.

That segues nicely into part three, coming later.

Posted by Wil at 01:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I've been too busy to write about some cool things that I've experienced, recently. I'm taking the next few hours to catch up . . .

kyle + rosemary

The kyle + rosemary recording session was as much fun as I thought it would be. Jun cast a brilliant woman to play Rosemary, whose voice combined perfectly with her character model, and made it easy for me to commit to Kyle's head-over-heels crush on her.

I've never been particularly good at doing voices, but with Jun's help, I found a voice for Kyle that was soft and sweet and a little insecure, that I was really, really happy with.

Jun (director / creator) and Jentle (voice of Rosemary) were great fun to collaborate with, and we had a great time riffing together and discovering some funny stuff that surprised us all. One of my favorite moments was trying to come up with something to replace "severed head," which the S&P folks had decided was forbidden. We tried a few different things, and Jun settled on replacing the severed head with a skull. I suggested we make it a flaming skull, because "everything is funnier when you set it on fire." 

I saw Don the Coolest Guard in the World when I went in, but he wasn't there when I left, so I didn't get to thank him personally. I heard from a few people at Nickelodeon that someone did show him my blog, though, so he knows. I hope I get to go back to Nickelodeon soon and shake his hand.

kyle + rosemary is not a sold pilot; it's a short film that will be considered by Nickelodeon for series development early next year. When I have more information about when it's airing and how you can watch it, I'll let you know.

Legion of Super Heroes

I've done two episodes of Legion so far, and I go back for another one tomorrow. I really can't say anything about it, because the Warner Animation Goonsquad will totally come after me and take away my super powers . . . but it's just amazing, and I think people are really, really going to like it.

More later . . .

Posted by Wil at 11:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

There just isn't enough time.

There isn't enough time to do everything I want to do with my kids.
There isn't enough time to take long walks with my wife.
There isn't enough time to work on my yard.
There isn't enough time to work on my house.
There isn't enough time to get out and live life to the fullest.
There isn't enough time to seek out and embrace inspiration.
There isn't enough time to write great stories.
There isn't enough time to play games.

There just isn't enough time.

Posted by Wil at 11:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (1)

Spring is totally here in Pasadena: it's misty or foggy in the mornings, and cool enough to wear a shell when I jog around the neighborhood. Then it burns off around noon and we enjoy cool breezes and temperatures in the mid 70s until the sun goes down. It's perfect planting, barbequing, and sitting-on-the-patio-with-a-nice-cigar weather. The thing is, our patio (and all of our yard, actually) has really gone to hell over Winter, so Ryan and Nolan and I gave Anne a landscaped and cleaned up yard for Mother's Day.

I spent the entire day yesterday up to my knees in turned soil and roly poly bugs while my dogs did their best to help me out by digging holes where I'd recently stuck some new plants into the ground. The kids helped clean out overgrown grasses and piles of leaves we'd allowed to collect in the corners of the yard, and Anne and I transplanted some huge lavender bushes from the front yard to the planter beneath our kitchen window (boy, the fragrance of lavender drifting through that window can almost make washing dishes not completely suck.)

The smell of wet grass and freshly turned earth is everywhere: when I sit in my office, it comes up from the back yard; when I take my Powerbook into my living room and sit on the couch (where I am right now,) it comes in from the patio . . . and there are birds everywhere! I hung bird feeders with songbird mix and socks filled with Nyjer seed all around my yard, and filled up the birdbath on the patio as the sun was setting last night, and this morning there are close to thirty birds, from gold finches to blue jays to white tufted titmouses (titmice?) singing and chirping and making my yard the peaceful sanctuary I've always wanted it to be.

The best part? I spent $139 dollars on plants and soil and fertilizer and crap, and the looks and feels more like a thousand bucks. In about a month, if these plants take off the way we think they will, Anne and I are going to have several flowerbeds filled with beautiful native plants.

There's still work to be done: the elm needs to be thinned, the palm tree needs to be cleaned up before it can dump sixty pounds of seeds and junk into my grass, and I have an entirely overgrown side yard that needs to be totally cleaned out and landscaped (it's been the "let's do that next" project since we moved in six years ago), but the work we did this weekend -- as a family, no less -- is just awesome. I have lately felt like I'm working very hard without a whole lot to show for it, and it gives me a much-needed sense of accomplishment to walk into my back yard and see the results of the work we did. I wish I'd taken before and after photos, because it's pretty incredible.

I've been writing all morning, and now I can go out into the back and enjoy its growing sense of peace and sanctuary. I may even take a cigar with me, just because I can.

Posted by Wil at 01:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (1)

People always advise their friends and family to get up and watch the sunrise. That's a great idea, because experiencing the world early in the morning when she's waking up can be a magical and inspiring experience, but don't neglect the full moon.

You get 365 chances each year to get up and watch Father Sun, in russet mantle clad, climb yon Eastward hill, but Mother Moon only grows fat once a month, so the next time you know she'll be full, grab a telescope, some binoculars, or a person you love and head out into the back yard for a look.

Posted by Wil at 09:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

"The NSA would like to remind everyone to call their mothers this Sunday.  They need to calibrate their system."

(via Bruce Schneier. Image via boingboing)

Posted by Wil at 01:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (4)

A lot of people have asked me about Americanizing Shelly, the film I worked on last year as director Alan Smithee.

I haven't said much about it, because I didn't know what I could talk about and what I had to keep on the down-low, but I just read this story from the swnewsherald about the production:

The film tells the story of a wannabe Hollywood talent manager’s quest to Americanize an Indian girl from the Himalayas. As he teaches her about the “American way of life,” they begin to see the world through each other’s eyes.

I didn't know this when I worked on it, but one of the co-producers was just seventeen years-old! I'm totally blown away; we only spoke on the phone and via e-mail, but if I hadn't read this article, I would have thought she was a typical, experienced film-maker.[1] Good on ya, Natasha!

I also just discovered that the film has a website, which currently features a teaser trailer that includes me, in all my "incompetent director" glory. Right on.

[1] Oops. Mistaken identity. We never spoke with each other. However, it's still incredibly cool that a seventeen year-old got involved with the making of a movie (which I've just found out looks great and is cracking up all the people who have seen it during editing.)

Posted by Wil at 06:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (36)

I'm getting ready to hop on the train and go down to E3, to do an hour on GameSpy's Livewire program with David Lawrence. I'll be on at noon Pacific time, and you can tune in for audio goodness through the Livewire website, but you have to register for the video goodness. Sorry about that; it's beyond my control. I'm pretty sure it's an interactive show, too, so come out and represent the posse if you're in a representin' mood, dogg. Uh, yo. Word. Westsieeeeeeeed.

When I'm done with that, my official quest to play Guitar Hero 2 will begin, which makes this the first time in three years that I'm actually excited to go to E3. Rock.

Posted by Wil at 09:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

I wanted to have something new and cool to show off when I went to the Grand Slam Sci-Fi Summit back in March, so I worked like crazy and made a very limited edition chapbook called More Than This, which is a few stories from the Do You Want Kids With That? manuscript (which is a book similar to Dancing Barefoot, but all about stepparenting.)

I wanted it to be something really cool and worth having, so in addition to three stories that I really like, I asked Ben Claassen to do an illustration like the ones he did for Dancing Barefoot, and I asked my stepson Ryan if he'd write a foreword. Luckily for us all, they both agreed, and the result is really cool, if I say so myself.

I only made 200 of these books, and sold 51 58 of them at the convention. Since I gave Ryan and Nolan numbers one and two respectively, that means there are 147 140 left in the whole entire universe, including the far off Dangot (that's pronounced "dang-oh," not "dan-got," which you may have heard) Nebula.

I was only going to make 100 for the convention, but it didn't cost that much to increase the run to 200, and I figured that I'd be able to offer whatever was left on this here website.

See where I'm going with this? I knew ya did!

If you'd like to pick up one of these limited-edition chapbooks, you can use the "Buy Now" button below. I'll sign the chapbook to whomever you want, and number it by hand with my very favorite squishy-handled pen. I'll keep this offer up as long as I have books, and of course I'll refund any orders that come in after they're all gone (assuming they sell out.)

One last thing: in the writing and editing process of Do You Want Kids With That?, my editor and I have come to the conclusion that it probably doesn't work as a full-length book (long story) but will almost certainly work very well as a 60-minute audiobook. So it's quite likely that this will be the only way you can get your hands on this material in any sort of book form.

If you're interested, here are the details:

More Than This - A Personalized, Autographed Chapbook by Wil Wheaton, featuring a foreword from my stepson Ryan.
Length: 20 pages.
Price: $25.00 (includes shipping)

Please allow 3-5 weeks for processing and shipping. At this time, I can only accept domestic US orders (international shipping is a real bitch for a small time operation like mine, and I have to increase the costs quite a bit to justify the extra time and work. Sorry.) If you have questions, put them in comments, so I can sort of FAQ it up. Thanks.

UPDATE: As of 8:30 PM PDT, there are just 75 left. 74 left (I thought I should probably set one aside for my mom.)

UPDATE AGAIN: As of 9:38 PM PDT there are just 32 left. Wow.

UPDATED AGAIN AGAIN: At 11:05 PM PDT, there are only 11 books left.

UPDATED ONE LAST TIME: It's 11:44 PM PDT, and all the books have been ordered, so I'm going to bed now. I'll start processing orders tomorrow after breakfast. Thanks to everyone who placed orders!

Posted by Wil at 05:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (69) | TrackBacks (1)

So it turns out that Eventful Demands really work! Thanks to everyone who demanded me in Boston (currently a staggering 209,) I was able to confidently contact a few bookstores and tell them that I was coming to town, with about 200 people who would come to their store, spend some money, and freak out the regulars.

As I've tried to put this together, I've learned that Boston has no shortage of outstanding bookstores, (especially indie book stores) and scheduling something for two days before the Fourth of July holiday is really, really hard . . . but I stuck at it, because this is such a unique opportunity to find out if decentralized tools and the power of the internets really does work for a guy like me.

On the advice of several WWdN:iX readers, I focused my attention and my efforts on Brookline Booksmith and Porter Square Books. If I was going to be in town for more than two days, I could probably do events at both stores, but since I'm only there for a brief time, (and because they called back first) I'll be at Brookline Booksmith on July 2nd. The store is working with the theatre across the street from the store to set up a screening of Stand By Me, followed by a Q&A with me. If they can get a print of the film, it will start at noon; otherwise, I'll just take the stage at one, do a reading from Just A Geek, and take some questions after. Either way, it's going to be really, really fun.

More details will come as they get worked out, but so far, here's what I have in easy-to-cut-n-paste form:

Who: Wil Wheaton, author, actor, cad, knave, raconteur.
What: Reading from Just A Geek, possible screening of Stand By Me.
Where: Brookline Booksmith - 279 Harvard Street Brookline, MA 02446
When: Sunday, July 2, 2006  - 12:00pm

This is really exciting for me. I feel the same level of anticipation and giddiness I felt when I was about to release Dancing Barefoot through Monolith Press, because this is something that I never could have done on my own (both practically, and courageously) and I can't wait to see how this whole thing turns out.

Now, I can turn my attention to taking care of Montreal, which is going to be a hell of a lot easier, I think.

Posted by Wil at 02:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (4)

I have pictures and stories about kyle + rosemary from yesterday, but I've got to go to the cleaners and get my tights on my way to Warner Brothers for my Legion of Super Heroes session that starts in an hour. Man, it's so weird (and so cool) to work two days in a row on different voice projects! If I've got anything left when I get home, I'll post about them both.

But if you're looking for something to read until then, here's your occasional linkfest to stuff I've written elsewhere in the last week, that you probably missed if you just read WWdN:iX:

Geek News @ Suicide Girls:

Earth's Artificial Ring - (This is probably my favorite story I've ever put onto the Geekwire.)

During the height of the Cold War, American scientists were also geeked out on the Ionosphere, because using it was the only reliable way to communicate over long distances, should ground-based microwave or undersea cable communication become unusable because of those godless commies. Not happy to accept the Ionosphere as nature intended it, they attempted to create an artificial Ionosphere by launching 480 million tiny copper needles into orbit, which briefly gave our planet an artificial ring in 1963.

The Last Webreference You'll Ever Need

Protolize breaks everything down into categories, from General to RSS to CMS and beyond, and then further sub-categorizes them into Tools, Resources, and Inspirations. Just about everything you need to take that idea in your head and make it something real online is gathered together in one place, and if there's a site you know of that isn't listed, adding it to the list is as simple as filling out a form. It's like Webmonkey meets del.icio.us, and exemplifies the power of sharing and organizing knowledge using the Internets.

Dude Tracks His Transatlantic Flight By Watching Internet Routing

The best part of Todd's blog post is his explanation of routing protocols and how the engineers at Boeing overcame what could have been service-crippling problems, including all sorts of really cool and useful graphics that even a level 010 geek can easily understand. In fact, if you grok and get excited by his story, you're probably on your way to being a level 1010 geek. If you understand what I'm talking about and are giggling right now, you're a level 101010 geek, and we're looking forward to seeing you at the meeting tonight. Excelsior!

Poker Stuff @ CardSquad:

In Washington State, Online Poker Players Are Now Class C Felons, Just Like Sex Offenders

Lawmakers in Washington state have decided that they know what's best for all their residents, and recently passed Senate Bill 6613, which "[reaffirms and clarifies] the prohibition against Internet and certain other interactive electronic or mechanical devices to engage in gambling."

I am the UltraGigli (note: in poker blogger land, Gigli is what we call the first person to be knocked out of a tourney. At the WPBT events in Vegas, the first person eliminated gets a copy of Gilgli on DVD from Dr. Pauly.)

Since I was Gigli'd in back-to-back tourneys, first with Aces and then with Kings, I now declare that I am the JLo's glorious ass part of Gigli. I am, in fact, the UltraGigli.

REVIEW: Phil Gordon's Little Green Book of Poker

During the 2005 WPT Championship at Bellagio, I had the great fortune of spending some time with Phil -- not at the same table, thank gods -- and he really helped me a lot.

[. . .]

We had dinner together at the end of the first day, and Phil gave me a bit of a lesson while we ate. When we were done, he told me that he was working on a little book that would compile lots of useful information from existing works by Caro and Sklansky, filtered through and expanded upon by Phil's personal experience. He was particularly excited about the tournament chapter, and all the math he'd done to figure out very reliably how often players needed to steal blinds, and make moves to survive into the deeper levels of play. He graciously offered to e-mail me a copy of the manuscript so I could read it over later that night, and it significantly helped my game. The book, of course, became Phil Gordon's Little Green Book: Lessons and Teachings in No Limit Texas Hold'em.

Thanks for reading!

Posted by Wil at 12:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

The April 19th issue of The Onion arrived in my mailbox yesterday (it is a massive perk of being an AV Club contributor) and it's one of the funniest complete issues I've read in months. Seriously, from top to bottom this one is so funny, it makes you want to write hyperbolic statements that begin, "Seriously, from top to bottom . . ."

My two favorite stories are Drunk Will Show You, Everybody

YOUNGSTOWN, OH—In response to the shit he knows everyone is saying about him, local resident Todd Stenerud, after a prolonged drinking session, announced his intention to show you and everyone else just minutes before closing time at a local bar Monday.

"You people don't know [what] the fuck you're talking about," Stenerud announced from his stool at Dan's Pub. "You think I can't? Know what? I'll show you. I'll show everybody."

And the op-ed Baby, You Mean the World of Warcraft to Me

Come on, honey, why do you have to be like that? You know that you're my Elven princess. My one and only. I would dare say that there is no one in all the realm who doesn't know of our love. I have sung your praises from the mouth of the Shadowthread Cave to the Stranglethorn Vale of the Eastern Kingdoms. I've introduced you to my comrades-in-arms in the Ulster guild, and they all accept you as kin.

And now you want to dissolve the greatest love ever to brighten my basement?

As long as I'm linking to Onion-related funny, the AV Club's Summer Movie Preview, titled "Why Bother?" is out:

[E]very summer arrives with at least a few movies that threaten to give popcorn escapism a good name, movies like last year's Batman Begins and War Of The Worlds. With that in mind, The A.V Club humbly presents a list of reasons why you're probably better off skipping the multiplexes altogether this summer. Of course, we could be wrong.

X-Men: The Last Stand

What it's about: Those nutty X-Men are at it again, this time dealing with the ramifications of a supposed cure for mutants.

Why it's probably a waste of time: Four words: "Directed by Brett Ratner." No wait, six more words: "With Kelsey Grammer as The Beast."

Why it might be worth seeing anyway: Ratner's most infuriating trait, his inability to create a distinct directorial style, might serve him well here. The trailer makes this look like one of Bryan Singer's X-Men films. If Ratner apes those well enough, it might be okay.

Finally, I think this week's Games of our Lives, Circus Charlie, is pretty funny, if I do say so myself.

Gameplay: Are you ready to jump? You'd better be, because that's about all you'll be doing in Circus Charlie. There are six different levels, and the objectives range from easy (jumping through hoops of fire while riding a lion, jumping over monkeys while walking on a tightrope) to more difficult (jumping from one bouncy ball or trampoline to another) to nearly impossible (jumping from a moving horse to a springboard and back).

To succeed in Circus Charlie, you'll need to carefully use the joystick to set your speed as you time your jumps. However, that's the only skill you'll need to master, and once you've got that down, it'll be easy to reach for the high score—and to collect all the bags of money on each level so you can give yourself a sensual massage in all their bonus-point-delivering glory.

Could be mistaken for: Track & Field, Jump Jump Revolution

I remember being so disappointed the first time I played Circus Charlie back in the 80s, and how furious I was when I inadvertently played it several months later, unsure if it was "that one stupid jumping game that really sucked." In the quarter-centric economy of 1985, it was a significant hit to my otherwise robust portfolio, which was frequently invested in Mr. Do! and Super Pac-Man, with a much more successful return.

Posted by Wil at 04:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I had an incredibly vivid dream just before I woke up today about an earthquake, and when I got out of bed, I saw that there'd been a huge 'quake near Tonga.

I'm going to take a nap now, and hope that I dream about the Dodgers not blowing a huge lead late in the game, because my brother and I are going to the game tonight.

Posted by Wil at 02:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (1)

I was very spoiled by Teen Titans. It was a fantastically talented group of actors, writers, and animators, lead by passionate producers and one of the best directors I've ever had the pleasure of working with. I was crushed when the show was cancelled not only because it meant I wouldn't have the job, but because it meant that I wouldn't get to work with this incredible group of people several times a year any more.

When I found out that I would be working on Legion of Super Heroes, I was excited, but I kept my expectations in check . . . what were the odds of lightning striking twice?

Well, it turns out that those odds were 1:1. I had an absolute blast on Friday. The entire cast accepted me right away, and welcomed me into their show (they've been working together for eleven episodes, already) and made me feel like I was part of their team who had been there from the start. The producers, writers, and the director were just hawesome, and I can't wait to go back and work with them all again this week . . . because I'm a recurring character!

Oh yeah, baby. Recurring character. Sweet.

I know that Warner Brothers is very touchy about revealing too many details before they are announced (Marv Wolfman and I got our wrists slapped when we both mentioned something about Aqualad on our blogs when we worked together on Deep Six) but I got an okay from a highly-placed source to at least reveal that I am playing the part of Cosmic Boy, one of the founders of the Legion.

Finding Cosmic Boy's voice was fun: my instinct said that I should stand for him (he's sort of an arms-across-the-chest kind of guy) but with my damn hip hurting, I ended up sitting . . . big mistake. I struggled for the first act, until I could get the engineer to reset my mic so I could stand up. It's amazing what a huge difference a little thing like sitting vs. standing makes; it's the difference between playing outfield with or without a glove, or running with shoes that don't quite fit.

Standing up and settling into him let me bring Cosmic Boy to life, and really find his point of view about himself and his relationship with the other Legionaries. Once I knew who he was, and once he lived in me, I was able to do some really cool stuff. At one point in the last act, I felt so confident that I knew him, I even asked for a second take on a line where I thought I could play a more interesting beat than I did in the first take, which everyone on the other side of the glass was very happy with. I rarely ask for additional takes because if an actor is going to ask for a second pass he'd better have something really great to do, to justify the extra time and expense, and until recently I just haven't had the level of confidence as a voice actor necessary to pull that off.

I can't say exactly what dialogue or scene was, but you Meisner actors will probably grok this: there are three beats in the line. The first time I did it, I set him straight, enlightened him, and went one better. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that enlightening him and going one better were essentially the same beat, so I asked for another take where I set him straight, enlightened him, and shared bad news, which sort of went one better but was more specific and "shaded" differently and was more interesting. I felt an emotional connection to the words and the scene after the second take, and I guess the other actors did, too. One of them said, "Oh, I really liked that," and another said, "Dude, you're not Cosmic Boy; you're Actor Boy!" To which I replied (in a Ted Knight voice), "Yes, Actor Boy . . . who, in his disguise as Waiter Boy, keeps the city safe from doooom."  And there was much rejoicing.

I wish I could show or discuss the character models I saw while I was there, but I think that's a one-way ticket to unemployment . . . but they are really, really cool. I'm back again on Friday, and if Warner Brothers doesn't give me the cockpunch for what I've written here today, maybe I can get some permission to release a few more details. Now, I think I'm going to walk around my house and talk like Ted Knight.

"Meanwhile, in Wil's office, Ferris and Riley sleep on the floor, unaware that a mysterious stranger lurks just outside the wall. Can Actor Boy arrive in time to save them from doooooom? Only Monroe and Spaulding know for sure!"

Posted by Wil at 12:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (1)

I'm always careful not to post too many details about auditions, or the content of things I've worked on, because it usually freaks out the people who hired me, who want to maintain some mystery about their project, control the publicity, or reserve the right to keep the whole damn thing a secret until they are good and ready to share it with the world.

With that in mind, I haven't talked too specifically about the project that I booked yesterday. In fact, I figured I'd wait until I went to work, so I could ask the director (who is also the writer and creator) if it was cool to put out a few details, and maybe even a character model or two.

Well, I think it's okay to talk about the show a bit more now, because Jun, the director, e-mailed me this morning with a link to her blog all about the show!

The show is called Kyle + Rosemary, and I am Kyle. (That's Kyle on the right there, and Rosemary is down a bit on the left, for those of you who like reading obvious things that are put into parentheses and then become the subject of much meta-commentary by the writer, who feels the need to talk about himself in the third person, when the smart thing to do all along was just to delete the damn parenthetical statement and trust that his reader wouldn't need it anyway. But then the writer, who is really amusing himself by now, is all excited that he got to use the fifty-cent word "parenthetical" within a parenthetical, which is almost as good as having an intalicized footnote.[1])

Yesterday, I wrote "I felt such a connection with the character, and had so much fun looking at his character model and creating the voice and character it inspired . . ." so here's a little bit on how that works for me. Follow along with Kyle (who is on the right over there. See previous parenthetical statement, kthnx.)

When I go into the booth to do a character, I do different things with my body to make him come out of me. Aqualad is a little haughty, because he's a prince, so to create his voice and character, I sit straight up, with my back off the chair, put my hands on my knees (Ensign Ro-style) and hold my chin up when I talk. I don't know how all that comes together to create him, but I know that it works.

For Kyle, my initial voice was way too nerdy and cartoony. Once Jun showed me this drawing, I grokked him. I walked into the booth, let my shoulders slump a little bit, put my hands in my pockets, and sighed right before they rolled tape. She guided me, and Kyle came right out of me, like I'd known him for much longer than the five minutes I'd had his image in my mind.

Jun said some cool things about me on her blog

So, having completed voice casting, after much painful deliberation (there were many great candidates) I decided on Wil Wheaton for the voice of Kyle. I'd call this an inspired casting choice; for one thing, Wil is a self-proclaimed geek, and for another, he runs his own hawesome weblog, in which he professes his geek-ness several times a week.

[. . .]

[W]e as directors and creators go through the casting process with often rarely a thought to the multiple lines of actors and actresses trooping through, hoping to get parts on our shows based on the quickest of auditions - auditions where they have to drive across town for just a few minutes in front of a microphone, saying the same lines that everyone else says and hoping to stand out. They are just as excited to get a part as we are when we sell a show. It's really nice to have a little insight into their lives once in a while. Thanks for sharing, Wil!

See? I knew there was a reason I liked her so much. She cares about story, she cares about actors, and she's a geek blogger (I love the posts in her blog where her mom comments and says how proud she is. That rules.) So if a singularity shows up in Burbank next week, you totally know where to pin the blame (or at least start the investigation, though we'll be watching you from our newly-discovered higher plane of pure-energy existance, and totally screwing with you through the power of mental thinking.)

I still don't think it's cool to gve up too many details about the show, but I think it's safe to disclose that Kyle and Rosemary meet in a MMORPG, and the show takes place both in the game, where I will get to voice Kyle's alter ego, Sir Horace, and in the real world, where Kyle and Rosemary can't hang out, because she is a goth and he is a geek. There are some storyboards of their in-game alter-egos on Jun's blog, if you want to see them. Oh, and when I voice Sir Horace? I totally stand tall, push out my chest, and put my hands on my hips. When I speak, I take one hand and stab at the air with it, because he is so totally heroic. And the transition from Sir Horace back into Kyle? Way too much fun.

Now I'm off to Shane's house to pick up my nerd cape. And don't even ask how it got there, because I'm not telling (though you can probably get Annie to tell you if you ask her nicely enough, and bribe her with coffee.)

[1] Yeah, it's still good.

Posted by Wil at 01:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (54) | TrackBacks (1)

From Seth Godin's blog:

A long line at the American Airlines counter. Finally, a particularly well-dressed man gets to the front, loudly announcing that he wants to check in for first class.

The harried agent does her best, but there's no room. He starts getting louder and more angry. He's blathering about his power and authority.

She tries to placate him, but to no avail.

Finally, he yells, "Do you know who I am?"

Without missing a beat, the gate agent grabs the microphone. "Attention in the gate area. We have a medical emergency. The man at gate 11 has just suffered a serious bout of amnesia. If anyone recognizes him, can they please come forward and help him?"

Posted by Wil at 09:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (1)

Remember the audition I had last week at Nickelodeon?

I had a crush on this project as soon as I read the breakdown. After I met the director and grokked what sort of story she wants to tell, I was hopelessly in love with the project. I really, really hope I get this job.

I don't spend a lot of time thinking about jobs after an audition. In fact, I have a ritual where I take my sides, and dump them into the first trash can or recycling bin I find, so I can let go of the whole thing, and put it into the hands of The Universe -- or a higher power, like the producers. But this one was different. I felt such a connection with the character, and had so much fun looking at his character model and creating the voice and character it inspired, I thought about the show every day, and called my manager about it several times.

I probably shouldn't disclose too many details about the story that I auditioned for, but it is a wonderful, funny, charming animated short about a geek and a goth who are starcrossed lovers.

I'm sure you're all surprised to hear that I read for the geek. I used my sense memories to recall the Kyra crush and did my best to be the kind of guy who "you want to take his glasses off, and mess up his hair, because he's so cute and he doesn't know it," according to the director, who I really, really liked.

Just now, as I was about to make my daily call to see if we'd heard anything, the phone rang (true story). It was my manager.

"Remember [name of project]?" He said.

"You mean the one I call you about every single day?" I said.

"Yes, that one." He laughed. "You got it."

I lept out of my chair and hollered. "What?! Are you serious?!" Which is a stupid thing to holler, because he wouldn't call me if he wasn't. "Really? I really got the job?" Which is also a stupid thing to say, but I'm passing this one off on the surge of adrenaline and seratonin my brains released upon receiving the news.

"Yep. I called to see if they had made a decision yet, and [casting executive] told me that she was just about to call me with the news!" He went on to tell me that the director could have picked anyone in the whole world to do this part, and she chose me.

I'm going to say that again: she could have picked anyone she wanted, and she chose me. Man, that feels so good. I mean, it feels tasp good.

I hung up the phone and ran around the house like a hummingbird being chased by a dog that shoots bees from its mouth.

After all the times I've written about the audition that went great, but didn't work out, or the audition that was a lot of fun, but it turns out I'm not edgy enough, it's so insanely awesome to write about one where I not only had a great time, but actually get to do more than just the audition sides. When this show is animated and released, for the rest of time, I will be the actor who helped bring that guy to life -- and I really love this character. I am so excited! Squee!

Anyway, I had a blast reading for this project, and I was so excited when I left, I totally forgot to steal a camphone snap of the hawesome four foot tall SpongeBob made out of LEGO in the lobby. If I get the job, or the next time I'm at Nick, I'll grab a picture of it on my way in, because I'm usually skipping with nerdy excitment whenever I'm on my way out.

I'll be sure to snag a picture of the giant LEGO SpongeBob on my way in when I record my dialogue next Wednesday or Thursday, and I'm taking a gift to Don, the most awesome security guy ever, who works at Nick and is always so awesome to me when I go there for an audition.

Posted by Wil at 06:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (116) | TrackBacks (3)

I've been busy today. I wrote next week's Games of our Lives, did some top secret Team PokerStars stuff that I can't wait to announce, wrote two articles for CardSquad (Yet Another Interview with Wil and Why Didn't Mike Nail Petra? The Writers of "Rounders" Finally Reveal the Answer) and read the script for Legion of Super Heroes which I'm recording on Friday.

It's really cool, and I totally can't say anything about it until I get a thumbs up from Warner Brothers, but I believe the phrase that the damn kids today use to describe my feeling upon reading the script is "ZOMG!"  When the script says, "ENERGY CORUSCATES around him until the power is too strong . . ." you know you're working on something hawesome.

Posted by Wil at 05:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Last week, Otis asked me if I'd write a few words for the PokerStars newsletter about how acting and poker mix together, and if I'd discuss how acting has helped my poker game.

I tried to answer intelligently and keep it brief, but since it takes me 200 words to say hello to someone, it shouldn't be a big surprise that I ended up sending Otis a little over 2800 words about acting, poker, and Almost Famous. I was so long-winded, in fact, that Otis ended up using the power of the fully-operational PokerStars blog to handle the Alderaan-destroying mountain of words I sent.

If you're interested in the poker stuff, or want to know how I've been able to combine my acting experience with my poker game, you can read the whole thing at the PokerStars blog.

For the rest of you, here's a little bit about acting that you don't have to be a poker geek to follow:

As an actor:
1) I have to be completely connected to the other actors in the scene, so my character understands what the other characters are doing, why they are doing it, and I (as the actor) can allow my character to react naturally and realistically. rather than "acting."
2) I have to completely commit to everything that my character does, and allow my character's memories, beliefs, and prior experiences (that I have made up) to truly _live_ in me, like they are real, so that all the unconscious physical signals that come with different emotions happen naturally, rather than as a result of "acting."

For an actor, getting caught "acting" is worse than a poker player getting caught bluffing; it's more like getting caught cheating. So we actors work very hard to make sure it never happens.

[. . .]

One of my favorite examples of this is from Almost Famous. Kate Hudson, as Penny Lane, asks Patrick Fugit, as William Miller, if he'll go with her to Morocco.

When she asks him, they've been running around a park together, and it's clear to the audience that they're falling in love. It's really charming to watch, and unless you're deeply cynical, it's tough to not smile with them, recalling the first time you fell in love.

"I've made a decision, I'm gonna live in Morocco for one year. I need a new crowd. Do you wanna come?" She says.

"Yes!" He says.

"Are you sure?" She says.

He looks at her, like he was completely lost in her, and says, "Ask me again."

She flushes, and she says, more intently, "Do you want to come?"

"Yes! Yes!" He says, as some seventies power ballad starts to play.

According to director Cameron Crowe, Patrick asked Kate to ask him again, because he'd been staring at her, and just got lost in that moment, so he missed his line. But he was still in the scene, so he asked her exactly the way he would have if it had been real. Kate stayed focused on him, stayed in the scene, and asked him again, so we have this incredibly wonderful moment of two people falling in love that probably has many of you running to Netflix to queue it up right now. If either one of them hadn't been completely focused on each other, that moment (which would have been impossible to script) never would have happened. If we'd caught them "acting," it would have ruined that moment, and the whole movie would have suffered as a result.

Did I pique your interest? Heh. So go on, read the whole thing. You know you want to.

Posted by Wil at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (23)

I didn't notice until just now that Montreal has reached critical mass! I'm shocked that the demand grew so quickly, but right now there are 91 people who want to see me do my thing (or a puppet show, I'm not good with French) and that's enough for me to track down a bookstore and get things worked out.

CruiseTrek embarks on Saturday, 24 June (I wrote it that way just for you, Montreal) and I'm committed to some CruiseTrek festivities on Friday, 23 June, so whatever I do in Montreal will happen on Thursday 22 June. That's also good for all you Browncoats up there, who would totally have to blow me off if my puppet show conflicted with the charity screenings of Serenity on the 23rd. Update: Shit. That's actually extremely bad news for you Browncoats; the only day I can do a performance and signing is the 22nd, because I'm committed on the 23rd. I don't think it's appropriate for me to jump onto any Serenity screenings or anything like that, because not everyone who is going to be there will appreciate me taking up any of their time, and if I understand it correctly, most of the people who have joined this demand are Serenity fans who. I'll see if I can work out something in the late afternoon on Friday, before my evening commitments commence, but this event may end up not happening this time around. %$#@!.

I know nothing about Montreal's book store scene, so if someone can help point me at an indie bookstore that wants to feel the love, leave some info in comments or e-mail wil at wilwheaton dot net.

I'm working on finalizing a venue for Boston today. I'll post those details (and updates on Montreal) as soon as I have them.

Oh, and a quick note about demands: the critical mass is always going to vary from city to city, based on what it costs me to get there, the venues, and some other factors. I set critical mass for these two events at 75 because I figured that would be a sufficient number to get the attention of bookstore owners. It's unlikely that critical mass will be lower than 100 or 150 for most events, just based on stupid economics.

Posted by Wil at 07:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (2)

This weekend started out on an exceptionally high note: on my way to Dodger Stadium to meet my parents for the Arizona game, I got a call from my manager: one of the producers from Teen Titans is now working on Legion of Superheroes, and wanted to cast me for a part on the new show. I don't know any details, yet, like if it's a one-time voice, or a recurring character or what, but I'm working on Friday! Go me!

The Dodger game was superexcellent. Not only did I get to spend an evening with my wife and my parents, but it was a great game that the Dodgers actually managed to hold on and win. Go Dodgers!

Saturday, I bought some new shoes and a new belt  (trust me, this is very exciting) before Anne and I met our friends at Dave and Busters and goofed off for hours. I am the master of coin-flipping soccer, and I have over 20,000 tickets and nothing worth redeeming. Go me (but really go Dave and Busters for making a game that I love to play with no tangible reward . . . yet.)

Sunday, I started the day with some marathon training, but I only got one mile done before I got the goddamn pain in my right side that keeps ruining me. Maybe someone knows what the hell is going on: occasionally, I'll go out for a jog, and after about two blocks, this tightness starts in my right hip that spreads up my stomach and eventually into my ribs on my right side. Once it starts, it takes about one minute to take over the right side of my body and hurts so severely I can't even take a deep breath, much less keep running. I always end up just turning around and walking home, because I've learned that I can't even walk it out, because it's much more (and worse) than a simple stitch in my side; it's more of a crippling muscle freak out. The worst thing is that I get pissed because my cardio system is fine, the rest of my body feels fine, but I absolutely can't even jog a half a block. What the hell? I'm only 33 years old, and I can't even run a block? Why can't my fucking body just work?! Can you tell that I'm getting pissed just thinking about it?

Anyway, after that unfortunately aborted attempt to get out and exercise, I came home and played some poker online. I played a one table sit-n-go tournament (where you just wait for 9 players to sit down and you go, hence the name.) I got knocked out with my pocket kings vs. ace queen when he caught an ace on the river to bust me. I wasn't upset, though, because I made the right decision on the play, and he just got lucky. I've noticed that when I play at limits I can really afford and I just focus on being decision (rather than result) oriented, I always have a good time and I'm much happier playing, whether I win or lose.

I was talking about this revelation with my friends CJ and Alan, when CJ talked me into playing a three table (27 player) sit-n-go. I had some time to kill while I waited for Anne and Ryan to get home, and Nolan was asleep on the couch (so no guitar hero) so I signed up and played my little heart out.

Dude, I totally won! It only cost $11 to enter, and I won $100 for first place! I was extremely happy with all the decisions I made, including when I made a four-card diamond flush with AT to suckout on a guy who had AA, then fell on the other side of that hand when I was heads-up at the end, with JJ vs something totally lame like T3 suited and he caught a diamond on the end to make his flush. Go me again again!

Anne and Ryan got home right after I finished that tourney, and she wanted to take a nap (yeah, I have a real nap-happy family) so Ryan and I went over to the movie theatre to watch Silent Hill.

I've played about 40% of Silent Hill 2, but I didn't have any expectations for the film, really, and mostly went because Ryan really wanted to see it (he can't see R-rated films on his own for another four months. Excuse me while I process that reality and have a minor heart attack.)

I really, really liked it. It looks very creepy and spooky (just like the game) and the visual effects are really fantastic. The monsters (especially Red Pyramid and all the bugs) are terrifying, the music is great, the casting is perfect, and though the whole thing requires a some suspension of disbelief, the story is quite solid. In fact, about halfway through the movie, I thought to myself, "Man, this is really quite deep for a horror movie. I wonder why?" When the credits rolled and I saw that it had been written by Roger Avary, I totally understood. Go Roger.

After the movie, we came home and the entire family settled in for some Simpsons (fairly funny, but the over-reliance on musical montages this season is really getting on my nerves) Family Guy (more Stewie-as-gymnast, please) and American Dad (I don't know how they made an entire episode about anal probing hilarious, but they did) before the rest of my family went to sleep, leaving me to read Cell in alone in the living room where the zombies can totally get me. I eventually watched Survivorman (my new favorite show on cable television) before drifting off to sleep, blissfully content at the end of a fun-filled weekend.

Posted by Wil at 04:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (46)

As of this writing, there are 79 demands for me to come to Boston, which is certainly over the critical mass of 75.

The next step for me is to contact a couple of places, and see if they can host me for a reading and signing. A lot of people have suggested Porter Square Books, a "fiercely independent" store that's in Cambridge. That's close enough to Boston Metro Area, isn't it? Thats the first place I'll contact tomorrow morning. If you're a Bostonian, and you have a connection to, or can suggest a venue, please leave info in comments or e-mail me. I'm wil at wilwheaton dot net.

See you in Boston!

Posted by Wil at 05:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (76) | TrackBacks (1)

Oh boy! I've been invited back to CruiseTrek! This year, the cruise is called The French Connection. It sails at the end of June from Montreal through Saguenay Fjord (where I'll be waving to Slartibartfast) around Nova Scotia, finally ending up in Boston. I've only been to Montreal once, when I worked on a show eons ago called Sirens, but I absolutely loved it, and I'm thrilled to go back. And Boston? One of the highlights of my life was playing goal in the Boston Garden, and as an American history geek (thank you very much, School House Rock) there are few cities in the country that rival Boston for awesome walking tours and museums.

But here is a huge bonus: Using Eventful, I've discovered that there are demands for me in both Montreal (currently 20) and Boston (currently 49). I know that time is relatively short, but I think this is a fantastic opportunity to see if this demand idea works. If you're interested in seeing me for a reading and book signing in either of these cities, join the demands. Critical mass for both cities should be 75 people, which I think would convince a book store to schedule an in-store appearance with just about eight weeks' notice, and make it worth my time to spend an extra day in each city (Montreal's event would probably happen on Thursday the 22nd of June, and Boston's would happen on Saturday, July 1st or Sunday, July 2nd.) We have to move pretty quickly, though, because I have to book my travel by the end of next week. So if you're into seeing me in either one of these cities, join the demand and spread the word! You can get stickers for Montreal here, and stickers for Boston here.

I spoke with Charlie from CruiseTrek this morning: the cruise is nearly sold out, but I understand that it's still possible to get on board. If you're interested in a truly hawesome vacation with a whole slew of geeks, you can't do much better than CruiseTrek. And there will be poker. Oh, yes, there will be poker.

Posted by Wil at 12:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (32)

Two tickets from TicketBastard: $52

Parking: $10

Four Dodger Dogs, two sodas: $27

Crushing heads with my stepson: Priceless

Watching the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles blow a one-run lead in the 8th to lose to the Cubs: Sadly predictable.

Posted by Wil at 11:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (23)

I had an audition for a voice over at Nickelodeon yesterday. The only problem is, I, uh, didn't know about it, because the details on the reading came via e-mail during a period of a couple days last week when all e-mail sent to me went flying off into the gamma quadrant of the Zarkon V Nebula.

Luckily for me, the director of this project was really into reading me, and we were able to reschedule for this morning.

Okay, I know I'm supposed to maintain some professional detachment, so when I don't get the job it's less of a disappointment, but I had a crush on this project as soon as I read the breakdown. After I met the director and grokked what sort of story she wants to tell, I was hopelessly in love with the project. I really, really hope I get this job.

I've talked about how much I like going to Nick in the past, but I'll just do it again for those of you who didn't listen to RFB #4: Nickelodeon just feels good to me. It's not intimidating like Disney, it's not corporate like some other places, and I really feel like I'm walking right into a Nickelodeon cartoon. Some of my happiest childhood television memories are of Nickelodeon shows, like You Can't Do That on Television, Mr. Wizard, The Third Eye (SCARY!) and Danger Mouse, too, and I did lots of things with Nickelodeon when I was a teen idol, including getting slimed several times and hosting the Kid's Choice Awards, so I think that makes it easier for me to find a happy place when I audition for any Nickelodeon shows.

The other reason I always find a happy place at Nickelodeon is entirely due to the guard who works the parking garage gate there. I don't know his name[1], but he is one of the kindest, warmest, and friendliest guards people I've ever encountered. I realized today that he plays a very big part in why I love going to Nick so much, and why I always give good auditions there.

He is the first person I encounter when I pull up. He is a gentle, grandfatherly, white-haired man in his late 60s, and always seems to be smiling. He always makes me feel at ease, and gives me (and everyone else who comes in, I'm sure) the impression that he really wants me to book the job, like it matters to him, and he believes in me. I realized today that I've always picked up a bit of his kindness and warmth and carried it in with me. It's nice to be so utterly at ease when I walk into an audition, you know? It makes a big difference.

I probably shouldn't disclose too many details about the story that I auditioned for, but it is a wonderful, funny, charming animated short about a geek and a goth who are starcrossed lovers.

I'm sure you're all surprised to hear that I read for the geek. I used my sense memories to recall the Kyra crush and did my best to be the kind of guy who "you want to take his glasses off, and mess up his hair, because he's so cute and he doesn't know it," according to the director, who I really, really liked.

I honestly don't know if I'll get the job, because I'm worried about how deep and manly my awesome voice is. Even though I know I can get the teenage voice down to second nature wth enough practice, I have done this long enough to know that when someone else comes in and nails it, they always hire the "nailed it" guy over the "could nail it with enough practice" guy. That's just science, and you can't argue with science (unless you're one of those "global warming is a myth and evolution doesn't exist" moonbats, in which case arguing with science is sort of your whole reason for existing, right?)

Anyway, I had a blast reading for this project, and I was so excited when I left, I totally forgot to steal a camphone snap of the hawesome four foot tall SpongeBob made out of LEGO in the lobby. If I get the job, or the next time I'm at Nick, I'll grab a picture of it on my way in, because I'm usually skipping with nerdy excitment whenever I'm on my way out.

Whether I book this job or not, I'll be watching for it when it airs, and I'll be sure to post about it, because it's the type of show that I know WWdN readers will love.

[1] In comments, formerlyme says, "Hey Wil, I used to work at Nick. I know exactly who you're talking about. His name is Don, and he's the most awesome security guy ever."

Posted by Wil at 03:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (35) | TrackBacks (2)

A week before I wrote about our plans to do the San Diego Rock-n-Roll marathon in June, I seriously tweaked my neck. I'd like to thank Hwy. 18 and all the snow that kept us on said highway for seven hours instead of an hour and a half like it should have been. I was with two girlfriends, both of whom were scared to death to be driving in the snow while I sat in the back seat, appearing calm, but leaning to the center of the seat to look out the front window of doom, all the while clenching my teeth. Thus, tweaked neck. [Note from Wil: The next time I beg Anne not to go up into the mountains during one of the worst storms in a decade, because "it's just a really bad idea," there's a 20% chance she'll listen to me.]

Before this weekend of white dusted hell, we were well into our training, and very excited to start our fundraising. As I sat writing about it (pumped full of every pain medication I could find and a heat pack around my neck,) I figured I would be up and running in no time and going full speed ahead with big plans of dashing through 26.2 miles with ease. Boy was I wrong!

My neck continued to get worse. All I could do was lay down. I missed almost three weeks of work, and I got so freaked out by the pain I made Wil take me to an orthopedist to get an MRI, because when one of your friends has cancer, suddenly every minor ache or pain you get could be cancer, too. He said it was just a really bad muscle spasm and had me start physical therapy immediately. I did this for a couple of weeks, and of course being the over-doing it person I am, I went back to work as soon as it felt better, only to tweak it more and end up in physical therapy again. [Note from Wil: The next time I say, "Hey, you really shouldn't push it, honey, and give yourself a little bit more time to heal," there is a 25% chance Anne will listen to me.]

Fast forward to five weeks later and it's back to the marathon training drawing board. Instead of looking at doing ten miles on the weekend, we're struggling to run two miles without stopping. How are we going to do the whole 26.2 miles when it's just six weeks away? Um, I'm thinking that's not a good idea. Let's be realistic.

I had dinner with Kris in between one of those "I'm feeling better" moments. The first thing she said was "How are you going to run that whole marathon?" Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. So I came up with a solution: a half marathon was definitely do-able. And making our fundraising goal a little more within reach would make us all not freak out about this whole thing. So that's what we're going to do. Our fundraising goal has been pulled back to $10,000, so we're already halfway there, and our distance goal has been cut in half, to a more realistic 13.1 miles.

As for Kris' progress, she's doing great! Her biopsy came back clean, and though it is six months to two years before she will know if the transplant was a success, she is at home and back on her feet. In fact, she recently went on a road trip with her son to look at colleges. It's so wonderful that not only is her dream of seeing her son graduate going to happen, but she will get to see him go to college next year.

Also, her husband is finally doing the addition they've talked about doing for the 15 years they've lived in their house, which is another thing to look forward to. And her huge family reunion she looks forward to every other year is in Lake Tahoe in June. She's so excited to see them. Her treatment was definitely worth going through again. And, honestly, it was worth it from my selfish point of view, too. I didn't want to lose my friend, so I'm so happy she fought back and won.

Although Wil and I had every intention of doing this full marathon again, sometimes things just happen. And in my 36 years here, I have learned that everything happens for a reason. Good or bad. But we just do the best we can. [Note from Wil: Life is what happens while you're making other plans, in other words.]

So if you would like to contribute to our fundraising efforts, you can do it here. Even if it's just five dollars, or whatever change you can collect from around your car or your couch it really matters; so many people read Wil's blog, tiny individual contributions rapidly turn into enormous and significant totals.

Note from Wil: I sincerely hope that our choice to switch to a half-marathon doesn't let down anyone who already sponsored us. We're doing the very best we can under some really stressful circumstances that I can't publicly talk about, and it looks like we're going to end up walking most of the (half)marathon in June. To me, it feels like a major defeat and I'm disappointed that we aren't going to be able to do the whole thing, but this isn't really about me and Anne; this is about Kris and her family and everyone who has somehow been affected by cancer. Thank you all so much for your support, whether it's sponsorship, kind comments, or just a positive thought while you're walking your dog.

The original "Comments from the Wife" posts are: 3.0, 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 4.0. You may also want to read the first Comments from the Wife: in Exile.

Posted by Wil at 11:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (33)

There are a several benefits to being on Team PokerStars. The most obvious is that I get to work with a company that feels like a family, and I get to occasionally pose for Magnificent Seven-style photos with the likes of Joe Hachem, Chris Moneymaker, Greg Raymer, and Isabelle Mercier.

The second most obvious is that I get to play in a few big tournaments each year, most notably the World Series of Poker and the World Championship of Online Poker, while flying the Team PokerStars flag.

The least obvious is that I get to play high-stakes heads-up (just two player) matches several times a year, against some of the best opponents in the world, in a weekly match that PokerStars calls the Tournament Leaderboard Winner Match.

Isabelle was supposed to play in the heads-up match this week, but was unavailable, so I got called off the bench to represent the team . . . and I totally won!

So this morning, before my PokerStars TLB Winner Heads-Up Match,  I went through my pre-tourney rituals (reviewing some well-worn notes from Absinthe, paging through Harrington, a little meditation, and a brisk walk around my yard to shake everything off and just focus on the game) and sat down hoping that I'd catch cards when I needed them, and make more good decisions than bad.

[. . .]

I got very lucky and caught some good hands right around the time my opponent (who played a very good, solid match) started to hit a place where a standard raise was about 20% of his stack, and I was able to apply pressure at some key points (I'm not good enough to explain what those points are, I just sort of know when they come up, I guess)  so I was able to start raising with K-rag, J-rag, and the one little pair I caught, knowing that he would only play back with a real hand. That let me steal some blinds and keep his M low enough to set him up for playing at me with a weak hand, I hoped.

I really like heads-up play, and I'm beginning to think that I don't completely suck at it. I'm 1-1 when I'm scheduled for myself, and 2-0 when I'm filling in for someone else (I filled in for 2005 WSOP Champion Joe Hachem a couple of weeks ago and won that match.) I also play these 4-player, two round heads-up tournaments at PokerStars pretty frequently, and I'm a lifetime winner there, as well. (Those are great; you risk one buy-in to win three if you beat two opponents.)

Okay, I'm totally starting to speak in poker code, so if I haven't lost you entirely, you can read the full story at Cardsquad.

Technorati Tags: poker, pokerstars

Posted by Wil at 03:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (27) | TrackBacks (2)

Well, I turned in Games of Our Lives, and I get to walk away from the computer and do some marathon training, but before I go, I thought I'd point out some of the stories I've worked on recently at CardSquad and SGNews:

At SGNews, (which is safe for work):

• I edited a story that Seanbaby wrote about Lara Croft entering the Guinness Book of World Records. Seanbaby is hellafunny, and his story cracked me up.

• I also wrote two stories of my own, about a disposable MP3 player that just costs nine bucks, and a story about Apple offering (or not offering) adult movies in the iTunes Music Store.

• There's also a story I wrote last week about this guy who modded a 1988 Ford Escort into a street legal Landspeeder. For reals. It's a story that I'm particularly proud of, because I got to work in a ton of geek jokes.

At CardSquad:

• I opine that the F-Bomb Rule has got to go.

• Also, Bodog was sued over their reality show, which is quite a lucky bit of free publicity for them, just a few days before the show is set to air.

In poker-related news, this Sunday I'm filling in for Isabelle Mercier in the Tournament Leaderboard Heads-Up match at PokerStars. Two weeks ago, I filled in for Joe Hachem and won, bringing my record in those matches to 3 and 1. I'm hoping to make it 4 and 1 this week. Even if you don't have a PokerStars account, you can download the client for free and watch me play, if you'd like. I'll put up all the details on that later this week.

Okay, I'm off to run, then walk, then run a little bit more, then curse about how much my side hurts, then run again. Anne will have a post about the marathon in the next day or so, maybe even tonight if I can bug her enough to write it.

. . . one last thought, because I think it's important to mark moments like this: I have a really great life, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. I can head out at 1:10 in the afternoon on a Wednesday, after writing stuff that I'm proud of and enjoyed working on all morning, to train for a marathon that I'm running in to raise money for cancer research in June. Later today, I'll get to play Risk with Ryan and Nolan, then watch Lost tonight after having BBQ for dinner with my family. And I know that, if my dog could talk, she'd say, "I love you, Wil, so I'm going to keep hitting you with my paw until you get up, take me outside, and throw the ball."

Okay, maybe it's more about the ball than it is about me, but I'm still one of the luckiest guys in the world.

Posted by Wil at 01:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (21)

Remember that one time in Encounter At Farpoint when Counselor Troi wailed out, "Pain! Pain!"

Remember when Mr. Spock was all, "Pain! Pain!" which was totally not Vulcan-like?

Remember when [Lost spoiler redacted]?

Remember that time your company had a Christmas party, and instead of a band, they got an Agony Booth?

Yeah, that's me right now. Yesterday, I was smashing some trash down in the trashcan beneath the sink, and I learned that a dogfood can lid on its side is an incredibly efective cutting tool, especially against the top of my thumb, just across the knuckle.

If you ever want to see what the inside of your thumb looks like, or you want to bleed twenty-three gallons of blood all over your house on your way from the kitchen to the bathroom (because, having seen the inside of your thumb, you're kind of in shock and don't stop to think, "Hey, there's a sink right here, dummy, don't go all the way across the house to the bathroom!") or you'd just like to watch your normal typing rate drop by 90%, this is a great way to do that.

Oh, and as an added bonus? You get to wake up about every 90 minutes all night long, because your thumb is throbbing, itching, or both. And if you play your cards right, you'll get to have a tetanus shot, too.

Yeah. Goodtimes. Good. Times.

Hopefully, I'll be back to normal by Thursday, but until then, probably not so much new spiffy stuff here or elsewhere, because typing is a real bitch right now.

Afterthought: a bunch of people have asked why I didn't have the deadly lid and the can in the recycling, where it belongs. That's a good question; unfortunately, the answer is: I just didn't walk the lid out there, and the can was being used to hold bacon grease (gross.) If it makes a difference, I've had PTSD every time I've gone anywhere near the sink in the last 24 hours. And I'm on my way to the hospital to get a tetanus shot tonight, instead of waiting for my regular doctor tomorrow afternoon.

11 PM - Aaaaannnnd I'm back. I went to urgent care at 8, because "that would be faster than the ER," logic which apparently comes from the run-across-the-house-while-bleeding portion of the brains.

Okay, it actually was a lot faster than the ER, and I had no business being in the ER with my gaping and life-threatening little wussy cut anyway . . . but let's be honest with each other: didn't "that would be faster than the ER," logic which apparently comes from the run-across-the-house-while-bleeding portion of the brains make you giggle a little bit? I'm glad, because nothing makes a joke funnier than pointing it out, and going on and on about it.

The attending was impressed with my butterfly sutures and my splinting, didn't laugh at my totally awesome pirate bandage, and gave me a tetanus booster before sending me on my way with no need for making-Wil-faint stitches. I was going to ask for a "be nice to be cuz I've been shot" sticker, with the teddy bear and the hearts and bows, but I figured that being able to take a rusty nail without fear until I'm forty-three years-old was good enough.

Posted by Wil at 06:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (77) | TrackBacks (2)

How about if I wait six weeks to call. I could tell her I found her number while I was cleaning out my wallet, I can't remember where we met. I'll ask her what she looks like and then I'll ask her if we fucked. How about that? Would that be money?
    -Mike, Swingers

There aren't any real developments on the Sci-Fi hosting front, and I only have one really great Fark Cliche left, which is why I haven't written about it recently. Like I said before, I have to just let go of these things after a certain point, accept that it's entirely out of my hands, and keep moving forward with everything else in my life.

But so many people sent me supportive e-mails and left supportive comments, I didn't want to leave you all hanging with nothing, so here's what I know: we followed up last week, and found out, for certain, that the people responsible for the show really liked what I did. As far as I know, I'm at the top of their list for the job. But we haven't heard anything from the network people, who are ultimately responsible for making all the decisions.

And that's where we've been, sort of floating in the doldrums on the Sea of Waiting. As far as I know, the show is still going to happen. As far as I know, when it does, I'm one of the first guys they are going to talk to about hosting it. And as soon as we open the box, I'll let you know if the cat is dead or alive.

Until I know something new, let's all ponder the meaning of life with these owls:

Posted by Wil at 11:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (41)

The kids are on Spring Break this week. Anne and Ryan are up in HellaNorCal, checking out colleges, and Nolan and I are hanging out with the dogs until they get back.

It's been a really fun week so far: lots of Magic: The Gathering, Brawl tournaments, The Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles on TV, and walks with the dogs around the neighborhood when it isn't raining.

I've also introduced him to Lost, and I have the feeling that he'll run through Season One on DVD in five days, just like I did. Hopefully, he won't become as hopelessly just-jam-it-into-my-veins addicted to the show as I am (I'm only up to Episode 4 of Season Two, so if you're going to comment, please don't post any spoilers, okay? I reserve a special type of wrath for that sort of thing) but I managed to hook him on Battlestar Galactica this way, and I apologize for nothing. Nothing!!1one!

Sorry. I got a little carried away there.

So.

I've always felt that, as a parent, my job (and greatest hope) is to help my kids grow into the kind of adult that I'd be proud of, and I'd like to spend time with, even if we weren't family: honest, honorable, generous, compassionate, and responsible. Sometimes, as part of the whole Pod People experience, I feel like those efforts are failing. Add the bonus of the really great and neverending loyalty conflict game (that I refuse to play, but have to deal with, anyway,) and it's easy to wonder if any of the work will ever pay off. It's been easy to lose hope.

But over the last couple of months, I've come to believe that the Pods were actually Chrysalises, because it feels like both Ryan and Nolan have emerged as young adults whose company I really enjoy (and I believe the feeling is mutual.) The moments of irrationality are still there, and I'm sure that I am still so lame from time to time, but I have lots and lots of hope.

If you're a parent dealing with a Pod Person, don't give up. One day, you may wake to discover that your Pod Person has vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving behind an honest, honorable, generous, compassionate, and responsible young adult.


Technorati Tags: parenting

Posted by Wil at 03:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (1)

I ended up watching a few minutes of VH1 Classic before I fell asleep last night, and, uh, i kind of watched this crazy old video of Kenny Loggins.

It was totally rad, with the whites blowing out and the occasional old VHS noise, and the slightly greenish skin tones. He was playing an outdoor concert which was just filled with girls in tube tops and guys with horrible Kenny Loggins-esque beards, and the whole thing looked pretty stinky and coked-out. If that wasn't enough evidence that it was the early 80s, he was playing I'm Alright, from Caddyshack, which is one of my guilty pleasure tunes (I didn't realize until last night that it contains the lyric "No, no, cannonball it right away.")

So far, we're okay, but you may want to prepare to throw up in your mouth a little bit:  he was wearing white ankle-high boots, a huge, puffy red jumpsuit with a novelty-sized belt around his waist, the obligatory rock-n-roll mullet, and seriously rocking out with his bad self while strumming an acoustic guitar.

Maybe I'm uptight, maybe I just don't understand the rock like I think I do, but when he ran around the stage during a guitar solo (which he wasn't playing; he had his 12-string a-strummin') and jumped up on a raised platform so he could kick an amp off the stage, I didn't think, "Oh man, that guy is a hardcore rockstar!" as much as I thought, "Uh, what the hell was that all about?"

I changed the channel when the Top Gun song started. There was no way I could endure shots of L. Ron Cruise after that.

Posted by Wil at 05:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

Shane posted this picture of a mystery hotel in his blog over the weekend, and I suggested to him that it would be cool to have writers post short stories that it inspires.

I'll be honest: I'm terrified right now, before I hit publish and send this out into the wild. I'm not the best in the world at brevity, and whenever I attempt fiction, I feel incredibly self conscious.

I also made the mistake of reading Otis' story after I wrote mine, and I feel (like I often do when I read Otis' writing) like a kid who belongs at the card table, pretending to sit down in the dining room with the adults.

So now that I've managed to lower your expectations to UPN-like standards, please enjoy. . .

Room 302
by Wil

Farnsworth frowned as he shuffled the photos. He dropped them on his desk and looked over the top of his reading glasses.

"I can't use any of these, son. I can hardly see the men, and there's too much whitespace in here." He picked up one photo and pointed at the tin ceiling. Martin recalled how brightly it had reflected the flash, and how the younger man had flinched in the light. 

"Mr. Farnsworth --"

"Look, you're a good kid, and even if your photos aren't always front page material, you rarely let me down."

"Thank you, sir."

"I know that you have a baby on the way, but I can't pay you for photos that I can't use." He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his chest. "Hotels don't stay in one family and celebrate their hundredth anniversary every day, though, so it's news that I need to run. So why don't you go back to the hotel, get a closer shot of the Ellisons, and I'll pay you double for it." Farnsworth smiled, and put the photos into an envelope.

"I'll see what I can do, sir. Thank you." Martin took the envelope and traded the quiet of Farnsworth's office for the chaos of the newsroom.

Martin needed the money, and it was important to keep a man like Richard Farnsworth happy. Evelyn was due in two months, and these freelance newspaper jobs were all he had.

But he wasn't going back into the Ellison, today or ever. There was something very, very wrong there, and Martin felt it in his soul when he walked up the stairs into the second floor lobby. Those men were terrified, and Martin wanted to get out of there before he found out why.

He took the number five bus home, and left the envelope on the seat when he got off. The sooner he could get way from it, the sooner he could begin the long process of wiping that feeling from his memory. He hugged his wife tightly when he walked into their apartment and felt his unborn son stir between them.

Back at the Ellison Hotel, the tenant in 302 woke and rang the front desk. Father and son looked at each other.

It was time to eat.

Posted by Wil at 01:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (77) | TrackBacks (6)

Nolan just called me from school to tell me that he got an 88 on a history test that he was really nervous about even passing.

He was walking down the hallway from one class to the next, and I could hear the sound of his peers swarming around him, in that dull almost-roar that fills high schools between classes before the campus drops back into near silence for 48 minutes.

I told him how proud of him I was, and how happy I was that he took the time to call me and tell me about it.

"I called mom, too," he said, "but now I have to go into class so I gotta go."

"Okay," I said. "I'm really proud of you, Nolan. Have a great weekend at your dad's. I love you."

"I love you too, Wil." He said. "Bye."

I love it that my 14 year-old told cared enough to call me and share good news about his grades, and told me that he loves me, even though he was surrounded by his peers.

Posted by Wil at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (52)

And now, a chance to use "blog this page" in performancing:

It's a little weird for me to make the news that I'm editing, but
when you're as up to your +3 Helmet of Monty Python Quoting in geek as
I am, sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Thank you for your
indulgence. Your case of Bawls is in the mail.

SuicideGirls  News  Geek  Your Humble Geek Editor Talks to the Global Gaming League

Technorati Tags: geek, gamer

Posted by Wil at 10:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Last night I watched an amazing episode of TNG called Family.

It is a truly wonderful episode that focuses on the human element of Star Trek. It is very dark and very heavy. It deals with the consequences of some very serious events from earlier in the series: Picard's assimilation by the Borg and subsequent stint as Locutus, Worf facing his parents for the first time since his discommendation in Sins of the Father, and Wesley's first face-to-face meeting with his father, Jack Crusher, via a holographic message which Jack made for him when Wesley was born.

It is a fantastic opportunity for the Patrick, Michael and me to take a brilliant script, filled with wonderful dialogue and complex relationships, and show the world what we can do as actors.

Partick and Michael are brilliant. They make the very most of every single scene, especially when Michael deals with the conflict between Worf's need to suffer for his discommendation with his obvious love for his parents, and when Patrick finally lets Picard's fall completely apart as he acknowledges how helpless he felt at Wolf-359 and deals with its aftermath. It is a Ron Moore script that previews the depth and pathos that I have come to love on Battlestar Galactica, and they are absolutely outstanding in it.

And me? Ron gave me a chance to really shine, to explore some complex emotion and take Wesley beyond the two-dimensional caricature I often complained he'd become. I finally had a chance to explore and perform a human side of Wesley as he sees the face of his father and hears his voice for the first time in his life. I finally had a chance to really do something after years of saying "Aye, sir, warp six, sir" . . . and I fucking phoned it in. I sat there and I made all my stupid little faces and acted like I cared, but It's painfully clear that I was halfway out the door. I totally and completely blew it. I was ashamed as I watched my eighteen year-old self last night, and rather disgusted by the time my scenes were over.

I looked extremely tanned, so the episode was probably shot in summer, and I'm sure I would have rather been at the beach with my friends instead of wearing a spacesuit on stage nine, but it's no excuse. I was expected to be professional and do my job, and instead I was a bullshit hack who didn't show up for work. I suppose the director could have knocked me into shape, but who knows what was going on at the time for him? And who knows if I would have even listened to him? After all, I was eighteen and I knew everything. I had the whole world figured out.

There were so many opportunities in that scene: opportunities to look at him and try to see myself in his eyes or hear myself in his voice; opportunities to make a rare emotional connection with a scene that didn't involve a lot of techno babble and opportunities to just be simple and honest and truthful. As an actor, I should have thought about all the things we never got to do together, I should have done everything I could to stretch the moment out as long as possible, so the audience is left thinking that Wesley is going to sit in that holodeck and sob and miss his dad and watch that thing over and over for the next several hours. At the very least, I certainly should have allowed myself to feel the resulting sense of loss, but as a fucking douchebag teenager I didn't feel anything. I'm pretty sure I walked into stage nine completely full of myself, and didn't stop checking my watch until I was done with the scene.

Jesus, what a pathetic waste. What a complete and total fucking waste. On that day, I didn't deserve to wear that uniform, and I certainly didn't earn the right to call myself an actor.

It is such a great episode, and I'm so ashamed and disappointed that I didn't realize it at the time. 

Ron, if you happen to read this: I am so sorry. When I saw you at Grand Slam, I thanked you for all the gifts you gave me over the years; I'd forgotten about this one (probably because I didn't appreciate it at the time, in all my teenage arrogance and I am so sorry that I disrespected your work and didn't honor the gift you gave me. Your work deserved better, and I was too much of an idiot to live up to the material. I can't imagine what it must have been like to create something so wonderful, only to watch it destroyed by an arrogant and entitled teenager. I am so, so sorry.

I have learned much since I was eighteen. In fact, I became aware of what a douche I was about a year after I filmed this episode, and realized that I need to get the hell out of Hollywood and find out who I really was and who I wanted to be. I spent the next three years working all that shit out, looking at myself in the mirror every day until I could truly say that I liked the person I saw reflected back.

These days, I don't take anything for granted, and I always do my very best to rise to the challenge of the material I'm lucky enough to be given. I wouldn't change anything about my life, because the person I am today grew out of the person I once was . . . but I'd sure like a chance to take that wonderful material and do it justice.

Hopefully, I'll get to watch an episode tonight that I can feel proud of.

(image from Memory Apha)

Afterthought - I put a version of this in comments, but here it is for the rest of all y'all (or is it all y'alls? all of y'alls?): It is important to me to examine and reflect on my life, whether it's something I'm fiercely proud of, like my performance in Best of Both Worlds I & II, or something I'm not proud of, like the things I've written about here.

When Family was over last night, I had a visceral feeling of shame and regret as strong as the feeling of terror I had writing about my first day of high school yesterday. It's lived in me all day, so I finally decided to write about it tonight.

I don't intend for this to become some sort of big pity party for me or anything, and by writing this, I don't feel that I'm sitting in a funk, dwelling on the past, wasting he present (I've done lots of that in the last few years, and I think I've hung on that cross enough, thank you.)

I absolutely love who I am today, both as a creative writer/actor and as a person. When everything is stripped away and I am left with nothing but my naked soul, I am very comfortable with what I have. I wouldn't have that if I didn't reflect on all the peaks and valleys of my life, including moments like these.

Now that I think of it, if I didn't have such respect for Ron Moore, and if I hadn't just seen him two weeks ago, I may not have had such a profoundly powerful reaction to my performance (or lack thereof) in his episode.

Anyway, if I didn't tear down the wall from time to time, I'd just sit here and wait for the worms to come, and nobody wants that. Trust me.

Posted by Wil at 08:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (91)

This is the second time in about forty minutes that I've wanted to change the title of an entry. First: "when i'm boss of the universe . . ." should be called "new slang", or "gold teeth and a curse" if I wanted to be slightly more obscure and rewarding to anyone who figured it out.

"i call the big one bitey" is a nice homage to a long ago time when The Simpsons was still consistently funny, but "antmusic" would be cooler. "dirk wears white socks"  would be even better, but "kings of the final frontier" would probably be the most obscure and rewarding (the ant habitat was originally designed by NASA, and I'll let you figure the rest out on your own.)

Now this is a little weird: iTunes must know that I'm writing about music, because for the last seven songs, it has taken me on a little time warp to my teens. These songs are listed in the exact order that they came up. It was set to shuffle through my entire library (currently organized by album title), which is pretty eclectic, so the choice of tunes is particularly eerie.

Songs with their associated memories:

Cinderella Undercover - I am driving my brand new 1989 Honda Prelude Si 4WS to work on Star Trek. I don't know why, but in all of my memories, it's early morning, it's cold, and it's a little foggy. I loved that car, and it's the same one that was just slightly better than Patrick Stewart's, if you've heard that story.

Don't Be Square, Be There - My friend Guy (who was also my stand-in on TNG) introduced me to Adam and the Ants via the Kings of the Wild Frontier album. I can still see the tape, an old TDK number with "Adam and the Ants" on one side and "Kings of the Wild Frontier" on the other, written in Guy's realy cool architect writing, in a smoky grey case with no paper insert. Guy lived in Costa Mesa, and after I got my Mac II -- in color, with four fraking megabyes of RAM, man! -- I'd put it in my car and drive down to Guy's on the weekend so we could appletalk our machines together and play NetTrek and Spaceward Ho! People often asked me in interviews how I avoided the drugs and partying scene that claimed the lives and futures of so many of my peers; I've just realized that this is a major reason why: when they were getting high and courting the paparazzi in night clubs they were too young to be in, I was sitting in Guy's house playing really geeky games.

Still Ill - When I was in my very early teens, I had one of those massive teenage crushes that consumes your every waking moment and requires you to listen to endless hours of The Smiths in your bedroom wondering why she doesn't like you "in that way." This particular crush was on Kyra, who was so beautiful, and so smart, and so cool, and so a senior when I was a freshman it was never going to happen. Kyra introduced me to The Smiths (on Vinyl, no less), the Violent Femmes (in her BMW 2002 while we were driving to see Harvey at a local college) and was goth before goth was goth. Though I had such a massive crush on her, we were great friends, and she never broke my heart.

Pale Shelter - I heard this on the radio in my mom's car on my way to my first day of public high school at Crescenta Valley High School, and it will always remind me of that day. I was terrified. I remember sitting into first period history class, and not even knowing that I was supposed to write "per. 1" on my papers. I remember that it was nothing like I'd seen in movies and on TV, and how the kids in all my classes were so cruel to me. I was shy, I was scared to death, and I was so withdrawn as a result, they all decided that I was aloof and arrogant and I never got a chance to correct that first impression. Wow - as I write this, I can feel that terror all over again. I feel it in my muscle memory and in my soul. Gods, I felt so tiny as I walked across the quad on that first day, like a little kid who lost his mom in the department store. The time I spent at CV was the absolute worst in my life.

How Beautiful You Are - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me was the first compact disc I had, and it's a good thing, too. I love this record so much, I would have worn it out in any other medium. This was also during the "W + K 4EVR" phase, and, nerdly little artist that I was, whenever I heard this song I longed to go with her to Paris and dance in the rain together. You know what I just realized? I don't think I ever told her that I was so fiercely head over heels for her, and she either knew and didn't call me out, or I had the perfect combination of infatuation and insecurity to keep it to myself. I wonder where she is today, and how she's doing? Hrm.

Charge of the Batmobile - My best friend, Darin, lived just over one mile from my house, across windy streets up in the hills above La Crescenta. We were such Batman geeks and we were such stupid teens, we frequently put this song on my tape deck and drove way too fast across those windy streets late at night between our two houses. It's a miracle we never crashed or hurt anyone or anything.

Phonetic Alphabet - NATO - This is from disc 2 of The Conet Project. I never heard a numbers station in my teens, but I spent a lot of time listening to my shortwave radio and my police scanner (I told you I was a geek) so it reminds me of sitting in the dark (because shortwave listening is so much better when you're in the dark, for some reason) late at night when propagation was better, spinning the dial and thinking it was the coolest thing in the world to hear transmissions from the other side of the planet. I'm glad the Cold War is over, but boy do I miss the SW propaganda broadcasts.

And the Conet Project is the perfect coda to this trip in the wayback machine. That invisible woman's voice, sending a message to some unknown person in an unknown land, shot into the ionosphere and back, captured by someone else in another time is almost too perfect. If I saw it in a movie, I'd never believe it. Good thing this isn't a movie.

"romeo, romeo, lima, yankee, november, oscar, oscar, zulu . . . end of message end of t--"

Posted by Wil at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (41)

Two words I'd like to remove from the Universe:

deets - The word is "Details," not "deets." "deet" is an important ingredient in insect repellent.

peeped - Did you look at it? Then you saw it. You did not "peep" it. And your friends? They are your friends. They are not your "peeps." Your "peeps" are tasty little marshmallow chunks, shaped like birds and covered with enough sugar to give you type 2 diabetes after one box. They are especially tasty if you let them reach the perfect point of almost-too-stale before eating them.

Thank you.

Posted by Wil at 04:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (64) | TrackBacks (1)

For the last several months, I've been editing the technology newswire at Suicide Girls. It's been a lot of fun to interact with the community over there, and I've had a really good time digging up hawesome, amusing, and informative tech stories for them.

In the last month or so, the overlords are making some changes to the site, including the newswire, to make more than just a pin-up site. To that end, they've recently added a ton of new writers and editors, and changed our sections around quie a bit.

Last night, my section was changed from technology to geek, and I went from being the technology editor to being the geek editor, complete with shiny new title. I just about shot a d10 out my nose when I saw the change! Bow before me, for I am geek! Snort. Snort. 3d8 + 4

According to the announcement, "Geek is about video games, comics, role playing games, computer hacking, Linux, OS X, mocking Windows Vista, etc," so I'm pretty psyched to add comics and games to the list of news I can write and edit, now. I'm especially happy that any ambiguity about the deductibility of certain research materials has been effectively removed, as well.

I think it's time for a trip to the Last Grenadier, then to the comic shop. For, uh, research. Yeah.

Snort. Snort.

42.

Update: In comments, Elayne says, "I don't get it. Why are you writing for a pinup site in the first place? I think it's pretty unwelcoming for female readers to begin with."

It's a valid question, and one which I imagine crossed more than a few minds. I know lots of you (about 16000 at last count) read this via RSS and may miss comments, so here's my response:

I don't have any problems with writing for SG, because I don't find their content offensive in any way. I really like the people I work with, I like drawing a small paycheck to write and edit, and the little chunk of community I've interacted with there (mostly geeks like me) have made me feel very welcome.

I completely respect that not everyone thinks SG is okay, though, and if you're personally offended that I write for or am associated with the site, I completely understand and support your decision to not read my stories there, or even stop reading my blog entirely, if you feel that strongly about it.

Personally, I feel like it's a Venn diagram of Playboy, Vanity Fair, Cosmo, and a flurry of tattoo and goth culture magazines, and I don't find the content exploitive or pornographic in any way. But your milage may vary, and whatever that milage may be, I respect it.

Oh, and at my suggestion, the newswire has been made entirely safe for work, so you can read the news (like my story today about Facebook turning down 750 million while reportedly holding out for two BILLION dollars, which features a bonus Back to the Future reference, and some musings on how stupid online advertisers are) and interviews without encountering teh boobies. You're welcome (I think.)

One more, after a few more comments:

There is an entire page at Suicide Girls dedicated to addressing all the various rumors and allegations: http://suicidegirls.com/trash/

There are also numerous testimonials from several of the models, who all seem pretty happy with the site: http://suicidegirls.com/trash/testimonials/

I've noticed that most people tend to project their personal biases and and preconceptions into the site: if a person is opposed to nude modeling (for whatever reason) they tend to think the site is exploiting women, and are prone to uncritically believing the various charges made against the site and its owners. If people are cool with the nude modeling (male or female), they tend to discard the rumors, and if they have an opinion at all on the "exploitation" issue, tend to conclude that it's more empowering than, say, modeling for Suze Randall.

As I said before, since I am an editor on the newswire, those issues don't affect or concern me. The models I know all seem very happy with their work and enjoy being part of the site; the people I have worked with on staff have been fantastic, honorable, and respectable people (unlike the people I worked for at G4, for example.)

And I made with a whole bunch of the funny (to me at least) in this story about finding out where your Xbox was born.

No thank you, I! Thank! You!

Posted by Wil at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (43)

On June 4th, Wil and I and our friends Shawn and Michelle will be running in the Rock-n-Roll Marathon in San Diego as a fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation. This will be the second time we have participated in this marathon. The first time we did it was in 2004, because our friend Kris was diagnosed with leukemia and we wanted to do something to help funding for finding a cure. If you didn't read about this when we did it the first time, here's a brief summary of what happened.  

In August of 2003, our friend Kris was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia. A month later she started chemotherapy at her local hospital. Treatment was unsuccessful, so she was admitted to City Of Hope Hospital in Duarte, California to begin an aggressive treatment of radiation and chemotherapy. The cancer was taking over quickly so her only hope was to harvest her own stem cells and transplant them back to her after treatment. This was a very grueling time for Kris as well as her family and friends as we all felt so helpless to do anything. I wasn't Kris' blood type so I couldn't donate to her. I tried donating platelets three times, but my body decided it didn't want to let me. Then I heard about the Rock-n-Roll marathon in San Diego for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and knew that was the way to help. A nurse at the hospital told me it costs $25,000 a day for cancer research so I decided that would be our fund-raising goal. I wrote about Kris' progress on Wil's site and our own training progress for the marathon. So many people wrote such wonderful words of support and had stories of their own with loved ones battling cancer and making it through, I printed out all these comments and brought them to Kris in the hospital to read. It was very inspirational for her and a great distraction while she spent all those weeks in bed. Kris said her treatment was the hardest thing she had ever done and would never do it again. When it came time to do the marathon, we were so excited because not only did WWdN readers raise $28,420, but Kris was waiting for us at the finish line.

Over the past two years, Wil has mentioned to me on several occasions that people wanted to know how Kris was doing, and if I'd make a post for his blog about her. Today, I can finally tell you. The first year was great. Kris' bone marrow biopsy came back clean and her health continued to improve. She got her hair back and was able to go on vacation.

In October of last year, Kris went in for a check up. She had been feeling a little tired, but didn't think anything of it. A biopsy revealed that her leukemia was back. Fortunately, doctors had been searching for a stem-cell donor since Kris first started her treatment in 2003, so they had a match for her. With the progression of the cancer, she needed to start treatment immediately. She went home for a week, and tried to decide if she wanted to go through the treatment again. She finally decided to do it so she could see her son graduate from high school, and Kris spent all of the holidays as well as her birthday in the hospital. I would visit her as often as I could, even if it was just to bring her some lip balm or a crossword puzzle. We would watch TV together and talk about her son's college plans. Some days were so bad for her I would only be able to write a message on the dry erase board in her room letting her know I had been there. It was so hard to see her like that; I was so worried she wouldn't make it. She had the maximum amount of radiation with her first transplant, so this time was all chemotherapy which made her really sick. She was worried her transplant wouldn't work (and so were we) but it did. She fought like crazy, didn't give up, and came home shortly after her birthday at the beginning of January.

In late January, Kris wasn't feeling well again. A high fever put her back in the hospital with an infection in her Hickman catheter and bacterial pneumonia. This time, Kris spent 45 more days in the hospital. It was really scary but she's been home for a couple of weeks now. Last week she got her biopsy results: All clear!

During Kris' second round of treatment, we were thinking about how she said she would never go through it again. At the end of the marathon in 2004, we said we would never do it again because it was the hardest thing we had ever done. To see Kris' strength as she goes through all this is amazing. So we decided if she could do it twice, so could we. And this time, we are going to try to get twice as much in donations!

We were overjoyed by the kind words of support for Kris and for all the donations that came in from all over the world. Every single dollar makes a difference, and every single comment and e-mail helped lift Kris' spirits. Her doctors told us in 2004 that she was a fighter; she told us on several occasions that she was fighting so hard because she didn't want to let down all the people who were pulling for her. It was incredible to see how many people were willing to be a part of something so great. We have a donation page set up through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. We only have a couple of months to reach our donation goal. Please help us reach it as we prepare for the marathon in San Diego on June 4th.

I'll drop in here from time to time with more Comments from the Wife, to update you all on fundraising and our training progress (We're way behind. Someone tell my husband to step away from the computer and exercise more!) Wil is going to have some in-person fundraisers in Los Angeles, and at least one charity poker tournament at PokerStars, so watch for that, too.

Thank you so much!!

-Anne

Note from Wil: The original "Comments from the Wife" posts are: 3.0, 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 4.0. (Yeah, we just went for an entirely new version after 3.7, because we, uh, found a new version of the working-it-out software in the CVS and decided to, uh, recompile the . . . uhm . . . unit. Yeah.)

Posted by Wil at 03:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (34)

From the time I was old enough to recognize that music is important, I've gone through these phases where a certain band will jam a guitar into the base of my skull and twist around there until I listen to them enough to fill my brains with their music and push the guitar (which is usually a Les Paul, and occasionally a Fender Stratocaster) out.

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you can see when this happens, because it's usually revealed in the titles of my entries. There have been Radiohead and Pixies and Get Up Kids and Mike Doughty explosions, but the one band I've come back to over and over again since I was in high school is Pink Floyd.

It was Pink Floyd who introduced me to the concept album, and showed me that music could be something more than background noise. I'll never forget the first time I heard Animals: I was working on a show called Monsters, which was a cool little Tales From the Darkside-ish anthology show. My episode was really cool: it was called Shave and a Haircut, Two Bites, and was about two barbers who do all sorts of unspeakably horrible things to feed a creepy blood-sucking Lovecraftian monster. We filmed the whole thing in a tiny little warehouse-ish building down near the center of Hollywood (I think it was off Santa Monica, between Highland and Gower, but I'm not sure) over the course of about a week in 1990.

I played opposite Matt LeBlanc in that show. To illustrate how weird Hollywood is: Matt was new to town and the entertainment industry, and though he was older than me, I was the veteran actor. I was also a Really Big Deal at the time (though the slow-but-sure slide down to the C list had already begun) and it's this moment in time where you can see the graphs of our careers cross: he was rising and I was falling. Weird, isn't it?

Matt was a relly nice guy, and a lot of fun to work with. He's also singularly responsible for introducing me to The Simpsons. I remember sitting in his dressing room between setups one day, talking about TV shows, and he asked me if I'd seen it. I told him that I'd watched one or two episodes, and I wasn't particularly impressed (if you look at season one of The Simpsons, I think you'll agree that it was a very acquired taste back then.)

He was surprised, because we'd been talking about Monty Python and Life in Hell, and other types of off-beat humor, and he was convinced that I'd like the show. To prove this to me, he recreated the entire episode where Bart is sent to France and ends up slaving away in the vineyard.

I couldn't tell you a single thing about working on that episode (other than being afraid I was going to cut myself with a straight razor) but I can still close my eyes and hear Matt saying, "Don't eat ze grapes, Bart!" I thought it was so hilarious, I gave The Simpsons a chance, and was hooked pretty quickly after that.

But this post was originally about Pink Floyd, right? I was already into Pink Floyd a little bit by this time, and a casual fan of The Dark Side of the Moon, and Wish You Were Here. I don't remember how I ended up with Animals, but I had the CD and a portable CD player (kids: way back in 1990, before the advent of MP3 players, your parents carried around CD players which were very portable at around five pounds each. We also carried around ten or twenty CDs at a time, in a wallet sort of thing. And we listened to our CDs while we walked uphill both ways in the snow to get to school because we liked it.)

At this point in the story, I feel compelled to point out that, even though I love Pink Floyd and The Grateful Dead, I'm not a stoner, and never have been. Stoners bug the everlivingfuck out of me, and nothing makes me leave a party or event faster than a bunch of pot heads. I also feel compelled to point out that the so-called War on Drugs is an abject and total failure (much like the Bush adminstration) and I fully support changing a lot of our drug laws here, especially de-criminalizing marijuana, mmmkay?  And I now feel further compelled to point out that I'm not casting judgement on stoners. I know plenty of stoners who I genuinely like a whole bunch; I just don't come out to play when they're sparking up.

Anyway, I had Animals on CD, and though I was initially turned off by Pigs on the Wing (part one), Dogs grabbed my attention, and by the time Pigs (three different ones) started, I was completely hooked. (After a few listens, I grew to love Pigs on the Wing (I & II) and even taught myself how to play it on the guitar. I can't imagine Animals without those beautiful and tender songs wrapping up the rest of the album.)

I clearly recall leaning back in this shitty chair with wobbly legs, my feet up on a standard-issue office furniture desk, eyes closed, and nearly falling over when Roger Waters sang,

Big man, pig man, ha ha, charade you are
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha, charade you are

I crossed a Rubicon. I don't know what it was about those lyrics (they're not even the lyrics that resonate strongest with me from that album, let alone the entire Floyd catalogue) but the music,  the way he sang "ha ha, charade you are!" and the deep, dark, rich ominous weight of the whole thing spoke to me in exactly the right way. I guess it's kind of sad that, at 19, I was already deeply cynical and responsive to that, huh? After work that day, I went to the record store (kids: it's sort of like iTunes Music Store, but you walk into it and talk to people about what you want to buy, and occasionally disscover new and interesting music while you're there) and bought every Pink Floyd album they had. I entered an extended Pink Floyd phase, where I spent hours just listening to and exploring the music. We didn't have Wikipedia back then, so I went on several record store quests to find old magazines and books about the band, so I could get a better idea where their music came from and what they were all about.

Last night, listened to Animals and Wish You Were Here while I chased album notes and band history down the Internets' rabbit hole (start here if you're intrigued) including a re-examination of The Publius Enigma.

I wish a band would come out and be the modern equivalent to Pink Floyd. Green Day kind of did it with American Idiot, but that's a hell of a stretch, I think. I want to hear concept albums that tell me a story from start to finish, that aren't single-oriented.

Heh. I guess I'm saying that I'm still waiting for Radiohead to follow-up OK Computer. It's a long way to go, isn't it?

Oh, and I made this post in Performancing. (Then I did a little tweaking by hand, to add the image and clean up the tags.) Cool.

Technorati Tags: wheaton, pink floyd

Posted by Wil at 11:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (84)

I saw Menage A Trois last night on TNG, which is the episode where Picard gives Wesley his field promotion to Ensign, complete with cool regular spacesuit and slightly-less-dorky haircut. I'd forgotten the promotion happened in that episode, because, despite fantastic performances from all the actors (especially Majel) the bulk of that story just feels a little too close to slashy fan fiction for me. In my mind, I'd uncoupled the B story about Wesley from the A story about Riker, Troi, Lwaxana, and the Ferengis.

There's a scene in that episode where Wesley thinks he's leaving the Enterprise to go to Starfleet Academy, and as he walks across the back of the bridge, behind Worf and to the turbolift, he turns around and slowly looks at the bridge, you know, sort of taking the whole thing in like he's seeing it for the last time and wants to remember.

When I saw that last night, it reminded me of the first time I went on Star Trek: The Experience in Las Vegas, and how I did exactly the same thing. Art imitating life imitating art.

Most of you who are TNG fans already know this, but it's a cool story that I'll tell anyway: Gene Roddenberry, who created Star Trek and was a good friend of mine while I worked on the show, was field-promoted to Ensign during World War II, and when Wesley was field-promoted on TNG, Gene came to the bridge one afternoon, gathered the cast and crew together, kicked out the set photographer, and shut down production for a few minutes to present me with the bars he'd received when he was promoted in the real military.

I can connect with that memory right now as if I'm watching it on a television all over again: Gene presents me with his bars, everyone breaks out into applause, and I feel like I really didn't deserve it -- I was just an actor, after all.

I was too young and immature to fully absorb the magnitude of the gesture, but I recall that Gene shook my hand, then pulled me into him for a big hug, and I felt that sense of pride and embarassment that you get when your dad brags on you in front of everyone at the family reunion for making the final out that won the All-City Championship, but you secretly know that you just held up your glove and the ball managed to find its way into the pocket.

I remember that Paramount wanted to make a big publicity deal out of it, and have a camera crew from Entertainment Tonight and a bunch of photographers there, but Gene wanted it to be a private, "family" moment. I always thought that was cool of him, and illustrates how seriously he took that moment; though I wish I had pictures from that day, if there'd been a photographer or film crew there, it would have cheapened the moment. I think Gene knew that and kept it real long before "keeping it real" was a popular pastime on MySpace.

Posted by Wil at 09:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (55)

Trent: Yeah, man just kinda... you know, you got these claws and you're staring at these claws and your thinking to yourself, and with these claws you're thinking, "How am I supposed to kill this bunny, how am I supposed to kill this bunny?"
Sue: And you're poking at it, you're poking at it...
Trent: Yeah, you're not hurting it. You're just kinda gently batting the bunny around, you know what I mean? And the bunny's scared Mike, the bunny's scared of you, shivering.
        -Swingers

I should really be freaking out now that three days have passed (eight, if you count exactly on the calendar and include the weekend -- which I don't, but I didn't want any of you weekend-counters to feel left out) and I still haven't heard anything about the super teriffic Sci-Fi hosting gig that isn't on the Sci-Fi Channel.

But I'm a level 27 Bard, with a billion ranks in Sense Motive (plus Epic Skill Focus) and Regie's Ruby Ring of Really Reliable Scrying. In other words, I usually know when I've gotten or lost a gig with laser-like precision. I can feel it in my soul when a decision has been made, even if that decision is made on the other side of the world. I know that's totally ooga-booga, but it's true. I've been making sense motive checks all day long, and they're either hiding behind a wall of lead and Kryptonite, or they haven't made a decision, yet.

Oh! They just made a decision and -- oh, wait. That's just gas. My bad.

I will admit to leaping up and racing to the phone whenever it rings, and saying, "aw, nuts," when the caller ID doesn't tell me that it's my manager giving me a ring up on the dictaphone, but other than that, and the constant rolling of the d20, I haven't really been obsessing about it that much.

Anyway, I talked with Shane about it at length today, because he's been involved in programming like this from both sides of the table. I didn't tell him about the R³R²S, but we still came to the conclusion that it's still too early to panic. The most likely option right now is that a decision simply hasn't been made. Does that mean they're looking at other guys? Probably. Does that mean I should freak out? I don't think so. All I can do is give my best audition, which I did, and hope that the other things I bring to the table outweigh however good looking the other guys are. I'm also pretty sure I'll have to dodge a Kimmel on the Turn and River.

I think I'll make a call tomorrow, so I at least know if I'm buying a case of Guinness to celebrate or drown my sorrows. Hey, either way, I get to drink a ton of Guinness.

To make the continued waiting as cute as possible, please enjoy this kitten:

(Thanks, W!)

Posted by Wil at 05:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (53)

"May the road rise with you."
    -PiL

All this week, Shane Nickerson is publishing older blog entries that never made the cut for one reason or another. He introduces each entry with a brief comment about it, then shares some wonderful writing that clearly deserved to make it past the internal censor who often paralyzes writers actors actors/writers guys like us.

This one, in particular, hit me where I live:

If you want the secret, I have it.

It's about the work. Regardless of your chosen profession or station in life, the work is what matters. Skip it and you will be caught. Slack off, and others will catch up to you. Cut corners and you will have to answer to yourself at some point.

Of course, that said, the hardest question to answer once it is assumed that hard work is part of the equation is, "Now, what do I work on?" Whatever you love. Work on whatever you love and don't think about the payoff, but instead the road. If part of your road is a continual hunt for a payoff, so be it, but pick a life and career that makes you happy even in the very pursuit of the thing you've chosen.

A couple of days ago, I had an epiphany: Around the time I came to Exile, I drove right off my Road. I started to take an interesting little side trip, (mostly to Prove To Everyone that I could do it) but I lost my map and couldn't find my way back. I was so thoroughly off my road, I didn't even realize I was driving around in circles and down dead end paths until it was way too late, and I was running out of gas.

Set phasers to Ramble, Mr. Worf:

When I went to the Grand Slam convention last weekend, I kept expecting to feel bad about it. I kept expecting to feel like I was a loser for going without anything new to show off and I really worked myself up about it. I really felt like I was in exactly the same place I was five years ago, and that seriously bummed me out.

But when I got there, that anticipated feeling never arrived. Despite my best initial efforts to really feel like a jerk, I really had a good time. I didn't feel bad; I felt like I was at home. I felt like I was surrounded by like-minded people who all wanted to celebrate this stuff that we all love, and I felt like I had something unique and interesting to share with them. I loved how good and how right that felt, and at some point over the weekend, I realized that even though I was hanging out at a con, I'm not in the same place I was five years ago. I've grown as a writer, I've grown as a husband, and I've grown as a father. I'm smarter and wiser than I was five years ago, even if I haven't accomplished as much as I'd hoped. There is no denying that I haven't done what I'd hoped to do with acting or writing, but in all the other areas that truly matter, I've rolled several critical successes.

You know how everything happens for a reason? If I hadn't gone to that convention and simply enjoyed the celebration of Sci-Fi and Sci-Fi fandom, if I hadn't realized, accepted, and acknowledged that I really have grown and succeeded in the last five years, I wouldn't have found the map back to my Road. Without it, I never would have been in the right place to have so much fun with the hosting audition, and I wouldn't be waiting right now to hopefully hear good news about that job.

I thought about the last line of Just A Geek the other day, which I thought went something like, "I'm finally cool with all the Star Trek and Sci-Fi stuff, and I'm happy about that."

I just looked it up, and that's not what it says. It actually says that I'm doing something that really makes me happy, which at the time was writing. It says a lot about my current state of mind, (and the unvarnished truth about myself at this moment) that I thought it said I was happy about my work on Star Trek and I was cool with all that stuff, though, doesn't it?

When I watch TNG on G4, (and I do, almost every night,) no matter how hard I try to feel sad, or maudlin, or regretful, I just can't do it. I see my friends, and I have fond memories of working with them. I see my work, and I feel proud (when I'm not laughing at the Ugly Grey Spacesuit) of a lot of the things I did with what I was given to work with. As a bonus, watching lots of TNG has brought back happy, lucid memories of of all sosrts of things I did when I was a teenager: I get flashes of painting 40K armies in my dressing room, going to Depeche Mode concerts with my friends, watching movies like The Hidden and Alien Nation and Prince of Darkness at the AMC in Burbank with Darin when it was just 10 theatres (and 10 was HUGE back then), and going to different conventions all over the country to celebrate Star Trek. Of course, as I described in Just A Geek, there came a time where I didn't have fun at the cons, and I started to resent them, but even those memories are hard to pull up as I watch these shows from the second and third seasons. Is it selective memory? Of course it is, and I'm totally fine with that.

I know I went over this in Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot, but it's worth it for me to go over it one more time: I don't have to avoid or run away from science fiction because I was a big part of a huge science fiction franchise, and I didn't have the acting success I'd hoped for when I quit. I was a science fiction geek long before I was Wesley Crusher, and I'll be a science fiction geek for the rest of my life. I can't run away from fandom, because I can't run away from myself. I can't run away from who I am. Resistance is futile.

When I read Shane's post earlier this week, I initially responded to what he said about the work. But as I reflected on it, I kept thinking about the Road. When I knew what my Road was, I knew where my Road was, and I knew how to get back on it. I wasn't as far off it as I thought, in fact. I just had to turn the wheel and step on the gas. It also helped to drive with my eyes open for a change.

My Road is paved with d20s and TRON DVDs and Atari 2600 games. It's lit by the glow of TNG and BSG episodes and the soundtrack is by Vangelis. It's patrolled by Rover and they sell Soylent Green in the rest stop vending machines. The speed limit is 42, but if you flash your Bavarian Illuminati card, you can use the FTL drive to make it to Milliways in time for dinner.

I'm back on my Road, and nobody can take the sky from me.

Posted by Wil at 10:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (65) | TrackBacks (2)

As day two of the Big Wait draws to a close, I still haven't heard anything. After a lifetime in this industry, I have learned that the chances of booking a job drop logarithmically with each day that passes, and I'm less optimistic than I was yesterday. The glass still appears half-full, but there is now a chance that it could be filled with deadly poison.

To put the waiting into perspective, please enjoy this picture of Mustard Man:

Posted by Wil at 05:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (37)

Well, Monday is pretty much over, and I haven't heard anything yet about the possible hosting gig.

This waiting to hear thing? Yeah, it's never any different than this. I could either obsess that the lack of new information means they've gone with another Kimmel cousin, or the lack of new information means that nothing has changed since last week. It's a very Schrödinger's Cat situation, and I'm happy to leave the job in a superposition until I get a chance to observe the results.

To help pass the time until I hear something, here's a picture of a squirrel with huge nuts:

Posted by Wil at 06:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (53)

This comes from the Headlines-I-Never-Thought-I'd-Write department.

Last week, a reporter from the Augusta Chronicle in Augusta, Georgia contacted me and asked if I was performing at the James Brown Soul of America Music Festival on Memorial Day down in Georgia.

For years, I've been confused with Will Wheaton, Jr., the well-known soul singer, so I told the reporter that he was probably confusing the two of us (it happens all the time, especially when James Brown or Russian stacking dolls are brought up, for some strange reason.) The reporter told me that the festival made it clear that it was Wil Wheaton, the actor, which is weird because until the reporter's inquiry, I hadn't heard about the festival at all. In fact,I was surprised to hear that I'd been mentioned in association with this event, because I am solidly B or even C List right now, and not exactly the kind of person who would be a big draw at the James Brown Soul of America Music Festival on Memorial Day down in Georgia like, say, Will Wheaton, Jr., the well-known soul singer.[1]

I forgot about it until today, when Google News sent me one of those "Hey, Wil, you wanted to know when you were in the news, so now you know, and knowing is half the battle," alerts.

The entire story requires outrageously annoying and intrusive registraton, but here's the part that mentions me:

Also, actor Wil Wheaton, of Star Trek fame, said he had no plans to come to Augusta. He seemed amused when he responded to inquiries last week.

"I respect and admire the godfather of soul as much as anyone else, and though I've been known to get on up like a sex machine from time to time, I will be paying tribute in my own not-coming-to-Georgia way."

The whole story left me with the impression that there are a lot of questions about the event, and it all seems kind of shady, so now I'm actually happy that I may have been mentioned in conjunction with the event, because it could be sort of edgy, now.

[1]Note that it's common for event organizers to invite a ton of guests to an event, knowing that not all of them will show up, and advertise those guests as "invited" or "scheduled to appear." This often happens because organizers have ambitions that aren't practical, and you should never attribute to malice that which can be attributed to something more benign, like an overly-ambitious promoter. I don't know what the case is, here, but what's important is that I have an italicized footnote to this entry.

Posted by Wil at 05:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (35)

I'm working on WWdN today (about to stop and walk my dogs; the rain has broken, and it's quite beautiful outside right now) and I thought I'd share a couple of links for any readers who found me in Exile, rather than following me over from WWdN.

The first is something I wrote a long, long time ago, when WWdN first started. I knew people would be coming to my site with lots of preconceptions, and I wanted to take a shot at challenging them. I also had a tragic-but-true story which started this whole blogging thing for me, and is one of the first narrative non-fiction things I ever wrote:

If this is your first time here, you should read this.

The second is a couple of links to a reading I did from Just a Geek and Dancing Barefoot at Gnomedex a couple of years ago. It's not the best performance of all time, and I tossed in a couple of ad-libs that in retrospect don't work (see if you can spot them!) but

You can now see or hear me read from my books Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot! If you like what you hear, you may want to pick up a copy of Just A Geek: Teh Audiobook. Or not. Whatever. I'm not the boss of you.

Oh! And even though I'm putting my photos into flickr these days, I have an extensive gallery that's filled with really great stuff, including a HAWESOME series from a road trip Anne and I took a few years ago. Man, I really love WWdN. Working on it brings back a flood of memories, and I can't wait to get back home.

Posted by Wil at 11:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

I published a story for the SG Newswire this morning about a USB flash drive that encrypts your data, and automatically self-destructs if someone attempts to brute-force the password too many times.

The drive is made by a company called Kington, but whenever I look at the name, I keep seeing Klingon. I guess it's some sort of geek dyslexia.

So I made a couple of geeky Klingon jokes in the entry, using the Wikipedia entry on Klingon as a reference.

Holy cow, man, I love the Wikipedia, and I spend way too much time just randomly reading entries and filling my head with facts, but I haven't read an entry as entertaining and just plain cool as the Klingon entry in a long, long time. If you've got some time to spare, you should totally check it out.

When you're done with WikiPedia, and you still need more Klingon goodness in your day, browse the Klingon tag at Flickr; it's a great collection of fans, the guys at Star Trek the Experience in Las Vegas, and all sorts of people and pets with wrinkly foreheads.

Image comes from the "Klingon Convention Trauma" merchandise in my CafePress store.

Posted by Wil at 09:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (1)

Trent: They're gonna give daddy the Rainman suite, you dig that?
Mike: Do you think we'll get there by midnight?
Trent: Baby, we're going to be up five hundy by midnight!
Mike: Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh!
Trent: Vegas baby! Vegas!
Mike: Vegas!

-Swingers

The briefest of updates: I heard back from my manager about the Sci-Fi hosting gig. It's all very good news, but I can't talk about it until Monday.

Okay, maybe I can talk about it a little bit: They really liked me.

There are still about a million things that have to happen before it turns into a job for me, but at least I know that they liked me, and liked what I did. That's all I can ask for, right?

Posted by Wil at 02:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (51)

The day I got the WWdN database fixed, and had all the old WWdN entries rescued and readable was the day I found the path out of Exile.

Now that I know there are two ways out of this prison (in a pine box, or through that large opening over there that we all like to think of as "off limits, as a favor to me,") it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me to stay here.

Which brings me back to the Typepad vs. MT w/plugins issue. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I like about Typepad, that MT 3.2 doesn't have out of the box, and I came up with three things: Typepad has a great WYSIWYG editor, it easily and seamlessly handles uploading images and enclosures, like the RFB files, and all those little things on the right side are so easy to add and remove and update, I can't believe I ever did any hand-coding of tables and filled them with php includes (which I also had to create and edit by hand.)

But I miss WWdN, and all its lameness and non-W3C-compliance. I miss its out of date FAQ and musical suggestions. I miss its clunky archives and the sense that, even though it's a shitty house, it's my house, goddammit.

Redesigning issues aside, can I move back to WWdN and still have as much control as I have right now? And most important: will it be easy?

I've been playing around with three different editors that all have WYSIWYG editing, and various other features:

• Flock, which is a browser that is built on top of Firefox with integrated blogging tools.
• Performancing, which is a Firefox extension that puts a WYSISYG editor into your browser.
• ecto, which is an editor and publishing tool that lets you compose and edit entries outside of your browser.

Flock is pretty cool. It's got a nice editor, and I especially like how it seamlessly integrates Flickr images and del.icio.us bookmarks into your blogging experience. It integrates lots of tools and appears geared toward blogging and anything which involves a tag. If I was all about that sort of thing, I'd be really into flock, but since I'm not, I can't see myself using it.

Performancing is also really nice. I love that it easily inserts technorati tags and adds del.icio.us bookmarks whenever you update one of your blogs, (if you want it to), and I love that it lets you see a ton of information on the page you're viewing. It's a free Firefox extension, and free is good.

But I think ecto is the way to go for me. It does all of the things that the other two do, and adds in too many features for me to list here. I was introduced to ecto when Xeni told me she uses it to update boingboing, and even though I have to buy a license for it, if it's good enough for boingboing, it's totally good enough for me.

Last night, while I was goofing off with ecto, I ended up quasi-live-blogging part of an episode of TNG:

I'm watching one of my favorite (and most heartbreaking) episodes of TNG, The Offspring. It's one of the best episodes we ever did, and it nearly reaches  --

UGH! There I am in the ugly grey space suit on Stage 9. I'm not acting very well right here, even though the scene is really about the Admiral. Nice package on Wesley, though. Eww. Gross.

Gods. Data has to say good bye to Lal now. This always makes me cry a little bit. Lal says, "I love you, father," and Data just looks at her and says, "I wish I could feel it, too."

It's such a testament to the writing in this episode (and the actors in the scene) that Data didn't end up doing a cheesy "I love you too," thing. It's so true to his character that he remains emotionally unattached, because Data doesn't have emotions. (I always thought it was an insanely stupid fucking move to give Data his emotion chip, like giving Geordi sight. Weak.)

Heh. I just said, "Course is set, sir." See? That's why I hated working on TNG in those days. Even though the episode is great, just saying those stupid lines bored me to. fucking. death.

Now G4 is running an ad for Star Trek 2.0, which I think is going to be the dumbest thing to happen to the original series in 40 years. And now, it's time for Futurama on [adult swim].

So I have three things left to do before I can return to WWdN (in this order):

1. Find an editor that I like, that's easy to use and reliable. I'm pretty sure I've done that.
2. Figure out a way to easily update modular content for the non-blog areas of the site. This feels like it should be fairly easy, but I haven't put all that much time into reading the MT forums or digging through the plug-ins. I suspect the answer is to use MT-Includes that are files linked to various MT Templates. Alternatively, I can figure out some sort of web-based php backend that will let me update all that information without having to go into an html editor offline, and ftp the damn thing whenever I want to make a chance. And don't even talk to me about ssh-ing into the server and using vi from a shell prompt. Those days are long behind me. This is, I think, the stickiest widget.
3. Complete the re-design. We're working on this, and once we figure out a couple more things, it will go live very quickly.

Posted by Wil at 01:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (3)

Mike: So how long do I wait to call?
Trent: A day.
Mike: Tomorrow.
Sue: Tomorrow, then a day.
Trent: Yeah.
Mike: So two days?
Trent: Yeah, I guess you could call it that, two days.
Sue: Definitely, two days is like industry standard.
Trent: You know I used to wait two days to call anybody, but now it's like everyone in town waits two days. So I think three days is kind of money. What do you think?
Sue: Yeah, but two's enough not to look anxious.

-Swingers

The audtion yesterday was fantastic. I thought I'd be there for thirty minutes or so, but I ended up working with them for almost three hours (and making it home too late for my Tuesday night poker game.) I read with six different women who are all in the running to co-host the show, and I was shocked at how much fun I had. If I book the job, I'd be the geek, she'd be the babe, and everyone in the audience would have something to enjoy.

In fact, when I got home, I told Ryan, "Dude. I had the best afternoon: I got to sit with beautiful women and talk about Sci-Fi! Three of them were former Miss USA contestants, and one of them was Playmate of the Year for 2005."

"Dude." He said. "You are my hero."

I have this post-audition ritual: after I leave, I find the first trashcan and dump my sides in it. It's how I let go of the whole thing, because I've already done everything I can do, you know? I've pushed my chips into the pot with the best of it, and now I have to wait for five cards to come out and hope that I win when it's all over.

This time, I did dump the sides and my note cards (I have the notes on my Powerbook for easy re-printing, should I get called back) and I've tried to get on with my life . . . but holy shit is it hard. I had so much fun while I was there, and the prospect of getting a weekly gig where I get to geek out about Sci-Fi stuff -- and get paid to do it! -- is just too much. I've already called my manager twice today to see if we'd gotten any feedback.

"I haven't heard anything, yet," he said, the second time I called. "Normally, I'll call the next day, but if they don't call . . ."

"It's like you just met a girl in a bar, and you don't want to screw it up by calling too soon, isn't it?" I said.

He laughed. "Yeah, it's exactly like that."

"So . . . are we calling today?"

"I think it's best to wait until tomorrow, because they have to take your tapes to executives, get approvals, and all sorts of things."

"So, what, two days?" I said.

"Yeah, there's a lot of things that have to happen before they give us any feedback, so we'll just have to wait until we hear from them." He said. "Then there's the whole negotiation thing, too."

"You'll call me, right?"

"I'll call you right away." He said.

I hung up the phone and looked at the calendar. I thought about drawing a circle around the 17th. I may have done it.

I'm sure I'm going to feel like a real jerk if this doesn't happen, but I love this feeling of excitement and optimism that I have right now. It's much nicer than the usual alternative.

Posted by Wil at 01:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (78)

I absolutely love that one particular kind of pepperoni pizza that you get at the mini golf course.

You know the one: it's cardboardy, the pepperonis are usually burnt a little bit, and the cheese burns the everlovingfuck out of your mouth when you bite into it, just before it slides off in one whole piece and sticks to your chin or falls onto your Journey concert shirt.

If I could eat that pizza while I listened to Hall & Oates and played Space Invaders, I could be in fourth grade for the rest of my life.

Posted by Wil at 09:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (1)

Riley woke me up at 6 on Sunday morning. Then Ferris re-woke me up at 7:30. I finally gave in and got out of bed at 8. On a Sunday. So very, very wrong.

I moved in ultimate slow motion and didn't get to the convention until just before noon. I set my stuff up on my little table, sat down, and thirty seconds later discovered that I really didn't want to be there. It was cold, I was tired, the crowd was very, very small, and the people on stage were too interesting to miss.

So I packed up my stuff, trucked it back to my car, grabbed my camera and iRiver, and did something I haven't done for years: I walked around the Grand Slam convention as a fan.

I listened to astronauts talk about doing for real what I used to do for fakes, which was nothing new for me (I've had the great fortune to meet and talk with several different astronauts over the years) but is also something I will never, ever, take for granted. These guys have been telling the same stories for nearly forty years, but whenever they talk about blasting off, or looking back at Earth from orbit, they could have just stepped out of the capsule after landing. Their enthusiasm for science and their ability to infect their audience with the same is something everyone should get a chance to experience at least once. I'm thrilled that Creation is bringing astronauts to their shows, and I hope they do more in the future.

After their talks, I wandered over to the dealer's room, and took a few pictures. I'm happy to say that I only spent $15 before I left, on the coolest bit of geek ephemera I've seen in a long time (I purchased the d20 keychain) before heading back over to the main auditorium to listen to Ron Moore speak.

I knew Ron was coming to the show, because I'd read it in his blog late Saturday night, and I hoped that I'd get a chance to talk with him one-on-one, but I didn't expect that I'd run right into him backstage before he went on.

He lit up when he saw me for the first time in over fifteen years, and my prepared speech about how I didn't know if he remembered me flew out of my head. In one of those "hand on the car" moments, a series of images flashed through my mind in an instant, as I recalled some of the things he did for my character: Yesterday's Enterprise, the first time I got to do something really different on the bridge; The First Duty, the first (and only) time we saw Wesley interact with his peers, act his age, and witness his angst-ridden humanity; and Journey's End, the first (and only) time we saw Wesley as an adult, willing to take a principled stand against his father figure, Captain Picard. I felt a surge of emotion well up in my chest, and before I knew the words were coming out of my mouth, I said, "When we worked together on TNG, I was too young, and too immature to appreciate what you gave me as an actor, and what you did for my character. I know it's fifteen years late, but I wanted to say thank you."

He smiled warmly. "Thank you," he said. "It really means a lot to me to hear that."

I wanted so badly to tell him how I'd do anything in the world to be on his show, but I couldn't think of a way to say that without spoiling the moment, or coming off like a schmuck, so I just congratulated him on the success of the show, and asked him if he had as much creative control as he wanted.

"I do," he said. "I'm very lucky to work with great people, and the network is very supportive of what we want to do. Of course, we battle, but they are always good battles that make the show better."

He was called onto the stage before we could talk any longer, and as he stepped through the curtain to absolutely deafening applause, I felt happy. I've discovered that all I want to do as an artist (whether it's acting, writing, or whatever) is make something that matters to people; and I know that to be true for all the artists I know, particularly the writers. Ron, like Joss Whedon, has done that, and I felt happy for him in that weird i-was-just-talking-to-you way when the crowd went nuts for him.

I recorded some of what he said on my iRiver; it'll be on a future episode of RFB.

When Ron was done, I wandered around the con some more, talked to a lot of people, and managed to completely miss BIlly West's talk, where I hear he announced that there will be new episodes of Futurama on FOX either later this year or early next year. I spoke with Billy after he was done, and he gave me enough industry-specific details to assure me that this is for real, so get ready for hawesomeness.

By this time, my lungs were gasping for air and --

Sorry. Nerdy MST3K reference that 5% of you will understand. I should also point out that nobody will be admitted during the exciting rock climbing portion of the film.

By this time, I was really hungry, so I grabbed Rod Roddenberry and his girlfriend Heidi, and we went across the street to the Yardhouse for pizza and beer and sashimi and beer and grilled chicken sandwiches and beer. When we were younger, Rod and I goofed off on the set whenever we got the chance, and as we've grown older, we've spent a lot of time sharing stories about his dad. Rod is an amazing person, and in ways that we both understand but can't vocalize to anyone but each other, we're like long-lost half-brothers. It's always fantastic to spend time with him, and my only real regret for the whole weekend is that we didn't have more time to catch up and goof off.

After we ate, it was nearly 5:30, and I had to pick the kids up at 6, so I made my way back through the convention hall to say some goodbyes. On my way in, someone said to me, "Frakes was talking smack about you onstage," and I instantly knew that Jonathan told the "you used to be cool" story. I laughed out loud and hoped wished there was some way I could stop time long enough to visit with him.

I found Jonathan backstage, and said, "I can tell, just by looking at you . . . "

"That you used to be cool," he said. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me.

"W," he said, "it is so great to see you."

"You too," I said.

"Are you on your way out, or are you hanging around?" He said.

"I have to go pick up the kids," I said.

"How are they?"

"They're great. They're teenagers now, you know."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Man, we are getting so old!" I noticed that the impish glint I loved when we worked together, and always look for when I see him, was still in his eye.

"Are you well?" He said.

"Mostly," I said. "You?"

"I am great, man."

We talked as long as we could, about kids, and houses, and Star Trek and work and wives and all the things that I never could have talked about when I was younger. I just adore Jonathan, and I was genuinely sad when I saw that I had to leave to get the kids.

"I gotta go, Jonny," I said, "and I hope that it won't be a year again before I get to see you, but i'm pretty sure it will be."

"You look great, W," he said. Then he pointed at the huge screen that made up the back of the stage. "But not as good as Avery."

Avery Brooks did look great. He looked cooler than Shaft, and more stylish than anyone else in the convention hall.

"He's really fucking up the cool curve for us, isn't he?" I said.

"Ah, don't worry, W," he said with a grin. "I can tell just by looking at you that you used to be cool."

"You too," I said.

Posted by Wil at 12:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (50) | TrackBacks (1)

Oh man, what a great day!

Firefly panel: HAWESOME.
G4 booth babes: HAWESOME
Talking with Brent: HAWESOME.
Reading and Q&A: HAWESOME.

I'm just too damn tired to get into the details now, but I have lots of great notes, and I recorded my entire talk for a future RFB.

I'm going to fall into bed, now.

Update: Actually, there is one thing really worth adding right now, while the memory of it is still more visceral than intellectual.

The last question I took during my Q&A (the first I've done in several years) was about Michael Piller. A woman asked me if I could comment on Michael, and what it was like to work with him. All my comments are recorded, but they can be distilled down to this: Michael was brilliant, and he made The Next Generation great. When I was done, and sadly after I'd switched off my recorded, Harry Kloor, a friend of mine who is an accomplished writer and producer, walked up to the stage, and he said, "I wrote for Michael. He was like a father to all of us."

I turned the microphone back on, and told the crowd, "There's something I think you should hear, that's important."

I gave the mic to Harry, and he said, "I just told Wil that Michael was like a father to all of his writers. He could be stern, he could be tough, he could be nurturing, and he could be supportive. And he made all of us want to be -- no, he made us better writers."

I thought it was a wonderful tribute to Michael's memory and his legacy: he didn't just leave us with amazing television like Star Trek and The Dead Zone; Michael also helped a lot of writers discover and achieve their potential. He cast a stone into a pond, and the ripples (like Battlestar Galactica, for one) are just beginning to show.
 

Posted by Wil at 10:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

"The mind spends most of the time lost in fantasies and illusions, reliving pleasant or unpleasant experiences and anticipating the future with eagerness or fear. While lost in such cravings or aversions, we are unaware of what is happening now, what we are doing now. Yet surely this moment, now, is the most important for us. We cannot live in the past; it is gone. Nor can we live in the future; it is forever beyond our grasp. We can live only in the present. If we are unaware of our present actions, we are condemned to repeating the mistakes of the past and can never succeed in attaining our dreams for the future. But if we can develop the ability to be aware of the present moment, we can use the past as a guide for ordering our actions in the future, so that we may attain our goal". --S.N. Goenka, The Art of Living

Thank you, Michael, for the above quote.

The convention was pretty fun today, even though it was freezing cold in the room where I was set up. It's Friday, so the crowds were very light (probably 600 people total in the whole place today) which gave me time to visit with old friends, and spend lots of time with the few fans who stopped by my table to chat.

Two long-time WWdN readers stopped by, and shared some incredibly supportive and kind thoughts after reading my blog the last few days. That was really, really thoughtful and cool. Thank you.

I sold about 10% of the limited edition chapbooks -- which, I must say, turned out to be really fantastic. I am so glad I had a printer do them for me, rather than trying to assemble them on my own.

The coolest thing happened: about half of the people who bought the chapbook returned within thirty minutes or so to tell me how much they liked it. One woman told me she loved it, and couldn't wait to hear me perform material from it tomorrow. That made me feel really good, and validated the work I put into the stories, and putting the book together.

There was a camera crew there today, from a well-known late night talk show, and they wanted to talk to me and Chase Masterson. I told them no, because it was clear that they were only there to make Star Trek fans look like assholes, and I wasn't going to be part of that. For fuck's sake, you guys: these people are here because they love Star Trek, or Lost, or Firefly, or whatever. They're thrilled to be around like-minded people where it's totally cool to dress up and challenge each other to quote-offs. They're not here so you can laugh at them, you jerks.

Because the crowds were so light, I got to wander the dealer's room, and really take in all the cool stuff that I used to get so excited about back in the old days; things like FASA Star Trek RPG sourcebooks, classic Star Wars toys  . . .

[cheesy fade effect, and some appropriate music, please.]

At one point, I walked past a booth that had lots of classic Star Wars toys in it. I glanced in, and my eyes fell on an original Darth Vader's TIE Fighter. I had that toy when I was a kid, and just looking at it was like those car commercials where the guy touches the car, and he gets this rapid-fire burst of images until he takes his hand off of it. I saw that toy, and was assaulted by this rapid-fire burst of images of riding in the car to KMart with my parents, hoping to buy a new Star Wars toy, playing with the toys on the gold shag carpeting in front of the brick fireplace in the house in Sunland, running around the back yard in the fading evening light in the dummer of 1980, me piloting the TIE fighter, chasing my brother who piloted a snow speeder. (We weren't afraid to combine Star Wars and He*Man, so why not combine Star Wars and Empire Strikes Back?)

[cheesy fade effect, and some appropriate music, please.]

I know I only stood there and looked at it for a few seconds, but it felt like several minutes. I like it when things like that happen.

I also got lots of audio to use in a future podcast, and some of it is really cool. I'll have a Grand Slam podcast next week, probably.

Tomorrow is going to be a great day. The crowds are expected to hit near 2000, and the several cast members from Firefly and Lost will be giving talks. I'm pretty sure I'll leave my table during the Firefly talks, and I'm going to try to get Morena Baccarin to tell me that she loves me. Failing that, I'll see if I can get Adam Baldwin to do the same.

And on that incredibly uncomfortable note, I'm going to open a Newcastle, and go watch some TV with my wife.

Posted by Wil at 07:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

"We've all had our ups and downs
It's been mostly down around here
Now this whole damn mess is becoming quite clear"
-Uncle Tupelo, Life Worth Living

Thank you for all your feedback on the podcast and the blog. Many more people responded than I expected, and virtually all of you wondered if I actually read what you wrote. I don't have time to respond to each e-mail directly, which feels shitty and disrespectful to me (you took the time, so why can't I?) but I think I can put here, for everyone, what I'd put into lots of different e-mails. I took it all to heart, and I am deeply grateful to everyone who saw my signal flare, and sent back one of their own.

So. Two things I suspected were confirmed. The first: I can't please everyone, so I'm just going to please myself. That sounds dirty. Let me try a different way: For every person who said they didn't like the "sacchrine stories about my family" someone said they loved the "heartwarming stories about family life." For every person who said "I wish you'd write more about politics" someone said, "I'm glad you don't write about politics very much." Everyone liked the narrative-style poker stories, and nobody likes the dry, technical poker posts. I agree. That's why I moved most of my poker content to CardSquad. I haven't had many stories to tell, but when I have a story that's more like Odessa than a dry retelling of the flop, turn and river, I'll publish it again.

Lots of you came here for different reasons: Star Trek, movies, gaming, technology, politics, family stories. I noticed that most writers wanted to hear more of whatever brought them here in the first place and less of everything else. I've said before that attempting to please everybody results in pleasing nobody, so I'll just have to write about all of those things when they strike me, and hopefully when I'm interested I'll be interesting and worth both of our time.

Thing the second: the general theme, from people who I know in real life to people who have read me for years, to people who have just been reading for a few months: my blog, once interesting, has become average and lacks passion.

My blog, which is a reflection of my life, has become average because I've allowed it to happen. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but at least I'm aware of it, and I can begin the long and painful process of ripping myself out of my average rut, and moving to where I want to be.

I've been reading a lot of Seth Godin's blog, and his book The Purple Cow. In Purple Cow, Seth says that the first few cows you see are really interesting, but they eventually blur together and you forget about them. Then you see a purple cow, and it's extraordinary, and you take notice, and you can't believe you were ever impressed by a regular old cow. He uses it as a metaphor for marketers, but it applies to anyone who produces some sort of media or entertainment; it certainly applies to me.

Years ago, my Purple Cow was obvious: I was one of the first well-known actors to openly write about the experience. And there was that whole Wesley Crusher thing. Nobody else was doing what I did, so it was extraordinary. Over the years, I've fallen onto the other side of the bell curve, and now I find myself squarely in "average" land.

What do I do to paint my cow again? I'm not sure. Obviously, getting work as an actor again would be nice, and fire up my passions; working on some real fiction would also do that.

The excerpt I published yesterday is part of a very short story (it's only about 2000 words) but it's a start. I'm doing some work on it (changing from first to third person, for one) and I'm looking forward to publishing it next week. Maybe that will kick off something new for me that makes it worth your while to drop by my blog.

In many ways, I feel like I've run really hard, and really fast, and ended up right back where I started.

I know I'm a good actor, and I know that I can connect with an audience and do extraordinary work. That's not enough to close the gap between me sitting in an audition, and me getting hired. So I'm right back where I was five years ago.

Anne's ex isn't supporting his kids, putting the burden on me and Anne, and getting away with it. I'm right back where I was five years ago.

I'm struggling, creatively unfulfilled, filled with self-doubt and more than a little bit of self lothing. I'm right back where I was five years ago.

And you know what? I'm really sad that I've failed as an actor. I'm really sad that, even though I tried so hard my whole life to develop this skill, and even though I know I'm extremely good at it, I have failed to have any lasting success with it. It's not my fault, I don't think, -- well, other than the reasons I detail in Just A Geek (which makes a lovely gift) -- that the entertainment industry lost interest in me and what I bring to the party, but when I'm not acting in some capacity, I feel like a big part of my soul is dead. Writing helps, a little bit, but it's like methadone to acting's heroin. I'd love to find a play to do around town, or do another sketch comedy show, or do some improv, but the unavoidable, brutal truth is that I can't afford to. I don't have the time to devote to it, but I have to somehow find it, and walk a dangerous, delicate, precarious and fine line between providing for my family, spending time with (and enjoying) my family, and hitting the acting needle as frequently and as hard as I can without becoming a gutter burnout.

It's tough to write anything from the inside of my heart lately, because I feel like I'm just a big stupid crybaby. In my brains, I know that things could be a lot, lot worse (I know that, really I do, and because I know that I'm reluctant to even publish any of these thoughts) but in my heart and soul, I feel defeated.

Just completely defeated. And I don't have enough time. And. And. And.

I know that I have the tools and the power to turn this feeling of defeat into something better, and I know that I'm indulging a whole lot of self-pity . . . but at least I'll admit it, and own that feeling.

This is part of the journey, I guess. Maybe being where I was five years ago isn't so bad. Five years ago, I had a lot of really great stuff to write about, and a very Purple Cow to share.

Posted by Wil at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (136)

Anne just told me this:

"Last night, I walked down the hallway, past Nolan's room. I looked in, and saw that he was in his bed, with the light off, snuggled up next to Riley [who sleeps on his bed -- all 47 pounds of her.]

"I said, 'Hey, pookie, are you going to sleep?'

"He looked up at me, and said, 'No, mom, I'm just layin' here.' He paused for a second and added,  'Here's your sign.'"

I'm still laughing.

Posted by Wil at 08:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (1)

I finished work on the chapbook last night, and as soon as I get an illustration from Ben (who did all the art for Dancing Barefoot), it's going to a local print shop. I doubt I'll have it on Friday, but I will have it at the convention on Saturday and Sunday. Oh, and I gave it a title. It's called "More Than This."

I spent the first half of today working on Games of our Lives, then had an epiphany (to be discussed on today's RFB) that lead me to write a fictional short story called Language Barrier.

It's with my editor, but I have a little excerpt which I can share now:

I became aware of voices behind me. Two women. They spoke with heavy Russian accents.

"Martina," one of them said, "you don't understand. He пребывания вне поздно, никогда не выбирают вверх после себя, and doesn't even know me!" 

"Sophia, вы возбужены --" She was older than the first.

"I am not excited, and don't talk to me like I am a child. Будете вы моим другом или не?"

"Of course I'm your friend. And of course I want you to be happy --"

"So why won't you support me?"

An Escalade pulled up in front of the restaurant, bass thumping, temporarily turning the window into a mirror. I caught a glimpse of their reflection: Martina, the older one, faced away from me. Her hair was huge and processed. She wore a light colored top. Sophia, younger, had black hair and pale skin. The Escalade drove away and I squinted my eyes against the midday sun. I looked down at the tan line on my left hand. Two months and it still hadn't gone away. Two months and I still felt bitter, when I didn't feel numb. Two months and I was alone in a restaurant, fantasizing about fucking a girl I hadn't even seen, based on her sexy Russian accent.

More to come . . .

Posted by Wil at 04:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

I'm working like crazy on this chapbook, so it's been a day of intense output, with Real Jazz on XM to provide me some inspiring input. I've narrowed it down to three stories across about 17 pages, and it's going to be pretty damn cool, even if I say so myself.

Jesusmotherallahbuddha, I really need to get out of the house, and stretch my legs and my brains. Just walking the dogs around the block between thunderstorms isn't doing it for me. I'm going nuts here.

I really need to get the hell out of suburbia, man. I think there's a trip up to Lucky Baldwin's in my very near future, so if you see a guy sitting at the end of the bar surrounded by empty glasses which were formerly pints of Guinness, scribbling like mad in a Molskine notebook, approach with caution (or with another pint.)

To take a little break tonight, though, I'm playing in my weekly WWdN game at PokerStars. It starts in 20 minutes, so if you're interested in goofing off with some poker nerds and me (redundant redundant) fire up the client and go to Tourneys -> Private and look for WWdN #17.

Speaking of PokerStars, my friends from the marketing department sent me a TON of hats, T-shirts, and cool 'Stars schwag to give away at the convention this weekend.

Ryan and I keep quoting this line from Family Guy: "And I, uh, thought that dogs, uh, laid eggs. So, so, so I, uh, I learned something today."

and

"Hey! Where's my money?!"

Okay, back to work for fifteen minutes, then it's poker time.

Posted by Wil at 05:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Sean Bonner spilled meme all over me, so . . .

Four Jobs I've Had In My Life in LA:
Working Actor
Struggling Actor
Desperately Struggling Actor
Writer

Four Movies About LA I Could Watch Over And Over:
Swingers
LA Confidential
The Big Lebowski
Blade Runner

Four Places I've Lived All Over L.A. (With Food Memories From Each):
Sunland: Walking to Bob's Big Boy for Big Boy Combos with my parents
La Crescenta: Big chicken and beef bowls from Yakis
Westwood: 45-cent frozen burritos from breadstix
Pasadena: Super Fire Hot Wings at Hooters in Old Town, where it all began

Four LA-Themed Shows I Love(d) To Watch:
CHiPs
Alias
Three's Company
Emergency!

Four Places I Would Vacation At In LA:
Shutters in Santa Monica
Any campground in the San Gabriel Mountains
The Biltmore downtown
The Ritz Carlton in South Pasadena

Four LA-Based Websites I Visit Daily:
blogging.la
BoingBoing
Nickerblog
Bill Rini

Four Of My Favorite Foods Found In LA:
Huevos rancheros from Cafe Verde
Big chicken bowl w/ potato salad and extra green sauce from Yakis
Petit fillet from The Arroyo Chophouse
Grilled Dodger Dogs from the Inner Reserve level at Dodger Stadium

Four Places In LA I Would Rather Be Right Now:
Somewhere with my wife
Amoeba Music
Echo Mountain
Zuma Beach

Tagged:
Annie
Shane
Xeni
Ryan [done, and happy birthday!]

(photo via atomicShed on flickr)

Posted by Wil at 09:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (1)

Sean Bonner spilled meme all over me, so . . .

Four Jobs I've Had In My Life in LA:
Working Actor
Struggling Actor
Desperately Struggling Actor
Writer

Four Movies About LA I Could Watch Over And Over:
Swingers
LA Confidential
The Big Lebowski
Blade Runner

Four Places I've Lived All Over L.A. (With Food Memories From Each):
Sunland: Walking to Bob's Big Boy for Big Boy Combos with my parents
La Crescenta: Big chicken and beef bowls from Yakis
Westwood: 45-cent frozen burritos from breadstix
Pasadena: Super Fire Hot Wings at Hooters in Old Town, where it all began

Four LA-Themed Shows I Love(d) To Watch:
CHiPs
Alias
Three's Company
Emergency!

Four Places I Would Vacation At In LA:
Shutters in Santa Monica
Any campground in the San Gabriel Mountains
The Biltmore downtown
The Ritz Carlton in South Pasadena

Four LA-Based Websites I Visit Daily:
blogging.la
BoingBoing
Nickerblog
Bill Rini

Four Of My Favorite Foods Found In LA:
Huevos rancheros from Cafe Verde
Big chicken bowl w/ potato salad and extra green sauce from Yakis
Petit fillet from The Arroyo Chophouse
Grilled Dodger Dogs from the Inner Reserve level at Dodger Stadium

Four Places In LA I Would Rather Be Right Now:
Somewhere with my wife
Amoeba Music
Echo Mountain
Zuma Beach

Tagged:
Annie
Shane [done. HAWESOME]
Xeni
Ryan [done, and happy birthday!]

(photo via atomicShed on flickr)

Posted by Wil at 09:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (1)

When I posted about the Race for the Cure last Sunday, I hoped that I'd generate $500 in donations, but I expected to get somewhere closer to $200.

I am so pleased, and so thrilled to announce that WWdN:iX readers joined together to contribute eight hundred and twenty-four dollars to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation in Los Angeles County.

I've thanked each of you individually, and now I'd like to thank you all publicly:

From PokerStars -

1. Johnny
2. Carsten
3. Misty
4. Big Slick Nuts

From WWdN:iX -

1. Daniel G.
2. Lara W, in honor or Aunt Catherine
3. Rob S.
4. Christian R.
5. Kate L.
6. Michelle M.
7. Carrie I.
8. Kirsten W.
9. Ray and Erica B.
10. Tony and Elizabeth M.
11. John D.
12. Shauna R.
13. David V.
14. Wendy M.
15. Christina C.
16. Holly H.
17. Ryan W.
18. Christopher E.
19. Christine R.
20. Chris S.
21. Anonymous, for Shannon.
22. Damon B.
23. Paul S.
24. Mary M.
25. Martin R.
26. Paul G.
27. Jean S.

I love the "distributed fundraising" part of this whole thing. Thanks to the Internets, I was able to reach more people, more easily, and more quickly than if I'd sent out a ton of paper letters, or walked through my neighborhood knocking on doors. In fact, some of you even sent donations from Great Britain, which arrived here almost instantaneously thanks to Pay Pal. Ten years ago, that wouldn't have been nearly as easy as it was this week, if it was even possible at all. You know, we can make a very positive difference in the world, simply by coming together when we have an opportunity to build something that's greater than all of us individually.

For those of you who wanted to be part of this, but couldn't, our friend Kris is back in the hospital, so Anne and I are doing the Rock and Roll Marathon again this year, and our fundraising is just about to get started. This year, we'll have a blog dedicated to training and updates, as well as some in-person fundraisers in Los Angeles and some virtual fundraisers online (poker tourneys, eBay auctions, etc.)

Thank you all for your kindness, support, and generosity.

Posted by Wil at 09:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

When I posted about the Race for the Cure last Sunday, I hoped that I'd generate $500 in donations, but I expected to get somewhere closer to $200.

I am so pleased, and so thrilled to announce that WWdN:iX readers joined together to contribute eight hundred and twenty-four dollars to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation in Los Angeles County.

I've thanked each of you individually, and now I'd like to thank you all publicly:

From PokerStars -

1. Johnny
2. Carsten
3. Misty
4. Big Slick Nuts

From WWdN:iX -

1. Daniel G.
2. Lara W, in honor or Aunt Catherine
3. Rob S.
4. Christian R.
5. Kate L.
6. Michelle M.
7. Carrie I.
8. Kirsten W.
9. Ray and Erica B.
10. Tony and Elizabeth M.
11. John D.
12. Shauna R.
13. David V.
14. Wendy M.
15. Christina C.
16. Holly H.
17. Ryan W.
18. Christopher E.
19. Christine R.
20. Chris S.
21. Anonymous, for Shannon.
22. Damon B.
23. Paul S.
24. Mary M.
25. Martin R.
26. Paul G.
27. Jean S.

I love the "distributed fundraising" part of this whole thing. Thanks to the Internets, I was able to reach more people, more easily, and more quickly than if I'd sent out a ton of paper letters, or walked through my neighborhood knocking on doors. In fact, some of you even sent donations from Great Britain, which arrived here almost instantaneously thanks to Pay Pal. Ten years ago, that wouldn't have been nearly as easy as it was this week, if it was even possible at all. You know, we can make a very positive difference in the world, simply by coming together when we have an opportunity to build something that's greater than all of us individually.

For those of you who wanted to be part of this, but couldn't, our friend Kris is back in the hospital, so Anne and I are doing the Rock and Roll Marathon again this year, and our fundraising is just about to get started. This year, we'll have a blog dedicated to training and updates, as well as some in-person fundraisers in Los Angeles and some virtual fundraisers online (poker tourneys, eBay auctions, etc.)

Thank you all for your kindness, support, and generosity.

Posted by Wil at 09:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Don't you love it when you chase some links down the Internets rabbit hole and discover something hawesome you wouldn't have discovered on your own?

I started at boingboing, where Cory linked to a blog created by Pixar employees who offer advice to Disney on how to improve Disneyland. I love Disneyland (I've been a nerd for MiceAge, Laughing Place, and Yesterland for years) and I really hate what they did to the park in the last decade or so, especially the absolutely horrifying "updating" of Tomorrowland. It was cool to read this post where Merlin Jones says many of the same things I've been saying for years:

The utopian, ultramodern design of 1967's New Tomorrowland, gleaming like a moonscape in stark white, black and cool shades of blue and silver, was unsucessfully updated in 1998 to reflect a bronzed Victorian/Vernian mechanical view of the future. While this was great at Disneyland Paris, where the concept was fully realized, it never gelled here in Anaheim, particularly as a layover to the modernist original.

[. . .]

Tomorrowland's apocalypse is the elephant-in-the-room at Disneyland. It should be fixed immediately - - and before any new expansion or additions. This decay impacts the guest's experience and memory of the park. The imminent return of Submarine Voyage and new Monorail trains will help get the ball rolling. Why not drop the other shoe and revive the entire land at the same time? It would be a marketing coup.

The blog is still relatively young, and I read the entire thing in about thirty well-spent minutes. I hope that the new management at Disneyland will listen up: it's not about selling plush toys or trading pins, guys. It's not about "synergy" with whatever movie is going to be forgotten in two years. Disneyland is about escaping from the cares and troubles of real life, and immersing ourselves in a world of Adventure, Fantasy, and a great big beautiful Tomorrow.

Continuing down the rabbit hole: I looked at some of the links on their blog, and found myself at Don Shank's blog, which has some really amzing artwork he did for The Incredibles (one of my favorite movies of all-time) as well as some ultra cool artwork he's done for himself. I can do a lot of things, but drawing is a skill that has always eluded me. As far back as fifth grade, I remember my dodge ball nemesis Jimmie Just could draw the most amazing monsters and things, while I struggled to do a step-by-step Garfield (which Donald Garwood could draw flawlessly.) I've favorited and bloglines-ed Don's blog, and some day I'll get the courage to ask him if he'll do a drawing for one of my books.

I hope this illustrates how cool the internets is: I never would have seen Don Shank's blog if I didn't read boingboing, and I wouldn't read boingboing if I hadn't met Cory at the Boxing with Barney EFF event several years ago. (Even though I read the 'zine version of boingboing back in the day, I didn't know it was a website until 2002-ish.) It's sort of like following real-life hyperlinks to a website, where you follow traditional hyperlinks long enough to find that place down the Long Tail that seems to speak only to you.

Photo of Space Mountain via Flickr user Sky Traveler
Image of Noobly Squirbulette via Don Shank's blog.

Posted by Wil at 01:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (1)

Don't you love it when you chase some links down the Internets rabbit hole and discover something hawesome you wouldn't have discovered on your own?

I started at boingboing, where Cory linked to a blog created by Pixar employees who offer advice to Disney on how to improve Disneyland. I love Disneyland (I've been a nerd for MiceAge, Laughing Place, and Yesterland for years) and I really hate what they did to the park in the last decade or so, especially the absolutely horrifying "updating" of Tomorrowland. It was cool to read this post where Merlin Jones says many of the same things I've been saying for years:

The utopian, ultramodern design of 1967's New Tomorrowland, gleaming like a moonscape in stark white, black and cool shades of blue and silver, was unsucessfully updated in 1998 to reflect a bronzed Victorian/Vernian mechanical view of the future. While this was great at Disneyland Paris, where the concept was fully realized, it never gelled here in Anaheim, particularly as a layover to the modernist original.

[. . .]

Tomorrowland's apocalypse is the elephant-in-the-room at Disneyland. It should be fixed immediately - - and before any new expansion or additions. This decay impacts the guest's experience and memory of the park. The imminent return of Submarine Voyage and new Monorail trains will help get the ball rolling. Why not drop the other shoe and revive the entire land at the same time? It would be a marketing coup.

The blog is still relatively young, and I read the entire thing in about thirty well-spent minutes. I hope that the new management at Disneyland will listen up: it's not about selling plush toys or trading pins, guys. It's not about "synergy" with whatever movie is going to be forgotten in two years. Disneyland is about escaping from the cares and troubles of real life, and immersing ourselves in a world of Adventure, Fantasy, and a great big beautiful Tomorrow.

Continuing down the rabbit hole: I looked at some of the links on their blog, and found myself at Don Shank's blog, which has some really amzing artwork he did for The Incredibles (one of my favorite movies of all-time) as well as some ultra cool artwork he's done for himself. I can do a lot of things, but drawing is a skill that has always eluded me. As far back as fifth grade, I remember my dodge ball nemesis Jimmie Just could draw the most amazing monsters and things, while I struggled to do a step-by-step Garfield (which Donald Garwood could draw flawlessly.) I've favorited and bloglines-ed Don's blog, and some day I'll get the courage to ask him if he'll do a drawing for one of my books.

I hope this illustrates how cool the internets is: I never would have seen Don Shank's blog if I didn't read boingboing, and I wouldn't read boingboing if I hadn't met Cory at the Boxing with Barney EFF event several years ago. (Even though I read the 'zine version of boingboing back in the day, I didn't know it was a website until 2002-ish.) It's sort of like following real-life hyperlinks to a website, where you follow traditional hyperlinks long enough to find that place down the Long Tail that seems to speak only to you.

Photo of Space Mountain via Flickr user Sky Traveler
Image of Noobly Squirbulette via Don Shank's blog.

Posted by Wil at 01:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (1)

From time to time, I really enjoy a nice grilled cheese sandwich. Melt a bit of sharp cheddar (Tillamook extra sharp is my favorite, if I can find it here in LA -- there's some embargo which usually prevents anything better than plain old sharp from making it to our stores) and dip it in a spot of French's plain old yellow mustard before each bite, and I am a happy, happy guy. (I just wrote "man," then erased it. Then I wrote "dude" and erased that and tried "man" again. Then, I wrote "Dennis," which made me laugh really hard. Then I settled on "guy."

So. I'm trying my very best not to get some sort of unhappy cold thing which currently involves a whole lot of coughing and this weird heaviness in my chest. It started after the 5K yesterday, and by last night it required the use of some Advil. Today, I've mostly felt like shit, but this afternoon, my body said, "Hey! You there! Old Woman!"

Nah, I'm just kidding. I really want to go into a whole Holy Grail quote-fest, but this entry is already far too silly.

My body said, "Hey, guy, dude, dennis, man, dude, manguy, guymanndude, guy, I want a grilled cheese."

"Whatever you say, Mr. BIllboard," I said.[1]

I grabbed two pieces of the best bread ever, which is called Sheepherder's Bread (it comes from Trader Joe's.) Then I grabbed two slices of Tillamook sharp cheddar and shook my fist Northward at whoever is preventing the extra sharp goodness from making its way to my door. I decided that since I'd be burping cheese the rest of the night (gross!) I may as well burp ham and cheese, so I grabbed some ham out of the meat drawer and put it on the bread and closed the whole thing up. Then, I did something really white trash: instead of butter, I sprayed some cooking spray on the pan . . . and on the bread, too.

I know. Gross. Deal.

So I turned on the burner, and began turning this mass of meat, bread, cheese, and cooking spray into the glory which is a grilled ham and cheese.

Until, uh, I forgot to turn the heat down after a second, and the bread charred a little bit.

No worries, I thought, I'll just flip it over, turn the heat down, and when it's time to eat this bitch, I'll do it after-school-1982-style: scraped with a knife into the sink. Yeeeeaaargghh!

I flipped it, turned down the heat, and walked to the dining room hutch to get a plate. When I came back into the kitchen, there was far too much smoke coming off the skillet to be good.

I learned an important lesson: spraying with cooking spray may be easier than slathering with butter, but it burns at a much lower temperature than butter does, which results in an after-school-1979-style grilled ham and cheeese: scraped with a knife into the sink, with most of the cheese still cold and unmelted except at the edges. And the ham is lukewarm too.

Not even the mustard could save it, and I'm burping ham and cheese for nothing.

[1] After the abomination that was last night's sad attempt to do a tired old parody of My Fair Lady, I hereby announce that The Simpsons has leaped the shark, and harpooned it from orbit. AAaayyy.

Posted by Wil at 06:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (80) | TrackBacks (1)

From time to time, I really enjoy a nice grilled cheese sandwich. Melt a bit of sharp cheddar (Tillamook extra sharp is my favorite, if I can find it here in LA -- there's some embargo which usually prevents anything better than plain old sharp from making it to our stores) and dip it in a spot of French's plain old yellow mustard before each bite, and I am a happy, happy guy. (I just wrote "man," then erased it. Then I wrote "dude" and erased that and tried "man" again. Then, I wrote "Dennis," which made me laugh really hard. Then I settled on "guy."

So. I'm trying my very best not to get some sort of unhappy cold thing which currently involves a whole lot of coughing and this weird heaviness in my chest. It started after the 5K yesterday, and by last night it required the use of some Advil. Today, I've mostly felt like shit, but this afternoon, my body said, "Hey! You there! Old Woman!"

Nah, I'm just kidding. I really want to go into a whole Holy Grail quote-fest, but this entry is already far too silly.

My body said, "Hey, guy, dude, dennis, man, dude, manguy, guymanndude, guy, I want a grilled cheese."

"Whatever you say, Mr. BIllboard," I said.[1]

I grabbed two pieces of the best bread ever, which is called Sheepherder's Bread (it comes from Trader Joe's.) Then I grabbed two slices of Tillamook sharp cheddar and shoo