August 23 is WWdN’s official birthday. It was 24 years ago last week that I finished building a website from scratch (in notepad, using raw html), after about 6 weeks of intensive study, and many late nights of trial and several errors, and turned the lights on here, for the first time. Sadly, the earliest capture I can find at the Internet Archive is from 2002, but this is pretty much what it looked like for most of its first decade:
You’ve come a long way, baby.
Almost a quarter of a century, man. Twenty-four years. And to think that it had only been a few weeks earlier that I used Geocities to make my first website that I called Where’s My Burrito? I started my blog with this:
So the votes are officially in.
Out of the total of 4 votes I got, all of them said it would be cool to have an online journal, so here it is.Extra special thanks go to loren who directed me to blogger, a website that will hopefully make this whole weblog (the cool kids call it a “blog”) easy and painless.
I’m off now to make dinner for the family. You know what we’re having tonight?
Burritos. No shit.
“The cool kids call it a blog.” Heh.
What a journey, huh? From there to here, in so many ways, even if I did have total access to the part of me that puts words together, I don’t know that I could fully communicate what it has all meant. I guess it’s a quarter century of growing up, becoming who I always wanted to be, and all the joys and sorrows along the way. I mean, I don’t have to tell you; a lot of you reading this today were also reading that, all those years ago.
I’m going to pause a moment to clearly and loudly say thank you to everyone who supported and encouraged me, then and now and in between. It’s been about 8300 days since I cut the ribbon here, and looking through my archives, I saw that I wrote this in on my blog’s birthday in 2019, after about 6500 days:
28 year-old me was struggling so much, in those days. He was trying so hard to be a good husband and stepfather with pretty much no support from his narcissist parents who weren’t thrilled about him marrying a woman with children. He struggled with undiagnosed depression, Anne’s vindictive and destructive ex-husband, and not meeting the extremely high expectations he had for himself. He has some real painful days ahead, but he gets through them with the love and support of his phenomenal wife, who he still can’t believe picked him, out of all the humans on the planet. He doesn’t know it, yet, but writing this blog is going to change his life, save his life, and make it possible for him to find his own dream, instead of trying (and failing) to live someone else’s.
I have grown and healed so much since 2019, in spite of the chaos, trauma, and cruelty we have all been subjected to since 2016, and I’m almost as proud as I am grateful.
I wanted to write something last week to mark this moment, but just couldn’t find the words, so I celebrated the moment quietly, which is how I’ve been doing basically everything for the last couple of years, while I am intensely focused on my own recovery. I don’t think I even mentioned to Anne that the date had passed.
That’s kind of where I’ve been, creatively and energetically, for this entire year. I mentioned in an Instagram reel that I haven’t had access to my creative self all year, I think largely because of the shock and trauma of America’s dumbfucks voting to put a fascist tyrant and his administration of incompetent criminals back into power, after we all saw how incompetent, evil, cruel, destructive, and violent they are.
Really great work, everyone. Especially everyone who was really worried about the cost of living, you know, the milk and eggs crowd? How’s that working out for you? And all the Walk Away people must be sleeping so well these days. Just fantastic fucking work all over the place, you fucking chuds. They are planning to ban the Covid vaccine, so those of us who want to protect ourselves from all the stupid conspiracy theorist dipshits who think bullshit and science are just “opinions” are just fucked, now. You’ve doomed us all to the world you alone deserve. I, for one, will never forget what you did to us, and I will never forgive you. I hope you spend the rest of your miserable lives ostracized, alone, and afraid. May you never know a moment of peace. May you wear your support for this petty little tyrant like a scarlet letter, so everyone knows who you are and what you did.
Anyway, as you can see, I’ve been distracted and preoccupied with all of this endless horror. I’m just exhausted by ten in the morning every day, and try as I might to find other things for my attention and time, I keep getting drawn back to the news, hoping I’ll see The Headline, or some indication that the entire Republican party, its punditry, and its media echo chamber have finally stopped being singularly focused on protecting and covering up for a pedophile rapist and his child sex trafficking pals. And I haven’t even touched on the endless attacks on innocent people who have been declared Enemies of the State because of who they love or the color of their skin. It’s fucking disgusting, deplorable, infuriating, and has ripped the mask off of much of America. It’s been really hard for a lot of us who grew up reciting and believing “liberty and justice for all”.
That’s my head, every day. I’m worried for the people I love, I’m sick to my stomach as I watch six unelected, transparently corrupt, Christian Nationalists issue unsigned decrees that overturn the will of the voters as they hand more and more unchecked power to a criminal and his criminal organization.
It is so hard to tell stories, to find the joy and release in creative writing, when I feel like the world outside my window is on fire. Sure, my privilege currently protects me, but Timothy Snyder pointed out that if we have to remind ourselves of all the ways we are currently safe from political lawlessness, we are already living in an autocracy. That’s scary as fuck to me.
For a lot of us who are survivors of abuse, every day with this motherfucker making everything about him and his fragile little ego is jabbing a finger into a deep bruise that can’t ever fully heal. For a lot of us who have worked so hard to leave and overcome our abusers, to live our lives as fully as possible in spite of our experiences, it is an endless struggle of flashbacks and nervous system dysregulation, while we remind our bodies that we aren’t trapped with our abuser anymore. Thank god for EMDR. Thank god I can afford regular mental health care. Thank god he’s going to die and hopefully soon.
I haven’t wanted to write anything in my blog because what I just wrote is all I have been able to write. When I want to tell a fun story about playing Mysterium with my family, taking my son axe throwing for his birthday, celebrating my son earning his Master’s Degree and starting his PhD, or any of the things I couldn’t wait to write Before All This, I stare at an empty document while I write and erase ten words over and over again, hoping these will be the ones that grant me access to my Creative Self. And the harder I try to find them, the more effectively they hide from me.
I have also felt like I shouldn’t write in my blog, while I have been struggling to write and turn in two pieces that I agreed to write last year. One is an introduction to a book, and the other is a short piece of fiction. Last week, I finally broke through on the introduction. After almost a full year of struggling and failing, I found it. It was so much fun to work on, so deeply satisfying to finish, and such a relief to turn in. I have never been this late on anything. I hope I’ll never be this late on anything again. I hope nobody notices that I’m writing in my blog when I haven’t finished the other thing, which I have started and abandoned too many times to count. I have probably written ten thousand words or so, trying to find the approximately 700 or so I committed to assembling into a story. I’ve tried to come at it so many different ways, from big ideas to small ideas, from limited points of view to omniscient points of view, and nothing is sticking. It just feels like I’m writing with someone else’s hands that don’t fit quite right. Maybe writing here today will help me find my own fingers again.
Maybe I needed time away, and that’s why I didn’t write anything in my blog for over a month, not even on the day that was a cause for celebration, the anniversary of the moment I took my first big step into the world that had always been hidden from me, or made inaccessible, by my dysfunctional family and abusive parents.
And I know that it is weird to hear a 53 year-old man talk about his parents and his childhood so much. I see pretty cruel commentary about that online, and while I don’t take it personally, I do compassionately hope that the kids who are saying it only do so because they haven’t experienced what I have, so they can’t understand. I get it; in a lot of ways, I feel like I’ve only been living my own life since I quit drinking in 2016 (hell of a year to start rawdogging reality, wil), and I’ve only been doing the work to recover from and manage CPTSD for a couple of years.
I don’t know how to do any of this, but I’m trying to figure it out. I know that writers get stuck and find their way out of it, and I’ve been doing my best to give myself patience and grace and space to figure it all out … I’m just growing impatient, is the thing.
I have a great story just sitting here, inches away from my fingertips, and I can’t figure out how to grasp it.
So I guess I’ll remind myself that I’ve been putting words together in public for about 8500 days, I’ve written a bunch of books — including a New York Times bestseller! — and that whatever it takes to do it is in me. It’s just doing a very good job of Not Being Seen.
But this feels like something of a start, anyway. I forget that it’s okay to make short, silly, 50 word posts here. I forget that I don’t have to follow up every long absence with something profound and carefully edited.
I’ve been doing this for almost 25 years, and I still forget. But today, I remembered.
Thanks for listening to me.
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Once upon a time, I wrote three novels in a year. This year? I feel like I’ll be lucky if I can finish one. It has been such a creative drain, and a drain in general. I’m right there with you. 🙁 We can get through this, though. We can.
I appreciate the anniversary here, and I appreciate when you’ve (pretty much) recovered, and I’m completely fine when you still need to talk about it. (I wish I knew how to be more encouraging.) I completely enjoy when you share about science fiction and stuff, because it often is something I end up liking, too.
I remember the blog’s early days! I’m glad this is still a thing. It doesn’t matter if it’s a month or more between posts or whatever – you do what you need (or feel). I think many of us are experiencing exactly what you are, in some shape or form. Thanks for being here.
Just so you know, you (among others at the time) inspired me to start my own blog back in 2005. Though I don’t post a lot these days, the nerdy blog is still running after 20 years. I’m glad you’re still blogging your thoughts after so long.
I want to congratulate you in this anniversary of your journey. I want to also thank you for showing me, as a fellow creative who has struggled to write anything since the first administration if hate, lies, and cruelty, that I am not alone.
My mornings are much the same as yours. You should know you are not alone in this as well.
My journey continues, but in a different way. I focus on all the things that need to happen to keep me and mine safe, while supporting my community (food pantry, homeless shelter, abuse shelters, etc.) I put my wandering and neglected creativity to work there. Maybe yours can find such an outlet, too.
We are heading into an era of food shortages, expensive necessities thanks to tariffs, and lost jobs. Those dad and husband skills will come in handy when it comes to supporting our communities.
I remember that screen shot of WWdN like it was yesterday. That’s what WWdN looks like in my head. I am SO happy that you started blogging all those years ago. Your words were part of my early adulthood and I came to understand so much about my own childhood and upbringing through you sharing yours. You were and still are brave to keep writing about whatever you want to talk about. Early aughts WWdN was the sh*t and will always be held in a moment in time for me. Radio Free Burrito, too.
All we can do in this current hellscape is hold tight to our loved ones and keep fighting. <3
(Pretend this is a random string of 0s and 1s like we all used to use back in the day to differentiate who we were responding to. I don’t dare do it again because I’m perpetually low-key anxious about what it did to the site last time. “Was it my string of nonsensical binary code that did it?” Thanks, anxiety. ;))
I started following you online because my husband shared something you said that made us both laugh (can’t remember what). Then I discovered that your writing gave me a better window into his journey through dealing with depression, childhood trauma, etc. Then I realized that I could see myself if your words too, especially when you write about writing.
This line? “I have a great story just sitting here, inches away from my fingertips, and I can’t figure out how to grasp it.” I feel it in my bones. I realized this year that I avoid writing a lot, partly because I don’t want to write about what my brain is focused on, but mostly because I get mad at myself if my thoughts aren’t “something profound and carefully edited.”
I tend to believe we hear (or read) what we need to, when we need to (provided we’re open to it), so thank you for sharing so much over the years; I’m sure you’ve touched even more lives than you know.
Thank you for being so real, and so honest. First, screw those who don’t get the concept that the trauma done to us as kids NEVER completely leaves us. Second, as the mom of a trans man, your sentiments about the daily horrors of what we are living through resonates deeply within me. From the moment of inauguration it’s been one hit after another. I had to return to therapy and also change my depression meds as a result of the nonstop onslaught. And to those against the vaccine? F*ck them, they have no clue how serious it was for some of us. I had a fever from COVID for 52 days in 2020. I probably should have gone to the hospital but was terrified I’d be put on a ventilator. It left my lungs so wrecked I used a wheelchair for the next year. A friend of mine lost her dad to COVOD that year and couldn’t say goodbye in person. WE’RE the sane ones, the ones for kindness and decency, it’s just that the jackasses are being super loud right now. You keep doing what you do, we are behind you/
I feel you on the creative block. Weird times. From a fellow OG blogger (started in ’99, but scrubbed a lot of it from the web as I got older), I’m glad to see you’re still kicking over here!
Dear Wil, yesterday as noted on Mick Garris’ Facebook, was the 39th anniversary of Stand by Me. A great film that I have mixed feelings about, knowing as I do now these past several years what you went through as a kid. It’s hard to enjoy a film or any work of art knowing someone you like was experiencing that kind of pain.
But.Wil.
YOU have so much to be proud of.
Your relationship with Anne.
The good life your kids have.
The progress and inroads you have made with regard to your trauma, on your own steam.
I am very protective of artists I love and respect. You are one and not only because we are in “The Awful Club no one Wants to be Part Of”. Take Tim Minear; we’ve been friends online since the early 2000s on Facebook. I’ve messaged him when people have put porn on his page and more recently, a shitty comment and link to TikTok about what happened with the Bobby Nash character on 9-1-1. He deleted the comment and never saw what the person said.
We must surrender sometimes to current situations. All of us are sick to our stomachs to certain degrees about events dating back to 2016. Evil is with us. Just persevere and do your thing as I do: signing a shit-ton of petitions, donating, and praying for a huge amount of money so I can help others and animal organizations.
If I might be so bold; meditate, if only to sit still and let ideas about the writing project come to you. Meditation is only being with yourself and accepting yourself. You can find greatness there.
Don’t despair. The good you do, the perseverance, contributes to the ether. The best acting teacher I had, who studied with Sanford Meisner, would say to us quotes like this before class: “Everything is grist for the mill, including the mill” … “Even the vibrations of the air have meaning.”
Shit. Wil, speaking of Tim Minear, I forgot to add this partial quote from the TV show Angel, Season 2, Episode 16- Epiphany:
“If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do.”
I wanted to weep when this lady was interviewed in Russia, under Putin’s regime in 2020, who also quotes Tim’s dialogue.
Your blog matters (I forgot to say congrats) you matter, all of us who love Democracy matter.
Congratulations on the milestone, Wil. It still matters, despite the gestures around at…everything.
It’s okay to feel joy, even in the midst of all the suffering. And I try to think of joy as resistance. They are trying to literally kill many of us, and hurt the rest of us for fun. So if we can steal a moment of joy out of the pain, that’s good for us and bad for them. We just can’t do so to the extent that Rome burns (more) around us.
Oof, that was a lot all of a sudden. Anyway…yeah. I’m celebrating this anniversary with you, even though I had to block my sister the other day on my phone because when I tried to tell her why I was trying to leave the country (or at least the state – I know, it’s privileged to even have the chance, but I think I have to this time) to avoid dangers and she said “well, I don’t follow politics so I don’t know what you’re talking about” I just couldn’t handle it. How nice for her. My queer ass can’t afford to do that. And yes, she’s a Trumper. So she claims she doesn’t even know what she has brought upon us. And I just can’t.
So yeah. It’s bad out there. And it’s hard to feel joy and get the creativity going. I feel your pain. But the only way out is through. Hang in there. Sending long-distance, masked hugs.
Just sending you good thoughts and a thank you for sharing with us. It means a lot, especially during these terrible times.
Happy Birthday WWdN! Thank you for sharing, as always.
I haven’t been able to focus on the bigger pieces of Orange Palpatine’s (I took this from someone else) term because my nervous system can’t handle it. I had the same terrible thought that he is like those who abused me and were celebrated while I was stuck in survival mode for decades. I’ve been playing with Little Me and recently got close to Teenage Me; she’s still incredibly wary since that’s the time period my abuse started, my toxic family patterns became more obvious, and I became the family scapegoat – I recently realized what that really meant.
I’ve been in DBT therapy for over two years since I got my CPTSD, AvPD (avoidant personality disorder), GAD, and chronic depression. I have been trying to find things that calm down my nervous system, since everything else in the country is a dumpster fire and my wonderful therapist is helping me.
I see you, friend. If your younger self is cool with it, I’m offering her a hug and support.
Thank you, Wil. She appreciates it and so does Adult Me. We are sending hugs back to you, if you’re okay with that. Teen Me appreciates you seeing her, that means a lot.
I keep trying to remind myself that the conservative nationalists (I’m in Canada but we have them too) are only acting out of fear, blinded by ignorance (a combination of self-inflicted and inherited). While it’s normal and healthy to get angry about what they’ve done, I see them as victims more than anything. They’ve been duped. Some have admitted it. Even MTG, unquestionably the dumbest representative currently serving, has admitted to being duped.
The MAGA voters were wrong. They hurt innocent people by voting in this horror. But ultimately, we need these voters. They can continue to elect literal nazis if we continue to ostracize them.
We certainly need to keep up the pressure on those still supporting MAGA, ideally by using “Epstein” in every sentence. But we also need to give room for those who wish to quietly back away from MAGA to do so. The imperative to win at all costs is what got us into this mess. We can’t obsess over “winning” against our rivals at the cost of the very foundation of our society and democracy.
youre doing great, kiddo. this random internet stranger is really pround of you
Same here so proud of my hero 👍
I always admire the courage it takes to put yourself out there like you do. Exposing the trauma of your past. Of course the anonymous trolls will never like someone strong enough to express those thoughts, most are too small to do it.
And I cannot agree any more then the 1500% (heehee) I already do with you in regards to the tard that is in the Gold House. Seems every other day I am saying I hope his worshippers wake the heck up from their trance and see the country for what it really is right now.
Keep on doing what you do Wil, have read your blog for a long, long time. Sad not the full 24 years, but have certainly been a fan of yours for so long. I really hate the Stand By Me 40 year event was closer to me!
Stay strong and carry on!!!
We’re in the abyss together (yet separate). We must keep keeping on. Who knows what life will be like once we’re through this fresh hell. I’m not trying to be so cliched, but also am struggling. Thanks for hanging in there, Wil. <3
Oh your words perfectly voiced what it’s been like for me to live under this regime. Thank you for sharing I’ve felt so stuck
I love that you used to have a link to OBEY GIANT in the sidebar (my sister has known Shep since she was in college, and I have a rather large collection of OBEY stickers as a result).
I’ve been reading your blog for years, well over a decade, maybe two? And I have both been cheering you on and felt supported by you during the process. Even though you are younger than me, there are times when you just give off that “wise nerd dad” vibe that’s so comforting. I appreciate you. And I’m glad you’re you, just the way you are.
I totally get what you are saying, Wil. I work for a newspaper and write for a living. I know there is a great book somewhere in me, but I can’t get out of my own way to get it out. And the childhood thing – boy does that resonate. I have yet to truly forgive my family for their failures as caregivers. I struggle every day dealing with the fallout of childhood neglect.
I have seen you grow (granted it’s only through TV) and the glimpses I get of you as the wonderful adult that you have turned out to be give me hope. Your writing is beautiful and insightful, and inspiring. Keep on doing exactly what you’re doing, and the rest will come.
Remember that depression and PTSD are not who you are they are maladies you deal with. I tell myself this very thing everyday and just try to put one foot in front of the other and get things done. I don’t have such lofty writing assignments to do as you but I have my late husbands work to get to his old publisher so he can get his final work out. I have a block there also. But you know Wil WE CAN DO IT!, if we give ourselves grace and just try everyday. Keep up the good work sir.
This is coming from a soon to be 63 yr old who is still growing and learning like you! Much love and appreciation to you! Keep up the good fight!
Will, from my personal experience as an artist, when I’ve been doing my most intensive healing work, especially trauma, all my creative energy was being directed into the healing. Its not lost. Its being channeled where you need it most. Hugs from afar.