One of my old spacesuits is being auctioned off on eBay. I’m not sure why, but it makes me feel a little sad.
I’m sitting here, about to write a little entry about it, when my phone rings. It’s a friend of mine, asking me if I’m going to the Star Trek X screening.
“Yeah, on Wednesday,” I tell him.
“No, it’s tonight,” he tells me.
“Tonight? At Paramount?”
“No, it’s in Westwood, tonight,” he tells me, “I just talked with Marina about it.”
Oh no.
That feeling I have gotten so many times before, when I was the only cast member not asked up on stage at the 25th anniversary party, when I was the only cast member not recognized at the screening of “All Good Things…” begins to well up. I feel a little sick.
He wouldn’t do this to me, right? Not now, not after the conversations we had when I was working on the movie, not since the phone call informing me of the cut. This must be a mistake. Past is the past, right? We’re cool now. There is no way he’d exclude me from this.
But he did.
He did it to me again.
I want to cry.
I tell my friend that I have to go, and hang up the phone.
I sit there alone and cold in the kitchen. I can hear Ryan watching Sabrina The Teenage Witch in the living room.
I can’t believe this is happening to me. When Rick told me that my scenes were cut, he assured me that I’d still be invited to the premiere, and that he’d see me there. I was excited to see all my friends again, and share in those moments with them. Be a part of what will really be the final mission.
It turns out that the screening I was invited to will be at Paramount on Wednesday, and pretty much anyone who works at Paramount can attend. It’s not the premiere, and none of the cast are going. There’s really nothing special about it.
I seriously, desperately hope that this was just an oversight. I desperately hope that this is totally out of Rick’s hands, and that he’ll tell me that he’s sorry if it ever comes up. I desperately hope this isn’t personal. I want so badly to believe that it isn’t. It sucks to be overlooked, but it sucks less than if I’d been intentionally not invited.
It sure fits a pattern though, huh?
I just — I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know how to feel anymore.
But I’ll go with hurt for now.
Really, really fucking hurt.

Oh man, I am so $!@%^&ing sore from doing the yard this weekend. I gave myself tendonitis in my right arm (yeah, the poison oak one…I swear, this arm is going to try and secede from the rest of my body) so it is swollen up to almost twice the size it normally is…I look like a freak, but in a good way.
In the continuing saga of writer-slash-actor: My manuscript is still with my editor. He’s given me some very useful notes already, and I’m hoping to have the whole thing back by the end of this week. Sadly, it will not be ready in time for Xmas. 🙁
On the actor side, I have an audition today for “The Polar Express,” which is being directed by Robert Zemeckis, and stars Tom Hanks.
Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing you are, “Tom Hanks and Robert Zemeckis? Why the hell are they asking to see me?!”
I have no idea, but it should be an interesting experience…I haven’t auditioned for a major motion picture like this in quite some time.
Oh, and I have punk rock blue hair right now, because I figured there wouldn’t be any auditions until after the first of the year…uhh…oops.
The second shipmeent of 8x10s goes to the post office in about 30 minutes. If you ordered last week, you should get yours in a few days. I’ll get to work on the third shipment (orders received since Thursday) when I get back from my audition this afternoon, and they should all go out tomorrow or Wednesday.
UPDATE 3:53 PM PST: Well, I totally punted the audition. The pain in my body from the weekend is so severe (my arm is so messed up I can’t even grip my steering wheel in my car, and my back has been spasming all day long) that I just couldn’t focus, at all, and I sucked.
Shit.
I saw the tests for the movie while I was there, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not allowed to talk about specifics, so I’ll just say: this will be an amazing and beautiful movie. What I saw was a perfect 3-D rendering of the art in the book.
When I left, I walked down the hallway with my head hung. I’m really sad, not because I’m missing out on a job, but because this movie is just going to be so beautiful, and so amazing, I really wanted to be part of it.

Back in spring, a pipe in our front yard’s sprinkler system burst. We tried to water the lawn by hand all summer, but we failed miserably and it died.
Long story short, we decided to put in new sprinklers and grass, and the whole process took the rest of summer, and all of autumn.
Yesterday, thanks to the the shockingly popular 8×10 sale, we finally laid down the sod, and turned our horribly ugly dirt lot into a beautiful front lawn.
Anne and I could never have done this on our own, and I want to publicly thank my friends and family who came over and spent their Saturday putting down almost 3,000 square feet of grass:

• Darin. You arrived at 7AM, and stayed until the sun went down. In addition top helping out, you kept me calm, each time I was sure we were doing it wrong and everything would die.
• Shane. Even though you had a wedding to attend in the afternoon, you came and helped. Your Cal Tech brain was most useful in ensuring we did our work as efficiently as possible. Good call on “The Buddy System.”
• Jeremy. I didn’t know you had to work in the afternoon and evening, but you came and helped anyway. Thank you for making me laugh hard all day.
• Jenn. I still can’t believe that you worked while we all ate lunch. You were the last person to leave, and you helped me clean up the driveway. Thank you.
• Mom. Finally, you have first-hand experience being that “ditch digger” you always warned us against becoming when we were kids. 60 feet of trench is 59 feet more than I could have done on my own.
• Michelle. The layer of sod, the leveler of ground, the bringer of Krispy Kremes.
• BURNS! You helped us all morning and well into the afternoon, and then went and worked a long shift last night. You’re always there for us when we need help, except for that one time you forgot…but after yesterday, we’ll never speak of that time again.
• Dad. I’m glad that you didn’t kill yourself surfing, and that you came all the way to our house from Rincon. The caution tape clearly and politely says, “Stay the fuck off my new lawn, you little creeps” to all passersby.

As I stood in my driveway last night, looking across my beautiful new lawn, I felt a pride in my house that I haven’t felt in over a year. It just looks beautiful, and we never could have done this without the help that you guys gave us…and that’s the best part of all of this, IMHO: you guys all gave up your Saturday to help us out, and you all worked harder than I ever expected. You guys are awesome.
Thank you.

We are in Santa Barbara. It is November, and Anne and I are here for our anniversary, walking back to our hotel after the first romantic dinner we’ve enjoyed in months.
Though it is Saturday night, this normally crowded street is nearly deserted, because it is pouring rain. A cold, relentless rain that soaks into my shoes and clings to my body. The cold cuts straight through me, numbing my hands and feet.
The few people who have chosen to brave the storm are huddled in doorways and under awnings. Anne and I share a too-small umbrella in a futile attempt to stay dry.
It has been a wonderful evening, ending a wonderful day. We haven’t gotten to spend much time just enjoying each other’s company, just being together for several weeks, and I am cherishing every rain-soaked moment.
The storm intensifies as we hurry back to our hotel, turning downspouts to waterfalls, and the street into a small stream. Normally, the urge to stomp in puddles is irresistible to me, but the numbness is creeping up my legs now, and I need little encouragement to leave the puddles alone.
After a few blocks, the cold and rain is too much for me, and I suggest that we stop, and hail a cab.
Anne stops, and looks at me, her blue eyes gleaming. She says they’re green, but they’re blue…I see them whenever my mind wanders, so I know.
She steps out of the small shelter our umbrella is providing, and stands unprotected in the rain.
“I want to walk in the rain!” She declares.
“But it’s 40 degrees!” I remind her, shivering. A few passersby look at us as if we’re having a fight, and I chuckle to myself. They couldn’t be more wrong.
“I don’t care,” she tells me, her hair falling down and clinging to the sides of her face, her jacket darkening as it absorbs the storm. “Someday, I’m going to want to walk in the cold rain, and feel it on my face, and I’m not going to be able to. So I’m going to do it now.”
She reaches out and touches my cheek, and pulls my face to her. She leans towards me, kisses my nose, and walks away, her face cast upwards, her palms turned up to receive the rain.
She stomps into a puddle, and turns around.
“C’mon, you weenie! Walk with me!”
She is so beautiful, so joyous. The storm threatens to draw a curtain of rain around her, obscuring her from my view. Though she is twenty feet from me, I can see her beaming and feel her joy. She positively loves this.
I watch her, happily standing in the rain. In this moment I know why I married her. I know why she is the other half of my heartbeat.
But it’s 40 degrees. There’s no way I’m giving up this umbrella.
I lean against the rain, and close the distance between us. When I draw near her, she reaches out and knocks the umbrella out of my hand.
As it falls to the ground, she takes me in her arms. She pulls me to her, and kisses me.
“I love you,” she says, rain dripping off her nose onto my face.
She does love me. It’s one thing to say it, and one thing to hear it, but it’s another thing to feel it.
“I love you too,” I reply.
We stand there in the rain for a moment, looking at each other. We are soaking wet, freezing cold, and desperately in love.

So the poison oak I got while geocaching two weeks ago is finally on the way out, leaving behind some spectacular scarring on my arm.
The best thing? I was using this Caladryl lotion the last few days to really dry it up and stop the itching, which it did…unfortunately irritating the hell out of the rest of my skin, and causing a rash which itches just as badly as the poison oak ever did.
Adding insult to injury, my geocaching log notifier sent me a notice yesterday that someone logged the cache I was trying to find. I wonder if they got the bonus poison oak? =]
So I went to the doctor this morning, and he put me on prednisone for a week, and gave me an ointment to calm the rash.
Oy. Vey.
Put up the Christmas lights last night, and have a great story to go with it. Working on it now.
I think it’s going to be a really wonderful holiday season this year.
Very astute readers will notice that I’ve moved the sale info up to the top of the page, so I can keep writing and keep people informed about those exciting holiday gift opportunities. =]
I sent the first 30 8x10s this morning, to places like Austin, the UK, Germany, Puerto Rico, and the far off hamlet of Burbank!
I’m running out of Iron Maiden shots, but there are still Stand By Me and Red space Suit pictures left.
Oh, and if you haven’t seen the entire Special Edition of Fellowship of the Ring, you simply must get offline NOW and go watch it.