Off the top of my head, without any editing, a stream a consciousness:
Man, I really want to write, but I am just out of ideas. It’s not that I’m “blocked,” or anything, I just can’t think of anything to write about.
So I’ll just make myself write, and maybe something interesting will come out.
Maybe it’s because there’s not too much going on in my life right now: no auditions, nothing really exciting at home . . . I’ve just been working on rewrites of Just A Geek, and collecting some other weblog entries that I really like, (but couldn’t put in JAG) for their own smaller book.
Just A Geek came in at over 350 pages today, and “Dancing Barefoot” comes in at about 90. I’m applying for ISBNs tomorrow.
I did some heavy rewriting of SpongeBob Vega$ Pants, to clean it up and make it flow better, and while I did that, I relived those five days. Jesus, what a great time that was. What a great con.
Jesus, I really hate Puddle of Mudd, and POD, and all those shitty bands that sound like them.
I’ve been trading calls with Adam from Creation about the Grand Slam show, and it sounds like he’s excited to have me there. I’ve been thinking about conventions a lot lately, because I talk about them a great deal in JAG, and realized something: I have ALWAYS had more in common with the fans than the franchise, and attending conventions, as a speaker or a paying fan, is something I’ll always love to do. Now that I have stories to read, a website to talk about, and comedy shows to do, I don’t feel any angst about doing the shows. I can’t tell you enough how great that feels.
As I get closer to finishing JAG, and it’s younger brother (which requires far less work) I’ve been looking for printers . . . and actually got some quotes today for the first printing. It’s very exciting, and also terrifying.
If anyone reading this has experience with a printer, and you’d like to share comments about that printer (good or bad) I’d really like to hear them.
I mowed my lawn tonight, and my shoes are grass stained and smelling like a summer morning.
When I mow the lawn, I like to listen to Jimmy Eat World on my car radio. “A Praise Chorus” is one of the greatest songs I’ve ever heard. This afternoon, I didn’t listen to the radio, but I did sing “Dogs” from Pink Floyd to myself as I mowed in a circle, rather than the diagonal lines I usually make.
My cool neighbor moved away on Friday. He’s like 80, and Anne and I both felt like he’s moving away to die. He’d lived in his house since 1951. That made me really sad. Now his house is empty, and will remain that way for a long time, according to neighborhood gossip.
Ferris wants to go outside.
Nolan is watching WWE. I remember when I was a kid, and I’d get up each Saturday morning to watch WWF when it was on KCOP here in Los Angeles. I loved it, once I figured out it was fake.
Anyone remember M.U.S.C.L.E. figures? The Dark Tower game from Milton Bradley? I bought a new GURPS 3E last week, to replace my old and falling apart copy. Boy do I love RPGs.
This was more fun than I thought it would be, but I can guarantee you that I’ll read this in a few days and want to take it down. Well, I feel pretty satisfied now. Maybe I am blocked.
Does everybody really love Raymond? Because I really don’t.
Anne just walked in, and Ferris doesn’t want to go outside any more. Now she just wants to run around with Anne.
I really love Anne a lot. She is TRULY my “other half.”
I have Red Hat 8.0, and I want to install KDE 3.1. Has anyone else done this? Is it going to bork my machine like it did when I tried to upgrade on Mandrake 8.2? Why can’t I get CUPS to work?
I have to go make dinner: Falafel, tabouleh, and hummus. How Greek^H^H^H^H^H Lebanese of us.
Category: blog
Kingdom of Rain
It’s fun to watch someone go through a major crisis, even if it’s self-inflicted. Puts things into perspective.
Some thoughts I had last night while listening to the rain bounce off my roof:
Ii have spent each day the past few weeks just inches from tears.
it’s a lot of things: fear and uncertainty about the quality of my book being the biggest, having the sit there and take it while some Rich Fucking Asshole treated me like I was a little kid, stupid computer problems, anne’s ex-husband bullshit, and finally the blog trolls (who I really should have just called assholes, because that’s what they are) and emailers.
Alone, I can deal with any of those things, but together . . . well, it’s just too much to deal with.
But the uncertainty about this book is killing me. I thought I had something really good, and shared it with a few people. Most of them told me it was really good, and gave some constructive feedback. A few of them absolutely ripped it to shreds, and gave me some constructive feedback. The result? I found myself unsure about everything. Unable to trust my instincts. I rewrote major parts to please others, instead of myself, and it left me paralyzed. I’ve since decided to just let it go. I’ll finish some grammatical and spelling corrections, complete a few tiny changes where I want to add more information, and publish the damn thing.
I’m scared. I’m scared that it’s not as good as I thought. I’m scared that it’s better than I thought.
My mom told me that I was in the middle of “vast uncharted territory” and that it was okay to be afraid. I’m not so sure.
I shouldn’t have posted my “I’m leaving, here’s why, okay now I’m back but I’m really leaving and I hate you” post. What I should have said is, “I’m overwhelmed with several things in my life, and writing for WWDN isn’t bringing me any joy right now. As a matter of fact, it’s sort of a chore, so I’m taking some time off.” What I posted gives way too much power and importance to a very small group of people who I should really just feel sorry for.
But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel just a tiny bit better to hear from people who actually SUPPORT me for a change. And Ben sent me a nice cartoon.
Note to self: don’t post when emotional.
And you know what else? I am profoundly upset about war, dreams of war, and the Bush Junta. Patriot II? How the fuck did this happen? How did we, as a culture, sit back and put these people in charge?
And these “Terror alerts?” Does anyone believe them? Did you guys read about the “suspected terrorist” in SF Bay? Some tug boat captain suggests that he saw someone in an unlit Zodiac raft at 3AM, wearing a wetsuit. That’s it.
The CG looked everywhere for this boat and its alleged terrorist, and found NOTHING.
But it’s all over the news, because WE ARE ON ALERT!!1!!11!
What happened to critical thinking? Are the American people so soporific that they can’t see this bullshit for what it is?
And now we’re supposed to believe that Osama Bin Laden is JOINING FORCES WITH SADDAM?
What?!
The timing on this is all too pat for me, and I wonder where the fuck the critical voices are who should be questioning this stuff. Where are the other voices in this vast wilderness? Isn’t anyone willing to speak up?
We are marching directly into a war, though there is massive public resistance to it.
We are marching directly into a war, and the media, the supposed 4th estate, isn’t doing ANYTHING to keep people informed — they’re just propagandizing for the Bush Junta.
We are marching directly into a war, though the rest of the world wishes we’d just mind our ouw stinking business.
And nobody seems to care. And I’m “anti-American” because I feel this way.
I was picking up some tools at OSH about an hour ago, and helped an older woman take some plastic boxes down from a tall shelf. When I put them in her cart for her, she moved a bunch of duct tape and plastic sheeting out of the way. She told me how scared she was, and urged me to be prepared and safe.
That’s perfect. This woman, who could be doing several other things today, is preparing for a terrorist attack, right here in Pasadena. Because she’s afraid. Just like the Bush Junta wants us all to be.
Ugh. Note to self: don’t post when emotional.
Test Pattern
I’ve had it with blog trolls, hateful e-mails, and the general idiocy that seems to overwhelm otherwise normal people when they connect to the Internet.
I just don’t understand it. Where is your humanity? Do you treat people you see in real life the way you treat me? Do you go out of your way to insult and belittle people? Is your life so miserable, so empty and meaningless, your self-esteem so low that you need to attack me? Honestly, what have I ever done to you? Really. What have I ever done?
Dealing with this shit has become a huge and unecessary distraction, so WWDN will not be updated for the near future while I finish “Just A Geek” and take care of some other RL stuff.
I just . . . I just need a break. In the meantime, check out the archives. There’s some stuff in there that I’m really proud of.
. . . I’ll be enjoying Channel 2’s TEAM COVERAGE of STORMWATCH.
Heh.
Not I, Robot?
I just found out that the director for I, Robot “didn’t respond to any” of the tapes he saw, including mine.
In the mysterious Hollywood lexicon, this can mean a number of things, but it usually comes down to one of the following:
- My interpretation of this character and his vision don’t match up.
- I don’t physically look like what he has in his mind.
These are both very valid, and totally understandable reasons . . . but it doesn’t make me feel any less sad. It’s frustrating to hear “the director didn’t respond to you,” because it’s so nebulous. It’s like being told, “You’re not getting this job. Why? Because. Next!” It also has a sort of negative feeling to it, doesn’t it? It doesn’t help that I have heard “the director didn’t respond” without any real elaboration countless times in my career .
I was very happy with my audition. I wouldn’t change a single thing about it. I know that I could have done a great job with this character, and I would have been really good in this movie.
Whle I didn’t sit in my living room for days, not eating and agonizing over getting this part, I was genuinely excited about the opportunities it presented. Working with Will Smith and Alex Proyas, and getting to play a robot would have been awesome.
Thanks for all the support, everyone.
The journey continues . . .
weekend.
Spent the weekend playing front yard touch football and whiffle ball with the kids. Tried very hard to care about the Superbowl, but I just couldn’t do it.
Played so much Vice City my thumbs hurt, and I dreamed that I was Tommy Vercetti last night. Very lucid, very strange.
Did lots of work in the garden — it’s been in the 80s here for over a week, so we decided to take advantage of the warm while we had the chance.
Wasted almost 18 hours trying to do several computer things. None of them work. Stupid computers.
Haven’t heard anything about the auditions.
