Category: Uncategorized

A lot of readers have e-mailed me, and asked why I haven’t talked more about politics this election season. It’s mostly a time issue, but the real reason is, there are other sites out there that say the very same things I want to say, and they say them better than I do. As I wrote back in May: “Salon, DailyKos, Atrios, Josh Marshall, The Daily Howler, Juan Cole, and Kevin Drum are just a few of the sites I read at least once a day. I do a lot of nodding along in agreement when I read them, and they always say what I would say, with more eloquence and passion than I can currently muster.”
In that entry, I also said, “There’s enough anger and strife in the world right now. I’d rather put my time and energy into reflecting on the things that make me happy, than the things that piss me off.”
Then I got an e-mail this afternoon inquiring why I haven’t written about the most important election in our lifetime.
The most important election in our lifetime.
Boy, did that strike a nerve with me. This is the most important election in my lifetime. Forget the concept of holding the Bush administration accountable for the lies and incompetence for a moment, and just think about the very real possibility of a Supreme Court stacked with Bush appointments: goodbye freedom of choice. Goodbye freedom from religion. Goodbye equal rights for homosexuals.
Presumably, you’re reading this website because you want to know what’s in my head, and a lot of you have asked how I feel about the election . . . so here it is: I’m pretty sure that John Kerry will win this election. I am pretty confident that the majority of Americans are fed up with the lies, corporate sell-outs, and reality-defiance of the Bush administration. I am pretty sure that I’ll wake up on November 3rd and tell my wife, “Our long national nightmare is over.”
But it will still be close, and it’s possible that the GOP’s disgusting efforts to keep voters away from the polls will work, and we’ll end up with four more years of George W. Bush.
Last week, a reporter from Salon invited me to contribute to a story that asked, “What will you do if President Bush is re-elected?”
I struggled to find the best way to express how important I feel this election is, and I tried to articulate some of the main reasons I believe that Mr. Bush does not deserve a second term, but there were so many, I kept ending up with over 1000 words. One draft was close to 1700 words, and that was just trying to understand how President Bush and his supporters seem to live in some parallel reality where up is down and we have always been at war with Eurasia. (Or is it East Asia? Doesn’t matter. War is Peace.)
What I came up with, in the editing and soul-searching, and the worrying, is this: I believe that we much reject George W. Bush and the direction he’s taken our country. Even if we (hopefully) end up with a new president tomorrow, it will take decades to repair the damage George Bush has done in just four years: damage to our civil rights, damage to our economy, damage to our national standing with the rest of the world (doesn’t it bother anyone that the vast majority of the world viscerally hates America because of George W. Bush? I’m not talking about “The Terrorists.” I’m talking about our traditional allies in France, Spain, Germany, Britan, and pretty much all of Europe. On September 12, 2001, the entire world stood shoulder-to-shoulder with us . . . but look at how our country is viewed now.) If he gets another four years to wreak havoc on America and the world, we may never recover from it.
Here’s what I ended up sending them:

I’m Wil Wheaton, and I approved this message:
There are so many reasons that George W. Bush doesn’t deserve four more years, it is staggering to me that the question “What will you do if George W. Bush is re-elected?” can even be asked. This shouldn’t be a horse race. This should be a Kerry blow-out.
This election is a referendum on the policies and leadership of President Bush. On November 2nd, we will take a simple test: will Americans succumb to terror? Or will we stand up and take our country back?
Our hopefully soon to be ex-president once struggled to say, “fool me once, shame on

My flight to Dallas was pretty rough. There were massive thunderstorms all around Texas on Friday, and while the pilot did his best to dance around them, it was still a very bumpy ride.
Luckily for me, I have noise-canceling headphones and my iBook, so I did my best to ignore it — and the lady next to me who was white-knuckling the armrest.
When the plane finally touched down at DFW, we were only thirty minutes late, which was pretty surprising, all things considered. I walked through the airport to the baggage claim area, and realized that the last time I collected bags in this airport, I was 18, and I was in town for a charity hockey game. I was tending goal against several members of the 1980 US men’s hockey team in a game that was unwisely scheduled against a Cowboys / (some major rival — I’m not a football guy, sorry) game, so we had about 60 people show up for the game.
That was seriously funny: playing hockey in this huge arena, with some of the greatest guys to ever lace them up, in front of about 60 people, who were more interested in watching the football game on the jumbotron than us.
Anyway, isn’t it interesting how our brains can file something away into some sort of tarball that only gets zxvf’ed when we trigger it by some location, or sound, or smell or something? Brains are cool like that. I’m running WheatonIX version .9 in my brain, if you were wondering.
While I walked around the baggage carousel, the memory of that game consumed me: how badly I played (hey, you face Mike Eruzione when you’re eighteen and see how well you do, sparky) and how great it felt to be skating on a real NHL rink with real NHL players. I looked for my bags with about 20% of my perception, so I almost bumped into a young man who is in the Marines.
He couldn’t have been more than twenty, but I bet he was closer to eighteen. He had bright blue eyes, a babyface, and his hair would have been an unruly mop of curls if it wasn’t cut high and tight. His uniform was crisp, and he stood with two other young Marines, who were out of uniform.
I happened to catch his eye when I looked up, so I extended my hand.
“When I was your age,”I thought, “I was in this airport to play hockey, hoping I could hook up with some cheerleader or something. . . and you’re preparing to go to a war I believe is based on hubris, incompetence and lies.”
“Thank you for your service.” I said.
He looked surprised, and seemed to be at a loss for what to do. I wondered if people thank him often, and if not, why not. After a second, he took my hand, shook it with a firm grip and said, “Thank you, sir.”
“No,” I said, “Thank you. Be well.”
He nodded his head, and I continued to walk around the baggage carousel. When my bags came out a few minutes later, he was leaving with his companions.
He was a United States Marine, and I’m certain that he will serve our country proudly and with honor, but in that airport, he was someone’s son, maybe someone’s brother, and he was only five years older than my own stepson, at most. It was a sobering experience.
I made it to my hotel without incident, but shortly after I checked into the hotel (should that be ‘checked in to’ or ‘checked-in to’? Stupid grammar) I saw Chase Masterson in the lobby. She was having some problems with the computer in the hotel’s business center, and I offered to help her out.
“I’m going to go give her some Technical Support,” I told the bellman, hoping that it didn’t sound like a Penthouse Forum-esque euphemism. Luckily it turned out to be a .pdf issue that I knew how to handle (I don’t do Windows. Har.) and I was able to help her out quickly and easily.
I got myself up to my room, choked down ate some room service, and watched Bill Maher on HBO before I finally fell asleep around 1 am local time.
It was about 6 when the crashing started against the wall behind my head. At first, I thought it was just someone giving a little technical support early in the morning, but it was so violent, and so persistent, I figured it was something different. I made a few calls to the front desk, but nobody could give me a straight answer about the source of the noise, or their inability to stop it. It was incredibly frustrating. I just kept thinking, “How am I going to face this day on five hours of restless sleep?”
The answer, of course, was, “Coffee and a high-protein breakfast to get you started. Once you get to the con, adrenaline will take care of the rest.”
I got up and watched the local news, while the WHACK WHACK WHACK! continued on the wall beside me. I showered and checked out of my room at 7, even though I didn’t have to be picked up until 9:45.
I listened to Jon Stewart’s Fresh Air interview on my iPod (which is really fantastic, and for 5 bucks at audible, is well worth the investment) while I ate a breakfast which claimed to be ‘classic eggs benedict’. I wasn’t so sure, but I was too hungry and tired to argue.
I met up with a few people outside the hotel, and drove to the convention hall which was actually in Plano. I mention that it was in Plano because some of the other actors were dangerously close to complaining that the show was not actually in Dallas, but was in a suburb. I didn’t see what the BFD was, but apparently some of their fans went looking for something in Dallas last year, and couldn’t find it because it was in Plano. I asked, but nobody knew if those people who couldn’t find it have figured out how to bang the rocks together since then.
When I got to the convention center, it was still very early, so the room where we would be signing our stuff was empty, except for me, and Herb Jefferson. Herb is a really nice guy, and he does TONS of stuff for the Navy. He asked me if I’d be interested in doing some things with him for some soldiers, and I told him that I am, of course, so we’ll see what comes up in the next few months.
“I’m one of those people who doesn’t support the war, but I am proud of, grateful to, and completely supportive of our men and women who are fighting it,” I said. “Is that okay?”
“I think they’d be happy and honored to meet you,” he said. “They know that you don’t have to support the politics of the war to support the guys who are fighting it.”
It took me about twenty minutes to set my stuff up the way I wanted it. I stacked Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot off to one side, then I set them up so they’d be flanking me when I sat down, then I put them all together on the other side . . . then I moved them back again. I knew that the only person in the world who cared about this was me, but I had some time to kill so I made sure things were just right. I ended up letting them flank me, because it made me feel sort of cool, like I was standing behind my work, or something like that.
Over the next 45 minutes or so, the room slowly filled up with the actors who would be signing autographs for the day. I didn’t pay attention though, until Michael Dorn and Brent Spiner came in. I wondered if I’d feel awkward or weird or uncomfortable . . . but I just felt happy.
For at least a decade, I’ve felt embarrassed and ashamed when I’ve seen anyone from TNG at a convention. I felt like they were there to promote whatever they were working on at the time, while I was there to hopefully earn enough money to carry my family through for a couple of months. There was also a lot of regret and remorse related to my sullen teenager years when I was on TNG (and I’ve written about that angst extensively before so I won’t go into it here,) but over the last few years, I’ve mostly gotten over that. When I wrote Just A Geek, I really examined my life. I discovered what really matters to me in my life, I recognized what I needed to change so I could enjoy those things, and I recognized the things that I couldn’t change and needed to accept (or just let go) so I could stop living in the past. When Michael and Brent walked in, I wondered how I would feel. Would I be embarrassed? Would I feel ashamed? Would I feel awkward or unsure?
I watched them walk across the room: They both looked happy and healthy. Michael was chatting up an incredibly beautiful girl who is in one of the new Star Wars movies. I searched my feelings, in that “use the Force” sort of way, and was happy to discover that I felt . . . happy. That was it! Just happy to see them, and anxious to show them my books.
I caught Michael’s eye when he walked past, and I waved.
He smiled and gave me a hug.
“How are you, man?” he said.
I told him how happy I was. I told him how I’m writing like crazy, and even though I haven’t done any on-camera work in ages, I’m not bothered by that. I’ve said those things before, but this time I actually meant it, and I actually believed it.
We had a great conversation about the doors that Star Trek opens, and the doors that Star Trek slams shut. As we talked, it dawned on me that we have a lot more in common, post-Trek, than I thought, and that was somehow comforting to me.
We could have talked all morning, but Michael was taken away by some convention folks, and I went back to obsessing about the proper placement of my books, until Brent came over to my table.
He picked up a copy of Just A Geek and said, “This is your book, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“I loved this one,” he said, pointing to Dancing Barefoot, and I suppressed the urge to break into a little dance.
“If I don’t sell all of these today,” I said, pointing to Just A Geek, “I’d love for you to have one, if you have time to read it.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
“You’re in it, you know.” I said.
He smiled and said, “Did you make me look good?”
“Yeah, I tried. It was pretty tough . . . but I’m a good writer, so you come out okay.”
We both laughed.
“Nah, I’m just kidding,” I said. “I’m not that good a writer.”
We laughed again, harder this time.
“Good job, Wil,” he said.
I beamed. “Thank you, Brent.”
We talked for a few more minutes, and then we sat at our respective tables as the doors to the room opened.
For the next few hours, I signed books and pictures and action figures and stuff, for a ton of people. It was really a good scene: everyone was happy to be there (fans and actors, I mean) and there were a LOT of people who told me they only came out to the show so they could meet me. A bunch of people even had copies of Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot already, that they’d bought online or in local bookstores, and everyone told me how much they’d enjoyed reading my stories. Several former Soapboxers (who are now teh soapboxers) came out to the show, also. There’s a massive WWdN Posse in Texas, and it was awesome to see so many of you representin’, yo.
I was scheduled to read from my books at 3, so around 2:50 I picked myself up, and prepared myself to go onstage. I had to race to catch a plane when I was done, and I knew that people would want to get books signed after I read, so I cut the reading short. I usually read for about 60 minutes, but this time I only read for about 25 minutes. I cut out the Hooters stories that I usually use to bookend the stories, and just read “The Trade” from Just A Geek, and Star Trek: The Experience from Dancing Barefoot.
I think I’ve talked about this before: there are three states that an audience can be in when I perform: With me, indifferent, or against me. I felt like I had the audience with me the entire time I performed. It was like Linucon, where I could just relax, take some risks, and trust that the audience was along for the ride. It was a fantastic reading, and I wish I’d recorded it so I could share it with people who weren’t there. I actually think I’m going to start recording all my performances, and maybe one day I’ll make some sort of “best of” CD or something. That would be cool.
When I finished my reading, I ran as fast as I could back to my little table in the autograph room, and discovered that a line had somehow formed before I could get there. It was like some sort of ripple in the space/time continuum had allowed them to get there before me. Cool.
So I sat down, and I signed as many books and pictures as I could with what little time I had left. I really didn’t like rushing everyone through the line, but I wanted to make sure that everyone who had lined up and waited got what they wanted, and I didn’t want to miss my plane . . . so if I had to rush you through the line, I’m sorry about that. I hope you understand that it was nothing personal.
When I was done signing and all packed up, I did a quick interview for a local TV station, and said goodbye to my friends.
I ended up selling all my Just A Geeks, and left with about ten Dancing Barefoots. Sadly, I didn’t get to give Just A Geek to Michael or Brent, but I think it will make for a good story the next time I see them. 🙂
The drive to the airport was quick and painless, and so was the flight home. I watched Band of Brothers on my iBook while the woman next to me kicked my leg in her sleep, and when I touched down in Burbank, I was happy to be home. Anne picked me up, and we stopped by my friend’s birthday party on our way home. When we finally fell into bed shortly after midnight, I could feel, in my bones, the exhaustion of the last 48 hours. Thankfully, nothing whacked against the side of my house, and I woke up after 10, with just enough time to prepare for my reading at Borders later that day.

I have a few friends who are in rock bands, and they all tell me that when they come back from a tour, they want to re-record their albums, because they’ve lived with the material night after night for months at a time, and they’ve discovered nuances in the work that they didn’t even know was there when they made the album.
That’s the way I’ve been feeling about Just A Geek the last few weeks. I’ve had a chance to make this material live and breathe in front of a few very different audiences, and I’ve discovered a lot of nuances in the material. I’ve struggled against a mighty tide to help people understand that this is not a Star Trek book, or a self-serving celebrity bio, and in these performances I’ve intentionally focused on material that communicates, I hope, what the book is really about: what do we do when the hopes of our twenties don’t match up with the reality of our thirties? I can’t begin to tell you how hard it’s been to get that message out. I know that it’s easier to promote the Star Trek angle, but it’s hurting book sales, keeping my story away from people who can relate to (and would presumably enjoy) the story, and preventing any recognition from the mainstream media. It’s kind of a drag, because my warnings about the doors Star Trek opens and the doors it slams shut fell on very deaf ears. There are times that I hate being right, and this is one of them.
The experience of bringing Just A Geek to the audience was very different from the experience I had with Dancing Barefoot. Because I worked with a publisher (rather than doing it myself with Monolith Press), I had to make some compromises with Just A Geek, and I’m really unhappy about some of them, (like the subtitle, which I tried to convince myself I liked, but I really hate), and I needed to include some things (most notably, the stuff about 9/11) that I thought was best left out. It’s been incredibly frustrating, and in many ways I feel like I’m working for Viacom or G4 again.
But when I perform Just A Geek live, there’s nobody between me and the audience, so I don’t have to compromise about anything. I get to present the material the way I believe it should be presented — the way it was intended. I get to perform it the way I want to, and bring it to life the way it sounded in my head when I wrote it.
I didn’t realize how important creative control was to me, in terms of content, marketing and publicity, until just a few days ago, and I’m really happy that I have these opportunities to do things the way I want to do them.
Even though I’ve only gotten to really “perform” the material (as opposed to just reading it) four times so far, (at Gnomedex, Linucon, Creation’s Las Vegas Convention, and at Dallas Comic-Con) it’s so much fun, and it feels so great when I do it, I have decided to take some of the material and turn it into a full-on show, similar to the staged reading that Patrick does with A Christmas Carol. Look for it at ACME sometime early next year.
Until then, I continue to work on the audio version of Just A Geek, which has become more of a “director’s cut,” including off-book comments (audio footnotes, I guess) and some of the changes that I’ve discovered during performances the last few months. I’m about 2/3 finished with it, and I understand that the post-production process will be very quick, so it should be ready pretty soon — definitely in time for the holidays. Initially, it will be available for purchase online (yes, it will be at iTunes and Audible), but once we get enough capital, we’ll make actual CDs, with cool artwork and liner notes and stuff, too. David Lawrence is producing it, and he and I are talking about including a conversation about the book, like a bonus interview, or something, which would serve as the introduction.
Maybe, if the whole thing works out, I could put together a little tour of 99 seat theatres and universities! I could start in Southern California, and maybe go back to the Southwest. If it was successful enough, I could take it other places as well. I could call it “My Big Fat Geek Tour.”
Har.
Wouldn’t that be cool?

If you’re looking for something to do on Wednesday night, and you’re in Los Angeles, come on down to the ACME Comedy Theatre!
I’m a panelist in a live stage version of the classic 1950’s gameshow “What’s My Line?”
It’s going to be incredibly fun. We’re doing it in a 1950’s style, so we’ll all be in vintage suits, and talking just the way they did back when Television gave you cancer if you sat too close to the set.
For all the details, head over to my pal J. Keith vanStraaten’s site.
Print out this entry, show it at the Box Office, and you’ll get 2-for-1 tickets!
The show starts at 8pm. There’s a restaurant and bar right next door (and it’s good, too) so you can make an evening of it! Come on, put the kids in the bathroom with the seat up and some newspaper on the floor, and treat yourself to a night on the town. You deserve it, baby.

Felix (my cat) and Riley (my dog) are laying face to face in a shaft of sunlight on my living room floor as I write this. It’s not a very wide beam of light, and I Felix wants to be in the sun more than he wants to be left alone by the puppy. It’s incredibly cute, and I thought I’d share.
On the way to school today, Nolan and I were caught in some annoying traffic on a major street. While we sat and waited for a light to change, he looked out his window, and pointed at an alley that lead away from the traffic jam.
“Why don’t we go down that alley?” He said.
I pointed at a moving truck that was blocking it about halfway down. “Because we won’t make it past that truck,” I said.
“Well, let’s just drive right into it, and hope we respawn on the other side!” He said.
“I don’t think that would work,” I said.
He frowned for a second and looked back at me.
“You’re right,” he sighed, as we started to creep forward. “With our luck, the respawn point is probably behind us.”
I laughed. “We’re kind of geeks,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, “but that’s okay.”
Parents always hope to see a little bit of themselves in their kids, and as a stepparent, I’ve always wondered if Ryan and Nolan will pick up anything from me. It’s been a challenge, because I don’t want to force myself on them in any way, and their dad has worked pretty consistently to marginalize my influence, and minimize my position in their lives . . . but over the last year or so, Ryan and Nolan have come to me. They’ve made efforts — entirely on their own — to close the gap between us. After almost ten years, I feel like they’re truly accepted me into their lives. They’ve picked up my interests, my humor, my sense of duty to Truth and my fundamental belief that we should always be giving without expecting anything in return.
It’s wonderful when I see Nolan stop to help a kid at school, or see Ryan take the time to do something kind for his brother or mother, just because he loves them. They may not carry my DNA, but they carry my spirit, and that’s far more important.
It was a silly little thing, Nolan geeking out with me about respawning this morning, but there was something unspoken between us, something that I can’t quantify or describe in words. It was something I just felt in my soul, and it was one of those important waypoints on our journey together that I don’t want to ever forget.
I’ve got an audition this morning, and a meeting at lunch, plus I’ve got workers coming to tear out some bushes (heh. I’m working on that this Tuesday, too) and trim up one of my trees, so I don’t know if I’m going to get Dallas up by the end of today. That story has taken on a life of its own, and I don’t want to rush it out. I think I’m going to put some of the Linucon report into that post, too, even though it’s almost as big as Texas already.
Chris The Film Geek has a great recap of the signing at Borders last Sunday, though, that I encourage you all to go read. I’ll fill in my thoughts whenever I finish the Texas oddessey.
This is probably it for this week, so have a great weekend and a safe All Hallow’s Eve, everyone.