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So I’m Finally watching Deep Space Nine for the First Time

When Deep Space Nine was new, I was still working on Next Generation. I recall feeling this strong sense of sibling rivalry (entirely my issue, never created or encouraged by anyone else) that got in between me and my ability to watch the show, and give it the chance it deserved. Also, by 1993, I was 21 and feeling like it was time for me to get a break away from Trek and its emotional baggage. Over the years, I’ve wondered what, exactly, I missed, but I never made it a priority to find out.
 
With the passing my my friend, Aron, last week, I thought that I could remember and honor him by finally watching the series he gave so many years of his life and career to.
 
I know that DS9 is uneven, especially in its early seasons, just like we were, and I didn’t want to invest time into whatever their version of Angel One or Justice was (or, the gods help us all, Shades of Grey). Luckily for me, my friend, Max Temkin, has written a guide to watching the best of TNG in like 40 hours, and a similar guide to watching DS9 in like 80 hours (because, Max says, there are just too many good episodes of DS9 out there to get it down to 40).
 
So I dug up his guide, and read it. I took note of the context he thinks we should have before we start watching the show, including its time of production, its relationship to TNG, and some details about the characters that are useful to know before we really meet them.
 
Max tells us, “Deep Space Nine … is chock full of full, flawed characters with world views more diverse than their forehead prostheses.”
 
After we have that information and perspective, he picks out the episodes he feels are the best from each season, not just in terms of enjoyment (there are plenty of entertaining episodes of TOS that don’t exactly advance the character arcs, such as they were in 1966, like Arena, for instance) but as they relate to the things he feels makes DS9 the best of all the Star Treks: the Cardassians and their relationship to Bajor and the Federation, the Dominion, the character arcs that made Kira and Sisko so memorable and beloved by fans for thirty years.
 
I know it makes for better drama and a more interesting story if I say I was skeptical going into it, but I wasn’t. I was purely excited. I trust Max, and I trust the legions of DS9 fans who love it for what I’ve come to know this week are extremely good reasons.
 
Max’s guide tells us to watch the following episodes from S01: The first four, including the two-part pilot, which has the distinction of being the only truly good Trek pilot in the history of the series. Episodes 11, 13, 19, and 20.
 
I binged the first four on Netflix. This is significant because I *hate* binging shows. I prefer to let shows sit for at least a day between episodes, so I can digest and reflect upon what I watched. I believe that when we binge shows, we trade enjoying a meal for not being hungry any more … and yet. I loved the characters so much, I loved the look of the show, the tone of the show, and the stories they told in those four hours so much, I couldn’t stop watching.
 
Last night, I watched Episode 11, The Nagus. It’s the introduction of a character which could have just been broad and silly comic relief, but which I understand becomes a beloved part of the show. I’ve never been a big Ferengi fan; if you’ve read Memories of the Future you know why: they were so comical and broad in TNG, all I got out of them was buffoonish misogyny. There’s still some of that in the writing (it’s still the first season, and the writers haven’t let Quark and Rom and Nog grow into who they will become), but the actors pull the most interesting and complex nuances out of the scripts, to make their characters so compelling, I wanted to dive head first into the rest of the series, just to get to know them.
 
I told Anne that I was watching Deep Space Nine for the first time, which surprised her. I love Star Trek so much, she thought I would have watched it already. I told her how I had all this emotional baggage that got in between me and watching the show, but the therapeutic, emotional work I’ve done the past year has let me heal a lot of stuff, and stop carrying around that emotional baggage. So watching Deep Space Nine is extra special to me, because it lets me watch Star Trek, and it lets me LOVE Star Trek, in a way that I hadn’t been able to for essentially my entire adult life.
 
I love TNG, and I love my cast. They are my real family, and I will cherish the memories I have from working with them. And that means I can’t just watch TNG the way a fan does, without any complicated memories related to, you know, MAKING the show.
 
But I can watch Deep Space Nine and just see characters. Yeah, I know some of the actors a little bit, but for some reason, I can compartmentalize this time around. And that’s a wonderful revelation and a wonderful gift, for me.
Aron’s performance is sensational, by the way. But if you watched DS9, you already know that.
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Be The Person Your Dog Thinks You Are

Hey nerds, check it out!!

It’s almost time for the Wiggle Waggle Walk with Pasadena Humane Society, and Anne and I are raising money to support the animal shelter that gave us Seamus and Marlowe!

We’re selling these T-shirts through my Cotton Bureau thing to raise money for our Wiggle Waggle Walk team. 100% of the profits from this sale will be donated to PHS, so they can continue to help animals find their forever homes.

This adorable design was dreamed up by Anne, and brought to life by Riley at Stands, who I’ve worked with on other super awesome stuff, including the Owl Bear Preservation Society, and Roll Model T-shirts.

Can I just take a moment to publicly thank Michelle and Riley at Stands? They are awesome humans, who insisted on doing this work for us for free, because they love animals as much as we do, and they are committed to putting more joy and love into the world. One of the best things about my privileged experience in this life is getting to work with people who are awesome, kind, good people, and I’m grateful to Michelle and Riley for choosing to be two of those people in my life.

If T-shirts aren’t your thing, and you still want to support us, you can contribute anything you can afford directly to our team and it’ll significantly add up. Seriously, so many of you can potentially see this — like it’s over three million, according to WordPress — if just half of you donated three bucks, we’d raise a crapzillion dollars to help the future Seamuses and Marlowes of the world get good care and a chance to find their forever families. I think that would be awesome.

But, honestly? I hope you’ll get one of these T-shirts, because this campaign is about more than supporting PHS. This campaign is about putting something joyful and positive into a world that needs all the joy and love it can get.

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6584 days

18 years ago today, I uploaded a bunch of files I’d written in a text editor, confirmed that the blogging software I’d installed was working, and I pressed publish on wilwheaton.net. It wasn’t the fanciest website in the world, but I went from knowing nothing about HTML and scripting, to launch of the website in just six weeks, and I built it entirely by myself (with some PHP and CSS guidance from a couple of guys I’ve since lost touch with). I enjoyed writing in my blog (powered by Greymatter!), and I felt like, for the first time in my life, I could speak for myself. My voice, which had only been heard through the filter of teen magazines, or vapid entertainment press, a voice which had been tightly controlled by the adults in my life, could finally have a chance to speak on its own truth.

It’s been a little over 6500 days, and hundreds of thousands of words, since I started writing a public journal and random people online started to give a shit about what I was doing. It’s so weird to think about how much smaller the Internet felt back then, how different our interactions were.

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.

So on this day, in 2019, as I look back on the early days of my life as a blogger, I have a lot of feelings, and I want to say thank you to everyone who has been around for all or some of this journey of mine. Because you’ve been an audience for me to speak to, entertain, challenge, and inspire, you’ve given me the unconditional support I never had to find my voice, and live my dream of being a writer and storyteller.

NB: This linked post from exactly 19 years ago is technically from the Blogger install I had at Geocities. I wouldn’t make a proper post at WWdN for another full day, but today is the actual anniversary of when I pressed the big red button to activate index.php, and since my website is actually old enough to go to a strip club, I thought I should mark the occasion.

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about that audition…

About three weeks ago, I had my first audition in … um … in so long, I can’t even tell you when the last one was, or what it was even for. I average about 4 auditions a year these days, because most of what acting work I do get is offered to me, and I’m not going to complain about that even a little bit, because I am not an ass.

Anyway, this was the first audition since I had some explosive and life-changing emotional revelations, making it literally the first audition in my life where nothing more than just booking a job was at stake.

I don’t know if I can properly explain it, but that difference was fucking immense to me, and I think is one of the reasons it was the best audition I’ve had in … I want to say a decade? I think the last audition I felt this good about was when I booked Criminal Minds, so yeah it was a long time ago.

I’ve been thinking about it, and I feel like this audition was so great because of how I prepared as a human, as much as how I prepared as an actor. As an actor, I read the script, broke down the scenes, learned the lines, and made clear and specific character choices*. I’m good at that kind of homework, because I’ve been doing it for forty years, literally thousands of times. I enjoy it, and it comes very naturally to me, but I wouldn’t call it “easy”, if that makes sense.

So I did all my creative and professional preparation, like I’ve done for my entire life, and when the usual stress and fear and anxiety didn’t show up, I realized that all the emotional pain and the recovery work I’ve been doing to heal my childhood trauma was actually working! Remember when I wrote about hearing the birds for the first time and noticing that I was out of the dark room? It was similar to that. Maybe I’m making something obvious or uninteresting into something profound, but for the first time in my life, there was nothing more than a role at stake for me, and that freed me up to enjoy every step of the process, including the part where I knew, deep in my heart, that I wouldn’t book the job, because I never book the job**. Since I wasn’t carrying the existential and practical expectation or responsibility to book this job, and didn’t have anything to prove, I just had fun with it. I allowed myself to enjoy the entire process, and I honestly, sincerely, totally did not care if I booked the job. I knew that I’d do a good job, because I always do a good job. You don’t get to keep doing this for forty years if you don’t do a good job. But doing a good job or not really doesn’t matter, because everyone who auditions comes into the room with the same presumed level of competence and talent. We aren’t some of us special and some of us not. There are no sharks or dead money in the waiting room. The thing that’s going to decide who gets this job has nothing at all to do with anything any of us do on the audition. It isn’t about if we are good or bad. It isn’t about being worthy or unworthy. It isn’t about finally booking the job that will make me so famous and successful, my father will finally love me and my mother will finally be happy. It isn’t about any of those things. It’s just about being the best match for the role. And whatever it is that makes the actor they cast the best match is NEVER something that actor did in the room. It’s always something we have no control over, from looking too much or not enough like another actor, to some unconscious energy that hangs around us and makes us who we are. You know how the difference between a gold medal and not making the podium can be .003 seconds? It’s like that, more often than it isn’t.

Again, maybe I am making something simple and obvious into something profound, but I didn’t fully realize and internalize this until very recently. For my entire career, which started without my consent when I was seven years old, I carried so much emotional baggage into auditions with me, it’s a wonder I could even fit it through the door. On occasion, it helped (I have more in common with Gordie than just wanting to be a writer, it turns out), but mostly it just hurt me and weighed me down. Being able to prepare and go into an audition without it was more fun than I ever imagined possible.

Okay. So I had a great time on the audition. This character is so great. He’s misunderstood by the other adults in the picture, but the kids he ends up mentoring believe in him as much as he believes in them. He’s got some incredibly funny bits, and I felt like I could relate to him in a lot of ways that weren’t obvious on paper. I felt like I made some meaningful connections with everyone in the room, and they all felt genuine to me. When I left, I knew that I had done precisely what I set out to do, and did not want to change a single thing. I knew that I had nailed it, and given them the best version of myself. All I could do now was wait and try not to think about it.

About a week went by and we hadn’t heard anything. My manager called casting and they said the producers were taking their time, and that I was in a very small group of actors who were being considered. That was encouraging, and I allowed myself to imagine, just for a minute, how much fun it would be to play this character, and how much I would enjoy being a mentor to a bunch of young actors.

Another week went by, and casting told my manager that I was great, they loved what I did, they loved me as an actor, they loved me as a person, … and they cast someone else.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

I’m disappointed that I won’t get to play this character, and I’m disappointed that I won’t get to be a mentor on the set to a bunch of kids, and I’m disappointed that I won’t get to work in something that I know I would have genuinely enjoyed, and felt proud of. But I’m not wrecked. I’m not bitter. This is the same thing I’ve heard, nearly verbatim, for going on twenty years now, but since I’m not hauling around all this emotional baggage, I have a healthy and positive perspective on the entire thing. It isn’t about me as a person, or me as someone who never really had a say in what his career was going to be. It isn’t about proving my worth to people who I shouldn’t need to prove anything to. It isn’t about proving anything to myself.

It’s about a different person being a better match than me, and that’s it. That’s literally all it is, and if I hadn’t been emotionally abused so much as a kid, maybe it wouldn’t have taken me until I was 47 to have my “this is water” moment.

So I can feel disappointed, but I don’t feel like I am worthless, or stupid. That is a HUGE thing for me, and I can’t believe I spent literally my entire acting career — and my entire personal life until recently — feeling that way about myself.

*Doing that preparation is my favorite part of being an actor. The joy of discovering what a writer is asking us to do, and the satisfaction that comes with finding that interpretation and bringing it to life is what keeps one of my feet in the acting world, no matter how hard I try to step away from it entirely.

**Criminal Minds aside, it always comes down to me and one or two other actors. I don’t even have to ask for feedback from casting anymore, because I don’t need to hear, “you were great, but they went another way” ever again in my life.

 

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is it too much to ask for a little professional courtesy?

This is entirely unrelated to my last post. As far as I know, the show I auditioned for a week and a half ago hasn’t done callbacks or finalized a cast.

Okay. So.

Casting for a TV show asked me to keep some dates open, because they said they wanted to cast me in their show.

Neat! I kept the days open, including rescheduling on other work that conflicted.

So they call us a few times to ensure I’m available … and then they just fucking disappear. They drop off the face of the Earth, and don’t make any effort to return our calls or get in touch.

A few days before the days I kept open arrive, I call the other job, which I had rescheduled, and tell them I’m available after all.

I start work on the other job. It’s really fun and I’m enjoying the process.

My manager and I are talking about something unrelated, and I ask him what the status of the TV show is. Like, did they push production by a week or two? Did they change their mind? What’s should I plan for the next few weeks? He hasn’t heard from them in a week, and since it’s two days into the week they asked me to keep open, we correctly presume the job isn’t happening this week. He calls them, and they tell him, “oh we cast the role with someone else,” and that’s it.

These motherfuckers repeatedly asked me to keep this week open, because they said they wanted to work with me, and then when they decide to cast someone else, they don’t even have the fucking courtesy and professionalism to get in touch with us and let us know that they don’t want to work with me after all. What if I had passed on this job this week? What if I lost the paycheck and the ephemeral, theoretical boost to my career that

It’s so fucking rude, so fucking inconsiderate, so fucking CONTEMPTUOUS of me and my team, I will *never* work for this show. I am nobody’s Plan B, and I have too much self-respect to give these fucking people the time of day if they ever deign to reach out to us again.

You know, Casting, it takes literally one minute to get on the phone or send an email and let us know what you’re doing. Roles go to other people all the time, and it isn’t a big deal. What IS a big deal is giving me and my team the impression that we’re going to work together, and then just fucking ghosting us when you changed your mind.

Actors are people, too, and we deserve the bare minimum of respect when YOU reach out to US about working on YOUR show. Sure, we don’t expect feedback on auditions (it would be nice, but we know you’re seeing 20 actors for each role, and maybe you don’t have time to deal with all of them AND make the deal with the person you cast) BUT! When YOU call ME and ask me to clear my calendar so I’m available for you, and then you just fucking ghost me, you are an unprofessional ass, and I don’t like you very much.

I used to take this shit personally, but I don’t any more. This isn’t about me. This is about an industry that is so far up its own ass, the people who cast actors have stopped caring about us as human beings, and treat us like disposable, interchangeable widgets they can pick up and throw away whenever they feel like it. It’s bullshit, and my heart goes out to all the actors who are starting out right now, and have to deal with this shit every day.