Ryan and Nolan start their Winter break today, and I have decided to take a Winter break of my own. I’m dangerously close to getting burn out, so I’m taking this week off, to spend time with my family. I’m thinking about maybe doing some geocaching, probably watching some Return of the King extended edition, and definitely a lot of playing Magic with Nolan.
I can’t believe that there are just eleven days left in 2004, and for the first time in years I’m not looking back in frustration on the year that could have been, I’m looking back fondly on the year that was . . . and excitedly looking toward the year to come.
Merry, Happy, Joy, and Peace everyone.
Especially Peace.

According to The Man, I need to walk for about a week before I can start running again, so I’ve been dragging my lazy ass out of the house for the last few days, and reminding my muscles what it feels like to do more than move from the office to the living room and back. This hasn’t been as difficult as I thought it would be, because I’m super motivated to get back into shape, and the weather in Los Angeles has been just amazing. Right now, it’s 71 in my backyard, and it has been near 80 for almost a week. I have also taken the boredom out of walking by listening to America: The Audio Book by Jon Stewart and the writers from The Daily Show. It’s awesome, and I highly reccommend it.
This morning, I added two miles to my walk, which took me past Nolan and Ryan’s elementary school. The streets around the school were lined with cars, and I paused my iPod long enough to hear a chorous of children singing holiday tunes as I passed the auditorium. It reminded me of a blog entry I wrote a few years ago, which didn’t make it into Just A Geek. The original is in the archives, but rather than cut-n-paste, I did a little . . . uh . . . cleaning up, because, well . . . uh . . . wow.
Hope new readers like it, and hope returning readers don’t mind the reprint.
I am Jack’s Holiday Program
Originally published on December 20, 2001, edited on December 15, 2004
I just got back from watching Nolan’s holiday program at his school.
Nolan is in 5th grade this year, so it’s the last elementary school holiday program I’ll probably ever see, and when I realized that this morning, I felt immense regret for all the years I attended because I felt obligated to be there, rather than truly looking forward to the show.
For years, Anne and I would arrive at the school moments before the show began, and we’d end up standing in the back, with all of the other parents who overslept, or took too long for breakfast, or had to grab a quickie once the kids were at school. But this year, Anne got there nice and early, and grabbed us two seats with a great view of the stage.
Unfortunately, our great view was tainted a little bit by the horrible people who surrounded us. To my immediate right, I present the old woman who kept farting loudly throughout the entire show. I will not deny that there was more than a little amusement value in listening to them reverberate off the metal cafeteria chairs, but they weren’t just the loud “hey, pull my finger” farts. They were the really horrible, lingering, “holy shit, man! Was that you?” ones. Behind us to the right, please enjoy the two little kids who did not stop talking the entire time, except when their mother told them that a good way to stay occupied would be to stand on the floor and bang on their chairs in time to the music. And finally, say hello to the kid immediately behind me, who had one of those little kid colds, and coughed and sneezed throughout the whole performance. I especially loved it when he sneezed all over the back of my neck.
Once the show got started, though, all the annoyances that surrounded us insignificantly faded into the background, as we focused our attention on the stage. All of the classes were great, and the kids were just adorable. The theme this year was Peace and Diversity, which is very funny, considering that I live in the most reactionary, demagogic Republican area in the freakin’ world. (All of my neighbors had those offensive “Protect Marriage” signs last year, when the homophobes were trying to make it certain that marriage should only be between men and women. Because those marriages always succeed. And we have to keep the gays from soiling that sacred, unspoiled institution, right?) Sorry. mini-rant. I’m back now.
Nolan’s class performed the Christmas carol “O, Tannenbaum,” which meant that I spent the last five weeks helping Nolan learn three verses in German, so I could sing along. It was easy to pick out the other 5th grade parents, because they were singing too. Nolan was so adorable in his red sweater and Santa Claus hat, and he held his head high as he belted out, “O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, wie treu sind deine Blätter!” He did all the same things on the stage that he did when we were learning the song: when he sang “Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit” he clenched his hands into tiny fists and looked at the ceiling. When he sang “Nein auch im Winter, wenn es schneit” he punctuated the three syllables in wenn es schneit with little punches in front of his chest.
I am certain that I, like all the other parents, was able to pick out and isolate my child’s voice from the chorus, and I am equally certain, as were the other parents, that my child had the sweetest voice, and turned in the most adorable and memorable performance that has ever graced the cafetorium’s stage. Or any cafetorium’s stage, for that matter.
My absolute favorite moment was watching Nolan’s subdued Joe Cocker as he sang,of course . . . but coming in a close second was when these kids read poems about winter. There were 4 kids up on the stage, all in their holiday finest, who each read a different winter-related poem. The first kid read “The Snowman” by Shel Silverstein, and I’m embarrassed to report that I can’t recall what the middle two kids did. But the last kid, who looked an awful lot like Dewey from “Malcolm in the Middle”, who wore a checkered shirt and non-matching clip-on tie (it was so damn cute, I couldn’t stand it) recited, from memory, a poem by elementary school staple Jack Prelutsky, which was quite an impressive achievement, especially for a third grader. This kid did a great job, and when he was done, he proudly scanned the audience, clearly looking for his parents. When he found them, shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Well, that’s about as good as it gets”, and picked his nose and ate it.
Nolan starts Middle School next year, and I realized this morning how much I’m going to miss not just these performances, but all the things that are part of elementary school: the macaroni art work, the turkey on Thanksgiving that’s made from a little handprint on brown paper, the mobiles at Christmas that are made from sixteen inches of yarn, green construction paper cutouts that look like trees if you squint, and fifty pounds of glue.
I know that they’ll both be in high school before I know it, and then they’ll be off to college . . . but wherever my stepkids are, I’ll always have these memories to keep me company each holiday season.
Happy Holidays, everyone. I hope you get to spend some time this season with people you love.

Okay, I’ll admit it. I have a “Wil Wheaton” as a Google News Alert. I’d say it’s an ego thing . . . but it gets triggered so rarely, that’s sort of counterintuitive. It’s actually a business thing, so I can be aware press and stuff, but I’ll be honest: I do get a little thrill when one hits my inbox.
So about a week ago, I got a news alert because I was very kindly mentioned in a brief bit about Sean Astin in the Oregonian:

You loved him as loyal hobbit Sam Gamgee in the “Lord of the Rings” films. You adored him in “Rudy.” But to you, Astin will always be the kid from “The Goonies,” a film that is widely considered The Best Movie Ever Filmed In Oregon. Hold onto your mithril, kids: Astin is coming to Portland. Naturally, you will want to show him a good time.
A Sean Astin autobiography? Well, sure. (Like you didn’t positively inhale the latest Wil Wheaton book.) Astin’s opus, “There and Back Again: An Actor’s Tale,” spills the candid scoop on backstage antics during the filming of “The Lord of the Rings” and the challenges of living the Hollywood way.

(dorky bolding is mine)
I was so excited, I sent a note to the reporter that said:

I just finished reading your OregonLive piece about Sean Astin’s impending visit to Portland (“Let’s go!,” by Chelsea Cain, A&E, Dec. 3), and I wanted to thank you for kindly mentioning my book, “Just a Geek.” I’ve got strong connections to Oregon (I filmed “Stand by Me” in Eugene, and my wife is from Portland), so even though I’m from Los Angeles, I felt like I saw my name in my hometown paper. Thanks for that! 🙂
See ya, Wil Wheaton Los Angeles

She wrote me back and thanked me for e-mailing, I wrote her back again, (it’s sort of like passing notes in class, without the possible thrill of getting caught) one thing led to another . . . and she wrote a story about me that is in today’s Oregonian! My three favorite bits:

• Since the success of his blog, Wheaton has published two laugh-out-loud books and established himself as a fresh, funny and self-deprecating writer. Much of his material comes out of his life as a geek (he also pens a column for Dungeon Magazine, the must-read for D&D players).
  The Oregonian recently caught up with the ensign-turned-author for a Very Serious Interview.
• Have you ever read any “Star Trek” fan fiction?
  Just one . . . and in it, Lt. Worf traded my character, Wesley, to a Romulan for a Romulan Ale and two packs of smokes. I haven’t read fan fiction since.
  [I originally said that Wesley was Worf’s Prision Bitch, but that was ruled unacceptable for a family publication . . . which I guess I’ve just determined WWdN is not.]
• Whose work do you read to get inspired?
  David Sedaris and Stephen King are the two most influential authors in my life. They both tell stories in ways that are engaging and easy to read. David Sedaris’ “Me Talk Pretty One Day” made me want to tell stories about my life, and Stephen King’s “On Writing” taught me how to do it.

Accompanying the story is the very first mainstream media review of Just A Geek! It’s phenomenal, and includes the following observation, which made me so happy, I peed a little:

“Just a Geek” is not a celebrity memoir. It is more a collection of humorous commentaries with one essential theme: How does a grown-up geek with two step-kids, a wife, and few job prospects make a go of it?
[Wheaton’s] sarcasm, honesty, heart and ferocious gift for dialogue are a delight.

So far, I haven’t been able to effectively communicate to people who haven’t read my book that it’s not limited to a Star Trek or celebrity memoir-reading audience, and people outside that audience may want to give Just A Geek a chance. It has been the most frustrating thing in the world, and it’s severely limited the audience that I can reach. To date, I haven’t gotten any support to reach beyond . . . well, you guys who read WWdN, so I’ve had to do it on my own. I’ve felt pretty down about the whole thing recently (it’s about 90% of the not sleeping well thing), because things are not going the way I expected they would with Just A Geek, but this fantastic review is going to be a big help, and will hopefully open a lot of doors for me.

It’s Wednesday, and that means it’s time for the weekly reminder that I’ll be appearing at the Acme Comedy Theatre tonight for What’s My Line? Live on Stage! As always, the show starts at 8, and more details can be found at j.keith.net, including a two-for-one discount.
This is the last show we’re doing for this season, so if you’ve been putting it off, tonight would be a good time to come out and see us. You could try to come out next week, I suppose, but the show will be 95% – 100% less funny. Your personal funny will vary according to how willing you are to stare at an empty theatre.
Thanks to a TON of writing, the restarting of my exercise program, and a melatonin, I’ve actually slept straight through the last two nights, and I haven’t woken with the headache and stiff neck. Thank you to everyone who shared in my insomnia pain. Your advice and sympathy is very much appreciated.

I am having a really hard time sleeping. For almost three weeks, I try to go to sleep between ten and midnight. I fall asleep for about ten or fifteen minutes, and then I wake with a start. My legs feel antsy behind my knees, my brain won’t shut up, and I end up tossing and turning for about twenty minutes, until I get so angry that I get out of bed and read until at least one in the morning. Last night, it was two-fucking-forty before I was able to fall asleep. When I wake up, I have a headache, my neck hurts, and I feel like I haven’t slept at all. This is really getting old.
I know it’s not diet, but it could be lack of exercise. I was pretty damn sick the last two weeks, and running when I have a cold is the opposite of enjoyable. Darin says that I should exercise more, and I agree. I miss running, and I discovered, to my horror, that I’ve put on nearly ten pounds since August — a product of my Body By Guinness and Linux fitness fatness program.

But it’s more than just that. If I’m honest with myself, I actually think my brain is kicking me out of bed every night because there’s stuff I have to deal with that I’ve been avoiding: things I need to write, people I need to talk to, and issues I need to resolve. Anne recently did what she calls “Emotional Housekeeping,” and I think I’m going to do it myself.
So today, I will catch up on e-mail (I got it down to 200-ish, but it’s swelled back up to > 500), and finish several interviews (including Slashdot’s Ask Wil Wheaton Anything). I will also take some ideas that have been brewing in my brains and move them into my The Writer’s Notebook, to make room for new ones. A symptom of my insomnia (and maybe it’s wrapped up in the cause) is a lack of inspiration. I haven’t sat down to do any real creative writing in far too long, and I’m starting to feel performance anxiety, you know? It’s like standing at the edge of a pool that you know is filled with cold water: the longer you stand at the edge, the harder it becomes to get up the courage to dive in.
I hope that getting all these unresolved e-mails and related issues taken care of will encourage my brain to actually quiet down when I want to go to sleep.
Weird . . . when I started writing this, I truly didn’t know why I’ve been so agitated, but I think I just got it — or at least I’ve got it narrowed down. Who says blogging isn’t therapeutic?