Just a Geek (6 page)

So Tuesday, I went in to read the part. I guess the producers of the film are making everyone read (or, more likely, Roger wanted to be sure that I didn't suck and is too nice a guy to say that to me).

Anyway, I went in a read and I still haven't heard anything back . . . so . . . I dunno . . . guess I shouldn't be shopping for that PS2 just yet.

I Just got off the phone with my agent, who called while I was making this entry. The casting director for
Rules Of Attraction
called this morning and told us that "It's between Wil and another guy."

What the fuck? I wonder how I went from, "I want you in my movie" to "It's between you and another guy."

Wow, the Universe sure does like balance, doesn't it?

Talk about understatement. I felt betrayed by my friend, and I was despondent, but Prove To Everyone wouldn't let me reveal just how unhappy I was.

"If you let them see how upset you are,"
he counseled,
"you're just going to prove all those people right who are attacking you. You just keep showing the world that the kid who once had it all still does, and that will shut them up."

"I don't know if that's the best idea. All these people think they're getting this inside look at my life, and we're not exactly telling them the truth."

"Do you want to be a famous actor again or not?"
he hissed.

"I just want to be happy again,"
I said.
"I can't keep lying like this."

I took the keyboard out of his hands, and I gave the Internet a look inside my mind.

25 AUGUST, 2001

A look inside my mind

I just got this e-mail:

"You're funny, you're smart, you have experiences that are go from ordinary to out-of and back and again and yet . . .

. . . most of what you talk about is your friggin' website!

Talk about your day, what you ate for breakfast, rant and rave. But pretty please, make a separate section for the site updates, HTML and greymatter coups and the linking excitement. All of that is certainly worth keeping track of, but it doesn't communicate much about you."

So, I think that's a point well taken . . . here's some insight into my mind, because you asked for it:

I am fighting tears today, with each passing second. Why? Because the defining characteristic of my work as an actor the past few years has been, "It came down to you and another guy and they went the other way." Translated, that means, "You didn't get the job." If I had a dollar for every time that's happened in the past two years, I could retire. It always seems to come down to me and one other guy, usually some flavor of the month, and they always hire the other guy. And you know what I hate? I always hear, "You are the best actor we've seen" or something similar . . . yet I always seem to lose to the guy with the perfect hair and the Kirk Douglas jaw. Let this be a lesson to you aspiring actors out there: being the best actor is NEVER enough.

I took some classes a long time ago and the teacher always admonished us to not let our jobs become our life—because when we don't work, and there are times when we won't, we'll freak out, because we don't know what to do with ourselves. It's advice I was unable to heed.

Here's something you may not know about me: I love acting. I love working and creating, more than anything. I love it so much, I'm willing to suffer the extended periods of unemployment and the constant rejection, as well as the constant attacks from people who really should either try this themselves or shut the fuck up.

Sorry, I digress. Back to point: since yesterday, when I got the "It's you or another guy" phone call, I've been sliding deeper and deeper into depression, because if I can't get hired by MY FUCKING FRIEND, who practically promised me the part, I don't know what to do. I'm sorry, but I am getting so sick and tired of having a project dangled in front of me for weeks and then having it yanked out from under me at the last second. It hurts. It hurts a LOT and I don't know if you can understand the depth of the hurt, unless you're an artist or some sort, because I think that type of rejection is really a personal one, regardless of what they say.

Put in typical, irreverent "Wilspeak," it's like this: you get hooked up with the hottest girl (or guy, if that's your thing), EVER. You're all naked and ready to go. She's dancing around, telling you all the crazy shit she's gonna do to you and how she's calling her sorority sisters over later, so you'd better stay ready. She's just about to jump you and she tells you to close your eyes and get ready. The next thing you hear is the slamming of the door and the squealing of the tires as she drives away.

(You know what I'm thinking right now? Those morons who have some primal need to hate me are going to have a field day with this one and I almost deleted it. Well, fuck them. You wanted to know what goes on in my head and I want to share . . . I think I'll feel better when I'm done with this. I hope.)

So I feel like I was punched in the stomach. I feel hurt. This movie is going to be AMAZING. It is going to do AMAZING THINGS for the people who are in it, because Roger is an AMAZING writer and director. And I am
this close
to having a complete rebirth in my career and it will only take one part to do that.

This movie would do that for me. Roger asked me to play a junkie in this movie . . . if that doesn't shatter the image people seem to have of me and gets people to stop seeing me as 12 years old or in outer space, I don't know what will.

There was a movie that I recently did, which may have helped the career. The script was great, the cast was great, but the director was the biggest flaming asshole I've ever worked with in my life. As a matter of fact, calling him a director isn't right. He couldn't direct traffic on a one-way street, and I have absolutely zero confidence in his ability to properly edit this film.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I worked on the film for 3 weeks, and earned less than 500 dollars, because the producers promised me a role in a film that has never materialized. These producers have jerked me around for 4 months with empty promises of a project that will most likely never happen now. Thank Bob I have sketch comedy shows and late-night comedy talk shows to perform in, or I'd go crazy.

There's a chance that Roger will still cast me and this whole entry and the awful way I've been feeling will be for nothing and I'll look back at this and laugh and I can get back to the normal me, who is too busy making jokes to feel sad.

But you wanted to know how I was feeling and what was going on in my mind . . . well, there it is.

(And I
will
talk about my website, because I worked hard on it and I knew nothing about HTML or CSS or ANYTHING six weeks ago when I started it, so I'm proud of it, such as it is.)

The business of acting puts great importance on the appearance of success, even if the reality is very different. Actors spend thousands of dollars a month on publicists and image doctors to ensure that they look good to the public. Prove To Everyone knew that was risky to be so bold and honest with my pain and frustration, but those words came straight from my heart, and he didn't get a chance to edit them before I posted.

The reaction to my entry was amazing. I was flooded with e-mails and comments from people all over the world who had experienced the same frustrations—the same unfairness—in their jobs. In fact, a theme emerged: I wasn't alone in my struggles, and many people took comfort in knowing that
they
were not alone either.

I felt validated, and the clouds of depression began to lift. I had made myself vulnerable to the world and the world hadn't kicked me in the nuts. I was certain that this revelation of my inner demons would humanize me in the eyes of my critics.

"See?"
I told Prove To Everyone,
"Now they know that I'm just a regular guy, trying to make it to the end of the day the same way they are!"

It turned out that I was wrong. The very real honesty and vulnerability I had shown just fed their cruelty.

26 AUGUST, 2001

My Velouria

First, I have been overwhelmed with the support, the kindness and the sheer volume of comments and e-mails regarding my last entry.

I have to say "Thank you" to everyone. It's simply amazing, how many different people, separated by distance, culture, career and whatever, are feeling the same things I'm feeling. People said things to me that I've thought at one time or another and forgotten . . . about "risk" and about "giving up." I thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart, for opening yourselves to me and sharing with me your advice and experiences. I'd like to post them all in the future, and share your wisdom with the masses.

Mixed in among the e-mails was one from my mom. My mom told me that she'd read my weblog and that she was "proud to have given birth to a person like me." She told me that she could feel my hurt and that I should "be sure to cry all the tears, because the joy is waiting in the last tear."

So that's what I did. I went into my bedroom, sat on my bed and this 29-year-old man sobbed like an 8-year-old child. Big sobs. The kind that hurt your throat. The kind that shake your body and soak your face with tears. I cried so long and so hard, I don't even know what I cried about. I cried for the hurt of losing the job and for the hurt of being attacked by idiots who don't even know me. I cried for all the times I picked on my little brother when we were kids and all the times I've sat here at my computer and let my wife go to bed alone while I worked on this site. I cried for every bad choice I've ever made, but mostly, I cried for myself. I cried and when I thought I was done, I cried some more. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. And I felt better.

Then I made the enormous mistake of checking my logs, so I could see where people are coming from and thank them for linking to me, and I found that some guy uses my site as "hell." Thanks, fucker. Some dude at metafilter says "I'm too good" to join them. Yeah, I can't wait to get into that shit. Please, can I join your little club, so you can hold me up to further vilification, without ever getting to know me? Can I PLEASE spend even LESS time with my family, sitting here at this computer, so I can try to change the minds of people who are going to judge me no matter what, without EVER walking an inch in my shoes?

So you didn't like my fucking character on a fucking TV show I haven't even worked on in 10. Fucking. Years. Thank you for blaming ME for the writing of a fictional character, on a fictional TV show. That makes complete sense, considering all the input the writers would take from a 15-year-old kid. Have you ever bothered to ask? Did it ever occur to you that I just said the lines I was given? I'm sorry Wesley messed up your precious television show.

Fortunately, there were whole seasons without me after I quit. Watch them and feel better. But don't take it out on me. I'm just an actor, doing the best job he could with what he was given. So I worked on a TV show. So I have made a living as an actor. Big deal. I'm no better than anyone else and I have never said I was, or thought I was. I am just a geek, looking for validation from his fellow geeks.

Congratulations, sir. I'm glad that your empty, pathetic existence is made whole by shitting on a person you've never even met.

You know, I promised myself that I wouldn't get into this. I promised myself that I wouldn't get sucked in to the mire with the lowest common denominators. Well, guess what, guys? I don't care if you're "The Guy From TV" or if you're "the kid from math class." Being personally attacked hurts. It sucks. I wonder, do you spend a fifth of the time you spend dumping on me doing something constructive with your life? I certainly hope so. You people are just like the people in high school who never took the time to get to know me, who judged me before I even showed up.

Aren't we mostly geeks here, online? Didn't we all, at one time or another, get bullied by "the cool kids"? Don't any of you remember what that felt like?

My mom said to me that she was amazed at how honestly I revealed my feelings.

She said that I've always reacted in anger when I am hurt and she didn't think I was angry. Well, I wasn't, but I am now.

So here's the deal, people: you can read this or not, and you can see the stuff at my site or not. But if you are going to judge me—me, the person, Wil, who gets up in the middle of the night when his kids are sick and worries about making the bills this month and tries to find time in the day to spend with his wife and works his ass off for auditions that are going to go to the flavor of the month, anyway, well, you can fuck all the way off. Zip up your spacesuit and hurry to the comic shop. Your weekly supply of Magic cards has just come in.

I will never understand why the Internet seems to take away the basic humanity of most people, and allows—no,
enables
—them to say things that they'd never say to another person face to face. I couldn't believe that after I bared myself naked before them, people could still be so cruel and inhuman. In retrospect, my reactions were very extreme, almost as if they came from the defensive teenager I once was. I had been away from
Star Trek
for almost 15 years, but when I read those websites, I saw the same people say the same things that they had when I was a teenager. Clearly there were unresolved feelings left over from that time, and they all came violently back to the surface.

I felt a little bit better because I stood up for myself, but I regretted the emotional and manic way that I'd done it.

"Way to go, Wil. You played right into their hands,"
The Voice of Self Doubt said.

"See what happens when you let people into your life like that? They cock-punch you,"
said Prove To Everyone.

"You should write some more jokes,"
The Voice of Self Doubt said.

"Maybe I'll talk about Anne,"
I said.

"Oh, that's nice. Things get rough and you bring out your wife to silence the critics,"
said The Voice of Self Doubt. "
What are you, some kind of politician?"