I think sometimes, it comes down to how much fun you're having. Every time someone's cast me as me I'm bored to tears, and I don't know what to do with any of the lines because I'm wondering if I'm saying them like the character or like me. The whole point of acting, for me, is getting into someone else's skin; why would I want to get into my OWN skin? It got to a point where, if someone wanted to cast me as me because they "knew I'd be great in the role," I'd ask if I could make her British or Long Island or Southern, just so at least her voice was different. A playwriting teacher once gave me great advice that he heard from someone else: people tend to feel as though the world happens to them, that their friends and family are acting on them, and they're only reacting, and that's really boring. So if you're writing an autobiographical play, and you're a white man, make the character who's you be a black woman. Otherwise the lead character really IS you, and they'll sit there doing nothing while all the other characters act on them. Maybe it's the same way with acting.

I think if any of the people who said they were there to support free speech ALSO would show up to a Pride March, waving a flag, I might be convinced that they're not bigots in hiding. I support his right to free speech, but I'm sure as heck not going to give them any money. On a related topic, I've been reading the Ender's Game series for a few months, and while searching for the order of the Shadow series, stumbled upon Orson Scott Card's wikipedia page and the news that he's on the board of the National Organization for Marriage. It made me first desperately wish that I'd taken them out of the library instead of buying them. And now I've gotten to a point, later in the series, when a gay man marries a woman, happily, because the meaning of life is to have a child with a woman. I'd like to trust the art, not the artist, but I can't help but have a bad taste in my mouth. Something like crappy fast food.

Derek, same here. I immediately thought of climbing up the sawdust piles at the sawmill near my house (which had a logging road past it, which we called "Up the Hollow" immediately after Stand By Me came out). Just lovely, Wil. Thanks for sharing, as always.

That picture is fabulous. Someone needs to needlepoint it. Also: I said, "What about Breakfast at Tiffany's?" She said, "I think I remember the film... as I recall, I think we both kind of liked it." And I said, "Well, that's one thing we've got."

This needs to be a sketch on Kids in the Hall, stat. Mark McKinney would make an excellent Robocop. Also, personal story: my dad used to do the Robocop walk in grocery stores. He'd walk stiff-legged to the end of the aisle, turn his head, and then turn the rest of his body and keep going. At first it was funny for him, then it became habit, then it became a way to shame his teenage daughters. Then we shamed him into stopping by calling him RoboDad.

I didn't hate DST until I had babies. Those precious post-bedtime hours in the evening are the only alone-time I have with my husband, and DST screws it up every time. That said, sunlight in the evening makes me very, very happy.

This was all very funny, but after the bit about Nash Morton, all I could think of was, "I am Nash Morton, millionaire. I own a mansion and a yacht." (It's also what I think of every time I hear Larry Ellison's name.)

A telephone booth, a universal translator, and a pair of red shoes.

You have convinced me to download the Communicator app. I realized the other day that when my youngest daughter (Happy Birthday on Pi Day, Gillian!) turns 21, it will be the year 2032. Which is not even The Future anymore, but the future where it's been the future for so long that it's just the present, and wasn't it cute that her parents were so excited about an 8x10 piece of plastic that required hands for its operation.

You have so cursed me with this damned photo. Every time one of my colleagues says something pointless to prove that they're getting work done, I think, "And here's Wil Wheaton collating paper."

Yes! The Boogeyman was my first thought, too (which is yet another story I can no longer read now that I have children, something I found out far too late). A great twist on the monster in the closet. Loads of fun! Also--listen to This American Life's "Adventure" podcast from a few weeks back. Dave Eggers has a terrific campfire monster tale that you might enjoy.

My best short plays have all been dream downloads: dreams in which I'm not a character, but watching the drama play out with other people. I think we're all so busy during the day that night's the only time when your brain can say, "FINALLY. She shut up and I can do some sharing. Here. Take this thing I've been working on."

This is so sweet. And also reminds me of the exercise in futility that is arguing with my in-laws about their 100% surety that Ralph Nader single-handedly brought down the election in 2000.

I LOVE that. And also hate it, because good GOD have I been screwed by unicode.

I love this stuff so much, and the internet even more for it. Due to an off-the-cuff remark I once made, my sister made for me a t-shirt that said "LINK IS MY LOVE GOD" alongside, of course, Link, brandishing his Master Sword. (Heh, heh, heh.) And no matter how many times my husband says otherwise, dressing in a Halloween costume that only two people will get brings such joy to the other person getting the joke that it's 100% worth all the sideways glances. Next up, Wil: A shirt covered in duckies and bunnies, with the line "I <3 SHELF PAPER" emblazoned across the front. I don't think that exists yet.

I was 11 when it came out and it meant so much to me--an aspiring writer in a small town--and came to mean even more over the years. (One primary reason is that "The Body" was always my standby example of why Stephen King's an amazing writer, and why snobs should give him a fair chance.) And I can't hear anyone say the words "all the way home" before breaking into song. It's like a sickness.

What a lovely story. My favorite part is at the homebrew store, when you talk to the guy like you're on the other side of the table at ComicCon. (At least, that's how I sound when I'm talking to someone on Celebrity Row. )

When my husband turned 33 (some time ago), a friend of ours asked, "Ah. That's the point where you start forgetting how old you are." We didn't believe her until he had to start doing the math from 1970. I hit that point at 34. And also, Happy Birthday, and Happy Rain Day! It's a holiday in my hometown. http://www.raindayfestival.com/history.html

I'm not sure where to ask you questions directly, so I'm just commenting (again). Watching Season 4 of Eureka (finally. No cable.) and I keep wondering something, and then remembered you might actually know. So many actors stay in the same sci-fi circles (you, Felicia Day, and James Callis, and most notably, the awesomely awesome Joe Morton), and here's my question(s): is it typecasting, or preference, or both? And if it's preference, does the geek make the sci-fi actor, or does the sci-fi actor make the geek? I don't think I'm being too presumptuous in assuming that both you and Felicia Day, at least, are geeks, so I'm just wondering if your early sci-fi acting made you into a geek, or if you've always been a geek and wanted to do sci-fi. Please, let me know and end several months of thinking-out-loud to my (mostly) patient husband.

I was about to suggest the neti pot, too. I had pregnancy rhinitis--no snoring, just a stuffy nose as a bonus pregnancy symptom. Used the neti pot every morning and it cleared me enough to get through the day without snarfling every five minutes. Maybe try using it an hour or so before bed. I had a fancy ceramic one from Whole Foods, but it broke, and ironically the cheapo molded plastic job from Walgreen's (NeilMed) is a much better design and easier to use. Good luck! Allergies are evil.

Fairly new reader here, so my first time reading. And it's making me look forward even less to my daughters' teenage years, although I still can't wait until we can all watch "Stand By Me" together, so it's a wash.

That graphic is fracking brilliant. And after a long time spent touring my parents around Monterey, seeing that quotation as a headline assuaged 90% of my stress. PeeWee's Big Adventure holds a special place in my heart. My brother and I spent an excruciatingly boring snowed-in week saying things like, "What do you want to do?" "Watch PeeWee?" "OK." "Now what should we do?" "Spaceballs?" "Yup." Every day, at least twice, for a week. And thanks to the genius of Rick Moranis, Spaceballs also holds up reasonably well.

I hear you. I walk to work and walk or bus it home, and I always have. Every single time we go out of town around rush hour, my husband and I remind ourselves why one of our dealbreakers for living is either walkability of proximity to mass transit. It's just not worth it to me.

True confessions: as I don't have cable, I totally didn't realize Eureka was still on the air until I read it here in your blog. And I am totally geeked to get caught up on Netflix. When I was a kid, I could learn lines like nothing. I knew all of my lines and everyone else's inside of a week. My senior year in college, I was in a terrible production with a lead actress who didn't remember anything, ever, I suddenly got stage fright because I started panicking about remembering my lines. It's the same feeling I get if someone asks if I want to play centerfield in a casual softball game: "Oh, god, I'm going to fuck up and everyone's going to be mad because they're all depending on me." For me, I think part of it's also that I write dialogue, and I get miffed when someone biffs a line, because I work so hard at getting the wording exactly right in every case. So I want to get the line perfectly right instead of almost right, and as we all know: perfection is the enemy of good. Oh, great. I'm probably going to have the playwright's nightmare tonight. The one where it's opening night, the lights are on in the house, the audience is talking to each other, and all the actors have the scripts in their hands.

I'm only surprised I'm the first.