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myself. I cried for my dad, remembering what he had told me 15 years earlier.
    So tonight, I spent as long as I could at the hospital, talking with my dad, reading my lame HTML book and watching Blind Date and Letterman . I kept taking his temperature, which started out at 103 today (scary, since my dad's 53), then went back to normal and started a slow climb back up to 100.6 when I left.
    I don't know what to do now. I know I won't sleep well, not knowing what's happening with my dad. The doctor will be calling in someone from the CDC in the morning if my dad's not better, since he was just in Indonesia on a surfing trip and they think he may have brought something back.
    But it's the not knowing that is the worst.
    That and replaying in my head every wasted moment with my dad. Every time I wouldn't play catch with him, or go surfing, or acted embarrassed when he told a lame joke around some girl I was trying to impress.
    Go call your mom. She's worrying about you.
    And for god's sakes, play catch with your dad.
    For the longest 48 hours of my life, I was terrified that I was going to lose my father. After two days, the doctor from the CDC determined that my dad had contracted a blood infection when he stubbed his toe on a boat anchor during his trip. If he hadn't been in the United States when he'd gotten sick, he would have died. Thankfully, he managed to fight off the infection and made a full recovery.
    I still don't know why I chose to write about my dad, and my very real and unprotected feelings, but when I was face to face with my father's mortality, Prove To Everyone was silenced and releasing my fears and doubts was liberating.
    The few people who were reading my website appreciated the raw honesty. In the days after I wrote that entry, I got several e-mails and comments from people who shared similar experiences with their own fathers, and while I read them, I thought that it might be okay to talk about some of my real feelings.
    "As long as you don't let on about how much you're struggling in your career," Prove To Everyone said.
    "Oh, you're still here," I said. "I thought you'd found something else to do."
    "I think I'll be sticking around for quite some time," he said. "With The Voice of Self Doubt to keep us company."
    He was right. After that brief moment of honesty, Prove To Everyone regained control over everything I wrote and I was back to attention whoring and posting links to other websites. About two weeks later, Prove To Everyone and I sort of collaborated on a weblog post. He got to talk about Auditions, and I got to talk about my family.

02 AUGUST, 2001
    Beach-o-rama
    Tuesday was my stepson's 12th birthday. It was also the first time in 3 months that I'd had an audition. (Apparently, a bunch of jackass producers, working for vertically integrated, multinational media conglomerates were afraid that the Writer's Guild and the Screen Actor's Guild may want to stop work, so that we can all make a living wage, so they didn't "green light" any new projects. Go figure.)
    Things have been tough the past few months. Money has been tight and I've been super bored. If I didn't have my kick-ass sketch comedy show at ACME to look forward to, I probably would have ended up on the sidewalk in front of the Viper Room.
    Just kidding. Jeeze, lighten up.
    The first call is at 11:15 a.m., to be a regular on this WB show called The Young Person's Guide To Being A Rockstar . It's to play a gay drummer. (Why does everyone think I'm gay?). The second call is at 4:45 p.m., for a movie called Waiting . . . that is just about the funniest ^%$#ing script I've read in over a year.
    I'm completely excited, since I have way too much free time right now and I would like to work. (You know, actors are the only people who are unhappy when they're not working. Unlike most "normal" people, who can't wait for a break from work . . .) The only problem was, Tuesday was Ryan's birthday and I was really torn about what to do. I need to work