With the excitement of the “MTV connection” still fresh in my mind, I decided to go all in on a plan that, up until that point, I'd been about 50/50 on. My father used to have a saying about delaying making a much-needed decision. He'd say, “Either shit or get off the pot.” At 22 years of age I chose to make a decision that would change my life forever. I decided it was “go time” and time for me to get going.

I was 100 percent in on pursuing my acting dreams, but in being honest with myself, I knew my best chances wouldn't be waiting for me in Pittsbugh or Chapel Hill. In my mind, there was only one way to do it, and that was to move to Los Angeles immediately after graduation. Go big or go home! As exhilarating and powerful as it was to commit to this, I'd be lying if I didn't say it was terrifying as well. Now all I had to do was find the right way to break the news to my parents.

A week or so later I went home over Easter break, and in my mind I knew it would be one of the last times I'd see my entire family for a while. I didn't choose a moment as to when to tell my parents; it more or less chose itself. It was a muggy afternoon, and I was straightening up my bedroom, my mother walked by, saw this, and laughed as she yelled out to my dad, “Vince you've got to come see this! Danny is actually cleaning up his room!” My dad showed up moments later, they made a few jokes at my expense, which were well deserved. Then as the laughter subsided, I remember a brief pause as my parents smiled at their youngest and my father said, “It's good to have you home, old boy.” My mom kissed my cheek and I thought maybe this was the universe telling me that now was the perfect time to “shit or get off the pot.” I tried my best to keep the mood light and was even upbeat when I told them that I was throwing caution to the wind, following my dreams, and moving to Los Angeles two weeks after graduation. Then, after an almost-knowing pause, a few obvious questions were asked by them both.

“Do you have a job?” “No, sir.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” “No, ma'am.”

“How much money do you have saved?” “$1,100.”

“What are you going to do when you get there?” “Find a job and a place to live.”

My parents weren't the overbearing types; they always encouraged me to be myself and follow my dreams. But even at this point they had to be thinking, “This is a really bad idea, even worse than the cutoff jean shorts he's wearing.”

My father asked if anything in particular had happened that made me decide that this was the best course of action. I expressed to them that it was a combination of things, the biggest one being, I didn't want to wake up one day, look at my 30-year-old face in the mirror and wonder what would have happened if I ever gave LA a try. (Because at 22, 30 seems really damn old.) I knew I had to give it a shot.

I love my parents more than words, and even more for not just saying, “Son, you've got your head up your ass! You have no money, no job, nowhere to live, and no clue what the hell you're doing!” Instead, they did what good parents do. They hugged me and told me they loved me, supported my choice, and would always be there for me.

I remember that as they left my bedroom, my dad turned back and looked at me. It wasn't that “first day of high school look,” it was simply honest. With a tear forming in his eye, he said, “Give 'em hell, son.” He closed the door to my room and I stood in silence for a bit, then turned on the Cinema Paradiso soundtrack on my Panasonic Platinum boombox. I then laid on my bed and cried like a damn baby. After I'd cried it all out, I put on the song “Going the Distance” from the Rocky soundtrack, because I'm Italian and it's kind of what we do. At that point, I realized the hard part was over…giving them hell, that was gonna be easy!