Sorry...

For the sporadic blogging. There are reasons. I'll explain.

And They Say Romance Is Dead

The Marine said he had a love song for me. Somehow this wasn't what I had in mind.

Simple Yet Effective

I love Britain's Got Talent!!!

For Some Reason

I am completely obsessed with this song at the moment. Every time I hear it I imagine a big blob of cool blue paint falling on my brain and coating it.

Is that weird?

Fromans Folio: The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression

"Depression is when nothing matters. Sadness is when everything matters." - Gloria Steinem

Every once in a while you encounter a book in which the author seems to capture the thoughts fluttering around in your brain, smack them on the page and give them shape and form. For me, Andrew Solomon's The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression is just such a book.

A tour de force of cultural and anthropological exploration, The Noonday Demon is by Solomon's own admission, the kind of book he wished had been in existence when he encountered his first bought of serious depression. [He also had a major episode while writing the book].

I've been reading a number of books on depression in the last while in order to make some sense of my own experiences with this condition. Life breeds such attempts to understand one's own dabilitation and the victories over them. Is it sadness or depression? How do we reconcile ourselves to life's essential meaninglessness? Why do humans, versus other animals, appear to have a sense of their own emotional existence? Solomon dives in and swims the murky waters of inquiry, giving his own unique take on all these questions and more.

The book is apologetically huge in scope, as true a cross sectional overview of a subject as I have ever encountered. Solomon examines depression in various contexts such as Breakdowns, Treatments, Populations, Addiction, Suicide, History, Politics and Evolution, just to name a few.

Yet as objective as Noonday Demon is in some respects, it is also a searingly personal work. Solomon spares little detail in examining his own experience of depression and the behaviors it drove and vice versa. Solomon seems so hellbent on driving for empathy and understanding of depression's cruelty, that it is at times difficult to read his extremely intimate level of revelation. Certainly, Solomon's description of his mother's suicide is one of the most touching yet terrifying things I have ever read.

This is a book I would recommend to anyone, without reservation, whether they or anyone in their lives had experienced depression or not. I think that time will eventually consider this a vital volume of work in future, perhaps one of the 21st century's greatest.

Yes it's that good. And Fromans is gettin' on the bandwagon now y'all.

In the Fog

I've been enjoying a computer free last few days. My sleep has been wonky and I find myself preoccupied with thoughts of the past. These more retrospective leanings have brought me to a conclusion.

I wish I looked forward to the future, but I've realized recently that I don't. By default, I seem to have a fundamentally negative view of things, expecting that the passage of time will bring more loss and disappointment and that the state of my life can't really be improved upon and will probably, in the long term, get worse.

And yet, I can't tell you why I think this way, where this belief originated or what it's based on - aside from the obvious conclusion that I may be a bit depressed or winter weary, especially when I consider my recent inventory of things I have to be glad about.

But for whatever reason, I've simply become aware recently that the long view of my life is not an optimistic one. I'm not as positive as I have thought myself to be.

Logically, it just doesn't make sense. Who is to say that the next ten years won't be the best of my life, that the wreckage of disappointment I may encounter will be well mitigated?

But it looks like I've got some more internal digging to do.

Nudgin' Pudge and Sleeping Well

Work continues to be intense. I'm trying to remember that circumstances are unique at the moment. The amount of meetings I'm in frustrates me, especially when my brain's so tired I can't remember my name never mind what's on my "to do" list. But we've got several big projects on the go and I have to remind myself that shortly, a lot of the work will be over and things will get back to normal.

On the plus side, two things are helping me immensely right now. One is my exercise program and the second is rest.

My progress is slow but steady and I can now feel some real changes in my body day to day, not just when I work out. I feel real strength starting to build and every day tasks are that less burdensome. Being fat is an essentially ironic experience. It's the ultimate weight bearing exercise, yet it yields no physical benefit whatsoever.

In terms of sleep, my specialist wanted to see how I did without medication. I finished it as per the plan, and lasted about two weeks. By that time, my sleep completely deteriorated back to its original state, so much so that I contacted my specialist's office again and asked if I could start it in advance of my follow up appointment. He agreed and we'll go from there.

I don't think I need to be on it long term, but it made enough of an immediate impact that my life was injected with a sense of possibility again versus a simple state of mere existence. I don't know why my brain doesn't embrace a normal sleep process, but when I manage this deficiency, my world changes. When I'm rested, when I actually sleep, the day to day of life's tasks isn't a Herculean endeavor. I can get on with things, plan, get ahead and catch up.

Still rested or otherwise, when I looked out the window this morning and saw snow, yes SNOW, I nearly lost my mind.

This has been a long and obstinate winter. I'll be glad to see the back of it.

Still Truckin'

"Can't act. Slightly bald. Dances." - Studio executive's notes on Fred Astaire's screen test.

This past week was tough, an absolute gauntlet run of meetings and documents, phone calls and emails. It was one of those weeks where I just wished I could be left alone. Fortunately I didn't have too much on the schedule this weekend. I had a nice visit with the folks and Rosy yesterday [along with a Little House on the Prairie marathon] and I've been able to decompress a bit.

On the downside, I've been rejected by two agents so far. On the upside, it's not because they aren't taking me seriously. It's been because I'm either not union or they already have someone like me on their roster. It's funny. As an actor, you like to think you're really unique and have something special to offer. Agents don't see you that way. They're always drilling down to "type".

I'm hampered this way in that I really just want to focus on voice work for now. I don't think I'm going to be cast for any TV work given my current weight. That is slowly but surely resolving itself as an issue, but given my head space right now, frankly I just enjoy voice work a helluva lot more. From what I've heard, going union via just voice work is going to be nigh on impossible, so I'm not quite sure what I do at this point or where I go from here.

I'm just trying to focus on what I can control, because if I don't I'll just end up getting discouraged and depressed. I can control when I work out. I can control how many applications I send out to agencies. I can control if I follow up. I can control if I keep trying or just give in to disappointment. I fundamentally believe I'm meant to be doing this, so I'd rather keep trying rather than give up and hold down an office job the next 30 years. I just need to make the best of what I've got to work with.

The Marine told me to keep the rejection emails. He thinks people will find them funny one day.