I have dwelled too much upon my doom

So Jim Hines has a post up about his depression. It's got me thinking about my own weird brain chemistry, and the fact that I've been extra avoidant since the social!stravaganza that was last Wednesday. (Not that a play with a friend is especially extravagant. It's just, I don't seem to be able to have fun without suffering some kind of backlash. Introvert crash.)

I've never had a diagnosis. I mean, I had some counselling for a couple months after my small nervous breakdown my first year in college, and once for three or four sessions a couple of years thereafter, when I think exam stress was getting to me. You woman up and learn some coping skills - after I got back up, it didn't seem like counselling had anything more to offer me. (Although my symptoms sound a lot like dysthymia, which is not a word I'd come across before. Except with extra added anxiety.) I've been talking escitalopram for years now, and I'm one of the lucky ones: my side effects are some extra sleepiness. That's if the escitalopram is actually to blame.

It's been years since things were so bad I couldn't function for whole weeks. That hasn't happened since the first time. But most of the time I doubt myself. (A lot of the time I dislike myself.) Most of the time, the future seems hopeless. Most of the time, I get by on not thinking too far ahead, because looking more than two or three weeks in the future is a sure route to I will never amount to anything/why shouldn't you go jump off a bridge? I have this feeling that for many people, it's easier to be hopeful. Easier to be motivated. Easier not to curl up in a corner and spend days watching videos and reading old paperbacks because who gives a fuck, right? The world's going to hell in a handbasket and you'll let everyone down - in fact, you have already, they just don't know it yet/haven't pointed it out, and why can't you have a job like everyone else, you lazy slob, research isn't REAL WORK and everyone knows it.

So, yeah. I try not to think about it too much. Otherwise it gets too hard to keep going.

Anyway. Have an entertaining link:

Thine appraisal is now due: I do Regret ye failure to demonstrate Impact of mine Experimentations in ye academic yeare. Should mine Labours on Gravity, Opticks and Fluxions fail to attract ye Approbation of ye Peasantry, I will accept ye Voluntary Redundancy to make room for an Younger and Sexier Experimenter to whom ye Tattle-Sheets, Mummer-Shows and Chap-Books shall devote Time and Space. Such as ye Fop Cox and that damn'd Simpering Worsley.

Coriolanus: not a review

Ralph Fiennes' Coriolanus (he both directs and plays the title role) is a film adaptation of Shakespeare's play of the same name, The Tragedy of Coriolanus. The language of the play is itself only lightly adapted, but the costumes and setting have been adapted to 20th-century: Fiennes' Caius Martius Coriolanus and Gerard Butler's Aufidius the Volscian are soldiers of a Rome and a Volscia that bear a marked resemblence to modern day small warring states - shot partly in Serbia, it's hard to avoid feeling that the film's physical landscape reinforces the Balkanised sentiments of its theme.

Messengers' speeches are not infrequently delivered by television announcers - and damn, Shakespeare's messengers sound natural on the announcers' tongues - and the Roman Senate is framed almost as a modern parliament. Coriolanus' mother wears military uniform in the more formal scenes, which lends pointedness to her speeches -

"I mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me,
But owe thy pride thyself"

- in particular. It is a film filled with solid performances, and an interesting take on staging Shakespeare. Definitely worth a look.