Tiny Little Cuts

I’m not going to share this anywhere, because I can forsee it not meaning anything to anyone other than myself.

I don’t even have a point beyond this: Rejection sucks. To be an actor is to have yourself be rejected on a regular basis. I do not have a thick skin. I try to not let things get to me, but they do. I question often whether this is the right industry for a person like me to be in. All I can say to that is that my passion far outweighs any scars I have, and this pain I currently feel will get better.

But fuck me dead, does this hurt like the dickens right now.

It’s Important To Not Give A Shit

That title is from George Carlin, who’s a hero of mine. If you don’t know him, start with his piece about stuff and enjoy going down the rabbit hole of his genius.

But it’s that advice that he gave as he neared the end of his life that I find myself think about this evening, as I plan my day tomorrow. Depression has taken a brief reprieve (potentially because I did something as simple as begin the search for the right psychologist), and I’ve been taking advantage of that to the best of my ability- in fact, I had my first big audition here in Melbourne just yesterday.

While I don’t feel comfortable admitting who they are at this moment, I can tell you that it is paid work (which is a huge tick right there as any slogging actor knows), and it’s ongoing all year round. So naturally, after not acting in anything big for over six months for The Brain Room I was pretty nervous, and I said it was probably unlikely the audition would go anywhere.

I entered the space, confident, determined to do my best- but not overly concerned and/or desperate as I know I have been in the past. And here’s the thing- I fucked it up. Not a lot, but… enough. A fudged word, here and there, a need to improvise through to the next bit I know, move along, move along, hope they don’t notice. But I did what any actor does on stage and faked it, kept moving forward. I tried to have fun with it and  ended up only showing my mounting discomfort at staying on the metaphorical bicycle right at the end.

They seemed cheery. Nice people. They told me that I took direction well, and I projected well and that even though I messed up “I didn’t let it show” which is important.

I nodded, I smiled, I said “thank you”, but in my head I was quietly confident that it would proceed no further. I received compliments from the casting directors, but as far as I was concerned it was just them trying to be nice so I wouldn’t throw a chair at them on exit. I’d heard it all before.

Imagine my surprise then, when I learned I had a callback! A real one. For real acting. What a huge step. What a opportunity. What a-

Okay seriously, who’s messing with me?!

I was legitimately shocked. But then I remember that sage advice from my husky voiced hero, George, (fun fact, a lot of my heroes have weird or overly loud voices, go figure), it’s important to not give a shit.

I went in there, confident but not needy, not too intense, just wanting to perform for the sake of performing. Not too long ago I may have cancelled on my audition just to save myself the embarrassment my brain conjured up for me. Now, I seem to be handling writing out my schedule, keeping to it, and even doing work WAY BEFORE A DEADLINE.

Tomorrow I go back in there to improvise and do work with other actors, which I’m so excited about. Amongst that I’m going for an audition for a music show among lots of other creative endeavors.

And I’m okay. I am legitimately okay. I’m not freaking out, despite the fact I am busy and having to balance many things.

I owe it all, I think, to finally taking Uncle George’s advice. I feel deeply passionate about my work, I’m willing to go through hell to get closer to my goals. But I think I’m finally finding a balance, learning to relax, when to let go, to not give a shit. I didn’t get that thing? There’s another thing. No feces given.

I don’t give a shit, for once. And it feels great.

A Mantra To Remember (Anxiety)

Humans typically have a period where they have been shitty people. How they grow into being good humans is as simple and as difficult as admitting this, and trying not to make the same mistakes twice.

I myself worry constantly that I am being judged for some phantom action I’d done in my past- and it’s way past the point of being healthy or productive. So I’m making myself a mantra to repeat.

Repeat after me:

I am not my past.
My past failures are no indication of whether I will fail again.
I will not let shame dictate my future.
The people who matter will stand by me. Those who choose to leave are not my priority.
I will focus on those who see good in me.
I will focus on the good in me.
I will use the good in me to make my world better.

I will not hide from my past- but to drive well I must focus on the road- not the rear view mirror.

I am going to be okay.

If this helps someone, I really am glad. If not, I hope you’re having an awesome Tuesday.





Individuality vs The Entertainment Business

So I’ll keep this short, it’s 3:52 AM and I’ve been playing Freddie Mercury interviews because right now apparently I don’t feel sad enough. I wanted to discuss something, potentially with likeminded creatives/actors and you, no matter what you do, if you’ve got something you want to say about it.

As we all know, we’ve lost many greats in this month alone. 2016 is shaping to be a pretty grim year, particularly for fans of British anything (which I am, massively). Bowie, Lemmy, and Alan Rickman and we’re all crossing our fingers that that’s all for one year, thank you very much.


But the thing about these people, despite the fact they’ve no doubt influenced your childhood/life/taste in one way or another- is they’re freaking mad. No really. They were renegades in their fields. People who didn’t fit in the playing field so much as dig a man size ditch, jump in and responded anyone trying to shove them out with a hearty FUCK OFF and a poke of the shovel.

They were absolutely folk that we responded to for that reason. We wanted to be as happy as they were to be themselves. I did too. I do too.

But, I consider myself a performer first and foremost (I used to call myself just an actor, not so anymore- that’s a story for another day)- and as such I work* in the entertainment industry, and they do not  encourage renegades.

There was an article I read about what it took to be cool, and, pompous as that concept was, it did raise an interesting point about how people buying out the entire radio business essentially killed music movement as we used to know them: 60’s psychelics, 70’s punk, 80’s electronic, 90’s grunge- countercultures, the article argued had effectively died with this move, and it shows in the entertainment industry. Every new young and hip ‘rock’  embraced by mainstream culture looks like Mumford and Sons.

This isn’t just in music though. More than ever before, folks are looking for strong men to lead the charge in acting. It’s no surprise Chris Hemsworth is the face of Australian tourism- like it or not, it’s what people want on their screens now more than ever.

And here I am- the birth result of a troll and a lorikeet, growing out my hair and wanting tattoos… and I really don’t feel like I belong. And I know, I know, I should follow the people who’ve passed this month’s example- dig my ditch and defend it.

But honestly? I don’t actually know if I even have the ability to dig my own ditch anymore. I fear our need for safe entertainment and reality TV on public channels has removed my chance at even getting a grip on the shovel.

Still, if they’ve locked it up in the shed, I guess now’s as good a time as ever to try and find me some bolt cutters. God knows that I can’t give up now.

First photoshoot in the morning. My first real step back into acting in about a year. Wish me luck.

Good night/morning.

*when I get paid

Don’t Take The Personal Experience™ Personally

Well, hi!

So with my last bit of writing, I seemed to strike a chord with people in a way I secretly hoped, but didn’t expect to. Gaiman said it best when he said that your work is like a little message in a bottle put out to sea, amongst thousands of other little bottles, hoping yours gets picked up by someone, and they too will make a message saying they liked it, put it in a bottle and send it back to you. Often, it just isn’t to be.

On that note, I’m fairly sure I referenced that exact same Gaiman speech in my last entry, so let’s move on.

gaiman judging me.jpg
I can’t even be original when I’m quoting other people. *judgmental Neil*

I started writing this article yesterday with the idea of talking about my despair with social media, and while this is very relevant to me, personally- it’s not a new idea, and it’s certainly one I’ve ranted about in the past.

To friends who have heard this from me before? Bear with me.

Older folks will be the first to say that we’re too connected. That we don’t take the time to be outside anymore. I guess they’re neglecting the time they spent with TV/Radio/Newspapers/Pulp comics/nudie mags, but I digress.

Recently though, I can’t deny that facebook, the epitome of ‘personal social media experience’, is getting the better of me. I often find myself on two trains of thought.

1: Wow, what a useful tool for my career!

2: Fuck this fucking thing, all it’s doing is making me miserable-CAN YOU STOP REMINDING ME ABOUT HOW I WAS FRIENDS WITH THAT PERSON TWO YEARS AGO?!

Today, I’m on #2. It’s not pleasant. Facebook is this weird bubble, worse in a way than any social media network that’s come before it, at least for me.

It’s all about ‘friends’.

It’s not ‘followers’. You can lose a follower. It’s not about ‘subscribers’, that’s their business if they don’t like my content. It’s about ‘friends’, and fuckalmighty does that make it sting when relationships crumble.

Stand By Me, the hit film of 86, made a point with 10 year old me that I’ll never forget. “Friends move in and out of your life like busboys at a restaurant”.

Thanks for the wisdom Wil Wheaton!

That’s natural, it happens. Friends move on. Even in the more dramatic situations- you were a dick, they were a dick, or you were genitalia together, you’re allowed to make mistakes. But on facebook, your failure is there to see. Unfriended. Over. Done. *Dead Pacman Noise*

Enjoy your ‘personal social media experience’ dry heaving in grief over your keyboard, you pathetic mess!

But even worse for me personally? The professional contacts. I feel like this is the social media version of high heeled shoes. Cool concept, but painful as hell to execute.  You don’t know them, and more than likely after the professional thing you had is said and done, your facebook friendship lingers on way past its expiration date.

But you won’t cut the tie, and you know why? The potential of something. A close professional relationship where you have each other’s back- maybe something more…?

What a witty gif you just posted. Be here in 20 minutes. 😉

THEN they cut the tie on YOU.



Slow down, bud. Think about it for a sec.

They didn’t do anything wrong. They just saw what you didn’t. They were more self aware than you- they knew your relationship with them was strictly professional, so they decided to trim the fat on their ‘personal social media experience’.

After all, facebook is just for friends! Don’t take it personally!

Huh? Why did we add each other in the first place then…? Good question.

I’l give an example from my own life- I did a show one time with a girl, she was kinda cool, we were bros for a while. She asked me acting questions after, we did another show together, bro relationship went down a bit but still okay.

Months pass.
No talking no talking-
“Hey I’m doing a one woman show!” “Sorry can’t make it.”
No talking no talking no talking-
“Hey I’m doing a comedy show!” No response.
No talking no talking-


That right there? Is the definition of “don’t take it personally”. Even if she had a problem with something I had done, she didn’t have the guts to confront me about it, so what can be done? It’s not personal!

Don’t take it personally!

But how can I not?

That’s what Facebook is FOR  after all. A personal experience. I’m an actor. I need to keep contact with people that might give me work. I’m also a depressed person, and judge myself most harshly of all. Every time I have someone deleted me, it’s a little knife wound I can’t deny.

Obvious image use is obvious. Still, if it ‘aint broke.

This makes me question the whole idea of personal connection to our technology. I miss the days of vague hand gestures when someone asks “Are you and Carol good?” Because you legitimately didn’t know.

That’s not a bad thing, either. Hell, by the time you see Carol again, maybe she’ll have forgiven you for not cleaning up the piss you left on the toilet seat you disgusting heathen.

But in this ‘personal social media experience’, there is no grey. There is only knowledge that that person is not your friend anymore, carol is not your friend, and your piss staining ways are not in her life anymore.

“You’re not my friend anymore.”
“You’re not my friend anymore.”
“You’re not my friend anymore.”

Sound familiar?

Remember saying that exact phrase?


Yeah you do.

You were a ton shorter at the time and couldn’t go outside without a hat.


We’ve been downgraded to the squabbles we had at four years old. And no, you’re not invited to my birthday party. These ‘personal social media experience’s are, in my opinion, making it harder and harder for us to trust one another and build healthy relationships.

Where does this leave me? Should I become a hermit in the woods Perhaps. But not today. There are some positives to our technology, and ‘personal experiences.’

Today I did a little bit of research on the new phase of gaming that will be entering our consciousness in a big way in the next few years- Virtual Reality gaming.

Ghost Busters meets GI JOE. I dig it immensely.

Long story short, we’re gaining the ability to walk around a warehouse space and shoot zombies. AND you can do it today, in Melbourne! Incidentally, if that sounds like a good time, hit me the hell up.

This is really cool. It’s amazing in fact. Our technology seamlessly integrates with our lives to the point where we can spend an hour walking around deaf, blind and by the end, sweating our tits off- and all in the pursuit of a fictional goal. We are so connected to our virtual selves in this moment that gamers who stereotypically are seen as lazy exercise haters (and rightly so)- will actually exercise, because these people have created a seamless ‘personal experience’.

Hell, in my work, in anybody’s for that matter- aren’t we trying to make something that connects with someone? To make them feel engaged? Can I really fault Facebook for what is clearly my own personal issues projected by a feature that the social media forum could not function without?

In reality, the only way I can make it better for myself is to slowly extricate myself from Facebook, maintain my page, and cross my everything that it doesn’t cost me too many opportunities. But even today, before writing this, one of the first things I did was lament the loss of above bro I did two plays with.

Whatever you choose to believe though, you can’t deny the power social media holds over us now. To the point where if I saw Carol who had unfriended me over the piss stained toilet seat, I would assume we’re not friends anymore. Because of a button pushed.

But maybe Carol was still open to being friends if I just apologised?

I would know nothing of that. I would simply ignore her, because I would think that’s what’s appropriate to do with someone who doesn’t like me. Damage done. From there, Carol would see me ignoring them and ignore me too. A friendship dead.

Where as before this fucking social media took hold, I could see a world where I, awkward as I am, would go up to Carol, and awkwardly apologise for being such a dick, and she would laugh, and I would laugh, and she would hand me a roll of toilet paper as a truce and we would ride off into the sunset together.

A likely scenario even then? Nah. But now it seems nigh impossible. The social dance has 12 more steps thanks to social media, and we don’t quite know how to dance them yet. In the meantime, we will squabble like four year olds, and end friendships that could’ve lasted much longer in another age.

And on that note, I’m gonna go play Tomb Raider. Another age? Eh?

(I really wish I could say every piece I do won’t end with a lame joke. I really, really do.)


TL;DR: If you’re not quite mentally stable, social media can be a bitch, and video games are fun.

You can find me on my website or my twitter!

How Beyonce’s Dad fucked me up

The following is less an article with a coherent point, and more a stream of consciousness from a man who doesn’t quite know what he’s doing and certainly doesn’t know who to ask about it anymore. So he’s telling the internet. How droll.

Recently, I took the time to read a little article which described the experience of Beyonce Knowles washed up dad running workshops on how to be successful. This man, for all his faults, helped create of the biggest stars in the world, and was subsequently dumped by her when he became too unbearable.

Happier times

This man, who I really shouldn’t be taking advice from, not just because his success is based on questionable practises, but because by all accounts he’s a pretty terrible human- said something that nonetheless stuck with me.

“You gotta focus on one thing or you’ll never make it.”

Well, fuck.

For those who don’t know, I’m the antithesis of sticking with one thing. I make a point to do that. The reason is two fold.

1: I can’t stand standing still. I loathe it. If acting isn’t working out, I do a comedy show, if comedy is making me too vulnerable, I’ll try to write, when I discover that my writing’s crap I give acting another go. Repeat ad nauseum.

2: I suspect, and I have evidence to believe this, that I’m an irritating person. I’m dramatic, I’m easily hurt, and I don’t trust easily. This cocktail means I can be a bloody nightmare to work with. Let’s not even get started on my personal life.

If I had to guess, I’d say no one would presume to tell me what to do with my career, because they assume I have a plan. A set of steps. Something. But they’d be wrong. I, like in Neil Gaiman’s famous address to the University of the Arts, like to head towards the mountain, the mountain called “Entertaining for a living”

Sounds vague? That’s cause it is.

Two years ago? I would say I’m an actor. I act. That’s what I do. Have done. Will do. Continue to do. I have changed a lot since then. Comedy entered my bloodstream.

My show- The Brain Room:brain room screenshot.jpg


Comedy is something I never knew I had a passion for- but it’s there. I love making people feel. In this case, I love making folks feel joy. If I can land a joke- I know I’ve done something good.

Why the move from acting to comedy? In a word, patience. As in, I have none. Acting is a waiting game. From waiting for the phone to ring, to waiting for the 9th round of auditions to waiting for your shot to be placed, it’s all about waiting. That’s fine, I’ve known it for years, but it’s harmful to the ego. I remember the faces of friends when I told them I’d landed another unpaid gig. “When was he going to be successful?” I heard them think.

So comedy was my answer. Put on a show. Put your own money into it. Make your own content, get people interested in you as a performer. Somewhere along the way though, the comedy bug bit me and now I want to take my show on the road in a shitty punk van, entertain the people in backalley pubs.

All this meant that I hadn’t done acting in about 8 months, which was the time I allowed myself to do The Brain Room. It made it’s money back and then some, I was chuffed. Then, I had to update my resume for future agents. I’d done nothing but this one show. Nothing.

No big deal, right? I had loads in my resume.

Then I came across that goddamn Mr. Knowles, with his vitriol of anyone younger than him, and I began to doubt. Or rather, question what I think I always feared.

Patrick Stewart in the remarkable documentary The Captains (which is on netflix if you want to give it a watch), said “my work is everything”, and as anyone who’s watched his performances knows, his focus is incredible. This is, as revealed in the interview, something that he prioritized beyond his own family.

Another hero of mine, incidentally.

And here I am contemplating whether to just go to sleep after I finish this or just play Fallout 4 for 12 hours before work. Clearly, clearly, I could be doing more.

Arguments could be made. My mental health, my deserving of a life away from my work and my drive. And as far as not focusing on purely acting anymore, it’s a good thing to have many feathers in your cap, right?

No says, Mr. Knowles. Nonono. If I keep going down this path, I’m fucked. I will not reach the celebrity status I could.

Is that all to life? No. Should it matter to me as much as it does? Absolutely not. Does it matter to me, despite all internal screaming and headbashing? Yup.

I want to be recognized. I want to be recognized by my peers, but beyond that, I want to be recognized by the people. The people who have no reason to bullshit you, the people that will give you 1 star on youtube if you’re talking to slow. I want people to come up to me and say “Your work helped”. I want so much to make a difference, to inspire.

And yet, I can’t even inspire myself. My website is stagnant, and I have no desire to fill my twitter or facebook pages with pointless wank. I want my work to speak for itself, and yet I have no work.

I want my relationships to be strong. And yet, here I am in a strange city with no close friends and no idea where to start.

I want so very badly to get up and jog in the morning, eat right, work on a script before lunch, do adult stuff before 3 and then go work. I’m just not that guy yet.

At 24, that’s a pretty sobering thing to admit. In my personal life, I’ve said goodbye to many people who seem to have given up on me without warning.

2016 looms, and Mr. Knowles words are ringing in my ears. Am I focused? Can I make it work? I honestly don’t know. All I know is that I can’t quit. All of this, from friends abandoning me, to work eluding me- are setbacks, hurdles to overcome. Until I figure out something better, I’m gonna keep plodding towards my mountain.

Besides, I probably shouldn’t be taking advice from a mean egotistical wash up anyway, that sounds like a Trump voter to me.


This is me by another mountain. Ah? AH? Geddit? Yeah, you get it.

You can find me on my website or my twitter!