One project I've been working on that's portrayed in Generation Meds is called Test Tracks. It's basically a collection of songs hip hop songs and music videos designed to help elementary and highschool students learn the type of educational content that's tested on a statewide level. Check it out at: www.testtracks.com. It's something I've been developing for a few years, and I'd love any feedback from any and everyone in the media making, educational or musical community. Thanks. Hope you enjoy!

For the first post on this blog I wanted to e-print an extended version of my director's statement.

Bloggers of the world seem to write just about anything (often, regrettably everything) about their lives.

It seems a format without form, so I figure anything goes.

Expect further entries to be shorter, more informal and probably exponentially boring (i.e. today I bought orange flavored toothpaste). AOL true story.

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There is no essential self that lies pure as a vein of gold under the chaos of experience and chemistry.
- Andrew Solomon, The Noonday Demon

In the sixth grade I was an energetic athlete, both in and out of the classroom. In English I invented a particularly vigorous game: whenever my teacher turned her back to the class I would jump up and run around my chair as many times as possible without being caught. My classmates were avid spectators of the sport, and without fail, their laughter would leave me face to face with the principal. I was a solid A.D.D. student, according to a psychiatrist I visited, and so, along with millions of other eighties babies across the nation, was prescribed Ritalin.

When next semester, my English teacher dubbed me "the miracle kid," she wasn't referring to my around-the-chair-laps-per-turned-teacher-time. In fact, since taking the bitter-tasting yellow pills it wasn't so torturous to actually sit in my seat. As far as I know my teacher wasn't aware of my newfound chemical assistance. If she had been, maybe she wouldn't have christened my behavioral change an act of God. Maybe then she would have simply called me "the medicated kid."

But she didn't know. My doctor and parents thought it best that I keep my medication "private." My attention deficit disorder was not something to be at all ashamed of, I was told, but not something I wanted people knowing about, in case they ... well, just in case.

I now wonder if this experience has any resemblance to the much harsher struggles my Jewish German ancestors endured; if the fear of being found out is why religion faded fast from my family as the century brought its terrors. There must come a point when the dread of other's judgments is so great, that the safety of secrets seems no longer enough, and the decision to deny ones identity altogether (even to oneself) feels necessary.

I think there was something wonderful about the sprit (or chemical imbalance) that urged me to sprint around my seat; something that was released each day when the pills wore off.

Society often calls for a balanced mind, and I'm, grateful that medication helped me achieve such a state. But, this does not mean abnormal psychological states; mine or others, cannot be interesting, important and even useful. Those who experience such states, those who are these states, have often produced works of great truth and beauty (Hemingway, Wolfe, Van Gough, Jesus). Sadly these souls were also frequently fated to suffer both societies' scorn, and often worse, the dangers and perils of a fiery mind.

Some were able to tame these flames with whisky, some holy water; many have choked. From all of these groups (and there a plenty who have sipped from both sides of the glass) there have been those who created something wonderful for the rest of us, despite, and possibly because of, their mental instability.

About my 6th grade diagnosis, the doctor told me that "most people get better when they grow up," and that I probably wouldn't need the medication for the rest of my life. I wasn't A.D.D, I had A.D.D., and each day Ritalin simply "kept it under control."

The truth is I was incredibly thankful then; so relieved to excel at my work, so glad to finally be a good boy, that I didn't spend much time wondering whether my new success should be attributed to "me" or the pills. Even if I had been capable of such reflection at age 10, I never much entertained questions of identity or responsibility regarding my achievements or inadequacies. Then, I was just happy to finally fit in.

But, an inquiry of exactly this sort came later about anti-depressant drugs. During this period, much of which is captured in Generation Meds, my head was filled with questions about fault, strength, destiny and fate; questions with possibly very frightening potential answers; answers bitterer and harder to swallow than any pills I'd taken in the past.

A tiny stenographer in my mind's court might have produced the following transcript during the trail of Me vs. Me, 2005:

"Are you not a weaker person if you take anti-depressants? Would you not be betraying your true self, maybe even obscuring your identity until it's never again recognizable? Is it possible that your sadness in fact a sign you need to change your life? Would taking these pills, in fact, stop you from discovering a life that would actually make you happy?"

This line of internal questioning was the initial reason for making our documentary.

These are philosophical and psychological questions that I still find fascinating, both as someone who has struggled with the decision of whether or not to take anti-depressant medication, and as a citizen of a culture informed by modern psychopharmacology.

But being fascinated does not a film make.

I was extremely lucky that Ana Joanes, now a dear friend, was my producing and directing partner on this project. Generation Meds is in many ways her movie about me. She is a kind and brilliant woman who was brave when I was unable to be, forcing me to face the questions addressed in the work when I was too afraid to do so. I am grateful for this persistence not only because it helped me immensely, but also because I believe the resulting documentary will entertain, interest, and hopefully help people as significantly as its production helped me.

If nothing else, I believe our movie will push the viewer to question any assumptions they may hold about the internal struggles of people who take psychopharmacological medication, and hopefully about their own internal struggles as well.