News and booze

"For good or ill, journalism and neurosis may be inextricably caught up together, tangled in the timeless conundrum of what comes first. Does the profession break talented people with steady pressure, severe constraints, and public censure for missteps? Or does it attract broken talent who seek unstable schedules, extreme experiences, and the megalomaniacal pleasure of their name in print?"
- From "Charting the Connection Between Booze and News" by Tony Dokoupil on CJR Daily

When this got passed around the newsroom Tuesday, I dutifully read the funnier 'graphs to our bureau chief and the West Volusia editor to, you know, spread the amusement.

And share a moment of not-so-serious solidarity (although Ron says his life thus far has been pretty staid, I’m not really believing that. All writers have stories, right?)

Without revealing secrets whispered during drunken confessions or shared with the entire newsroom from the cubicle known as my soapbox, I can only say we laughed wryly.

I don’t usually get too personal on this blog – not that I think anyone reads it anyway – but this tongue-in-cheek criticism held some weight with me.

And not just because we often unwind from the news to Blue Moon, pinot and live bands.

It’s because two weeks ago I bought my first pack of cigarettes – ever. Menthols.

I found myself needing to step out of the building and de-stress, to give sometimes-shaking hands something to do. For me, it wasn’t about the nicotine, at least not yet.

After a brief adolescent experimentation, I decided I didn’t like smoking; that hasn’t changed. Yet here I was inhaling and exhaling like a fire-breathing dragon, er, reporter.

I’ve smoked less than half the pack in two weeks and I haven’t smoked at all, really, in about five days. I guess it’s lost its appeal somehow.

But the pack of cigarettes remains in my purse growing stale for one of those days, perhaps, when I need to go insane and the only consolation is a bad habit.

Photo courtesy about.com