Frustration, or Ideas flow as the Whiskey goes.

In Media Res: I am jealous of Jenna Marbles.

Several years ago, in the era which could best be described as fallout from the end of my marriage, I had two goals. To search for something (jesus, answers, absolution, etc) at the bottom of every bottle I could get my hands on, and weaseling out of as much actual work as I could at my job. Eventually, I did myself a damage to my prostate from sitting cross-legged on the floor and draining whiskey bottles for hours every day. I've since had to stop, and for various reasons have not felt up to getting hammered on a regular basis since.

The work thing turned out pretty well. I've managed to move from one semi-supervisory position to the next with a great deal of responsibility and very little effort required. High-risk, high reward. That reward being, currently, the ability to sit on my arse and play video games while I'm clocked in.... I mean, regularly review training materials in my downtime between helping other agents.

Back to the alcohol: I was one of those proper drunken writers. I could down a few glasses of whiskey and then hammer angrily and miserably at the keyboard for an hour and turn out something actually quite good that I didn't even remember thinking of.

Smash cut to the present: Jenna Marbles's latest video is her hammered and slurring into the camera as she's doing her hair. It's really quite genius, in that it's been up only a few hours and she's already gotten 35,000+ views. I remember doing this, in blog form, only without an audience. Or much of one, at least.

It's kind of frustrating, having one or two ideas every now and then sort of half-materialize only to fizzle out. As it is, I think I just wrote a few paragraphs about how I can't write anything. The irony is not lost on me. And I'll have a proper subject next week, I'm sure.