Problems.

We all have problems.

Some of us dwell on them. Some of us obsess over them and lose perspective.

Personally speaking, I've been doing a lot of self-examination these days. I've been reviewing the pages of my life to this point, and trying to pinpoint where I may have missed a turn.

It may sound a little ungrateful, considering all of the great gifts I have. And in some respects it is just that.

But I have this nagging feeling in my gut. It's a feeling of unrest. It's a feeling of dissatisfaction. So I'm back to the drawing board to reevaluate my position and formulate a plan of action.

On my way home from work this evening, however, a radio news story snapped me out of my self-obsessed stupor and put things into perspective.

Reportedly, a man was taking a picture of his wife and six-month-old daughter at the Central Park Zoo earlier today when a tree branch fell onto them, killing his daughter and critically injuring his wife.

I cannot imagine the devastation this man must be feeling at this moment.

I said a prayer for the him and the survival of his wife. I hope you all will, too.

Surely, many of us have legitimate problems. And this blog will continue occasionally to be a vehicle for my own self-important whining and complaining.

But I sincerely encourage you all to count your blessings today and every day.

One Wild Night in Suburbia

Last night was crazy. Bonkers. Bananas.

I made some new friends, and we went bar hopping. I got pretty severely wasted. Drugs were involved.

We went to a strip club. And I had sex in a bathroom with some beautiful British blonde I had just met. It was kind of hot. But mostly awkward and funny.

I had lots of other adventures, too. And my wife was sitting next to me the entire time. And the whole experience only cost us $27 at the Garden State Plaza AMC Theater.

In other words, we saw Get Him To the Greek last night. It is and R-rated, raucous romp that delivers big laughs and plenty of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll.

The film follows the young, earnest record label employee Aaron Greenberg (the lovable tub Jonah Hill) who shows up to work one day to find he has been charged with the task of fetching his idol, British rocker Aldous Snow (the brilliant Russell Brand) from London and getting him back to the Greek Theater in L.A. for a massive concert performance.

But before he takes off for London, however, we are given a few glimpses into Greenberg's relationship with his live-in girlfriend Daphne (Elisabeth Moss), and it's mostly sexless and a little bit sad. She is a doctor who works opposite hours and is climbing into bed in her dirty scrubs when he goes off to work. When they have a few hours to spend together, she is just dying to watch Gossip Girl. He suggests they go see the Mars Volta. She doesn't know who they are. Etc., etc.

When he visits her hospital to excitedly tell her about his impending flight to London, she also has some news. She is waiting on a residency at a great hospital in Seattle. "There's lots of great music stuff in Seattle," she reassures him. "Nirvana!... Nirvana came from Seattle, right?" This leads to some hysterical dialogue and, of course, a fight that ends with the two of them taking a break. This is the perfect set up to his intercontinental descent into debauchery.

Russell Brand is totally believable as a drug-addled, obnoxious, hyper-sexual, magnetic rockstar. This is because he is all of these things. In reality, he is currently sober, but he has been addicted to heroin. And though he's now engaged to Katy Perry, he boasts of having bedded thousands. And while he's not a household name in America yet, this movie could change that.

As the battery of the film, Brand's performance is captivating, riotous and quite deep in places. Aldous is the psychological center of the film: a rockstar given to excess, struggling with the possibility his best days are behind him, surrounded by people but perpetually lonely. The audience stands with Greenberg as he struggles to contain this force of nature. As he gives into Aldous' charms, so do we. And thanks to the miracle of movies, we don't have to experience the painful hangovers, or the puke on our lapel.

Things do dip into semi-serious territory in the third act with mixed results, but throughout it all, the chemistry between Hill and Brand never loses steam, making this another winning Apatow production.

Previews of Coming Attractions.

Today's entry will be short and somewhat scattered.

Rather than write a complete, coherent post, I will use the short time I have to give you a list of topics I plan to cover over the next few weeks.

Why I Love and Loathe the Damned Wonderful Internet.

Caffeine: America's Publicly Celebrated Drug Addiction and How It Nearly Ruined Me.

Hero Pattern: Making Peace With the Past.

How To Lose Friends and Alienate People or the Prodigious Power of Passive Aggression

Confessions of a Chronically Late Idiot.

...

and speaking of that... I have to stop now and get to work.

-jason

Reunion Fever

Over the next several weeks, my social schedule includes two significant reunions. They are both "once-in-a-lifetime" events. And while I haven't been stressing about either of them, I figure I can at least begin over- analyzing. This may naturally lead to stress.

The first event is my high school reunion. Not my five-year. Not my ten. It's actually my twelve-year high school reunion. Why twelve years, you ask? There are several reasons, but it really boils down to my best friend.

He was our senior class president, and it is typically the president's responsibility to organize these events. As president, he was a true maverick. He did things his own way, with a potent mix of ambition and disregard for the school's values and traditions.

When he graduated, he made it clear to me he had very little interest in the idea of a reunion. We often joked we would never have one. As it turned out, it wasn't until the five and ten-year mark passed that some friends from our graduating class strong-armed him into making this happen.

But twelve years feels good. Honestly, what's the point of a five-year reunion anyway? At this point, you're likely to still be in touch with the people you care about. And unless you have absolutely no interests or hobbies, you're probably not thumbing through your barely-old yearbook, saying things like, "Ooooh! I wonder what (INSERT RANDOM CLASSMATE YOU NEVER SPOKE TO HERE) is up to these days. I wonder what he/she looks like now!" Um, no.

Ten year reunion? Overdone. Too predictable. But when the plan for this reunion started to take shape, I was surprised at my own reaction. It seems that just the right amount of time has passed to allow for some genuine excitement at the prospect of seeing some of my old classmates in person. And not just my friends. But even the casual acquaintances. Hopefully they all turned out alright.

But a twelve year reunion means something else as well. It means most of us have hit 30 years old. And that number... that scary, little reminder of our mortality... well, it's something we have in common now.

The only problem is my best friend asked me to MC this event with him. I agreed. And I have little to no idea of what that entails. So the stress begins.

The second of the aforementioned two reunions is a reunion of my former band Hero Pattern. This event deserves its own entry when I have more time to get my thoughts about it in order. But the details are as follows:

Friday, July 9th.

@Maxwell's in Hoboken

It is a benefit for a friend of ours named Dan Duggins. He recently suffered a stroke and became completely paralyzed. He has no health insurance. Please come out and help us raise some money for his care and recovery.

- jason

Fly Away, J-Bird

As some people know, I am a retail manager. The psychological reverberations of that fact will likely inspire at least a few entries on this blog. But for the moment, I can focus on the good of it. I managed a fantastic crew and worked shoulder to shoulder with some extremely talented managers. The store becomes a second home. And you get a house full of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, misfits and weirdos.

Then you get the news you're being transfered to another store. Then you get some heartfelt goodbyes and well-wishes. And lastly, you get a delicious chocolate cake.

Today I start at the new store. This is my tiny universe.

Meanwhile, oil continues to gush into the gulf coast. The Middle East maintains its status quo of hopelessness. North Korea is threatening war if the UN delivers sanctions. Political unrest continues in Thailand. And so on and so forth. But I cannot obsess about these issues. I am having enough trouble managing the relatively mundane details of my own life.

I have to get ready for work.

*Extra special thanks to Lauren for the cake and the lovely photo of it.

A Small Victory.

Welcome to my first blogspot. I've named it "Smashing the Block," and that in itself is a small victory.

I am currently somewhere in the depths of a "creative downcycle." This can make every creative endeavor - however small - an excruciating process. But I can put this one behind me. And the title is appropriate.

I am speaking, of course, of smashing the creative block. It speaks to my frustration and anger. It gets to the point. This is a good start.

There is so much I want to write. Important things. Deep things. Shallow things. Opinions. Facts. The usual blog stuff. The challenge is in the writing.

Thankfully, I now have a place to write it all.

- Jason

*Extra-special thanks to my wife Melissa for pushing me.