There’s something connecting my current living in Queens, my need for writing online, my search for attention from my peers, my relationship with my mother, my father’s passing, my separation with Sophia, my discomfort with the superficial nature of Twitter, my relationships with female bloggers, my dick, my heart, my brain, the written word, the need for physical contact, my deep-seated belief in kindness, my education, my feelings of superiority, my feelings of inferiority, my ambition, my fear of success, my laziness, and my love for good bread, such as pumpernickel or challah. There is something connecting it all, but the pieces of the puzzle are scattered all over my work desk in an unorganized mess. I can see that they are related, but for now, I stare at the distorted grainy jagged slices of reality, hoping to one day fit it all together into a complete picture that I can hang on the wall.
Neil Kramer has been writing about his life online since 2005. He has worked for Disney and HBO. Neil lives in NYC. You can contact him at neilochka on yahoo.
aren’t we all?
I like this post. I find your need to over-think everything fascinating.
Blah. First of all, hanging a glued together puzzle on the wall is tacky. Secondly, and more importantly, it’s a bad decision, because that means you can never play with it again.
I love the thinking as well. I call it out-thinking myself.
Hope your puzzle gets itself together soon..:)
right now i feel more like that puzzle piece that gets lost in the sofa cushions of the long forgotten unfinished puzzle.
Well that sounds like a very unsatisfying way to tie up a very interesting life; piece the edges together the best you can and leave a lot of room to change and grow.
All I can say is, “Word.”
I could comment on the meaning of all this, but I won’t because I’m just sitting back and enjoying the cadence of all those words. bumpity-bump.
first step: sort
second step: assemble
third step: tear apart
fourth step: start a new puzzle
fifth step: repeat
how about you just let it?
putting the puzzle together serves for some fascinating writing from a fascinating person. thank you for letting us bear witness to the work you are doing.
Hallah! (couldn’t resist)
Oh Neil, I hate that your sad, confused and kicking defenseless animals. I wish I could give you a hug, a real one, not those stupid Twitter hugs made out of parenthesis.
You haven’t yet finished your transformational arc. Put yourself in jeopardy and find love along the way. That always works.
You’re a screenwriter. You should know this.
And you’re fine. Disorganized maybe? But you’re a heck of a lot more together than some other people. Don’t be insecure, we’ve seen your feet!
That would be YOU, dear. You’re connecting them all.
What’s the point of finishing a puzzle? You’re just going to tear it apart again.
I think many of us have the same pieces in our own puzzles. I think it’s also easy to assume that everyone else’s pieces are fit tightly together, when everyone has shit scattered all over their desk. Is there anyone out there that truly has all their pieces connected, revealing the complete picture? Teach us all how it’s done!
I see the problem as the fact that the puzzle pieces are three-dimensional shape-shifters with stringy, clingy tentacles.
I suspect you think this was just a throwaway post, but I gotta tell you, it highlights exactly why I read you.
You’ve got to find the corner pieces first…
Hey, how do you know that the current configuration isn’t just exactly the way things are supposed to fit together in your life?
it’s your heart.
I love your observations and comments. I love how you “float” ideas and report on which way the wind is blowing. I love your willingness to “put it out there” and come what may. Bless you! I’m not always sure that the pieces I’m studying all belong to the same puzzle. It keeps things interesting, eh?
good luck with that and when you find the magic answer pass it on 🙂
Life, life is the puzzle. The odd, the beautiful, the hurt, the smiles, it’s all rolled up into living.