Always A Reason


2016 was a fantastic year for me as I undoubtedly garnered the respect and admiration of many people through my writing and photography, making a series of deep connections and built up my audience to new unprecedented levels the likes of which came as a surprise, even to me.  Despite this success, it seems that as as long as I’ve been alive, there always seem to be many reasons to not feel good enough, to feel left out, or to interpret ones success as insignificant when compared to that of another.

Comparing ourselves to others is often times an unsafe bet.  For example, why did it take me so long to get here, and what is it that I have truly achieved, gained, or overcome.  And perhaps most importantly for me, what evidence do I have to prove such success or achievements?  Regardless, society has taught us that no matter, it should never feel as if what we have or what we have done is ever enough; one must always strive for perfection, regardless of what one has truly accomplished or created.  In popular parlance there exists an expectation that one must achieve better.

There were just so many things this past year to be upset over, as my fears of the downward spiral of society, as evidenced by the rude disrespectfulness of today’s generation.  It seems that no matter where one goes, one is almost a guaranteed to be treated by someone in the most unnecessarily rude or disrespectful manner.  Today’s society is a me-first one, where narcissism is widely accepted and often rewarded.  Sometimes I feel as if I’m a walking stick of lit dynamite; there is only so much a person can put up with.  Ones possessions eventually fail, and everyone one loves slowly dies.

There are many friends whom I never see, so many hopes and dreams of what I wanted to do, planned to achieve, wished to see, and yet those things are always being postponed, often indefinitely to the point where they never to come to be.  This adult thing, I don’t get it; 37 years old and it seems like just yesterday I was a child, sketching out plans for wondrous inventions, limited only by my imagination.  Picture-perfect maps of hopes and dreams of how my life and love would be.

I try too hard to hold onto intangible things; things that no longer exist.  Things that are often as insignificant as they are mundane, useless, and pointless.  Things that are of no consequence, yet obsessive and unrequited, almost as if I’m grasping at ghosts of long forgotten silhouettes of dreams, in the most futile and wasteful manner.  These thoughts and dreams, often negative and each and every one a little scary, forever lost and never to return.  Time itself stops for no one and never shows signs of ever slowing down.  For one day I wish I could go back in time to change the circumstances of my life, to rejoice in my small triumphs and avert the pitfalls and mistakes I had made so many years ago.  I want to right the wrongs, speak up against unfairness and unjust, stand up and feel safe.

There are so many things still left unsaid; the constant struggle of wondering what might have been, what could have been, and even what should have been. Things I wanted or needed to say, things I could have done differently.  Each step I took in life, had a ripple effect, and sometimes those very steps taken in complete trust and faith betrayed me.

I look to the children of today trying to warn them of the bad things in life that could happen to them if they’re not careful, and how every decision they make has the potential to affect the rest of their lives, and possibly the lives of those around them.  These words of wisdom, no matter how wise or truthful, are often ignored by today’s generation, as more attention and admiration is given to frivolous status updates on social networking websites, shared like disembodied snapshots of a hyper-connected social gathering completely devoid of any intellect.  Channels of communication are seemingly always open, connected, and ever present, yet we  feel more disconnected than ever before.  Human interaction is met with a digital divide, which separates and isolates us from expressing and understanding our own feelings and needs, as well as those of others.  Our thoughts, ideas, and emotions are expressed through the keys of a message board, which has become vogue.

In my life, there has always existed a reason to say goodbye to yesterday, though doing so seems impossible due to the multitude of emotions associated with the past, the majority of which seem unresolved, and attached as if they will always be a part of me that I may never part with.  These thoughts and memories of the past may be a harmful parasitic possession that, although burdensome emotionally, I cannot bare the thought of doing without them, yet comparing my life to today to my life decades ago seems to be a source of inspiration and fodder for my creativity.

Originally, this piece was envisioned to be just another mid-month post on my blog, but it quickly snowballed into something much more.  Once it grew to its apogee, I decided that it would be best suited to represent my end-of-the-year masterpiece.

Let Me Be A Part Of The Narrative | On the subject of leaving | Time is Running Out | Life after Deleting Facebook | Addicted to Addicts | Journal Entry #8 – 31/11/2016 | Who Am I? A Beginning. | My Childhood In A Jar | When I Was 16, A Retrospect | I Remember Everything | Star Gazing | Maybe | You Expect An Easy Answer


  • Louis Krodel

    Hi Thomas, I was 9 years old when I met Yeffe and Harvey. Actually I was closer to Yeffe because I would peek in and loo at her paintings and go for walks with her during the summer. My son Michael is your age and you met him on one of our visits.

    Your writing is very good and your issues are universal. Good luck. I have a magnet plaque on my refrigerator: “Do not let yesterday take up too much of today.”
    Best wishes, Lou

  • Kai Beck

    I was guilty of that for the longest time too; and I’d make the most absurd comparisons; sitting at the piano I’d compare myself to Chick Corea; or Franco Columbo at the gym; read Nabokov and think there’s no point even *trying* to write something. I hope I’m beyond that now.

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