[yawns] Ou, this lil’ body is tired.
This post is part two of a multi-part personal essay series exploring creative obsession, gig work, loneliness, and ambition in Los Angeles.
I Woke Up Tired — Part Two: Creative Obsession, Loneliness, and Late Nights in Los Angeles
See, when I start, I don’t know how to stop. I spent the afternoon and evening yesterday in the library clicking away on these lil’ keys about how I woke up pissed and scribbling on a notepad about my ideas for AROUND, the interview series.
When the library closed, forcing me to stop, I walked home, ate the remainder of the food I’d taken from Fanatics Studios’ launch party in the Clippers’ arena the day prior, then said, well lemme just wrap up one of the drafts I’d started in the library right quick.
Ain’t nothin’bout me no right quick.
I stood at the kitchen counter for who knows how long in front of my device propped up on a lap desk with legs that I’d gotten from Barnes & Noble years ago. Left leg stretched diagonally across the peninsula as if I were about to do a hamstring stretch on a ballet barre, then, left foot in towards the crease where my body meets my thigh, before letting that limb finally find the floor, I was in all sorts of poses. No sense in sitting down, I won’t be here for long.
I didn’t close my computer until 1:30am.
You know what, let me go refill this aluminum Open Water bottle at the water fountain, then set my…
Zzzz zzzz! Zzzz zzzz!
Oh. [whispers] Hello.
Oh my God, bro! [grunts] Okay, we’ll talk later. [call ends, duration: 9 seconds]
I was in this same exact spot when Calvin called me yesterday afternoon.
Well, not thee exact spot. Yesterday, I sat at a single desk along the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows nearest the grand red, green and blue office building compound by the name of Pacific Design Center. Today, my back is to that historic Los Angeles landmark as I sit at one of the center tables that seat six in WeHo’s spacious public library.
“You mean to tell me that you met Mookie Betts and Tom Brady and you didn’t know who they were, T.K.?!” That’s thee only reason that Calvin is annoyed, he wants to hear the rest of that story, from working Fanatics x OBB Studios’ collaboration kickoff event night-before-last.
“I’ll give you Mookie Betts, okay, but Tom Brady?! Are you f*cking crazy?!” Calvin continues on the phone yesterday, after I’d whispered to him what I was working on. “You do realize that Tom Brady is considered the greatest athlete to have ever played the game of football, right?!”
No. No, I didn’t realize. “He looks like a white man to me,” I whisper. I tell him how of course I’ve heard the name and took a double-take once I’d walked away when someone said it, but walking around the VIP section, introducing myself, letting them know that’ll be taking care of them, he doesn’t look any different to me than any other guest I’m offering cocktails.
He’s tall, and fine, yeah. However, nothing in my mind said, “hey, I know this guy.”
(Note: Even if it did, my mind recognizing someone, it wouldn’t change a got damn thing. For example, James Harden was in my section and I hit him with one of the same need anything? variations as the people standing next to him and the ones standing next to them. … From what I’ve gathered, I suppose this is where a sports enthusiast would find it strange that a person could recognize a much less notable professional athlete, James Harden, while not even noticing an irrefutable sports legend, Tom Brady, standing all of five feet apart. Well, it’s simple. James Harden ^be tf outside.)
No one is being treated differently. Calvin, being my best guy friend, has witnessed enough to know, it’s no respect a person with me. I’m Our Father’s child in that way for sure. I don’t give a f*ck.
Hm, I think that’s a good note to end on. Maybe in part three, I’ll actually pick up from where I left off in part one of Tuesday’s sh!tty shenanigans. Yesterday morning, I woke up pissed, and by pissed, in this instance, I don’t mean angry. I was disappointed. I was sad. I felt all on my own in this journey to success. And I know, it’s one’s own journey when on the path to success. It’s one’s own, so why wouldn’t she be on her own? Why would he need company? Well, me, that’s what I need. I want folks on this journey. Nothing is worth doing if it’s only for me.
Rushing to a last-minute gig for subpar pay and hearing what the company heads, Michael Rubin and Michael Ratner, had to say, from up on stage, about their new joint venture that we were there that day to celebrate, put me in my feelings.
Damn, TK…
Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve. You really be f*cking up.
I was fake mad. (This is yesterday, the morning after working the Fanatics Studios event). I felt bad. I didn’t know it. I didn’t know how I felt, or what I was thinking. My mind moves too fast for me. I’m always doing too much. Yet, I’m never doing enough.
IT WAS NOT COMPARISON. B*tch, I’m a little off, but I’m not full-blown flipping crazy. This was not a room with my competition. These were billionaires with a B; I’m thinking about going get on food stamps next week. Hello?! No, but seriously, I have to clear that up right quick because that’s a circling theme in this social media age, stop comparing yourself. Yes, it’s common. However, for me, it’s never been a problem. [chuckles] I promise, I’m not a narcissist, but when it comes to comparison, all I see is me.
All I see are the dreams that God gave me — notes that I’ve scribbled in my journal, purposeful project ideas, values-driven business plans — not anything I’ve seen anywhere else nor that I want to do because I see someone else doing it, only what has come about in my spirit organically. That’s why I have to tell thee entire story, to illustrate what transpired and the backstory, the connection that led to the revelation.
Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah!
I said, do you want a revolution?!
Woop woop!
Songs always start playing in my head.
This my therapy, f*ck yo’ couch.
Okay, for real, for real. I’m closing. The sun is setting and I’d like to walk home during, not after, this evening.
Wow, writing is really my therapy. I’m so glad to be here in this moment, sitting in this public library, working through my thoughts. It’s not work that I’ve been avoiding, picking up projects, putting them down, taking off with an idea and never seeing it through some sort of completion, or even worse, getting an idea and even giving it a go to find out if it’s a good one. I thought I had no discipline, I called myself lazy, but as my big cousin Rashan pointed out to me on a group video call yesterday, I am disciplined and I’m far from lazy.
I wasn’t avoiding work, I was avoiding lonliness.
Ahh! The orangeness to blue-gray! It’s getting dark. We’ll pronounce these traces a bit more on the next written entry AROUNDwithTK.
I highly doubt that anyone will find my little writings here in my little corner of the Internet, but in the event that you did, and you read all the way to the end, thank you for coming AROUND.
What I thought was going to be a cute, quick lil’ storytime turned into a whole series of reflections. Go to the previous post for the introduction to see how it started. Or, move to part three to get to the meat.
Glossary
^ be tf outside = frequents nightlife venues, attends trending events