A week ago I hopped a flight to Los Angeles, parties in the streets of West Hollywood for Halloween, went to my apartment, which I haven’t seen in over a month, washed clothes, packed, and ran back to the airport to begin a Historically Black College and University tour on the east coast with 90 children and several chaperones.
We landed in Atlanta, drove north as far as Baltimore, then back down in under 7 days. Great cause, great trip, great times! This morning, they all hopped on the bus for the final leg, and I hopped on Amtrak to head north to New York City for another interview for my film, Seeking Asylum, and a few other small things I need to handle. I’ll be in NYC for a few days, long enough to stroll through all of Central Park, stopping by the John Lennon memorial, Sheep’s Meadow, and maybe even grab an all beef dog from my favorite cart.
I’ll hop a bus south to Virginia at some point mid-week to see my folks, kiss my mother, finally catch up with my brother, and then jump in the car and make my way to Orlando for an award ceremony Bethune Cookman University is having, honoring me and several of my peers for living amazing lives.
I’ll hop a flight from there and make it to Los Angeles in time to fly out to Brazil.
This is exhausting…to someone. To me? This has become so regular, and I love every piece of it. I have only one regret:
I didn’t get to get my body in proper order for Brazil. Perhaps with some fat burning pills, no food, and a week in the gym, I’ll be good to go.
F**k it. I’ll be fine.