These last few weeks have been a whirlwind. It’s been meeting-after-meeting and event-after-event; there have been celebrations for holidays I never thought I’d celebrate, client events, and plenty of “real life dramas” that always manage to doctor up the recipe of our lives. Then you throw in the intense work that is going into the development of the soon-to-relaunch magazine and clothing line, and you’ve got yourself a hell of a weekly burnout.
The truth is, there’s a lot going on and the even truer statement is: I wouldn’t want it any other way. Because, one of the many perks of keeping your plate in a constant state of overflow are the incredible opportunities that come your way. If you let them…
Last month, a friend of mine reached out to express her interest in pursuing her passion of photography; she asked me if I could help her get in touch with artists, performers, and celebrities as they come into town. Happily, I obliged and in turn asked her to join the Trendeh Magazine team as a staff photographer. She obliged and the partnership began, and since then so many awesome things have happened.
On Thursday though, the partnership lead to learning experience that I never thought I’d have when all of a sudden — with like, no notice — the photographer announced she wasn’t feeling well and was definitely not going to make a concert event that evening. This means, I had to go solo and “figure it out.”
It’s not the figuring it out part that daunted me. (I’ve always been great at that.) It’s the “going solo” that has always been enough to send shivers down my spine. Regardless of what event it is, who I know, or what I’m supposed to be doing while I’m there… Total fear; I’ll admit it — I tried to back out, but if there’s one thing I hate more than being uncomfortable, it’s being viewed as unreliable.
The show must go on…
I managed to muster up the confidence and scooped up a friend at the last minute to venture out to the event; once there everything seemed perfection. The crowd wasn’t shoulder to shoulder. The opening performer (a Philadelphia-based musician, Julian King) was un-fucking-believeable, and the concert was getting off to a great start when my accompanying friend said, “Dude, I’ve got to leave.”
I think I died. For a second. “But, Daley hasn’t even taken the stage yet,” I said. “You have to leave now?”
“Yes,” he confirmed as I made a dramatic effort to chug the rest of my [completely full] drink.
“You know what?” I courageously thought aloud, “Go ahead. I’ll be fine. I’ll get them to let me up on the balcony.”
The short version of this story is, I ended up staying at this concert by myself and was able to enjoy most of it. (It’s safe to say I’m officially a Daley fan.) The fun was cut a little short when news came through that a friend of mine was losing her year long battle with lung and brain cancer, but in hindsight, I suppose the public setting helped me to keep my sh!t together.