I recently created a social media about 3-4 months ago, twitter- to be specific. Anyone that knows me also knows I have a love-hate relationship with social medias. While social media can be a great source of entertainment and information(or misinformation), I believe it can also be detrimental to personal growth. In my years, I have had two twitter accounts and three instagram accounts( I was trying hard to be a normal millennial), but all those accounts were eventually deleted. I decided to share my 3 main issue with social media.

  1. Too much info
  2. Friends
  3. “Whats on your mind?”

1. TMI

When I was on social media, I knew everything about everything; what Kanye wore today, what Lady Gaga is doing at this particular moment, which a, b, c to z list celebrity did what. Simply put, I knew a whole lot about nothing. Social media can become a gossip site where you receive tiny bits of information on someone’s life, assume you now know them, and therefore commence judgement upon them. All this can be a great distraction from what you really need to focus on- yourself. Having these bits of unnecessary info swimming in my subconscious caused great irritation. I don’t care to know that celebs are doing with their life, but being on social media, it’s almost impossible for gossip to pervade your timeline. Before you know it, you become a gossiper yourself. Even if I did come across substantial news; for ex. politics or the ludicrous administration we’ve currently ushered in, by next morning, there’s already some mind-boggling news or info ready to consume my mind- yesterday’s or last week’s big headline is simply and easily forgotten. Information is so fast on social medias, our mind tries to keep up, and we inevitably lack peace of mind.

2. Friends

Watching a friend vent on social media  is honestly the most pathetic cringe worthy shit ever. You want to call immediately and advise them to drop their phone in the toilet(and flush ). Please… Please… Please.. if you plan on joining the twitter or instagram community, have some (fucking) self-discipline.Stop subtweeting your significant other, call them and have a real conversation(millennials have the worst communication skills). Also, perhaps this is just me, but I notice some friends create a social media account and also create a persona for that particular account- this persona might be fabricated and possibly be the complete opposite of who you know your friend is- or (I want to believe) this persona might be just a small particle of their actual personality.

Honestly, the worst is when your friends ask “why don’t you follow me?”

3. “What’s on your mind?”

Perhaps its just my personal paranoia against humankind, but I don’t understand why you need to know what I am thinking or doing on a daily basis. I sincerely do not wish to know what you are doing or thinking every day. I don’t want to know what you ate for breakfast without asking you or where you went for vacation without you telling me(orally!). Knowing random information about other people, to me, is creepy.

(Bonus): I always see on social media “somebody text me” “somebody hit my phone” “whats the move?”- this therefore leads me to imagine social media is filled with lonely individuals who can simply pull out their phone, scroll, and instantaneously connect with thousands of people across the globe – as opposed to going out, interacting, working on communication skills, and connect with other humans in real life.


“A new way of being alone. Hey, what’s the matter? just tell it to your phone” – Lupe Fiasco



Early last year (very early, beginning of January really), a friend and I decided that our New Years resolution, although as cliche as it is, would be to start going to the gym and bulk up. My friend Chris, and I were skinny so I believe at that point we both agreed to create our dream bodies. I believe a month or 2 after consistently hitting the gym, I injured my knee and tore my meniscus (haha). Before hitting the gym, I didn’t attempt to do any research further  than what workouts would produce the most effective results; therefore I suffered tremendously. I truly didn’t know the definition of “excruciating” till I injured my knee. The meniscus is the ligament in your knee that enables you to bend and straighten your knee. When I tore my meniscus, of course I had no idea or knowledge of what was occurring in my body at the time – so I stayed home for about 2 days hoping and believing my leg would just “go back to normal” (wtf was I thinking). After 2 days of hopping around the house on 1 leg, I forced my mother to go to the ER, and there, we discovered I needed surgery. About a week a later,  I received surgery on my knee and was immobilized for about 6-8 months.

Flashback: I remember during the physical therapy, I would laugh at myself because I just couldn’t believe I had to learn how to walk again.


It’s been over year since that incident, and honestly, I am still recovering (slight sporadic knee pains) – but overall, I am healthy. In the beginning of summer 2016, I decided to give the gym another try, and attempted to build the body I envisioned in my mind. Of course, this time, I did extensive (EXTENSIVE!) research before I even picked up a dumb-bell. For the whole of the summer, I went to the gym 4 days a week, tried my best to eat healthy, and get enough rest. The result is the proud feeling I receive when I look in the mirror and witness the body that was once just an image in my mind.

I basically became addicted to the gym, and the feeling of exhilaration and fulfillment working out gave me. Someone I know once said, “I have to go to the gym at least twice a week unless I’m just gonna be fucking angry.”


My biggest problem now is, because I have achieved my dream body, it is becoming difficult to motivate myself to go to the gym(which is really not a profound problem at all).  The gym not only  makes you physically strong, but it also provides an outlet where you can clear your mind and frustrations. One other habit I have incorporated  into my gym regiment is listening to audio books while working out. 1 hour in the gym = 1 audio book.


Below are the top 5 mistakes I see people make in the gym:

  1. Not stretching before and after workout. This is most likely why I tore my meniscus and was immobilized for 8 months (don’t be like me).
  2. Quality over quantity. People tend to rush their workouts and do not give their body time to actually feel the effects of whatever workout they’re doing. 5 quality push-ups are better than 10 rushed push-ups.
  3. What is your purpose? The action movie star Jason Statham once said, “Your body is like a piece of dynamite, You can tap it with a pencil all day but you’ll never make it explode. You hit once with a hammer: Bang!”. I’ve seen people do a complete set, then sit and scroll through twitter for about 10 minutes before they begin their next set. In my mind I’m thinking “why the fuck are you even here?”. Have a purpose when you’re hitting the gym.
  4. Too much cardio: Women go to the gym and do 30 minutes on a treadmill hoping to lose weight but they start to complain when they lose the nice ass they once had; Or men who intend to gain muscles also do the same, and will complain about not gaining enough muscles. Cardio eats your fat, if you have no fat, it eats your muscles. Personally, I don’t do cardio (besides walking my dog haha). But honestly, more than 10 minutes of cardio is too much.
  5. Focus on your whole body. Some men come into the gym and only workout their arms, resulting in bulky arms and weak ass pencil legs. Some women do cardio but are still physically weak. Remember to focus on your whole body. If you really want to be fit, don’t half-ass it. Set up a regiment to work on your every muscles from forearms, to shoulders, to back, to biceps, and triceps. Workout every inch of your body for an explosion!

P.S. The audio-book I listened to while I was in the gym today was As A Man Thinketh by James Allen <== great book.

From Da Bottom of Da Bottom

“From the bottom of the bottom, it was nothing under me” – Lil Herb

I have been accused by different people multiple times for being “too deep”. I have a bad habit of taking the most simple situation, concept, or circumstance and twisting it into a deeply profound or complex cluster-fuck. I can not deny that every day I wake up, I am amazed at my existence. While I do practice living in the moment, every day I open eyes, I think back to the issues and problems in my life I overcame. I could have died from homicide, car accident, poverty, or even suicide, but today I stand, stronger than I have ever been. Every day, I truly live in a mindset of gratitude for simply existing. I was able to wrestle with my inner demons, and I won. Some people are still alive but they are not living. These people I refer to as “The Walking Dead”. They are indeed alive, but are trapped in a deep state of depression or circumstance which has forced and pressured them to lose hope on life; And without hope, without a purpose, you are dead.

I was once dead.

From the bottom of the bottom, from my insecurities, depression, pessimism, and hopelessness, I crawled out.

Anyone that has felt the bottom of the bottom in their heart, and has been able to survive, knows that there is rarely anything or anyone that can take you back to the bottom.

When you survive bottom, it is irrelevant of what level or status you end up in, you are just glad you are not at the bottom any longer.

So every chance I get, I don’t hesitate to express to my loved ones the gratitude I feel of existing with them. Love is the most important ingredient, and the only perfect time is right now.


Dreams & Nightmares

I haven’t really received inspiration to write anything lately. I usually hate forcing myself to write. I prefer my ideas to hit me naturally so it may flow out with ease when I write; but I strongly desire to sharpen my writing skills and explore the ideas/visuals in my mind.

Unfortunately, this week, I’ve been experiencing a series of nightmares. I barely dream, so these striking and vivid nightmares sometimes seem too real; I’ve decided to share one.

It started with a friend and I walking down a street in Baltimore city at night. It was a dark night, only the street lights were on. He said to me “this isn’t even a bad neighborhood, you would never know this was in Baltimore”. We were walking down what was supposedly my neighborhood, it didn’t look like my actual neighborhood, but in the dream, it was. He passed me the bottle of Jack Daniel’s we were sipping on. I took a shot then replied “yeah mane, people always think Baltimore is a shit-hole, but I’m like, not every part. You just gotta know where you’re at”.
I passed the bottle back to him, I’m not really clear on what he said next, it was something along the lines of “fuck around and get robbed ’round here”. I just replied “you gotta chill” (I don’t even like that type of energy; in a dream or in real life, keep that negative shit away from me). I’m not sure how long we were walking and taking shots but in what seems like a few moments later, we looked back and saw 2 guys dressed in all black with ski-masks on – walking directly behind us( see, this is exactly why I keep that negative shit away from me). My friend and I looked at each other, our eyes met, and we ran. The guys in all black started shooting at us, we split up and kept running. I don’t think I can ran faster than a bullet but I guess when you’re in a situation like this, you do anything to survive even if it’s a 0.00001% chance of survival.. It’s a fucking a dream anyways. Somehow I got to my house but I had no clue where my boy was. I face-timed him; He picked up. He was hiding – crouched in a spot where he hoped the 2 bastards wouldn’t find him. I said “yo I’m bouta send you my address, just run and don’t stop”, he replied “guess what thooo?”
“I still got that bottle thooo” He said, with a big ass grin on his face as he flashes the Jack Daniel’s logo on the screen.
I just laughed.
All of sudden, he looked up to his left and I witnessed terror on his face. I could tell he was looking up at something – I could tell someone else was there. All I saw was a big black gun pointed to his head and I heard the shot… “pow!”… Silence.

Blood splattered and darkened the screen.

I woke up.

Thanks for reading lol

~ Written by Kn1ght-Wonder, Produced by Kn1ght-Alias

How To Be A Man

One of the most difficult things in life is teaching yourself how to be a man. Growing up, I never imagined how the absence of my father would affect my adulthood. This is not a sad cliche tale about a child growing up hating his absent father, because I don’t actually know him. I mean, I know who he is, but I don’t actually know him, ya dig?.. My feelings toward my father varies from enormous curiosity to indifference.

Raising the child by herself, the single mother becomes determined to be both a mother and a father to the child. She has the natural caring love of a mother but she must now attempt to adopt the strict, disciplined, and difficult love of a father. She tries – I imagine – she tries her hardest. Shortly she must face the fact that a woman can not teach a boy how to be a man. The masculine energy dwelling in the boy impulsively drives him to desire his own freedom, to feel and experience the world in his own way, and to be his own man (whatever that means to him). But the mother, sensing he is not prepared for the world, becomes unbearably protective; suffocating her son with her love. The more she suffocates him, the more the son desires to be free. The mother (unfortunately) sees this as a sign of rebellion and a betrayal of her love. The wise mother senses she is incapable of teacher her son “manly attributes”. She begins to believe she must find a man to assist in her son’s development before it is too late.  Here lies another problem, the teacher never really chooses the student; it is the student that chooses who he wants his teacher to be. Of all my mentors, none ever came to me, wanting me to be their mentee. I humbly came to them -seeking knowledge – seeking to be a student. The problem is, the mother can not choose a father-figure for her son; her son must choose for himself. And this leads us to perhaps a more intricate problem; Due to the betrayal of his father, the boy can’t or hasn’t learned how to trust a man. The presence of another man in his mother’s life is simply a threat, a very real and alarming threat. He (the son) will most likely (most likely, but not definitely) develop an unhealthy hatred for whichever man his mother chooses; Justifying his hatred with whichever excuse he desires. This collision can cause a various of results – results that are too intricate to discuss in this little piece. One inevitable result is clear though. The boy moves out of his mother’s house and finds himself alone and unprepared for “the real world”(his mother was right). He must now teach himself how to take responsibility for his own actions, learn how to love a woman, and learn how to trust a man(among other things). This leads the boy to make very grave and costly mistakes. When it comes to the existential question “how to be a man”.. Don’t ask me.. Because I don’t fucking know.

I’m figuring it out though.

“I want to be a honest man, and a good writer” – James Baldwin

~ Kn1ght-Wing


When I first encountered Americans, I would introduce myself as Tobi (for some reason, Americans find it really difficult to pronounce Olu-wa-tobi) and I would usually get the same reaction: “oh shit dude you’re named after the slave from Roots, your parents must really hate you”. At that time, still getting accustomed to American culture, I had no clue what the fuck Roots was so my ignorance was obvious in my reaction, which was a blank fucking stare. The more I encountered people and introduced myself, their reaction to my name became the norm but my irritation only grew. Finally, I decided to ask someone what Roots was and I found out it was a miniseries or a movie about a slave who got his leg cut off – or something. My tie to this mini-series, movie, or whatever the fuck, was a famous scene were the protagonist is being tortured and forced to change his name; although he refuses to surrender his identity and puts up a fight. This scene profoundly touched on ways African Americans were forced to surrender their African identity and transformed into a slave. For some odd reason, some people find this disturbing scene to be very hilarious. After I got hip (Hip: DMV term meaning to know) I realized everyone I met that tied my name to this scene were immensely ignorant(which wasn’t their fault really). Every time I met the same irritating reaction to my name, I would think to myself “I wonder what the fuck Jamal or Laquiesha means”.
This subtly exposes the ties that have been cut between the African American and his homeland of Africa. To not realize Tobi is an African name and has nothing to do with slavery is almost… Absurd.

There is an African identity without slavery.

Anyways, my name, Oluwatobi, can be interpreted in many ways: God is big, God is omnipotent, God is absolute. I am glad Yoruba people thought it wise to give their children meaningful names. After years of experiencing the same reaction (and still do till today) I still think the people that believe my name is tied to the miniseries/movie are dumbfucks and giant ignoramuses, but it’s easier to forgive them now and just laugh at them. I have never watched Roots before and I don’t plan on ever watching it (although I would like to read the book). It is the only movie that I hate and I’ve never seen before. I mean, mathematically speaking here, the miniseries/movie came out in 2001, I am 21yrs old, I would have to be 15 for my parents to even consider naming me after a slave movie. So even if you’re ignorant to African culture, I am sure you can do basic math. Anyways (deep breath) before I make this angry rant too extensive, to all you dumbfucks out there, I pity you and I forgive you.

~ Kn1ght-Reign

Real Friends

Unreliable, unreliable, unreliable… except when they’re reliable. As a person who never had much friends growing up, I almost meticulously select who I want to be friends with. Which means I put much thought into it before I pick, select, throw my pokeball and choose you. I’ve always had this model or idea of what a good friend is and  attempt to achieve that standard. Meaning if you’re my friend, half of what I own is yours, you need something and it’s within my power? It’s yours, my undying loyalty is yours. At first, I put my friends under this same standard, expecting the same thing from them that I expect from myself as a “good friend”. Sometimes I think some people are not my friend, I’m just their friend(there’s a difference) . And I’m starting to think maybe that’s ok. I think it is highly disingenuous to be friends with someone because you want things from them. I came to the conclusion that I want to be friends with people so I can impact their lives the best ways I can (they can impact my life too but I wanna be the impactful one gotdamn it). This standard of friendship I placed my friends quickly came tumbling down. I remember one day, I was so bored I called at least 25 people on my phone (some of them weren’t even my fuckin friends) and I still spent that evening alone. Your friends will fail you (unreliable fucks) but at the end of day, are you a good friend? Are you reliable? Are you dependable? If you are, then you’ve done your job as a good friend. I guess the culminating message of this little piece is to stop expecting things from your friends, and just be a good friend. If you are friends with someone and expect things in return, then you must have ulterior motives.
What do you guys think?

I just wanna shoutout all the good friends out there, you are highly appreciated; especially my friends (of course I’m not talking about you guys, y’all are perfect human beings, don’t take this piece personally lol) I love you guys.

~ Kn1ght-Wonder