Hookup 2 (NowThat’sTV) Review: When Messy Becomes the Main Character

Hookup 2 (NowThat’sTV) Review: When Messy Becomes the Main Character

If Season 1 of Hookup walked so the chaos could jog, Hookup 2 on NowThat’sTV said, “No—let’s sprint.” This season isn’t about romance, growth, or even good decision-making. It’s about vibes crashing, eg

os clashing, and hookups turning into full-blown personality wars. And honestly? That’s exactly why people are watching.

From the jump, Hookup 2 makes it clear: this is not a “finding love” show. This is a pressure cooker. Put a group of confident, opinionated people in close quarters, add alcohol, unresolved trauma, and cameras, and what you get isn’t connection—it’s combustion.

And nowhere is that clearer than the ongoing theme that has basically become the season’s slogan: “Pookie vs. Everybody.”

The Premise: Simple Setup, Complicated People

The concept is easy. Singles come together, attractions spark fast, and hookups happen faster. But Hookup 2 quickly proves that sex is the least dramatic part of the show. The real mess comes after—when expectations don’t match reality and egos start keeping score.

Unlike traditional dating shows that at least pretend to care about compatibility, Hookup 2 leans into its truth: people are here for attention, validation, screen time, and maybe a moment of control they don’t have in real life. Romance is optional. Drama is mandatory.

Pookie vs. Everybody: How Did We Get Here?

Pookie entered the house with confidence, presence, and that energy that says, “I know I’m that girl.” And at first, it worked. Attention came quickly. Interest followed. But then the cracks showed.

Some cast members felt dismissed. Others felt played. A few felt like Pookie was moving funny—switching energy, rewriting moments, and refusing to take accountability once feelings were bruised.

And Pookie? Calm. Almost too calm.

That’s where the divide really formed. In a house where emotions run high, being unbothered reads as guilty. Silence feels like shade. Confidence feels like arrogance. Suddenly, every interaction is re-examined, every word replayed, and one person becomes the villain in everyone else’s story.

Whether Pookie is truly wrong or just misunderstood is still debatable—but perception is everything in reality TV. And once the group decides you’re the problem, it’s hard to come back from that.

Groupthink, Accountability, and Selective Memory

One of the most interesting (and frustrating) parts of Hookup 2 is how accountability disappears in crowds. People are quick to call out Pookie, but slower to acknowledge their own mixed signals, insecurities, or contradictory behavior.

It raises a real question:

Are people upset about what happened—or about how it made them feel about themselves?

Reality TV thrives on selective memory. Conversations are remembered differently depending on who felt rejected. The same action can be “confidence” when done by one cast member and “manipulation” when done by another. And Hookup 2 doesn’t resolve these contradictions—it lets them rot and explode.

The Real Star of the Show: Aftermath

Let’s be real—the hookups themselves are barely the point. The aftermath is where Hookup 2 earns its keep.

The side conversations.

The whispered complaints.

The sudden alliances.

The way people smile in your face and vent in the confessional.

This is a show about what happens when desire doesn’t turn into validation. When someone you wanted doesn’t need you back. When attention shifts. When pride takes a hit on camera.

That’s when feelings turn into feuds.

Production Knows Exactly What It’s Doing

NowThat’sTV understands its audience. The pacing is tight, the casting intentional, and the conflicts are allowed to breathe just enough to spiral. There’s no rush to resolution because resolution isn’t the goal—reaction is.

The editing leans into tension without over-explaining, letting viewers pick sides and argue online. And trust, this is the kind of show built for comment sections, group chats, and reaction videos.

Is Anyone Really Winning?

That’s the big question.

In a house full of hookups, everyone claims to be unbothered—but nobody actually is. Feelings are hurt. Reputations are questioned. And once something is said on camera, it lives forever.

Pookie might look isolated now, but history says the “villain edit” often turns into the most memorable storyline. Meanwhile, group unity rarely lasts. Someone else will mess up. Another conflict will rise. And suddenly, yesterday’s enemy becomes tomorrow’s ally.

That’s reality TV math.

Final Thoughts: Messy, Uncomfortable, Addictive

Hookup 2 isn’t deep—but it’s revealing. It exposes how quickly desire turns into resentment, how group dynamics shape narratives, and how confidence can be both a shield and a target.

It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. It’s sometimes hard to watch.

And yes—it’s entertaining.

The real hookup this season isn’t between people. It’s between ego and accountability.

So the question is:

Is Pookie really the problem… or just the one who refused to play along?

Either way, Hookup 2 has us watching—and talking. 👀📺

Kenya Moore on YouTube Live: A “Falling Star” or a Woman Counting Her Coins Quietly?

Kenya Moore on YouTube Live: A “Falling Star” or a Woman Counting Her Coins Quietly?

For weeks now, the whispers have been loud.

“Where’s Kenya?”

“Why isn’t she filming as much?”

“Did the money dry up?”

“Is Kenya Moore

… broke?”

Chile.

Kenya Moore clearly heard the chatter because she popped up on YouTube Live looking calm, confident, and very much unbothered — ready to answer fan questions and clear the air about her career, her finances, and the narrative that she’s somehow a “fallen star.”

And if there’s one thing Kenya does well, it’s talking directly to the people when she feels the story is getting twisted.

The “Where’s the Money?” Question

One of the biggest fan questions during the live was straight to the point:

“Kenya, are you still getting to the bag?”

Kenya didn’t dodge it.

She made it clear that money doesn’t always look loud. Just because she’s not on every screen, every season, every headline doesn’t mean the checks stopped coming. According to Kenya, she’s been strategic, not struggling.

She reminded viewers that reality TV money isn’t the only income stream — and honestly, this felt like a subtle read to people who think Housewives live off Bravo checks forever.

Kenya talked about:

Owning her brand

Producing behind the scenes

Business ventures that don’t require constant visibility

And knowing when to step back instead of chasing relevance

Translation?

She’s not broke — she’s choosing peace over performative hustle.

Addressing the “Falling Star” Narrative

Let’s be real: once a Housewife isn’t front and center, the internet is quick to write the obituary.

Kenya addressed this head-on. She said people confuse visibility with value, and that’s a dangerous mindset — especially for women who’ve already put in decades of work.

She didn’t deny that opportunities change. She didn’t pretend fame is forever. But she was very clear: a slowdown is not a downfall.

And that line alone felt like a message not just to fans, but to the entire Bravo ecosystem.

Because let’s be honest — how many former Housewives are running around chasing interviews, begging for relevance, or oversharing their trauma just to stay in the conversation?

Kenya made it clear:

That will never be her.

Fans, Critics, and the Internet’s Short Memory

During the live, Kenya also touched on how quickly fans turn. One minute you’re an icon, the next minute people are counting your pockets like it’s a group activity.

She didn’t come off bitter — more so realistic.

She acknowledged that reality TV fans often want:

Constant drama

Constant access

Constant chaos

And when a star doesn’t deliver that on demand, the audience labels them “washed,” “done,” or “irrelevant.”

Kenya wasn’t here for that narrative.

She reminded fans that she earned her place on Real Housewives of Atlanta history, and that legacy doesn’t disappear because she’s quieter.

The Subtle Shade (Because It’s Kenya)

Now let’s not act like this live was all kumbaya and journaling energy.

Kenya definitely sprinkled in a little shade — the kind where she doesn’t name names, but you know who it’s for.

She hinted that:

Some people stay visible because they need the money

Others stay visible because they need the validation

And some people don’t know how to exist without cameras

Meanwhile, she’s perfectly comfortable stepping back, raising her daughter, and protecting her sanity.

Say what you want, but that sounded like a woman who’s not desperate.

So… Is Kenya Moore Really a “Falling Star”?

If you watched the live closely, the answer was clear: no.

What Kenya showed wasn’t a fall — it was a pivot.

She’s not chasing every check. She’s not fighting for screen time. She’s not over-explaining herself.

She’s choosing control over chaos.

And in a reality TV world where oversharing is currency, that kind of restraint actually feels rebellious.

Final Thoughts

Kenya Moore’s YouTube Live wasn’t about proving she’s rich.

It was about proving she’s secure.

Secure in her legacy.

Secure in her finances.

Secure enough to let the internet talk while she moves quietly.

And honestly? That might bother people more than if she were struggling.

Question for You:

Do you think Kenya Moore is misunderstood right now — or do you believe stepping away from the spotlight really does make a reality star fade? 🤔

Tiffany Pollard, Living Out Loud: Queerness, Politics, and Why Celebrities Can’t Stay Silent Forever

Tiffany Pollard, Living Out Loud: Queerness, Politics, and Why Celebrities Can’t Stay Silent Forever

There are moments when pop culture stops being just entertainment and turns into something deeper—something personal, political, and necessary. Tiffany “New York” Pollard’s recent video is one of those moments. In just a few minutes, she managed to touch on queerness, celebrity responsibility, political disappointment, and the cost of silence in a world that’s anything but neutral.

At the start of the video, Tiffany opens up about coming out as queer. It’s not framed as a grand announcement or a marketing moment. Instead, it feels grounded—honest, even vulnerable. She talks about living in her truth and, more importantly, creating space for others to do the same. That alone matters. Representation still matters. Visibility still matters. And when someone as loud, dramatic, and unapologetically herself as Tiffany Pollard says, “This is who I am,” it lands differently.

Tiffany has always been known for being outspoken, but this moment feels less about performance and more about alignment. She’s not asking for applause. She’s asking for understanding. She’s saying, “I know who I am, and I’m no longer shrinking or side-stepping it.” In a culture where queerness is still debated, politicized, and sometimes weaponized, simply existing out loud is an act of resistance.

But Tiffany doesn’t stop there.

She pivots—quickly and sharply—into politics, specifically her disappointment with Nicki Minaj’s political stance. And this is where the conversation gets uncomfortable for some people, because it challenges a long-standing belief that celebrities should “just entertain” and stay out of serious conversations.

Tiffany clearly doesn’t agree with that idea.

She expresses frustration with Nicki, not in a hateful or dismissive way, but in a disappointed way. The kind of disappointment that comes from watching someone with influence choose silence, confusion, or alignment that feels disconnected from the realities many fans live every day. Tiffany suggests that Nicki could benefit from guidance—mentioning someone like Bruce Springsteen as an example of an artist who understands how music, politics, and humanity intersect.

That comparison isn’t random. Bruce Springsteen has long used his platform to speak on working-class struggles, civil rights, and political accountability. Tiffany isn’t saying everyone needs to agree on everything. She’s saying that having a platform comes with responsibility—whether you like it or not.

And that’s the core of her argument.

Tiffany believes celebrities shouldn’t float above real-world issues like they’re living in a fairy tale. Fame doesn’t erase citizenship. Money doesn’t cancel out consequence. Being adored doesn’t mean being exempt. She argues that celebrities are already part of political conversations whether they speak or not—because their silence, their endorsements, their associations, and even their “neutrality” still send messages.

That’s a hard truth many fans don’t want to face.

We often say, “Why do celebrities think their opinions matter?” while simultaneously following them, quoting them, buying what they sell, and shaping our culture around their influence. You can’t have it both ways. Influence exists whether it’s acknowledged or not.

Tiffany’s point is simple but bold: if celebrities benefit from public love, public money, and public attention, then they don’t get to opt out of public responsibility. Their feelings matter. Their experiences matter. But so does the impact of what they say—or refuse to say.

This is especially important when you consider Tiffany’s identity as a queer Black woman. Politics isn’t theoretical for her. It’s personal. Laws affect bodies like hers. Policies affect communities like hers. Silence doesn’t feel neutral when your existence is constantly debated in headlines and courtrooms.

And that’s why her disappointment with Nicki hits harder. It’s not about fandom wars or stan culture. It’s about shared responsibility. When someone you admire has the power to speak up and chooses not to—or chooses a stance that feels disconnected—it can feel like a betrayal.

At the same time, Tiffany doesn’t present herself as perfect or all-knowing. She’s not claiming moral superiority. She’s claiming emotional honesty. She’s saying, “This is how I feel, and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t matter.”

That honesty is refreshing in a media landscape full of carefully curated neutrality.

The video also highlights a bigger issue: the pressure celebrities feel to stay quiet out of fear of backlash. Cancel culture, polarized audiences, and online harassment have made many public figures afraid to speak freely. But Tiffany seems to be asking a bigger question—what’s the cost of silence compared to the cost of speaking up?

If you stay quiet, who feels abandoned? If you speak up, who feels challenged? And which consequence can you live with?

Tiffany Pollard has never built her brand on being safe or palatable. She built it on being real, messy, emotional, and human. This video continues that legacy—but with maturity and purpose. It’s less about shock value and more about accountability.

In a world where celebrities often hide behind PR statements or vague posts, Tiffany’s clarity stands out. She’s not whispering. She’s not hedging. She’s saying what she believes and standing in it.

And maybe that’s the real takeaway here.

Not that everyone needs to agree with Tiffany Pollard. Not that Nicki Minaj owes anyone a political dissertation. But that honesty, visibility, and engagement matter—especially when your voice reaches millions.

So here’s the question we’re left with:

Do celebrities have a responsibility to speak on political and social issues—or should silence be respected just as loudly as speech?

And maybe even more importantly…

when does staying neutral stop being neutral at all?

Now LaTocha Scott… Be So For Real.

Now LaTocha Scott… Be So For Real.

I’m currently on my new year, new me journey. You know the vibe—trying to eat better, live cleaner, drink more water, and pretend I won’t be back in the snack aisle by February. So naturall

y, I’m scrolling Amazon, minding my business, when I stumble across LaTocha Scott’s plant-based cookbook.

Okay. Growth. Wellness. Evolution. We love to see it.

But then I saw the price.

$533.66.

Baby.

At that price, that cookbook better cook the meals, meal-prep on Sundays, wash the dishes, take out the trash, and gently whisper, “Have you had enough sodium today?” 😭

Listen, I am all for supporting Black women. I really am. But for $533, I’m expecting a personal chef experience, not just a list of ingredients and a prayer. That’s not a cookbook—that’s a down payment.

And of course, the comments didn’t waste any time. Folks are already side-eyeing, whispering, “Is this a money grab?” 👀 Especially with old chatter resurfacing about her allegedly never paying her sister back that $30K. Now whether that’s true or not… you know the internet loves a callback.

To be clear: I respect the pivot. I respect wellness. I respect choosing plants over plates full of chaos.

But $533 for a cookbook?

Chile… that plant-based lifestyle better come with direct access, a hotline, and a follow-up FaceTime to make sure I seasoned it right.

Because at that price, I don’t just want recipes—I want accountability.

#Xscape #LaTochaScott #PlantBased #VeganFood

#CookbookDrama #WellnessButMakeItAffordable

#BeSoForReal

Ghostwriters, Receipts & Revisionist History: Who’s Really Telling the Truth on RHOBH?

Ghostwriters, Receipts & Revisionist History: Who’s Really Telling the Truth on RHOBH?

Let’s talk about the real drama on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills—and no, it’s not a dinner party meltdown or someone storming out in couture.

It’s the books.

The authors.

And the quiet little word nobody wants to say out loud: ghostwriter 👻📖

Recently, Dorit Kemsley casually admitted she used a ghostwriter, while Amanda proudly declared she wrote her book all by herself. And baby… the internet paused.

Because now the question isn’t who wrote a book—

It’s who’s telling the truth.

Dorit Said “Yes, I Had Help” — And Somehow That Felt Shadier AND More Honest

Let’s start here: Dorit did something rare in Bravo-land.

She told the truth without dressing it up.

She didn’t pretend she locked herself in a candle-lit room typing away while PK snored in the background. She didn’t sell us the “raw journals turned bestseller” fantasy. She said what most Housewives won’t say:

“I had a ghostwriter.”

And honestly? That honesty hit harder than any denial ever could.

Because let’s be real—ghostwriters aren’t scandalous. They’re industry standard. Celebrities provide the stories, the voice, the drama. Someone else makes sure it has chapters, commas, and a beginning that doesn’t start with “So anyway…”

Dorit admitting that wasn’t embarrassing.

It was refreshing.

It was giving: “I know how publishing works, and I’m not pretending otherwise.”

Amanda Says She Wrote Her Own Book… And That’s Where the Side-Eye Enters

Now here comes Amanda, standing ten toes down, saying she wrote her book herself.

Do I think she contributed? Absolutely.

Do I think her voice is in it? Probably.

Do I think she stared at a blinking cursor for months crafting a manuscript solo?

😬

Because in Bravo terms, “I wrote my own book” often translates to:

I dictated stories

I approved edits

I made changes

I signed off on the final version

Which is still work—but it’s not the same as doing everything.

And here’s the thing: nobody would’ve questioned Amanda if Dorit hadn’t told the truth first. Dorit pulled the curtain back, and suddenly Amanda’s statement sounded less empowering and more… defensive.

Why This Debate Feels Bigger Than a Book

This isn’t really about authorship.

It’s about image control.

On RHOBH, everything is branding:

Being rich, but not too flashy

Being busy, but not too thirsty

Being smart, but never admitting help

Admitting you had a ghostwriter feels like admitting you didn’t “earn” it alone—and Housewives hate that narrative. Especially when fans already accuse them of being famous for nothing.

So when Dorit owned it, she broke an unspoken rule: Never admit how the sausage gets made.

The Real Tea: Who Do I Believe?

If we’re asking who I trust more in this moment?

👉 Dorit.

Not because she’s more talented.

Not because she’s better.

But because she didn’t insult the audience’s intelligence.

Amanda may genuinely feel like the book is hers—and emotionally, it probably is. But Dorit understood something crucial: honesty reads better than perfection.

And on a show built on illusions, that’s dangerous.

Final Verdict: Ghostwriters Aren’t the Villain—Lies Are

Let’s be clear:

Using a ghostwriter is normal

Writing with help isn’t cheating

Pretending you did everything alone? That’s where the mess lives

Dorit chose transparency.

Amanda chose pride.

And Bravo fans chose drama.

As always.

Because on RHOBH, the truth is never the issue—it’s who admits it first. 💅🏽📚

The Real Housewives of Potomac Season 10: Is This the Messiest Season Yet?

🍾 The Real Housewives of Potomac Season 10: Is This the Messiest Season Yet?

Is RHOP officially back in its messy era—or are we just desperate for drama?

Season 10 of The Real Housewives of Potomac has been serving tension, tea, and side-eyes from the very first episode. With new faces, shocking flirtations, off-screen scandals, and emotional confrontations, fans are asking one big question: Is Potomac finally finding its spark again?

🎭 New Faces, New Energy… or New Problems?

This season introduced new women into the mix, and whenever that happens, you already know chaos is loading.

But here’s the real question: Are the newbies here to blend in—or to shake the entire table?

Angel Massie, in particular, has become a topic of conversation fast. From whispers behind her back to confrontations to her demanding the women say what they’ve heard about her—was she being brave, or was she poking the bear?

And let’s be honest: when has any Housewife ever said, “Tell me what you’ve heard about me,” and it ended peacefully?

❄️ Aspen, Flirting & Bravo Crossover Chaos

The Aspen trip might go down as one of the most awkward group trips in Potomac history.

Ashley flirting with Mauricio?

Gizelle admitting she would’ve gone there?

Other franchises being pulled into Potomac drama?

So now we have to ask: When did Bravo turn into one big dating pool?

And more importantly—was this harmless fun, or did Ashley cross a line?

Because let’s be real: if the roles were reversed, would Ashley still think it was funny?

💋 Confessions That Should’ve Stayed Private?

Ashley also revealed she kissed Charrisse’s son—and viewers were left wondering:

Why did this need to be shared on national TV?

Was it honesty?

Was it a storyline grab?

Or was it just Ashley being Ashley?

Some secrets feel like diary entries… not confessionals.

⚖️ Real Life Getting Too Real?

One of the biggest questions surrounding this season is how much real-world drama should be part of the show.

With Wendy Osefo dealing with legal trouble off-camera, fans are divided:

Should the show address it more—or is it right to keep it in the background?

Reality TV walks a fine line between entertainment and exploitation. Where should that line be?

👑 And What About Karen?

Karen Huger’s absence is impossible to ignore.

She’s been the heart, humor, and structure of Potomac for years. Without her, the group feels… different.

So here’s the real question:

Does RHOP work without its Grand Dame?

Or is this season proving just how much she was holding everything together?

🪑 Reunion Predictions: Who’s in the Hot Seat?

With the reunion coming up, fans are already speculating:

• Will Angel finally clear her name—or make things worse?

• Will Ashley be held accountable for her messy moments?

• Will Gizelle own her comments—or deflect as usual?

• Will Wendy finally address everything head-on?

And most importantly: Who will leave the reunion mad, and who will leave vindicated?

Because nobody ever leaves these reunions the same.

💬 Final Question: Is RHOP Back or Still Finding Its Way?

Season 10 has given us moments—no doubt. But is it iconic yet?

Is this the comeback fans wanted?

Or is Potomac still searching for its next legendary era?

One thing is clear: the mess is back, the questions are louder, and the women are more divided than ever.

So tell me—

The Verge LA: Dreams, Hustle, and the Loneliness Behind the Grind

The Verge LA: Dreams, Hustle, and the Loneliness Behind the Grind

This episode of The Verge LA didn’t just show aspiring artists chasing fame—it showed the emotional side of what it really means to move to Los Angeles with a dream. Beneath the music, networking, and performances, there was something deeper happening: uncertainty, vulnerability, hope, and the quiet pressure to keep going even when you’re tired.

From singers and songwriters to creative executives and newcomers finding their footing, everyone in this episode seemed to be asking the same silent question: Is all this sacrifice really worth it?

Everyone’s Chasing Something

Antonio Ramsey stood out immediately. He’s not just a singer—he’s an actor, entrepreneur, and full-on hustler. You can tell he believes in community, too. He invites Jerel to Billy’s soundcheck, showing that for him, success isn’t just personal—it’s shared. But even with his confidence, you can feel that pressure: the need to always be moving, always building, always connecting.

Then there’s Jerel Duren, coming all the way from Detroit. Watching him grind through rehearsals and studio sessions felt relatable. His story wasn’t flashy—it was real. He talked about the constant work, the nonstop grind, and how exhausting it can be. That moment made me wonder: How many talented people burn out before they ever get their big break?

Billy’s story added another layer. He already had success back home in Tacoma. He didn’t move to LA because he failed—he moved because he wanted more. That takes courage. But when he talked about changing his artist name from Will Jordan to Billy, you could hear the bittersweetness in his voice. Reinventing yourself sounds exciting, but it can also feel like losing a part of who you were.

Building a Team in a City That Moves Fast

B Sims brought a different energy. As a creative executive, he wasn’t chasing the spotlight—he was helping others find theirs. He talked about collaboration, building brands, and creating opportunities. But even he admitted how hard it is to find a solid, trustworthy team in LA.

That part hit hard.

In a city full of dreamers, not everyone dreams the same. Some people want art. Some want clout. Some just want access. And that makes it difficult to know who’s real.

Psychedelic’s story showed this too. She trusted B Sims because of his taste and instincts. In a place like LA, trust isn’t something you give easily—it’s something you test. Nikita, who’s been in LA for six years, seemed to soak up the creative energy, but you could still feel the uncertainty of it all.

That made me think: How do you stay open to new connections without getting hurt by the wrong ones?

The Pressure to Always Be “On”

One thing this episode did really well was showing how much pressure artists put on themselves. Everyone talked about consistency. Content. Visibility. Staying relevant.

It’s not just about making good music anymore—it’s about posting, networking, showing up, performing, and staying visible. If you disappear, someone else takes your place.

And that’s exhausting.

The Sweet Serenade event, hosted by Antonio, was supposed to be about joy, music, and community. But even there, the emotional cracks showed. Billy FaceTimed in from tour, wishing he could be there. Antonio noticed Nikita wasn’t around. He admitted he struggles with trusting new people because of past experiences.

That moment felt real.

Success can look glamorous from the outside, but on the inside, it can feel lonely. You’re surrounded by people, but you don’t always feel connected.

The Bigger Question

This episode wasn’t just about music—it was about identity. Who are you when you leave everything familiar behind? Who do you become when your dream becomes your entire life?

Everyone in this episode was brave. Brave enough to move. Brave enough to start over. Brave enough to fail publicly.

But it made me ask:

Is chasing your dream supposed to feel this heavy?

At what point does ambition become pressure?

And how do you protect your mental health while trying to build something big?

LA sells the fantasy. But The Verge LA showed the reality: late nights, missed connections, reinvention, self-doubt, and the constant need to prove yourself.

Final Thought

What I appreciated most about this episode is that it didn’t sugarcoat the journey. It didn’t pretend success is easy or fast. It showed that everyone—no matter how talented—has moments of insecurity, loneliness, and exhaustion.

It made me realize that dreams don’t just cost money.

They cost time.

They cost comfort.

They cost emotional energy.

So here’s the real question:

If your dream required you to be uncomfortable, lonely, uncertain, and constantly hustling—would you still chase it?

And maybe even deeper:

What does success really look like to you?