Day 5 - Good with the Bad. Forward and Remembering.

Today was great. I share my life with wonderful people who make the experience all the sweeter. Taking dance class with friends is always a joy, especially from and with the people that I'm lucky enough to learn from. Zach and Sena hit Burly Q with me today, taking Daniels subbing routine and then taking my class. Daniel's routine was my wheel-house, it was my jam to a certain degree and I had such a blast. Evie, my boss lady who usually teaches that class, is two things: lucky to have a sub like him, and moreover, an enormous inspiration of mine. I don't know where I would be without her and I don't care because she's a bamf and in my life.

Simple stuff: Got some slick kicks, got some work done, had and made and had again some great food and got more work done. I'm tellin' ya, I'm on the right path.

Shit: Been watching Glee and have been retching at the shite plot and horrid writing. I get it, Sue is a dick and oh look, another twat cheerleader. Meh. Then I watched the episode "The Quarterback," which celebrated the life and unfortunate passing of Cory Monteith and thus the passing of his character Finn Hudson. I couldn't stop crying. It reminded me of my cousin, Will. I've lost many people in my life, but his death was and still is the hardest for me.

My cousin was my hero, and the closest thing I had to a brother when I was younger. I was 11, it was sunny outside, and it was spirit week at my school, Cottrell Elementary (now a charter school under another name, which blows my mind). I remember it was spirit week because I was so stoked for the next day. It was camo day, which just meant that we raided the local Army surplus (Sgt. Gators), and hid in plain sight. I was sewing a senior sergeant's patch onto the sleeve of my jacket, watching the Nickelodeon tv show Roundhouse (look it up. it was awesome), when my father walked in. Looking back, he was clearly down. Then, I wasn't paying any attention. He said, "Hey dude." "Hey, Dad," I responded. "What cha watching?" he asked. I didn't drop a stitch. "Roundhouse. Getting ready for camo day tomorrow." "Oh yeah. Yeah, that's really cool." I don't know why it didn't register that something was wrong. "Son, Will died last night." His exact words. My head popped up and the world didn't exist for the next twenty-or-so minutes. I couldn't honestly hear anything after that. I remember every detail from that day, except what came out of his mouth next.

I'd later learn that my cousin had an enlarged heart (as well as some other choice information that I don't yet feel comfortable sharing. maybe some day). My cousin died in my father's arms, in front of our family. I wasn't there and I don't have the right to describe the scene. I'm told he was caring, apologetic and thought of everyone else there in his last moments. He was the best person. I miss him to this day. He was 20.



The funeral took over the school auditorium. My uncles, both blues musicians, played beautiful music, my uncle Chris (who recently passed himself) sang Too Close to Heaven. I'll never forget that song or that performance. In honesty, that memory helps define a part of me, and I'm grateful that I experienced it. There were beautiful speeches, but I really can't remember them. I was so angry and I sort of just blocked it all out. The thing I do remember, were his videos. He used to make this hilarious home-recording TV shorts. The kicker was him singing Let it Be by the Beatles, in a haunting falsetto. The entire auditorium stood and joined hands, myself included, but I was the only one who didn't cry. I didn't cry for a month after that either, until I pushed a kid over at school for nothing. I'd always been angry, but I was broken after he died. My Dad got the call from school and was appropriately pissed off at me, yelling at me. I tried to run away, then tried to hit him and run again and he grabbed me and held me tight. I balled, choking out, "I miss him so much." My dad said, "I miss him too," with the same amount of tears.

My life is a good thing, and I am doing very great things and can only see more of the up and up in the future. Every once in a while, however, something will remind you of the past, and I am certainly no exception. So today I remember my cousin, William Mayther. He was one of my biggest heroes, and is still a part of my person. I say all of that, the good and the bad, not to make myself or anyone sad, but just to share a small part of what such a wonderful soul brought to the world. If anyone did read this, thank you for making it this far. I really appreciate it.

Day 1 - In The Beginning

A new project. The short is that I am, once again, trying to focus and keep direction. I'm a tad more mature and driven this time around, so we'll see how this one goes. I'm both stoked and clear on pretty much everything, so here's me jumping in.

I want to make movies, cartoons, video games, comics and books. I want to perform and teach, play the guitar and be happy. It's pretty simple. Art degree it is. Encompasses everything I want to do and gets me good and sure up on the such that I need/want to be good at. Simple.

I like these ARG (augmented reality games) that are getting so popular. I've tried tons. Plant Nanny (https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/plant-nanny/id590216134?mt=8) has pretty well stuck. It's like Pokemon for dehydrated obsessives. Score. Mostly, I'm into this new one called HabitRPG (http://habbitrpg.com). It's slick and 8-Bit, which means I get aroused (which is always a bonus and I really hope you know I'm kidding [mostly]). Simple premise: you sign up (easily connected to facebook), you get a little customizable avatar and basic gear (wooden sword and clothes ftw) and you input your life as +'s and -'s. + gets you EXP (experience) and money, - makes you loose HP. Loose too much HP and you die. Seriously. You die. Your avatar is 86ed and you have to start over. I dig it.

(not my character. just an example.)
You use money to buy real life privilages (in my case: junk food for 1 gold or dining out, or a new video game for 20, which I'll probably up to 30.) Eventually, so I'm told, you can buy pets. Which is good, because I can't own one in my apartment and, let's face it, a man needs a pet.

That's the gist. So far it's fun and it's keeping me on task. go check it out for yourself and let me know what you think.

The second part of all of this is an actual purpose for this blog. It's really just for me. I've tried topical posts before, but an unfocused blog with an agenda is kinda bunk. So, it's just a diary from here on out. It's just to keep me accountable and keep my fingers typing when I'm riddled with writers block. Healthy choice, feels right, simple as that.

Lastly, I sought out a dance mentor. I've had a few of these over the years, all good at something else, all encouraging, all wonderful. The one that I've been most frightened of is a Jazz instructor. Jazz is my jam. I love it, and I feel best doing it. Problem is, I care most about it. Seem silly? It is. Intimidated that I wouldn't be good enough. Pushed that aside, reached out to a Mr. Daniel Brown (who is, in short, a bamf [urban dictionary that shit]). He's agreed to take me on and I'm stoked. Can't talk highly enough about him.

Things are moving in the right direction for the simple reason that I'm finally making them. Feels good. Simple as that.

The Internet Invaded

I remember hitting Wordstock in my home town a couple years back. I'm a big fan of the fest, actually, but like any convention of any kind there has to be...has to fuckin' be, at least one titan level dick-head.

His name will be left out 'cause...well...daddy can't afford a lawsuit. Also, I can't remember his damn name for the life of me.

What I do remember is his supreme arrogance. Grandiose? Maybe. True? Shit-yes, Baby. He had this cock-sure line about "The Internet Invaders" and how these bloggers/self-publishers and the like are ruining the written word and sullying the good name of literature as a whole. He sited the ability of easily publishing your work to the web, and therefore the general world, as being nothing more than the work of amateurs and, my favorite: "...fiction whores! Possibly decent authors and literary would-bes who think themselves above 'the grind.'"

I laughed at that last bit. "Above the grind." As if self-publishing isn't a royal pain-in-the-ass that can erode the ol' soul just as much as the search for a traditional publisher. But, perhaps I'm misguided in my interpretation of his words. Or maybe he's on to something. Maybe it should be like a psycho shit-lottery that requires you to not only churn out a high-quality... Ya know what, never mind. I was going to be all sarcastic and what not, but that doesn't serve anyone. He was an archaic, short-sited dick who chose to crap on something new because it was easier to do and less frightening than admitting that he might have to update his methods. His methods, not his work. He had merit, sure, or he wouldn't have been speaking at a convention. So if you're talented enough to get a job, why freak out that someone came out with a device/option to help make you more money? Nothing to fear, everything to gain.

Here's the real. Selling your book is a bitch. It's enough of a challenge for many people to churn out something really sellable, let alone hook yourself an agent and/or publisher out of the gate. Your first book is probably not going to be your masterpiece, even if you're good and it rocks, and that's okay! You've got more options these days than found in the Way-Way-Back Machine. Take advantage!

The part I always have to remind myself is that it's the entertainment business. Even if it wasn't, it's always been hard work and "who you know" in every business. If you're given a leg up (in this case: the internet), take it! It's still no guarantee that you'll be the next Steven King, Rowling or Twilight Lady (yeah, didn't take the time to look her up), but every little bit o help...uh...helps...

If I've learned anything over the years, it's that everything has value, especially if it adds another avenue for success/discovery. There is no right answer other than this, "Keep moving forward."

Agent? Money? Head Exploding? HARD WORK!

There is a spray-painted banner in Black Rose (my crossfit-gym), that reads: "hardworkhardworkhardworkhardwork" and so on. Like any cheese-ball, inspiration-hungry, word hyphen word geek, I do my best to stare a hole into that banner every time I'm in for a good ol' asshyphenkicken. And I know that those words are the key to success...but I really want a magic formula.

But really, a magic formula? There isn't one, as it turns out, not to success.

The best you can do is work hard and hope to high-fuck that someone likes your work. For a creative professional (or an aspiring one, for that matter), this only mildly boils the brain.

You work hard, you put yourself out there, you think you've created something good (and probably have done just that), but you still aren't rollin' in the ching-chang...money... I'm right there, right now and it had/has been driving me kinda loopy. Honestly, its been throwing me off for a few months. I kept thinking "All I need is an agent!" After I had been thinking "All I need is a publisher!" After I had been thinking "All I need is to finish my book!" I've got the book, but no publisher or agent, and only today did I get some clarity! "All I need is hard work!"

I may have been dealing with some bigger stuff that was hampering me, but I'm stronger than that and damn smart enough to know that I can't stop. I need to push forward especially when things are horrid.

Yeah. I know. It's simple and a fairly face-palm-epiphany that you hear from the day you take on your first chore, to the day you retire, until you're telling your grand-kids the same such.

I always forget that part. Life is not a movie, you don't (generally) strike it rich out of the gate as a creative kind, or have those parents/friends of parents/bang Sandra Bullock in The Proposal (loved that movie, actually...seriously...) that get you into the big leagues. I always forget because I don't register failure, I think, which is both good and bad...but that's for later.

The two things that kick me forward lately are inspiring speeches (always loved these, actually, and here's a good one: http://youtu.be/zuBSRC1zpHw ), and finally...finally listening to other professionals. Both say the same thing that no one wants to hear because they know it's the truth: Keep drying, don't give up etc...

Disney once said, "Keep moving forward..." and yes, a million others have said the same thing. They're all right, it's all sound, and I'm doing my best to listen.

Step 1: Make use of what I already have. Material and talent wise. Things will develop from there.

Step 2: Maintain these things. Repetition.

Step 3: Inspire these things. Feed the obsessive talent-hungry monster in my gut. I'm good at this one.

Step 4: Check back in on maintenance. I'm very bad at this part.

Repeat forever while taking time to relax and enjoy it all. I forget this too.

I'ma try this. I really feel like it's time to grow up. More on that later.