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.

Who I Am 1

Today is a little tangent. I needed to write something and this is what came out. Here we go.

I believe it was the great Popeye who said, "I am what I am and that's all that I am."

The more experienced I get, the more I find out who I am. As it should be. The rough patch is accepting what I'm not. I'm having a hard time with this, the whole "limitations" thing.

I've always wanted to be the best. Period. That's it. Since I was a little kid, I was afraid of being the worst, so I dreamed of being the best at every last thing. And, fair enough, what child doesn't want to be a geneticist-poet-millionaire-playboy-insert-other-cookie-things-here? The rough patch has only reared it's very figuratively-real head within the last two years. Two years ago, I looked in the mirror and thought that I was the single worst thing on the planet (I'm better now, don't worry).

I've been doing some personal work, lemme tell you, and part of that is finding what I'm good at. I'm a part of so many projects (holy crap there's a metric fuck-ton), not to mention the personal maintenance and training I'm going/have had to go through over the past deuce. The whole time, I was trying to find what it was that I truly loved and wanted to dedicate my years too. What I was best and worst at, I needed to know.

SO, the short of it was easy: I wanna be a dancer and writer, over everything else, with inspirational so-and-so thrown in for good measure. 

The thing that makes my life complete (aside from food, friends and good ol' fashioned fun), is the arts. They are the most inspirational thing on the planet, they influence our societies (I'm counting hip hop, of course, and yes, Jersey Shore...seriously), and they make us think. The funny thing is, most people tear down other artists for being different. He's to abstract, to excited, to dark, to modern, to...you get it. And for some time, I was so angry when I heard this. That was until a friend set me right, or at least, opened my eyes and ears. He said (paraphrasing): I love where your heart is at. 

Something about that, the lack of judgement and the abundance of simplicity, something stuck with me. I look out now and I have mostly stopped seeing a group of negative asses. What I see now is a group that lacks the inspiration/confidence to believe in themselves, and so they tear others down. I'm not mad at fear. How could I be? Fear keeps us alive, keeps us from fighting howler monkeys, from eating the molded cheese brick that has been sitting in my fridge for two weeks. How could I be mad at self preservation?

Instead, I've been working to remember his words, and my favorite quote: "I will not reason and compare, my business is to create..." - William Blake. 

The short of it? Who gives a shit about the guy that hates you? What did you think about what you love to do? Was it the best you could give or is tomorrow going to feel better than today? Hippy? Yes! But, it's also something that I've had to teach myself, over and over, until it finally sank in. 

I allowed someone else to tell me what I was good at and what I should be doing. Then I listened to the people who would raise me up as I do for them (hint: these are the people that matter). My life changed and I became powerful. I gained purpose and a confidence that (though I may have bad days) no one can take away from me. 

I am an artist. I'm a writer, a dancer and I will inspire those around me to find their true strength and reach their goals.

If I'm going to the top, you're all coming with me.

Andrew