So on this particular day in the year 1986, the most wonderful woman in the world, my grandmother, was watching me.
She put me in a highchair.
She turned around for a moment.
And what did I do? I felt the need to stand and dance to the rhythm of my heart.
And I started to shake my little booty all around, and suddenly the swaying and movement of my little pudgy body
caused my highchair to tip over with me in it.
She turns around at the last moment to see me land on the ground and, the weight of me in the highchair snapped my arm.
Break number one. Now let's fast-forward a little bit. I'm four years old. I'm playing on the playground.
I see all these kids having the time of their life. For some reason in my mind
they looked like Olympians, and then there's me, an athletically challenged four-year-old.
But I think, "Yeah, I'll show you." So I get on the monkey bars.
I'm having a great time and then suddenly I decide I don't want to be up so high anymore, so I let go.
Snap, crackle, pop. Break number two. So in this story time passes and around the age of 11 years old I
love baseball.
At least I think I love baseball. To be honest,
I was never really good at baseball.
But I wanted to play because that's what all my friends did. On this particular day,
It was my turn to go up to bat.
I swing, I crack the ball, and I just sprint to first base.
I decided to slide into that base. Then guess what I heard? Snap!
*Kch* Whoops. Break number three. And as I'm healing from this third broken arm,
I start to think, "Maybe I shouldn't play sports. I'm not good at them.
I don't enjoy going to practice or anything like that."
But I was like, "I have no choice. if I want to have some type of social life and be accepted,
I've gotta love sports." Once I got the cast off,
I said, "I'm going back out to the field and I'm gonna keep playing baseball dad gummit!"
So now I'm 13 years old, sporting a beautiful butt cut. So I'm out playing baseball once again,
And we can all see where this story is going. I hit the ball, I go to first base,
they say, "Round it, go to second." I go to second base. Guess what I do?
I slid. Safe! Holy mother of Zeus!
I didn't break my arm, guys! Then the coach said, "Keep going!" and I was like, "Yeah, man! I am gonna keep going!"
I put my arm down, trying to make it look cool as I slide into third base.
And then what do I hear? *Kch* And this time I didn't cry. It wasn't dramatic. I just felt like a jaded,
grumpy, 80 year old man.
Now let's fast-forward to 10th grade. When I woke up and had an epiphany one morning,
I realized, "Josh, doing all these sports things and trying to fit in with all the popular kids, that doesn't make you happy.
What makes you happy? What do you truly love?" The answer was clear. I love to entertain.
But then when I was 18, I made a big decision
and I moved to New York City to pursue one of the big loves of my life, this industry.
Whether I'm two years old and dancing in a high chair, or I'm in my 30s, and
I'm documenting my life or making my next music video. That's me
That's Josh. So take my advice, internet.
Don't waste years and years of your life trying to fit in to an image that you think other people will like just
Because that's popular. Do what you like. My advice to you: avoid the metaphorical broken arms and really listen to who you are.