So my family's Catholic. I was baptized as a baby... but never went through Sunday school or confirmation. When I was in middle school, my parents took me to church, but I was always really confused by all the standing, sitting, rituals, and whatnot. So finally we stopped going, and I really didn't think much of it... none of it made any sense to me.
Senior year of high school, I took Concert choir in order to fulfill my fine arts requirement. I absolutely fell in love with singing that year. Second semester, I joined Men's chorus. I loved it even more.
So summer rolls on by, and I go to this weekend barbershop camp... and loved it. It was especially nice to sing a baritone part... a part that fit my voice nicely. For those of you who don't know, a baritone is somewhere in between a bass and a tenor. Something like 90% of guys are baritones naturally. The problem is, most choirs have either a bass or a tenor part... no baritone part. But barbershop has an explicit baritone part... and I loved it... despite the fact that I got all the weird notes.
When fall comes, I show up at Columbia and I try out for every group I can. I tried out for 2 a cappella groups and 3 choirs.... and made all the choirs. I joined the Barnard/Columbia Chorus (BC chorus), the Glee Club, and the Notre Dame Choir. Later on I even joined a barbershop quartet... but that's another story.
How did all this happen? Well, one day, I walked out of my dorm and saw a poster on a lamppost that said the "Notre Dame Choir" was holding auditions. I was like... whoa! Sounds prestigious! So I auditioned... and made it in! It wasn't until later that I found out that the choir was based in a Catholic church a few blocks away, and that they sang for mass every Sunday.
During the first week of classes, I showed up to BC chorus practice. However, all you folks from Columbia know that BC chorus doesn't start until the second week. So there we were... 8 clueless froshies sitting outside the room that the practice is supposed to be held in. We waited for 30 min, then gave up and just left a note on the door.
On Thursday, the same thing happened again... with the same clueless first years. But when we were about to leave, a girl, Joanna by name, came up to me and asked me if I wanted to go to an InterVarsity dinner. I was like... "InterVarsity... does that have something to do with sports?" But she convinced me to go, and it was there that I met a few really nice people.
So then I stepped back and thought... hm... here... I try to audition for a choir, and join a church choir. There, I try to show up to rehearsal for another choir, and I'm led to an InterVarsity Christian Fellowship dinner... Maybe somebody's trying to tell me something? =) That got my interest going.
So spring came by, and I ended up joining a "discovery" small group, and also taking a class in Catholic fundamentals. The more I learned about religion and about God, the more I liked it. I kept seeking and seeking... and guess what? I discovered that God is real, and that He is amazing.
It all started back in high school... back when I was just a wee lad (literally, 4'11"). So there I was... coming of age, attending one of the best public schools in San Diego county. Now I've always been a lonely guy... focusing mostly on academics... not really investing much in social activities or anything.
One day, I looked around and realized... I don't really have any friends. Everyone else seemed to belong somewhere... there were the infamous bandos... the jocks... the drama kids... the cool kids... And then there was me... who didn't belong anywhere. So I tried to fit in with other groups... but I always felt left out... like an odd wheel on a bicycle... Nothing felt right. This happened all throughout Frosh and Soph years.
Well, Junior year, a bunch of us "social outcasts" got together, and we shared our peculiarities with each other... and really loved it. It was cool. Since we hung out behind building "J", we called ourselves the J-Crew for a while.
By Senior year, we decided that we needed a new name. After much deliberation, the name, "Da Goatz" (homey-cized by me) stuck. So within this group identity, each individual member took on a new persona. There was the "Head Goat", the "Executioner Goat", and the "Holy-Goat Llama". No... that wasn't me. But no one could come up with a good name for me.
So one day, someone brought a hackysack to school. For those of you who don't know, it's a small ball of cloth, wrapped around bean-like material. To play, you kick it in the air, and try to keep it off the ground. You're allowed to use anything but your arms to hit it... or stall it, if you're that good. (hold it still) So we got into a circle and starting kicking it around. That first week that we played... it was pretty sad. The hackysack spent most of its time on the ground, or on a car windshield (we were next to some parking spaces). But after about a week or so, I started pulling off some moves... so I was called "Da Disco Goat"... the goat with the moves. My later fascination with dancing only helped make it stick.
So there you have it! You now know the meaning behind my nickname. Congratulations... you have now gained a free meal on me. *
*Free meal offer contingent on me knowing you. Offer only valid in the continental United States. Other restrictions may apply. Ask me for details. =)