I'm the part of the bird that's not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean and yet remain dry. What am I?

Followed yourself, did the math, connected dots, of your own path

Upwards, forwards, Up you schlep, For things like this, are shaped as steps

Some have seen me, motes in air, I linger just beyond your stare. I gather there upon your shelves, and may disturb your sense of smell. Some have found me quite prosaic, Others moved and often say it.

I can be super and thousands tune in. But I'm usually in your cupboard, And when you drop me I break, to much chagrin.