for all the late bloomers
i put some zeppelin on last night while getting ready to meet a friend for drinks and had a flashback memory.
i’m maybe 14 or 15, chatting on aol with a boy i met in a chat room — one of the few ways i could connect with the world at large those days…the world outside my sheltered chinese household.
the boy i was chatting with loved zeppelin, therefore i loved this boy. i was eager to indulge in my newly purchased classic rock selects from columbia house. he told me his favorite song was the rain song. i hadn’t listened to that one yet, so i scrambled to play it in my cd player, and shit…it was sooooo good.
i talked to him as if it was my longtime favorite. as if i was cool enough to have discovered it through my ex hippie parents or some uber hip older sibling. i was trying to claw my way into a different reality. a different culture. a counterculture. something different. anything different. something that represented freedom. something that represented expression.
i fantasized about having parents that played the beatles for me when i was small. i pretended that i had grown up air guitaring to hendrix, singing joplin’s lyrics, or losing my mind to the grateful dead. instead i bought them all for a penny, but only if i promised to purchase four more cds at full price.
i scavenged whatever information i could from Dazed and Confused, from my friends and their parents, from books, magazines, old yearbooks, thrift stores. anything. in college i faked what i could about the extent of my musical knowledge. the who? oh… The Who… erm, yeah…love em. i listened faithfully to classic rock stations. i watched documentaries about haight ashbury. i saw phish. i dropped acid.
i am a late bloomer. it’s nobody’s fault.
now here i am, having started a career in the arts “late.” shhhhhhhhhhit.
my birthday is approaching. sometimes i trick myself into thinking that time is my enemy — that it’s something that could run out on me if i don’t hurry the fuck up. here i am, looking like a baby, but knowing the truth and wondering if that will sabotage me. aye. in reality these thoughts are what sabotage.
all i can do is push harder and be as authentic as possible. be true to myself. love myself. and never give up.
these days i truly appreciate the depth my upbringing gave me. i am who i am because of my struggles. i love that i come from another culture. i love that i had something to fight for.
i am eternally grateful for all the opportunities that have come my way. they are truly gifts. i am so blessed.
to all you other late bloomers out there: never give up.
never ever ever give up.
from my shoot this summer with lee clower
Tags: career in arts, challenges of growing up in multicultural household, how i discovered classic rock, late bloomer, led zeppelin, starting late as an actress