The Wrong Side of 25; The Right Side of Everything Else

I know this is going to come as a surprise to many people, but I have a confession to make: I am in my late twenties. I know, I can hear you gasping. I kid you not -- I may have the body of a teenager, the chronic acne of a child going through puberty, and (sometimes) the emotional maturity of a 12 year old, but, yes, I am on the wrong side of 25. I thank my Chinese mother's contribution to my genetic make up that I am often still mistaken for a person in her early 20s, on the exciting cusp of adulthood. Well, let me tell you, I crossed that cusp awhile back and am now well on the other side of it. So, how does it all look from way over here on the wrong side of 25? I'm gonna tell you.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a ballerina. I made it into the School of American Ballet in NYC and attended for a year before my mom decided that going into the city from Westchester for class 4 times a week was just too much commitment for a 10 year old. At 13 I changed my mind after so much time and money spent in ballet class and decided I wanted to be a musical theatre performer. By 21 I was touring England on my first professional contract performing 12 (yes,12!!!!) shows a week, all the while dreaming of making it onto the West End. This came into fruition and I got the chance to be a part of 3 West End shows by the time I was 26. When this happened, I decided that the next natural progression would be to focus my efforts on Broadway, a dream so big, that I hadn't even dared to suggest to myself that I might be able to make it a reality until I woke up one day and realised that all the dreams I'd had had already come true. So, I packed my bags and came to NYC with new hopes and new dreams. A typical tale. All the way over here on the wrong side of 25, I look back on my 21 year old self and see that, though my goals are different and much, much bigger, my own way of pursuing them have remained the same.

I have learned that the path to Broadway is harder than anyone or any other experience could have prepared me for. This is not a peaceful meandering path next to a babbling brook, nay, this is a full on sweat-your-boobs-off hike. You know what it feels like to love to dance as much as I do and not have the chance to work as a dancer? It feels like I am living with a third of my soul and a limb missing. I am pretty certain that anyone else in my position will tell you the same thing. I am a cockeyed optimist, so whatever the Universe throws at me, I try to take in my stride and use to learn, help, and give. There are always lessons to learn, people to help, and good things to give. All good things! But even a cockeyed optimist feels blue once in awhile. Spending every spare day off of my day job either auditioning or in a dance class can sometimes feel like I'm hitting my head against a brick wall, but it's my heart that ends up hurting. It hurts to put so much of your time, energy, and heart into something and get nothing back. This is the reality of every unemployed artist, but that does not mean I feel the hurt any less. Even though there are so many of us in the same situation, it feels like just me against the world. There are times I get scared that I am letting the pressures of NYC take away my core values and turn me into someone I don't want to be.

I am what I am, take me or leave me. Even at 13, when I made the decision not to pursue a ballet career, I was following my gut and intuition. In other words, I was following my passion, though I doubt that my 13 year old self would have articulated it as so. This is what I am: I am a loving and loyal friend until I am wronged or taken advantage of, and then my claws come out. That trait is never changing; I'm either warm and fuzzy like a childhood teddy bear or cold and prickly like a frost-bitten cactus, and unfortunately people tend to see one side or the other, depending on where my loyalties lie. I am a daughter and sister whose family is my number one priority. Again, that one's easy; I love my family more than anything in the world, and that will always remain constant. I am the person you can count on who will stay true to my word. Now, THIS is where I run into difficulties. If I am contacted via phone or email, I will reply within the day, and if I can't reply properly, I will follow-up saying that a proper reply is on my to-do list and I will get round to it as soon as possible. For me, that means a week, at the longest. If I tell someone I want to see them, I mean it. Otherwise, I don't say it. If I say I will meet you at 4pm, I will be at the appointed location at 3:55pm. Here's the thing: I don't know any other way to be. I really really don't. So, I get confused when I contact someone and they never respond. I get annoyed when someone tells me that they want to see me so I am careful not to overbook myself, then that person flakes and cancels on me. I get REALLY annoyed when I am supposed to meet someone at 4pm and they show up at 4:15pm.

My mom keeps telling me that I'm naive. "why do you keep replying to people's emails if you know that they are not going to follow-up?" she'll ask me. Why??? Because, in my mind, that is the right thing to do. It is both good human etiquette and good social etiquette to respond to someone when they contact you needing a favour. How am I supposed to know that, if I go out of my way to try and help, they will tell me at the last minute that they don't need my help anymore? But, that's besides he point. I do all these things because I will not lower my standards, even if I am dealing with people who have different standards. However, in NYC, everyone is obsessed with themselves (I am not exempt from this, obviously...I am blogging about it!) that I have found myself not following through on things because there have been so many circumstances when people have not followed through with me. So, suddenly, my need to reply to calls and emails and take social plans seriously really doesn't seem all that important anymore. But I hate that. I hate that I've ended up sometimes being the sort of flaky acquaintance I get confused by. I feel more and more that everyone is out for themselves, and it doesn't matter how they treat others. It matters to me, though. It really really matters to me. I want to treat others with the sort of respect I'd like to receive. As much as I want to be on Broadway, there is something that I want more: to stay true to my core values and not let myself change for the sake of my dreams. Because, if you change for the worse to get what you want, doesn't that somehow taint the glory of it?

I follow my passion and pursue everything that I want 200%, but I will pursue on my terms. I will not sacrifice my sense of what is right for any dream. I am what I am, and I have faith that there will be a place for me on Broadway one day, just the way that I am. So, how does it look from all the way over here on the wrong side of 25? It looks like I'm doomed to send emails that will remain unreplied, make plans that will not materialise, and be offered promises that will not be kept. But, I happily accept. I happily let myself and my quirky ways be made a mockery of if, at the end of it all, I can look back when I'm on the wrong side of 55 and feel as proud of my late-twenties self as I do of my teenage self. Hard work, dedication, strong values, and luck. That's all it took for one 13 year old Chinese-Jew to give up a career in ballet to eventually perform on the West End. It's a long long trek till I'm on the wrong side of 55, so I better get my backpack, water bottle, and teeny bike shorts. I'm ready for the hike!

copyright (c) 2010-2011 Celia Mei Rubin

Plesurable Past-times of One Little Miss Piggy

Little Miss Piggy. Were that a nickname of mine, it would be entirely fitting. I have, after all, already been given the nickname of "Noodle," which refers to my love of Asian cuisine. But my love-bordering-on-obsession doesn't just stop with Asian food, I love ALL foods. The grosser and more obscure, the better and more fun to experience. It's not as if I ever had a choice in the matter; what is the one thing the Chinese and the Jews have in common? They EAT. ALOT. Jews with their hot pastrami sandwiches on rye bread and the Chinese with their Peking roast duck. I got the best of both worlds, and then some, by growing up in Singapore. "The best of all possible worlds." And since those days of weekend dim sum and weeknight tofu that my mom convinced us to eat by telling us that we would have skin like Snow White's if we ate it, I have not stopped pigging out. My roommate and I have been known to sit in the kitchen devouring raw cookie dough and spoonfuls of vanilla frosting. Are you getting the picture that eating for me is not just a matter of survival but one of life's most pleasurable past times?

Speaking of pleasurable past times, I did something very out of character today: I talked myself out of going to ballet class. Ballet class is not just something I do to ensure I'm at my dancing peak for auditions, but it is the most satisfying form of creativity at this challenging time when I am not working on a show contract. I work 10 hour shifts 4 days a week, and in my 3 days off, I am either auditioning or going to ballet class or fitting in both with perhaps a jazz class on the side if I have some extra time. But, today, after an audition, I had an hour and a half before class and as I was walking towards the studio, I found myself finding reasons to justify not going. I love to take class, but there are days when I'm tired from a long weekend of high volume retail that I have to give myself an extra push to go. I feel really really REALLY guilty if I don't take class because I convince myself that, if I don't go, I'll dance badly at my next audition, or the 4 huge slices of Swiss roll I ate the night before will show up on my stomach. I know, this is the mind of someone who is a little off-center, but it keeps me in that studio striving for the best. So my having missed class today can only mean one thing: I am well and truly POOPED. I just want to curl up under my duvet and drink tea and read my book and write a little and gossip with friends on Facebook and EAT. Good Lord, do I want to eat. Eating on a tight budget is not ideal for someone with a love-bordering-on-obsession of food. Must be the weather; being what my mom refers to as a "tropical baby," walking in the rain, cold, and wind for about 2 hours on an average day because I'd rather walk than take public transport (it's that off-center thing again) has knackered me out. I'm only teeny and slight. Or, could be in the stars? Mercury is currently Retrograde (...off-center?). Or, could it possibly be that my notion of myself as a Super-Human is a big, fat delusion? Maybe...just maybe...let's change the subject.

As soon as I decided to forgo class, this little piggy went and pigged out in a great food hall that opened up in Little Korea just before the new year. I discovered it when I went to have a bite in a great restaurant, Kunjip. Kunjip was packed, so I walked two doors down, and there was this new Korean food hall that I'd never seen before. The space was completely void of customers, and looking around at the 5 or 6 different stalls, I was apprehensive of how good the food would be. But, I was starving, and very pleased to see that one of the stalls was serving my Korean go-to dish, spicy oxbone soup with vegetables. To my delight, it was absolutely delicious, cheaper than in a restaurant, and took just minutes to be ready. What a find! I was so excited and made a mental bookmark that I had to return soon. I next got the opportunity to return about a week ago, and from one stall ordered Soondae (Korean blood sausage) and 3 Onigiri (Japanese rice balls) with different fillings: spicy tuna, salty fish, and vegetables. The salty fish were those tiny dried fish used alot in Indonesian and Malaysian cuisine, and that particular Onigiri was my favourite. They also have Umeboshi (salty plum) Onigiri, which I love, but unfortunately it was not available when I was there. I took home a couple of Korean deserts which I'd never seen before and some pickled radish and green beans, all of which were delicious. I still have the green beans and radish, and the blood sausage was such a huge portion, that I was eating it for 3 more days.

I entered the food hall today telling myself that I was just going to get some Onigiri as I recently did a big grocery shop and have banned myself from spending more money on food. HOWEVER. There were even more desserts -- purple cakes, green cakes, multi coloured cakes, and buckets of kimchi. Literally, huge buckets of kimchi. Jeez Louise, what was I gonna do??? Well, I'll tell you what I did: bought 3 Onigiri, 2 desserts, and 2 side dishes. Little Miss Piggy! I told you! The Onigiri didn't make it onto the subway -- I devoured them without breathing. When I got home, I warmed up the two side dishes (a beef stew with shisto peppers, and vegetarian congee) and had myself a mini-feast. While writing this blog, I ate one of the desserts, a steamed white rice cake, and will have the second one, a glutinous rice cake filled with different bean pastes, later. The desserts are so colourful, they almost look inedible. There is a purple cake (made with purple potato), an algae-green cake (made with asteraceae, a type of plant), a multi-coloured cake (probably made with lots of food colouring!) and so much more! Speaking of so much more, there is a Red Mango for frozen yogurt (and a random phone shop??) inside the space, AND I noticed as I walked past Pinkberry 4 doors away that they are now serving lychee with lime frozen yogurt! Foodie heaven.

What I haven't stated yet is that the main reason I wanted to write this entry is because I want to get spread the word about this little engine that could, called, simply, Food Gallery 32 (11 West 32nd St. between 5th and Bway). It is never that busy when I have been inside, and I would love to see it packed because it is fun, unique, very decently priced, and has such awesome stuff. Go check it out! I'll join you! Or I might cry wee wee wee all the way home!

copyright (c) 2010-2011 Celia Mei Rubin