boom.

Remember, remember, the 5th of November?

I remember quite a bit about this date, but the clearest memory I have doesn't even belong to me. It's the date that a Guy Fawkes tried to blow up Parliament in 1605. No, I am not 404 years older than you thought I was, and I am not a time traveler. I'm not even a Guy Fawkes fan -- the man must have been a lunatic. No, I remember this date because of something I read as a child, and reread numerous times since then. V For Vendetta is, and will always be, so much more than "the one movie where Natalie Portman shaved her head." It is a time capsule. It is part of my childhood. Most of all, it's the reason I love comic books and my big brother, who no doubt, has also written about Guy Fawkes.

He has. But for reasons all his own.

I remember this line simply because it is the 5th of November.
I remember the 5th of November because Guy Fawkes made the world remember it.
I remember Guy Fawkes because of a graphic novel that Alan Moore wrote.
I remember the graphic novel because of my older brother.
I remember my older brother because I think I know what the 5th of November means to him.

He gave me the novel to read when I was far too young to understand the nuances and politics of the story, but I read it anyway, because, honestly, I read anything he gave me. Over the years I grew to understand the finer points of writing and the tremendous effort good writing requires. Every time I felt like I needed a reminder, I would go back to V For Vendetta, and I would be happy.

Recently, I discovered that I could get the same feeling from reading Bilal's writing, and the realization startled me. For years, I believed that my own writing was inspired by writers I could only admire and attempt to emulate from afar. While that might be partly true still, I will remember today as the day that I understood my greatest influence is my big brother.

Big Brother might always be watching, but my big brother will always be watching out for me.

Thanks for the inspiration, Bilal.

postmodern/mortem

My birthday has come and gone. It was a delightful evening with many friends and many laughs. My favorite part of the night was the cake my dear friend, Evan, brought for me. It said "Happy Birthday (Sam) Shama" and it was delicious. I could go on and on about how much fun I had, or how wonderful it was to socialize with the many good folks in my life, or even about how reassuring it was to see my friends from different parts of my life getting along with each other, but anything I could describe would have to be punctuated with the annoying phrase, "You'd have to have been there."

It was a very nice birthday, indeed.

After I came home and settled myself into my latest year, I went back to my usual activities: household chores, homework, writing for the magazine, fretting over the other job, paying bills and playing Scrabble online. It was pleasant. I felt like 27 was going to be My Year. Then I read this and began the spiral of self-doubt and self-loathing.

I hate that I have such awful habits. I hate that I can't seem to kick those habits in the teeth and leave them for dead. I hate knowing that people I love and respect hate this part of me. And I hate that it is a part of me. I hate all the things that his post mentioned, but I hate them even more than non-smokers do, because I feel totally helpless to the addiction.

I should never have started smoking. I am an asshole. The worst part, is that I completely agree with him on many many levels. I just can't seem to totally quit. It's addiction. Addiction is serious. I don''t claim to be an expert on it, but I know it's serious enough that it can't be eradicated with rationale. I wish it could. I read and reread that journal entry everytime I want a smoke. If I can't read it, then I eat. if I eat, then I opt for chocolate. I'm replacing one addiction with another and I don't know if it's better to be fat and unhealthy or thin and unhealthy. sigh.

The question then becomes, "Whose got the worst vice?"

I believe that drinking, which is also an addiction, is far worse than smoking, yet alcohol will never be banned from airplanes or, hmph, BARS. Alcohol somehow rates higher on the tolerance scale than smoking, though it will inhibit a person to the point where they might end up doing something like this.

And then there is the notion that addiction can be replaced with something healthier, like religion (for the AA members out there). I don't even know where to start. So I won't.

I'm not arguing FOR smokers. I think it's a filthy, vile, disgusting habit. I'm arguing that smoking is just as bad as any addiction, but shouldn't be singled out unless others are willing to look at the larger problem -- addiction.

We're all junkies of one kind or another. We don't get past these habits by ourselves, and we don't beat the vices by use of guilt, bans or even sound arguments. We find and fix our faults through the support and understanding of our friends and loved ones.

"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her eyes. "This isn't easy."

Identity Crisis: Part Two

Since I began the new job, I've been doing some thinking. I answer to "Sam" now, but not right away. I sign emails to clients as "Sam". I get introduced to coworkers and clients as "Sam", and I have to remind myself that "Sam" is who I am in this position, which I'm not really qualified for, but that's a whole different mess.

I've had a few discussions with friends and family on the subject and have been hearing a lot of different responses:
- This is a funny situation to be in.
- I'll get used to the new name.
- I was smart to change it, for employment purposes.

All of those things are true, but I just don't know how I feel about it. I'm not upset or happy, either way. It's just a new change, and one I only partially thought through. My brother recently posted a journal entry that touched down on some of the issues I'm grappling with. Whereas he chose the route of assimilation, a path that I frequently wished I'd walked, I ultimately embraced my image as an Asian-American, and chose to cultivate my own credo on the subject. I don't regret it, nor do I envy or judge his choices anymore. But now, I find that I AM assimilating in one of the most fundamental ways. I changed my NAME. If only I could blame it on Ellis Island.

I've grown accustomed to living in a hyphenated world, but this is something entirely different. There isn't an equal splitting of values, where each entity maintains individual significance. This is a manufactured sense of self. It's not a "short" version of my name, and it's not even a nickname, because as we all learned from Sports Night (and how I wish I could have found a clip of that episode!), "you can't give YOURSELF a nickname."

The largest issue at hand is the choice I have to make. Do I continue being "Sam" in the professional world or not? It might not seem like a big deal, but if I look to the future, "Sam" may end up on a slippery slope and there's no way of going back. Or I might just end up with a split personality.

chopped liver is pretty good

anyone that knows me knows that i love my big brother something fierce. don't believe me? try saying something disparaging about him in my presence. go on. i dare you.

he's a playwright and actor for The Neo-Fututrists, the good people that brought the world "Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind: 30 Plays in Sixty Minutes", and he's also a professional Awesome Guy. it's true. if you're not familiar with The Neo-Futurists or my brother, i recommend you go check them both out, as soon as possible. you won't be disappointed.

last weekend i went to the Neo-Futurarium to see his first prime-time-writer-directorial debut with the company. i knew that he'd been experiencing some apprehension about the show, but i was geeked to see it. the show,"Contraption", examines "the intersection between innovation and insanity by dissecting the lives of some of history's greatest inventors." i could talk about how great the show was, how i'm gonna see it over and over, how it was one of the best shows the Neo-Futurists had ever done, but instead, i'm going to tell you about the pride i felt for my big bro.

i claim the title of his "biggest fan". i think i may have been impressed with his writing since before i could read, he's THAT good. over the years, he's gotten himself a few more fans, and rightly so. he has an impressive body of work, discipline, talent and monkish humbleness. i'm always happy to meet people that know him, and take great pride in their appreciation. what's starting to bug me though, is the shock and disbelief people express when they find out i'm his little sister.

did Maja Einstein feel this way? by the way, Maja Einstein was Albert's little sister. betcha didn't know that. yep, she lived a decent life, had a good education, married, but had no children. what was it like for her at family dinners?

Ma Einstein: Oh honey, I'm so happy to see you! Al, look! It's your sister!

Pa Einstein: So, what have you kids been up to, lately?

Albert: Well, I just made major contributions to the field of physics, with my special theory of relativity, and I also created a new theory of gravitation.

Ma and Pa Einstein: That's wonderful! You're a genius! We're so proud of you! How about you, Maja?

Maja: Um, I went fishing for the first time. I caught a trout.

Ma and Pa Einstein: Oh... that's nice, dear. Ahem. Uh. Very nice.

i'm not trying to say that i'm jealous of his success, i'm saying that i didn't expect to be graded on a curve. i feel pretty good about my life and the direction it's going in. i don't feel the need to compete with my siblings, at all. they do their thing, and i do mine. we're all equally supportive of each other, and i believe that's what really counts. i'm just starting to wonder if the shock people express, when they find out i'm his sister, is based on a comparison or simple surprise that he even HAS siblings. do people think that genius is a solitary role? he's not just MY big brother, and i'm not just HIS little sister. we're siblings, friends and a mutual support system that we can always be grateful for.