my name is
it occurs to me that i've never properly introduce myself to y'all.
hi! i am syamil.
how youuuu doin'. : )
actually, for the first twenty years of my life, i was iraz. everybody callled me, or knew me, by that name or variations of that name. the name "iraz" has no meaning, although i believe there's a famed persian novel called "the clocks of iraz," referring to a clocktower in the region. so, i supposed, in some strange dead language, the name does have some meaning.
but, no, i wish i could say my dad was inspired by the name upon his fluency in persian. he conjured with "iraz" from his own name, spelled backwards, with letters omitted. it was his way of name me zahari junior. my dad never confirmed this, but my mom gigglingly told me this.
unique?, perhaps. but i was aghast when i came to know about this. i think, that naming a child with some misguided, no meaning, albeit creative way, is just about as equal to giving the child a name of something like... "bhlergckhh^@#??"
hi, my name is bhlergckhh^@#??, nice to meetcha.
one day, a friend started calling me "syamil." it was the first time anybody ever referred me by my middle name. because syamil has meaning, he reasoned. it means complete, or perfect. i liked it.
maybe i felt like wanting to begin my life anew. maybe because i saw the chance to reinvent life as i knew it. but, for whatever reason, just before i left for the US, i felt a nudge within me everytime i introduced myself, that i stuck out my hands and said, "hello, i am... syamil."
thus, my new identity began.
it took a little getting used to, at first. i remember, in the beginning, when somebody called out the name syamil, and it took me a moment before i realized, "oh, yeah, that's me." nowadays, i am so used to syamil that the name iraz sounded so weird, so very not-me, as if it was another person in another lifetime.
but some americans, though, seemed to have a hard time saying the name syamil. "what? sch-," they stuttered, "um, sher-, srch-meahl? shur-meel?"
and i would give up, and say, "you know what, *sigh* you can call me iraz."
idiot americans: "what? ee-ireyz?"
me: "nooo! follow me here: ...iran? ... iraq? ... iraz!"
ooh, they would nod.
these exceptions notwithstanding, i am syamil now. and this caused some confusion everytime i get back home, coz a friend would holler "syamil!" and another friend would whisper, "who's syamil??" and vice versa. but my family learned to adapt, and it was generally known that if my friends asked for "iraz," then these are my friends from malaysia, and the ones calling me "syamil" are the friends i met post-US.
so, hello there, i am syamil.
and that's the story of my name.
hi! i am syamil.
how youuuu doin'. : )
actually, for the first twenty years of my life, i was iraz. everybody callled me, or knew me, by that name or variations of that name. the name "iraz" has no meaning, although i believe there's a famed persian novel called "the clocks of iraz," referring to a clocktower in the region. so, i supposed, in some strange dead language, the name does have some meaning.
but, no, i wish i could say my dad was inspired by the name upon his fluency in persian. he conjured with "iraz" from his own name, spelled backwards, with letters omitted. it was his way of name me zahari junior. my dad never confirmed this, but my mom gigglingly told me this.
unique?, perhaps. but i was aghast when i came to know about this. i think, that naming a child with some misguided, no meaning, albeit creative way, is just about as equal to giving the child a name of something like... "bhlergckhh^@#??"
hi, my name is bhlergckhh^@#??, nice to meetcha.
one day, a friend started calling me "syamil." it was the first time anybody ever referred me by my middle name. because syamil has meaning, he reasoned. it means complete, or perfect. i liked it.
maybe i felt like wanting to begin my life anew. maybe because i saw the chance to reinvent life as i knew it. but, for whatever reason, just before i left for the US, i felt a nudge within me everytime i introduced myself, that i stuck out my hands and said, "hello, i am... syamil."
thus, my new identity began.
it took a little getting used to, at first. i remember, in the beginning, when somebody called out the name syamil, and it took me a moment before i realized, "oh, yeah, that's me." nowadays, i am so used to syamil that the name iraz sounded so weird, so very not-me, as if it was another person in another lifetime.
but some americans, though, seemed to have a hard time saying the name syamil. "what? sch-," they stuttered, "um, sher-, srch-meahl? shur-meel?"
and i would give up, and say, "you know what, *sigh* you can call me iraz."
idiot americans: "what? ee-ireyz?"
me: "nooo! follow me here: ...iran? ... iraq? ... iraz!"
ooh, they would nod.
these exceptions notwithstanding, i am syamil now. and this caused some confusion everytime i get back home, coz a friend would holler "syamil!" and another friend would whisper, "who's syamil??" and vice versa. but my family learned to adapt, and it was generally known that if my friends asked for "iraz," then these are my friends from malaysia, and the ones calling me "syamil" are the friends i met post-US.
so, hello there, i am syamil.
and that's the story of my name.
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