Growing up we shared an identity. Wherever I went, she followed. If I wore a Princess Jasmine nightdress, she sure as hell had one on just like it (maybe in purple instead of blue, but you get the idea). Countless times, we simultaneously opened Christmas presents and looked at each other with satisfaction when we saw that we had gotten the same amount of Beanie Babies...
When my sister was born, my Grandad bought me a sparkle-eyed Barbie doll, which served as somewhat of a bribe, saying, "Here's a little treat because the attention is going to be taken off you for a while." I loved that Barbie so much--I gave her all my attention. I played with her, pulled out all her hair--in a failed an attempt to achieve some avant-garde hairstyle--and eventually I think I may have lost one of her legs in a heated tug-of-war with one of my friends. Now, as I look back on February 7th, 1992, I may remember getting that gift from my Grandad, but what I see now is that I received two gifts, the latter being of the utmost import. My baby sister, Amanda, was born the day I got that Barbie, and her presence on this earth has changed my life irrevocably.
Having a little sister is one thing, a lot of people share that experience. But having a little sister who is your best friend is something else entirely. After all the turbulent years of fighting over clothes, bathroom space, or who got more french fries at dinner, my sister and I finally reached an age where honesty reigned supreme and care for one another became paramount. At about my 19th year and her 16th, we realized that our shared life experiences have bonded us in a way that no one else can or will understand. We got to an age where we could talk openly and candidly about the trials and tribulations in our own lives. The best part about this situation is that my lovely little sister matured quite quickly for her age. While her peers gossiped about high school boys, my sister pounded away on the piano, putting all her angst into those black and white keys. I have benefited from her maturity by turning to her with my problems, to which she always has the most sound, although harsh, advice for me. Advice that my non-related friends would be terrified to give for fear that our relationship might end in bitter tears. With my sister, she knows I will love her unconditionally, even when her honesty hurts. I will never walk away from her.
Growing up, our mother introduced us to several pop cultural and artistic delicacies of taste that we have carried with us to this day. From the day my sister was born my mom and I had her watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and My Neighbor Totoro, two films that have influenced us forever. With Nightmare, we giggled, screamed, and delighted in the magical, mysterious, bizarre world that Tim Burton created for us. Come autumn time, we ran around the house, like ghosts on a rampage, feeling the spirit of the season in our very bones. I can assuredly say that only my sister, my lovely, intriguing sister, can ever truly understand that special kind of feeling in Christmasland, just like I can. It's that ability to connect on very personal and emotional levels that makes our bond such a strong one. Now that I am away at college, our bond has not broken, it's just been tested, stretched a little, due to lack of proximity to one another. However, I can say with fervor, if I were to text my sister one line from Nightmare, I would get the next line back within seconds. Not only that, if I ever really needed her to be by my side, I know in an instant she would be there, and vice versa.
As for Totoro, this movie wholly encompasses the deep love I have for my sister (and she for me). Our mom had us watching this, again, from before the time that my sister could speak. We identified with the two sisters in the movie--I was Satsuki and she was Mei. As the movie progresses, wild, curious Mei wanders off to find her mother's hospital one summer evening. Once everyone realizes she is in trouble (she's a four year old girl walking alone in the dark!), Satsuki springs into action. She runs with all her might through the countryside screaming for her baby sister. Panting, out of breath, dirty, dusty and tired, Satsuki keeps running, praying and crying out in desperation for her little sister to be safe. Writing this now I am welling up with tears because I
know that love. I know that love Satsuki has for her sister more than I can express in words. It's a feeling, deep in my gut, it's the tears that taste salty with pain and emotion in the back of my throat, it's a love that only sisters and best friends have for each other. I, like Satsuki, would do ABSOLUTELY anything for my sister. If she were in trouble, I would drop everything to save her. I care more about her than I do about anything in this world. She means everything to me and it kills me that I can't see her everyday.
I love my sister so much. She is the evening and the morning star in my life.
Finally, here's Bai Ling dressed by me. Although she is much maligned for her nip slips and funky outfits, I have a soft spot for kooky individualists like Miss Bai. I'm not exactly a fan (although I loved her in Dumplings), but I will always stand in her defense.
Don't ask me to explain, but somehow I ended up at this website called Stardoll, where you can dress up your favorite celebrities, including — to my surprise — Maggie Cheung. (Sorry, guys! Lo Lieh is not available for dressing up.)
