I'm Sofia Luz.
Psychologist.
Philosopher.
Professionally
suspicious of easy
answers.

Welcome to 
Am I Me Yet?

My little philosophy
is Luzismo: try
turning on a light
before fighting the
shadows.

This notebook is
called Things I Was
Wrong About.
I update it weekly.
Sometimes hourly.

After work, I change
my methods.

Flamenco is just
philosophy for the feet—
and I have a lot to say.

Some neighbors
know the dancer.
Some clients know
the psychologist.

Most haven't
realized they're
arguing with the
same woman.

Today's
question:
suppose every
neuron in your
brain could
be replaced,
one by one,
with a silicon
chip.

Each chip does
exactly the same
job as the neuron
it replaces.

At what point—if
any—would you stop
being you?

The first
replacement?
The last?
Or never,
if everything still
works the same?

For this thought
experiment, imagine
the replacement
works perfectly.
That doesn't settle
what being you means.

No right-answer
buzzer today.
Apparently,
everyone brought a
wrong-personality
buzzer instead.

When I stop
naming every little
thing... and kick a
pebble without
apologizing to it.

Finally. A field
expedition with
no respect for
the specimens.

The pebble has
declined to comment.

I'd stop being me
when having four
arms no longer feels
like an advantage.

Am I me yet?
Because
today I feel like a
dive-bomber.

I am suddenly
reconsidering the
arms.

I cook only for
social media now.
Nobody eat the
composition.

And if it doesn't go
viral... I'm okay.

Two identity crises.
One untouched
dinner.

I don't like
math.
Or soccer.

That's fine.
You don't
have to like
math.

And I'm 
completely
fine with you
calling 
it soccer.

Such peace. I'm
alarmed.

That procedure
wouldn't mess up my
hairstyle, right?

Well, I cannot
picture you with
messy hair.

Me neither. 
Anyway,
I'm leaving it like
this.

His Majesty has
discovered a crisis
worth governing.

When I'm more
afraid of Rabbit Hole
eating me than proud
of being a software
guru.

Am I me yet?
Because you smell...
surprisingly
delicious.

Please debug your
lunch preferences.

What
chips?

The crunchy
kind or
the lawsuit
kind?

As long as I get
newer neurons, 
I'd be happy.

Grand Relative has already 
asked about the upgrade plan.

How dare you
attempt 
to change God's
neuron?

One neuron?

I am
defending
them
individually!

I'd stop being me
when I forget I'm
playing... and feel
I AM the character.

Not 
embarrassment.
Actual fear of
dying.

Let's pause. That's
a toy dragon, and
you're safe here.

I need a 
mechanical
body part to improve
me.

I need a
super serum
to improve me.

The chemist wants hardware.
The engineer wants biology.

The propeller isn't
giving me emotional
range.

I want color in my
body!

And I want the
opposite.

There. I'm still me.
Just less
printer-friendly.

And I finally match
my existential
doubts.

Your turn.
At what
point, if any,
would you
stop being
you?

What would have to
stay: your memories,
your body, your way
of caring... or
something else?

We haven't solved
identity. We've
caught our instincts
contradicting
themselves.

That's enough
for tonight.
My feet would
like the last
word.

Different
dress.
Same
woman?
Tonight,
I'll dance the
question.