Famous Last Words Week 14: Winding Down

I finally feel that my semester is on the downward slope now! Today, I just finished the whole interview process for the Rhodes Scholarship, and although I wasn't chosen, I'm glad I'm past that hurtle. Now, there are just a few things that stand in my way when it comes to finishing this semester. I will admit that I'm going to have to figure out how to get much of my senior thesis written in a few weeks. Given that I will have the Thanksgiving break to work on it, I believe I'll be able to make it work. It'll just depend on much much coffee and will I have!

Having said that, I'm just now remembering that I have another medical school interview coming up right after the semester ends. I'll have to fly all the way up to Rochester, which I'm willing to bet will be as cold as the bottom of Dante's Inferno. Nevertheless, I look forward to the opportunity to get a perspective on another medical school. After coming down to Houston for the Rhodes interview, I feel pretty accustomed to stressful interview situations. By now, I should feel pretty confident!

A much tamer version of the winter weather I could be seeing in Rochester, New York in December. Found at rochester.edu.

Beyond that, I'm eager to finish the semester with a full sense of vigor and vitality. I feel a desire to read and write more frequently. I want to dedicate more of my time to getting to know new people. Overall, I want to take these last few months of college to polish myself off as a person, you might say. After all, if I do end up going to medical school, free time is going to be a little difficult to come by. I hope I will still be able to quench my thirst for many of my interests as I continue my education. For now, though, I am willing to wait and see.

Reading Diary Week 14: Dante's Inferno

To end my series of Reading Diaries, I've chosen the Dante's Inferno Unit for this week.

Dante and Virgil: Having read this in Italian, I find it so weird to see how the translation doesn't reflect the format of the original work. By format, I mean a representation of terza rima. I've always loved how Virgil introduces himself, "Not a man: but a man I once was." In this part, I can just see Dante going up to Virgil on his knees to show his respect.

Limbo: The idea of souls waiting on a shore to arrive at the place of their judgement is moving. It's almost as if they are disembarking from their mortal life. Wow, I never took notice of how Virgil describes the punishment for the shades in Limbo: "...we are only tormented, in that without hope we live in desire."

Paolo and Francesca: I love the constant warnings that emerge in Inferno, and another here comes from Minos. This part of Inferno seems to be the beginning of what I would call the prevalence of cameos. I still find it so interesting how literature is the cause of sin for Paolo and Francesca.

Fortune and Phlegyas: Vigril seems to give an impassive, neutral quality to Fortune, and that seems to be a response to so many people who blame fate for what happens to them. I do disagree with the punishment for the sullen; I am aware that it disregards mental illness, that is depression. Phlegyas seems to reflect the anger of the people he sails over.

The Furies and the Heretics: It goes to show that even the powerful Virgil needs help and confirmation from the heavens to continue his journey into Hell with Dante. You know, I wonder if there's meaning behind including the heretics within Dis.      

Storytelling Week 13: Give 'im Some Credit

Coffee in hand and braced against an unforgiving North wind, I make my way toward Buchanan Hall to drop off paper work for my research credit. You would think that after three years at OU I would be on top of these things. If there's anything I've learned as a student, it's that procrastination is a degenerative disease. As I walk in the building, I glance down at my form to ensure I have all the essential pieces. Name. Major. Bibliography. Signatures. I swear, it's that last one that always gets me. At times, finding a professor to coax out a signature nearly requires a search party. Fortunately, I'm not missing anything this time.

I shoot up the stairs to face the bureaucracy, dragging my confidence along with me. While exchanging pleasantries with the two young women who represent the beating heart of Enrollment Services, I lay my form on the desk and mention I need to add the credit to my schedule. I'm not too worried. They tend to be lax on the red tape when it comes to this type of coursework.

"Looks pretty good, but it seems that your professor's section doesn't exist."

"Pardon?"

"Section 7 for Honors Research doesn't exist under the MBIO course designation," she tells me. "You'll have to speak with the department to add the section. Then, we'll be able to enroll you."

*Sigh*

"Sounds good. I'll go take care of that now."

If you look closely, you'll see the fine print that says, "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." Found at waymarking.com

Walking briskly toward George Lynn Cross Hall, the home of the Department of Microbiology, I reflect on my tendency to lose such bureaucratic lotteries. It's just my luck to be forced to jump through another hoop! By the time I reach the building, my hand has begun to freeze to the surface of my metallic thermos. It only takes a handful of seconds to reach the department's office and explain the situation to the secretary.

"To be honest, adding a section is much easier than it sounds," she says. "However, I'll need confirmation that you turned in a completed add-drop slip for the college from you before it do. You realize it's way past due, right?"

I silently nod as she hands me the slip. What I see written on it causes my eyes to roll.

Spaces for two more signatures.

I spend the next two hours around campus herding the necessary parties to collect that precious ink. By the time I arrive at Ellison Hall to drop off the slip, my ears are crystalizing thanks to the bitter cold. I walk in, slide the slip to the woman at the desk, and prepare myself to receive another mission.

"Before I take this, you'll need to fill out an appeal form for the dean to sign."

Never again. I promise that I will never put myself through this again.

Within a few rushed minutes, I turn in the appeal and dash back toward George Lynn Cross Hall. I speak with the secretary who pulls up a program to create the section for my research credit. I waste no time returning to Buchanan Hall to end this once and for all.

"Okay! You're enrolled now!"

Music to my ears.

~~~~

Author's Note: From the Italian Tales Unit, I chose The Sexton's Nose to recount for my Storytelling post this week. I focused on the second part of the story in which a sexton is forced to jump through a series of hoops to obtain the hair of a dog to cure a dog bite. For example, the sexton needs to give the smith coals in exchange for a mattock, which he will give to the woodman and so on. My retelling is based off of personal experience with getting courses and credits added at the last minute. I thought it would be funny to insert OU into my blog, and this felt like a good fit.

Bibliography
Thomas Frederick Crane
Italian Popular Tales
1885

Essay Week 13: The Sunday Funny Pages

Once I stumbled across this cartoon, I immediately decided to do my essay post over it. I chose this one in particular because it brings me back to Sunday mornings while I was still in grade school. Since my father writes for the Tulsa World, Sunday's paper always made an appearance on the counter top. Reading through all the "funny pages," as my dad called them, became a ritual of mine. The comic strip Pickles, from which the cartoon below originated, always had a spot on the second page.

Cartoon by Brian Crane. 

There are so many aspects of this cartoon that remind me of growing up. Thanks to my father's constant corrections, I learned from a young age to place my apostrophes appropriately. Some of the dialogue in the last panel could easily be heard in my household. On that note, this cartoon reminds me of the dynamic that exists among many families. I can attest to the fact that a good amount of light-hearted teasing can really make a family jibe well. For example, it's well-known that my sister does a great job at keeping me humble.

From here, I will shift my focus onto the content of the cartoon itself. In my opinion, a large part of the humor comes from the strong sense of dramatic irony in the last panel. Just as the man does not catch the fact his wife is indeed criticizing him, the wife does not seem to notice that she's breaking the very resolution she just declared. Beyond that, there is a bit of a paradox here that draws attention to the fact that these characters reside in a comic strip. Since "your" and "you're" are pronounced the same, there is no way the wife would have noticed the error unless she were able to see the word written. I'm willing to bet that the cartoonist intended this to be the case. After all, one should have room to experiment when writing a comic strip.

Reading Diary Week 13: Italian Tales

Given that I have already read both Dante's Divine Comedy and Boccaccio's Decameron, I decided to expand my tastes a bit by choosing the Italian Tales Unit. 

Zelinda and the Monster: I'm surprised at how mature Zelinda is in terms of her willingness to sacrifice herself and take ownership for something that could easily be considered her father's doing. To be honest, I didn't expect the monster to change into a handsome young man because of his use of trickery to get Zelinda to acquiesce to marriage.

How the Devil Married Three Sisters: Wow, this seems to capture of the idea of "curiosity killed the cat." It seems the third daughter was gifted with a clever mind as well as curiosity. I find it interesting that this story ends with an act of humiliation for the devil.

Water and Salt: This story seems to revolve around the idea of putting one person in another's shoes. However, in this case, the daughter creates the physical act of her analogy to give meaning to her language. I will say that I'm not sure I understand why the magician had to be killed.

The Man, the Serpent, and the Fox: "The serpent replied that hunger did not observe promises." What a true and clever statement! I cannot help myself from laughing at the end of this story. I can imagine the look on the serpent's face! To be honest, I'm surprised that the serpent fell for such a trick. In my opinion, he became over confident based on what the greyhound and the horse said.

The Language of Animals: I'm noticing that characters in these stories do not take kindly to being insulted. After all, look at what the father orders his servants to do after he becomes humiliated. Plus, there's another example of deception when the servants kill a dog in place of the son. At least the new Pope was willing to forgive his father.

The Sexton's Nose: At the beginning of this story, I'm already feeling the sense of build-up. Perhaps this is similar to "The Woman Who Swallowed a Fly." Also, it seems that the sexton forces the offending party to make a choice. After all, they cannot replace a roast pea that has been eaten, for example. Wow, there is certainly an emphasis on sequence in this story.

A Feast Day: What an absurd story! It seems to comment on the art of storytelling since it references the "blockheads who are listening." I wonder if this falling into mouths business is a metaphor for being gullible.  

The Cock That Wished to Become Pope: Well, it seems that hopes dissipated pretty quickly for Mr. Cock and Mrs. Hen. Perhaps they should have learned from the weasel and the cat by deciding to relinquish their desire to become Pope and Popess. At the same time, it seems the Mr. Cock is a bit foolish to believe that he can be Pope.

Famous Last Words Week 12: A Mini Thanksgiving

This past weekend, I felt small. Standing in the middle of Owen Field before a sold out game can have that effect on a person. Still, I wasn't there without reason. As luck would have it, I was chosen as the Outstanding Senior for the College of Arts and Sciences a few weeks ago. To say that I was surprised would be an understanding; I remember letting the words "oh shit" slip out of surprise when the Director of Leadership Development and Volunteerism told me the news over the phone. I'm thankful that she was understanding.

While it was a unique experience to be recognized on a field, the weekend was a reminder of how many people have helped me become who I am. My parents got to watch from the sidelines, and they relayed the event to relatives. My mentor, a retired US Army Major general, had the opportunity to watch me receive my award on Friday. It's a shame my sister could not have been there; she does a great job at keeping me humble.

Mom and Dad. I still cannot believe that my mother, an OSU alumna, was willing to wear that sticker. (Personal photo, taken November 2014). 

Over the weekend, an observation became increasingly apparent. I realized that those who felt the most pride for me were the people that had helped me most in my life. In my opinion, the correlation is strong. I suppose the relationship exists because we relinquish and invest a little bit of our ego in another every time we chose to lend a hand. It makes sense to me. Why else would we feel such pride for accomplishments that are not ours. Then again, maybe part of it is genetic. In that case, the pride we feel for others comes from the knowledge that we have a little bit of ourselves--that is, within DNA--in those we feel pride for. I would hope it's more than just a reflection of our biology.

All and all, it was a good weekend, a weekend that acted as a reminder of the people for whom I am thankful.

Storytelling Week 12: Shot Through the Heart

Medical Field Report, July 24th 1862- Dr. Richard Anderson
~~~~~~
Three bullets straight to the chest. Yet, he was still breathing. Those balls of lead must have sidled up right next to the heart without tearing it to pieces. When I put my ear to his chest, I could hear his heart pressing against the unforgiving metal with every shaky beat.

I wiped the sweat from my brow as I looked at the miracle lying before me. As the senior field surgeon, I had learned that war could twist expectations in every way possible. In medicine, it was triple amputees who were spared from infection. In America, it was a fight that pitted North against South, brother against brother. When I chose to practice medicine, I never imagined that I would bear witness to every facet of the human condition.

Somehow I had stopped the bleeding, so I rushed across the field hospital to fetch the other surgeons and my apprentice. Yesterday's battle had provided today's hell on earth. Severed limbs rotted in metal buckets. Screams begging for mercy rang out from each tent. The foul air, saturated with filth and illness, left the metallic taste of blood on the tongue.

I ducked my head into the blood-stained supply tent--the central hub of this organized chaos.

"You all are gonna want to see this."

The surgery tent where the miracle happened. Wikipedia Commons.

With my colleagues and apprentice in tow, I briskly walked the tent that housed my patient. I felt like I was about to exhibit a medical masterpiece--an opus that defied medical knowledge of the time.

During the time I had exited to round up my colleagues, blood has started to seep from underneath the soiled rags I had used to staunch the bleeding. We couldn't afford to spare any time to gaze in awe. Those bullets needed to be removed.

After the had sedated the patient with the little whiskey we had remaining, we removed the rags to take a look at the entrance wounds.

"Why can't we just leave the bullets in him? We do it all the time."

The other surgeons seemed to nod in agreement with Thomas.

"Those rounds are embedded right next to the heart. What's stopping them from tearing a hole in the coronary artery? If we close him up as I is now, a strong cough could be the difference between life and death for him. We're operating," I responded.

The bleed was slowly worsening, so we all tried to tease out all three bullets at once. The wasted body on the table let out a groan as I inserted my finger into the wound to get a feel for the bullet's location.

"Dammit, this fucker has clipped the pericardium."

More importantly, the bullet had nearly wrapped the aorta around itself like a blanket. I struggled to grasp it with my forceps without pushing the splintered bone into the exposed heart. Warm, slick blood gave my steady a hand a run for its money. My colleagues didn't seem to be having much more luck than I was. I prepared myself for a race against the clock.

CLINK!

The sound of metal on metal pierced through the stench in the tent. I looked up to find a crimson, metallic orb lying on the tin plate we used as our waste tray.

"Who...who just removed that?"

I quickly gazed over the operating table. The blood-soaked forceps clasped in my apprentice's hand answered my question.

"Lucas? That was you?"

I could barely believe it. My apprentice had performed the impossible. I gaped at him as if he had pulled Excalibur from its stone.

"Can you do it again?"

Without saying a word, my apprentice walked over to where I stood to coax the bullet out from its sanctuary near the heart. Five minutes later, the patient's chest gave birth to the second bullet. Fifteen minutes later, we had the whole set. Hours later, the patient is doing fine, albeit with a intense hangover.

As I finish this entry, I cannot stop myself from reflecting upon my role as a surgeon. I place so much pride in my skill to extract life from places where death should only reign. However, perhaps I should keep my ego in check. For now, it seems that the student has become the teacher.

Author's Note: Prompted by my interest in medicine, I decided to retell The Drawing of the Sword story from the King Arthur unit in the setting of a field hospital during the Civil War. It should be noted that there are a few medical terms in here, but they have been used in a way that does not take understanding away from the story. Just in case, the aorta is the main artery that takes oxygenated blood from the heart and sends it off to the rest of the body.

Bibliography:
King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table 
Andrew Lang
1902

Reading Diary Week 12: King Arthur

To reminisce over when I read The Once and Future King in high school, I chose the King Arthur Unit for this week.

The Drawing of the Sword: I like the dramatic irony that emerges when Arthur pulls out a sword that he never expected to be a trial to remove. I wonder if Arthur's naiveté is a part of his kingliness. To be honest, I cannot blame the barons' feeling angry that a child was chosen to be king by the sword.

The Sword Excalibur: I love how the relationship between Merlin and Arthur is developed into one of a father and son. For example, Merlin ends up teaching Arthur a lesson over the importance of his new gift.

The Passing of Merlin: Merlin's desire for Niume is one of the most humanizing aspects of his character. If not for that, I would say that a strong rapport could not be developed between he and Arthur.

The Quest of the Holy Graal: This introduction regarding the Holy Graal seems to be a cautionary tale of chasing what cannot be obtained. In this case, the Holy Graal is what cannot be obtained by human beings, but it also acts as a metaphor for the danger of one's dreams.

The Coming of the Holy Graal: In this story, it seems that Arthur has taken on the role of Merlin because he is the one who advises against the pursuit of the Holy Graal. I suppose his has gained enough wisdom to realize that the Holy Graal can be the wedge the drives the Knights of the Round Table apart. I think one of the most important lines in this story is the last one: "...and every Knight took the way he best liked." In my opinion, this seems like the perfect representation of how the core of Arthur's Round Table is dispersed in pursuit of something that cannot be obtained.  

Sir Lancelot's Vision: It seems that King Arthur saw this coming. I find it interesting that the Holy Graal only came in the presence of Lancelot once he was defenseless for the most part. My favorite line in this story is "I marvel greatly at this sleeping Knight...that he had no power to wake when the Holy Vessel was brought hither."

Sir Lancelot and the Five Hundred Knights: I think it's easy for many people to identify with Lancelot. He seems to be the personification of resistant guilt. I get the feeling from him that he doesn't see a way to redeem himself for what he had done. However, the story hints that Galahad will be his salvation in some way or another.

The Adventure of Sir Bors: There's a trend that I am starting to notice in these stories, and it seems to be one in which divine intervention exists without a direct reference to God. To be honest, it reminds me of the description of the "Force" in Star Wars. But in this case, no reference is made to the cause behind what allows one to approach the Holy Graal.

Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad: I am almost shocked to see a reference to God in this story. As far as I know, it's the first reference of the sort that I have seen. I feel bad for Lancelot since he has to return to Camelot where he discovers so many of his friends to be dead. However, it seems that spending time with his son has renewed him in a way.  

Famous Last Words Week 11: Read, Study, Rinse and Repeat

With last week’s arrival of the surprising news regarding the Rhodes Scholarship, I have been putting my nose to the grindstone. The final interview is known for being notoriously difficult. The judges, most of who are Rhodes Scholars themselves, try to make your head spin. They will ask questions that come out of left field just to test how well you react to not knowing a topic. Therefore, most of my free time now consists of preparing for the mental hurtle.

Anytime I drive in Norman, I play NPR through an app on my phone. When I have the time, I try to wrap my head around the complex law that is the Affordable Care Act. The same thing applies to the study of linguistics and philology because I proposed to pursue a Masters in those subjects at Oxford. Overall, it’s a humbling experience. It has been a great reminder of how little I actually know. It has strengthened my desire to be a life-long learner. I feel a renewed appetite to bite into the subjects and topics that have always interested me. At the same time, I must say that I’m a little disappointed in myself that it took the possibility of a scholarship to encourage me to do something I should have been doing all along.

A screenshot of a comic I've read that does a through job of explaining the ACA. Found at boingboing.net.

When it comes to the interview, I have been lucky enough to receive some perspective. My scholarship coordinator, Melanie Wright, sent me ‘debriefings’ of people who had interviewed in the past. One in particular helped me to calm down. She mentioned that she had said “I don’t know” at least four times in her interview, and when everything was said and done, she still got the scholarship. The way I see it, the purpose of the interview is to confirm who I am based on what I submitted in my application. I do not want to go in there feeling I have to prove myself further or impress people. I think my best chance comes from focusing on communicating who I am.

Reading Diary Week 11: Canterbury Tales

Since I've studied Giovanni Boccaccio, who is considered an influence of Chaucer's, I have decided to read the Canterbury Tales Unit this week. 

The Wife of Bath's Tale: The Unknown Bride: I love the challenge put on by the Queen! I know I would be under pressure if I were to have to discover what women wish for most. I find it interesting that the narrator makes the claim that "we women cannot conceal things." That almost seems to be the view of a man. I doubt she sincerely means that. The example she gives of Midas' wife also seems ridiculous. I get the feeling that this story focuses on how the sexes view each other. This story argues for the respect of women.

The Friar's Tale: The Story of the Summoner: I'm surprised to see that the fiend "plays fair" in a sense. He values the true meaning of what people say. It seems that the fiend plays a neutral role in this story because he needed the old woman to make the call to take the summoner into hell.

The Franklin's Tale: The Promise of Dorigen: Hmm, I wonder if this suitor will manage to find a way to deal with the black rocks that worry Dorigen so intensely. With the description of what the magician is showing Aurelius and his brother, I'm pretty sure the magician is using the aforementioned magical book. Yep, that was not too difficult to predict. Wow, I'm surprised at how much importance is placed into keeping one's word in these stories. Again, this story seems to end well for most everyone involved. I really enjoy the question at the end, as well.

The Prioress's Tale: Little Hugh: Goodness, this story certainly starts off with some morbid ideas. What a chilling thought to imagine a dead body singing a hymn. It's clear that this story is meant to incite anger thanks to the use of a innocent martyr.

Nun's Priest's Tale: The Cock, the Hen and the Fox: As I begin to read, I wonder if this story will concern itself mainly with the role of man. This is interesting; we have another story within a story here. I stand corrected. I wonder what roles dreams played in the lives of people who lived during the time of the story's writing. I like the lesson here regarding the vulnerable role one puts oneself in when he speaks.

Famous Last Words Week 10: Eventful Weekend to Say the Least

While I know my title makes this post seem dramatic, I just have a lot of good news to share. I certainly hope you all will not think I am bragging either!

On Friday, much to my surprise, I found out that I am a finalist for the Rhodes Scholarship for my district, which covers Oklahoma and Texas. Each district chooses fourteen finalists, and from those fourteen, they select two Rhodes Scholars. When you crunch the numbers, that means I have a one in seven chance of becoming a Rhodes Scholar. I cannot believe it. It is difficult to imagine the opportunity of having the chance to study in Oxford for two years, and in my case, I would plan to pursue a Master degree in General Linguistics and Philology. The interview is a little less than a month from now, so I'm preparing myself with a ton of reading. It will be an interesting experience to say the least!

A clip from the email that I could barely believe. (Personal photo)

Yesterday, I had my first interview for medical school at OU's College of Medicine. While I felt the interview went fine, the more important aspect I gleaned from the experience was how impressed I was by the campus. The medical students who showed us around were so well-rounded, and I felt comfortable around them. Most importantly, I decided that I could be happy studying at OU's College of Medicine. I still have more interviews to go, but it is reassuring to know that I do not necessarily have to leave the state in order to find a good fit for medical school.

I guess for now I just have to concern myself with preparing for the next challenges in the upcoming months. It's exciting, and the best part about this is that I never would have seen myself doing any of these things four years ago.

Storytelling Week 10: Back to Basics

I went to bed as a man and woke up as an infant. The resilient, slender legs I had as a marathon runner are now pudgy, fleshy sausages that cannot even support my own weight. I try to avert my gaze away from the aseptic hospital lighting that strains my eyes, but the muscles in my neck fail to move a head that seems too big for my body.

I cannot explain how I came to inhabit this form, and despite the transformation, I find myself at ease as if I haven't learned what it means to be angry or afraid. Is this what reincarnation is like? Is this what it is to be born again? In a way, I am a pioneer. I'm becoming a witness of the event we all experience but never remember.

A representation of the bodily prison I am trapped in. Wikipedia Commons.

Luckily, I'm able to shift my gaze around to get a sense of my surroundings. I get the feeling that I am not alone. It must be a nursery. I seem to be in somewhat of a crib, and as I look toward my minuscule, albeit adorable, toes, I make out two blurred figures. One, dressed in white, stands still enough to where I can almost make out distinct features. The other seems to be an amorphous blur. I think he or she is motioning wildly to the doctor as if trying to explain that the impossible had happened. A nurse walks in the door, and my fresh ears catch a few syllables of the conversation.

I recognize the voice immediately. It's my wife.

If only I could yell out to her--let her know that I'm here! Only the babble that all infants share emerges from my untrained tongue. Yet, how could she know? I can only guess at what she is telling the physician.

Forget all of that. I need a plan of action. I am faced with challenge of setting myself apart from so many other bundles of joy. What if I tried to kick with my leg?

Despite the fact that maneuvering this body is much more complicated that driving a shift stick, I manage to move my leg in what barely passes as a kick. However, it seems to catch Rachel's attention. She motions to the doctor, but does not seem convinced. Perhaps I can catch her attention if I wiggle these petite toes of mine. My ten dancing digits catch the eye of my wife, but the doctor still remains as motionless as before.

I'm running out of options here. I lift my right hand as high as a can as if I were trying to ask a question of my spectators. Rachel jumps back and grabs the doctor to make him look at what I am doing. I might just be able to pull this off!

As my coup de grace, I begin to squirm as if my life depended on it. I'm certain that this will do the trick. In my newfound confidence, I look to my left. My hope dissipates as quickly as it appeared. My performance seems to have caught the attention of other newborns in the room, and they begin to mimic my last chance dance. Only a few hours old, I have already gone viral.

I look toward the window, and the blurred figure that represents my wife seems confused. She has lost me, and in turn, she has lost the attention of the physician. I see him turn away to attend to more pressing affairs.

Rachel gives me one more look, and I can only guess she is saying goodbye.

Author's Note: I decided to take my own spin on The Piqued Buffalo-Wife story from the Native American Marriage Tales unit.  While I didn't discuss marriage in my retelling, I focused on the part where the transformed son tries his best to help his father identify him among other buffalo calves. In this case, the transformation is of a man into an infant rather than a boy into a calf.

Bibliography
Stith Thompson
Tales of the North American Indians
1929

Reading Diary Week 10: Native American Marriage Tales

For this week, I chose the Native American Marriage Tales unit. 

The Piqued Buffalo-Wife: I'm surprised that this story starts with a situation of bestiality right out of the gate, but perhaps it's wrong of me to label it in such a way. I like how the situation has flipped when the father has to pick out his child out of the rest of the buffalo calves. I'm also surprised that the story ended relatively well for the family despite the father's mistake.

Splinter-Foot Girl: I love the variety of ways in which life is created in these stories. It reminds me a bit of some of the origin stories I read in the Ovid units. Also,  the intervention of animals in this story as messengers strikes me as fascinating. It's as if trust is put into them to carry on the correct message. The image of buffalo bulls burrowing through the ground is quite impressive! I get the feeling that this was a story to set the order of nature--that is, set who holds dominion over whom.

The Fox-Woman: There seems to be a similarity to this story and the stories told in the Eskimo unit, because an animal's skin is considered a fundamental part of its form. Although, it seems that smell remains with the life-form no matter what shape it takes.

The Rolling Head: There's quite a bit of gore in this story, and I'm not used to seeing stories that involve a man killing his wife. And I just read that the children were fed the meat of their mother! I wonder what it would be like to be followed by the head of my deceased mother. Well, I guess a rolling head gathers no moss.

The Bear-Woman: It seems to be a consistent pattern that any marriage to an animals in these stories involves the mention of sexual acts between the human and animal lovers. The action in these stories seems to change without a moment's notice. The Bear-Woman could have been a little more direct by stating the touching of her kidneys would have dire consequences. 

Essay Week 9: The Shaping Force of Narrative

Having progressed this far into the semester, I have started to reflect on the purpose of storytelling. How did storytelling evolve to take root in culture? What do stories provide to those that hear them? What about those who tell the stories?

A year ago, I took my honors colloquium, Literature and Medicine, and the central question of the course was this: What can literature learn from medicine, and what can medicine learn from literature? We explored how narrative genre can frame the stories that patients bring with them into the examination room. We discussed the role of empathy and how abduction, a type of hypothesis-forming logic, fuels what doctors do on a daily basis.

The cover of one of the books written by my professors for Literature and Medicine. Image found at Project MUSE.

I bring this up because I believe storytelling has a way of molding both the people who hear tales and those who recount them, and if that is the case, then storytelling fulfills a cultural function. Research done by scientists at Emory University found that reading fiction changes the physical structure of the brain. As the lead author stated, narrative has a way of putting someone in the protagonist's shoes. Another study by David Kidd and Emanuele Castano found that literary fiction predisposes people to develop a stronger theory of mind and subsequently improve their ability to empathize with others.

Such findings imply that the stories we absorb have a way of shaping the way we think and the way we view the experience of other people. Perhaps reading is the portal that allows us to delve into experiences we might never come to know. I can attest to the fact that I now try to see what I can learn from the fiction I read. I tend to ask myself: How can I apply what I've read to my ability to better relate to others? What does this tell me about the human experience? When I view reading in that way, it gives the time I spend delving into stories more purpose.

Reading Diary Week 9: Eskimo Folk-Tales

Given the arrival of cooler weather, I thought it would be appropriate to choose the Eskimo Folk-Tales unit for this week's reading.

The Coming of Men, A Long, Long While Ago: I love how death is treated in this story. I never thought to imagine death as something to learn, and here it is depicted as a necessary, unavoidable part of life. One of my favorite lines is "They did not know how to story their words into little black marks as you do." Another thing to notice is that the story of origin focuses on discovery rather than birth.

Nukúnguasik, who Escaped from the Tupilak: The description of the Tupilak is pretty creepy in this story, and I think part of that observation is based on the fact that the description is a bit vague. Also, I was surprised to see that Nukúnguasik was willing to lead his brothers to where the middle brother died of fright.

Isigâligârssik: I wonder if there's a pattern of having trickery within stories that deal with native culture. I noticed the same thing in the Brer Rabbit unit. There is also a strong sense of revenge, but in this case, the revenge does not seem to be one fueled by malice.  

Makíte: I nearly feel that this story lacks a resolution. Makíte kills a man and subsequently suffers no punishment for it. Plus, as a reader I'm left wondering what the lone-dweller was talking about before he was killed at the hands of Makíte. I get the feeling that I would need quite a bit of cultural context to understand this story.

The Giant Dog: I wonder why there is such an attention placed on "inland-dwellers" in this unit. Also, most of the stories imply that the narrator does not know everything. He or she seems to admit that they only have a fraction of the story, because they end every tale with a variation of "that is all I know."  

Papik, Who Killed His Wife's Brother: I like the emphasis put on the value of not killing a fellow man. Once again, there's quite a bit of gore in this story, and I wonder if such stories were told to children as well. It's hard to get an idea of how taboo violence was in the Eskimo culture. Also, dying does not seem to be a terrible thing in this story.

The Wife Who Lied: The culture certainly takes lying seriously! Then again, she did cause the death of nearly all the women in their town. One of the most vivid parts in this story is the description of how the women literally worked their fingers to the bone while making the arrows.

Atdlarneq, The Great Glutton: I'm nearly surprised to see that no one died in this story! I expected the master of the house to feed Atdlarneq to death to punish him for his hubris of entering his home. The one thing that makes no sense at all is the description of copper cheeks. At first, I thought it was a way to describe the color, but it seems that the copper cheeks would be able to give quite the beating.

Tungujuluk and Saunikoq: I find it interesting that the act of taking the form of an animal requires the skin of that animal. In the very least, it is described as such. This story seems similar to the one involving Atdlarneq because the punishment is in the form of humiliation.

Reading Diary Assessment

Having read through my Reading Diaries again, I notice that I pretty much stick with the same format. I read through the stories in order and list my thoughts after each one. For the most part, all of the posts are around the same length.

One consistent pattern I notice is that I tend to look for common themes and patterns between different units. For example, in the Japanese Mythology Unit, I mention how many of the stories have an incestuous undertone that is also demonstrated in the Ovid Units over Greek mythology. I'm not surprised to see such a trend, because I try to have the same perspective when it comes to how other areas of knowledge connect in my own learning. However, I seem to make even stronger observations between stories within a whole unit. I guess I preoccupy myself with the overall message of the author.

Also, I tend to focus on my thoughts and reflections rather than the content of the plot. In my opinion, that's the purpose of a reading diary. Otherwise, the post just becomes a regurgitation of what is already written. My Reading Diaries seem to relatively useful for jogging my memory of how I had interpreted a story when I was in the act of reading it.

When it comes to how much the reading I remember, I will say that I am very able to recall how I felt when I was reading a certain story. I remember the impressions I generated, and I believe that reflects the way in which I have been doing the reading diaries. Since I focus on my own thoughts, I find it much easier to bring how I connected with the reading into discussion. Perhaps that's not the best result, but I enjoy being able to discuss stories in a way that communicates who I am.

Famous Last Words Week 7: A New Perspective

The last time I wrote a Famous Last Words entry, I found myself struggling to keep pace with a slew of applications and deadlines. Now, I can breathe a little easier. Even though I have two interviews this week, my schedule has opened up to allow for more spontaneity. I'm reading for pleasure again. I'm finding time to go play tennis during the rare occasions when Oklahoma presents a autumn day that is the perfect temperature without the persistent wind.

A newfound hobby is taking up my free time. Wikipedia Commons.

However, I do not regret the rush and stress from the past month. With those national scholarship applications, I was forced to stop and take stock of my life. Personal statements required that I put who I am into writing, and it is harder than it seems.

"Why?" That's the simple word that came up again and again during that process. Why do I, a person who loves teaching, want to become a doctor? Why do I see language as a lens through which I evaluate my skills as a tutor and future physician? Why did I make the decisions that led me to where I am now?

It is a shame that the question of "what" seems to take precedence in life, and it starts early on. What do you want to be when you grow up? What are your goals? What matters to you? These same questions hold merit, but I think they more readily come to mind.

I now find myself asking "why?" more often, and it keeps me grounded. I feel as if I have taken a one-hour course over myself for the past month, and I am glad I held my ground. The funny thing is that I never would have imagined that I would have gained this much just from the process of applying for such scholarships. I guess the best part of education is what you learn when you least expect it.

Essay Week 7: Dabbling in Dialect

As a language major, a question that tends to intrigue me is how the borders between languages are defined. Unfortunately, I am not trained as a philologist, so it's difficult for me to explore the matter precisely. I do, however, see dialects that emerge out of languages as the "margins of speech."

By "margins," I mean the forms of language that would not be considered standard form. Of course, defining what is standard within language becomes problematic, as well. If language is such a measure of human intellect, how could language be anything but standard?

The key factors that put dialects at the margins of speech seem to be both linguistic demography and literary presence. The former boils down to a game of numbers. If a majority of a population speak one form of a language, then that language will shift toward that form. An example of this is how the word "literally" has gained a new meaning of emphasis (which I despise). The frequent usage of "literally" as a way to express emphasis predicated its entrance into the dictionary.

Speaking of dialect, this map highlights areas of the country where a non-rhotic "r" is used. The non-rhotic makes words like "car" sound like "cah." This is typically of the Boston accent, for example. Wikipedia Commons.

If the demographic that speaks a form or dialect acts as the shifting wind that subtly change language, then literature anchors language in a way that impedes linguistic shifts. Works of literature that command respect are the works that are taught in the classroom, therefore echoes of language from decades and centuries ago can influence the way in which we learn to read, write and speak. Not to mention, the sole act of reading can be a window into a language's past. Part of this powerful influence comes from the fact that text on a page does not shift over time. The text may fade away, but the language within retains a strong sense of stability despite a world of changing linguistic influences.

Storytelling for Week 7: Lost in Translation

Made from the earth, I was. Plain and simple. Well, I wouldn't call it earth exactly, but tar is pretty much the same when it comes down to it. I smell of turpentine and don a dilapidated straw hat, so I'm not the best company to keep. The worst part of it is that Brer Fox went up and forgot to give me a mouth. To think of how simple it would have been for him! Just a poke under my nose would have sufficed perfectly! All I am able to do is sit here and ruminate while my molasses heap of a body melts and bubbles under the unforgiving, albeit cheerful, Southern sun.

Ah! Here comes someone now to break up my tedious monologue. Looks like it's a rabbit in overalls. If that's the case, I must be getting heatstroke. Here we go; he's walking straight towards me.

"Mawnin'! Nice wedder dis mawin'"

What in the world did he just say!? I cannot understand him to save my life. I'm struggling to form words, but I quickly remember my lack of a voice. My only response is the sound of the bubbling tar on my body.

"How you come on, den? Is you deaf? Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder."

I wish I could just tell him what the deal is. He seems to be a pretty gentle person.

"You er stuck up, dat's w'at you is, en I'm gwine ter kyore you, dat's w'at I'm a gwine ter do."

My encounter with Mr. Rabbit. Wikipedia Commons.

I've stopped listened to what he says, and can you blame me? I can barely distinguish his vowels from his consonants. I'll just wait here until he gets bored and leaves me alone.

SMACK!

Holy cow! He hit me! What in the world did I do to deserve this? To be honest, it was a really bad decision on his part. His fist sank deep into my molten jaw. Looks like we're hitched.

"Ef you don't lemme loose, I'll knock you again"

Listen man, if I could speak, I explain everything. But still, I can't just 'unmelt' myself.

WHAM!

Well, there go his feet. I can tell where this is heading. At least I'll have company from now on.

Author's Note: I decided to write from the Tar-Baby's perspective in one of the first stories in the Brer Rabbit I unit. Though this, I wanted to also make a satirical comment on how well the dialect is written in the original story.

Bibliography:
Joel Chandler Harris
Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings 
1881

Reading Diary Week 7: Brer Rabbit I

To be honest, I'm glad I stumbled upon a unit based in dialect. This week, I'm reading the Brer Rabbit I Unit.

Brer Rabbit and the Calamus Root: Wow, this is a greater challenge than I expected. The dialect is fantastic, and I'm already considering trying my hand at dialect with my Storytelling post this week. In any case, the narrator seems to delight in Brer Rabbit's cunning.

The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story: These stories seem to end very quickly, and I wonder if it reflects the storytelling culture back then in regard to narrative structure. Then again, maybe it reflects how the endings of some stories are forgotten.

How Mr. Rabbit Was Too Sharp for Mr. Fox: I enjoy the back-and-forth between Mr. Fox and Mr. Rabbit when it comes to who possesses the upper hand. These stories seem to have a way to allow the characters to save face. For Brer Rabbit, he was able to avoid death through his cleverness even though he put himself in that situation to begin with.

Mr. Wolf Makes a Failure: I think that Brer Rabbit's strategy to fool Brer Fox has been to beguile him into believing a lie. With the Tar-Baby, the lie was that Brer Rabbit's worst nightmare was the brier-patch. With Brer Fox's feigned death, Brer Rabbit made him believe that his act needed some extra pizzaz.

The Awful Fate of Mr. Wolf: This story is surprisingly morbid considering that Brer Rabbit kills Brer Wolf in front of his own children. Not to mention, death by scalding water doesn't seem to be a fun way to die. I must note, however, that Brer Rabbit's trickery comes in the form of lying once again in this story.

Old Mr. Rabbit, He's a Good Fisherman: I'm starting to feel bad for Brer Fox. He didn't necessarily do anything to Brer Rabbit in this story, but he still pays the price in order for Brer Rabbit to get out of a sticky situation. I wonder if it's destiny that Brer Rabbit will always regain the upper hand.

Mr. Rabbit Meets His Match Again: The pattern here in the series of stories seems to be one in which Brer Rabbit becomes prideful in a way and then is humbled by his own fault. I also notice how the farm labor in the story reflects sharecropping of the time.

Mr. Terrapin Shows His Strength: I get the sense that this story was intended to show children that they should have respect for their elders. In any case, it's clearly a situation of brain winning over brawn. Still, I love the dialogue. My favorite excerpt is: "bless grashus!"

Plantation Proverbs: What a cool way to end a unit! I think some of my favorites are "Possum's tail good as a paw," "Don't fling away the empty wallet," and "De howlin' dog know w'at he sees."  

Keyboard Tech Tip

Here's a Dante-esque sentence that translates to "Through me one goes among the drunk people." Let's just say that I'm talking about walking to the stadium among tailgaters on game day.

Per me si va tra la ubriaca gente. 

Reading Diary Week 6: Japanese Mythology

For this week's reading diary, I make my way to the Land of the Rising Sun with the Japanese Mythology Unit. 

Izanagi and Izanami: I notice that the beginning of the world comes from an incestuous relationship just as it does for the Greeks. However, I get the feeling that women were held in high prestige in Japanese society given that Izanami is the one to first address Izanagi. I also find it interesting that Wisdom, Valour, Craft, Justice, Mercy and Love are considered gifts from the gods.

The Miraculous Mirror: I love the teamwork here between the gods and goddesses to essentially trick Amaterasu into leaving her hiding place in the cave. This story also seems to reveal a few of Amaterasu's flaws, including vanity and a sense of fear.

The Heaven-Descended:  The "return-to-sender" arrow moment in the story seems very similar to the concept in karma, especially because Amaterasu seems to put responsibility into the arrow by saying "but if he hath an evil heart, may the heavenly arrow fly straight to that mark."

The Fortunate Fish-Hook: Things seem to be going well for Ho-wori, who has picked up a wife on his quest to restore the magic fish-hook to his brother. I must say that the feast scene and aquatic royalty remind me of Disney's The Little Mermaid. The younger brother certainly does take his time to return the hook back to his sibling. Overall, this story is a bit hard to follow because of the similar names.

The Labors of Yamato- The Rescue of the Princess: I love the description of death as "black waves [that]. . . surged over his soul." I wonder if the siren will come into play later on; she seems to have disappeared from the story. Yamato seems to be a type of Trojan horse, but in this case, he's hiding the sword in the guise of a woman.

The Labors of Yamato- The Demon Boar: I'm surprised by the amount of gore present in the fight between Yamato and the evil boar. Looks like this animal isn't going down without a fight. The story seems to finish with the "tables have turned" type of move in which the boar is placed in the precarious position that Yamato was in.

The Labors of Yamato- The Sacred Sword: Losing an invincible sword isn't the best place to start for the hero in this story. Kwannon seems to play a role of circumstance by ensuring that Yamato can recover his sword by providing him with what he needs. Interestingly enough, it seems that Kwannon lets Yamato finish the job himself when the stag swims into the lake and the wolves retreat back into the forest.

The Faery Robe: Here's yet another example of an explanation for a natural phenomenon through the use of mythology. In this case, it's the fairy's relationship to the waxing and waning of the moon.

Urashima: I'm surprised to find a description of immortal living for a mortal. It's as if the elfin palace is a place where time does not pass and the day never advances. Wow, the story ends with such a loss of identity on Urashima's part. It's hard to imagine aging decades in an instant.  

Essay Week 5: The Trials of Teaching

I've been working as a tutor for about four years, and I cannot find the words to describe how useful the new Collaborative Learning Center in the library is. As the president and founder of a student organization that offers group-oriented academic help, it's our perfect habitat.

I bring this up because I gave a test review session last night in the CLC, and I tend to reflect on my effectiveness as a teacher the next day. With my limited experience as a tutor, I find the amount of diversity in students to be one of the greatest challenges. Whether it's diversity in ability or background, a teacher has to be able to adapt to the student's perspective. Last night, we had a setup that allowed me to do just that. Students were grouped at tables and were able to bounce ideas off of each other. That peer-to-peer interaction gives me the freedom to give students individualized attention without my feeling that I'm putting anyone in some sort of academic queue.

Last week's test review session for Organic Chemistry I (Personal photo, taken September 8).

Last year, we utilized a lecture format in a large classroom for the test review sessions. While such a format allowed us to serve anywhere from forty to one hundred students at the time, it's comparable to casting a broad net. Students at the ends of the normal curve lose out. Some would leave early because they needed one-on-one help, and others would leave out of intellectual boredom. As a tutor, it's frustrating to watch that happen, and it makes one wonder if it's a reflection on one's ability.

Given the comfort I felt last night while tutoring organic chemistry, I believe we've found a better format for both myself and the students. The sessions flow more easily. The teaching feels organic, no pun intended. I'll be interested to see how sessions go down the line, but for now, I'm contented experiment with what the CLC has to offer.

Storytelling for Week 5: Blindsided by Reality

For two decades, I've seen with my ears and skin. Humming engines are my crosswalks. The greeting warmth on my face is the picturesque sunrise.The music and texture of the world have been my ever present guides. But today, I'll begin to discover what it means to see in color.

I've been blind since birth thanks to the stunted growth of neurons in my retinas. Modern medicine, however, has pulled through; today I'll become on of the first to try an approved therapy to stimulate cell growth. Simply put, I'll see the world with new eyes.

"When it comes down to it, you're pretty much the perfect candidate for this, Sid," the optometrist said when I came in for the outpatient procedure. "All signs point to your recovering without complications."

I smiled. This felt meant to be.

"You know, Sid, are you sure you're ready to see what the world has to offer?"

"Without a doubt."

~~~

Green. That's my favorite.

It's been a week since the procedure, and while everything remains an amorphous blur, I know what color is. They started out dull but then bled into my vision like the crescendo of a string orchestra. Color is the timbre of the visual. Yellow whistles like a piccolo. Red softly barks like the French horn. But green is different. It's lush. It's voice is one of a cello. What a gift it is to be able to hear colors as I learn how to see.

~~~

"Sharper" is how the doctor has described the change in my sight. That's certainly how it feels. It's almost painful. Two weeks after my treatment leaves me with the ability to distinguish shape and form, but it's not easy on the eyes. Everything looks the way sand feels. Gritty and abrasive. I tend to rub my eyes attempting to brush off the rough texture that coats everything I see to no avail. It's hard to describe how distressing it is when the smooth, flawless keys on my piano look as if they would rub my fingers raw if I were to play. I hate the incongruence.

~~~

A window of clarity open in the center of my vision yesterday, so I decided to open a book and see written language for the first time. Words are ugly. They don't do justice for the auditory beauty of language. Dead black ink on glaringly white paper. I try to avoid focusing on any certain object. The grittiness that permeated my vision two weeks ago has been replaced with a overwhelming blandness. Saltine crackers come to mind. I miss the mystery of when I only saw the world in color and not in form.

The disappointment of seeking words for the first time (Edited). Wikipedia Commons.

~~~

I see the wrinkles that cleave across my forehead. In incredible detail, I see how age has molded my face as I look in the bathroom mirror. Twenty years of vision has made me grown tired of the world. When I was blind, my imagination created what things looked like. They were my thoughts, my ideas. Vision has robbed me of that ownership. I'm only an observer now, not a creator. My favorite part of the day is the bittersweet moment before I fall asleep.

Sweet because I'll dream with closed eyes. Bitter because I know I'll wake up.

Author's Note: I used both the The First Encounter and Two More Encounters stories from the Buddha unit to create an representation of what it was like for Siddhartha to realize the presence of old age and death in the world. Since I plan to become a physician, I thought I'd create an analogy between gaining one's sight for the first time and losing one's naiveté. In the story, I put myself in Siddhartha's position and describe how I lose touch with joy and beauty. I really tried to capture the change in attitude that Siddhartha demonstrates in the two aforementioned stories.

Bibliography
The Life of Buddha
Andre Ferdinand Herold
1922

Reading Diary Week 5: The Life of Buddha

For this week, I've made the transition from Arabian Nights to Buddha!

Maya's Dream: I'm struck by the similarities between this and the arrival of Gabriel in the Bible to tell Mary that she will carry God's son. Even though I'm not as familiar with Buddhism, I'm willing to be that the happiness and peace that Maya feels after her dream is a representation of achieving Nirvana.

The Birth of Siddhartha: I wonder how the tree from which Maya takes a branch works as a symbol. Something else to note here is how peacefully the birth went and the motif of healing upon the birth of Siddhartha.

Asita's Prediction: The analogy of the branch makes more sense now that Suddhodana has mentioned his fear of his son's withering before he blooms. The take home message here is that Siddhartha will be the vessel of true knowledge, which is way of salvation from reincarnation.

Siddhartha's First Meditation: The validation of Siddhartha as the one to bring true knowledge is based on observational proof such as the stand-still shadow and his impressive knowledge of the scripts. The way he will change the world seems to be describable only in metaphor based on what the hermits say.

Two More Enounters: I'm willing to bet that these encounters arranged by the Gods in the city will be the impetus that fuels Siddartha's desire to seek true knowledge and free the world from rebirth.

The Fair Maidens and Gopa's Dream: I feel pity for Siddhartha; his awareness of the world now prevents him from seeing the beauty in it. I guess one could say that knowledge is a double-edged sword. One cannot become enlightened without facing the cruelties of reality.

Siddhartha Leaves His Father's Palace: It's refreshing to see Siddhartha's confidence and enthusiasm as he leaves to fulfill his destiny. The cinematic events in the story, such as the silent opening of the gates, help depict the peace that Siddhartha feels as he begins his journey.

Siddhartha the Hermit: I love the wisdom that Siddhartha imparts as he tells Chandaka to travel back to his father. In particular, the line "but heirs to his virtues are rarely found, are never found" resonates with me.

Gopa and Suddhodana Grieve: The lamentations of Gopa and Suddhodana remind me of the reactions after Jesus was crucified. There's such a sense of loss with Siddhartha's absence, but I get the feeling that he will be back to ease his parent's grief.

Arata Kalama: I find myself agreeing with what Siddhartha says regarding the uselessness of perfect austerity. It almost seems selfish, as Siddhartha eludes to, because it only guarantees the self to ascend to the sky.

Siddhartha Deserted by His First Disciples: I like the change of pace in the perspective on Siddhartha's ability to fulfill his destiny. People seem to give him such doubt for changing his approach, but wouldn't everyone want a spiritual leader to admit when he's wrong and be willing to change his actions?

Siddhartha Becomes the Buddha: Talk about a long-winded explanation for the cause of old age and death! It reminds me how if one clicks on the first click of a Wikipedia page and repeats the action ad nauseam, they'll end up at the page for philosophy.