Youtube Tech Tip

At the recommendation of Laura, I'm posting the video of the TEDx talk over empathic storying telling and mental illness that a friend and I gave at OU. I hope you enjoy it! I consider the most important thing I've done at OU.

Storytelling for Week 2: Flick's Joyride

"You're adopted." 

Those were the first words that Flick heard out of his mother's mouth after she had sat him down in the living room. It's hard to predict how someone will react to such a statement; adoption brings to mind questions of ownership and origin. Flick, however, was nineteen, and the words didn't seem to phase him. 

"I want to meet him."

"It's complicated."

"I don't care, Clementine."

She hated when he called her by first name. It was a pet peeve of hers that Flick had learned to utilize for his benefit. 

"Fine. We'll do it next week, then. Just don't call me Clementine." 

~~~

Next Wednesday morning, they left for the city. As Clementine drove, she could not keep her thoughts from wandering. She thought of Flick's adoptive father, her late husband, and how his presence might have helped mitigate the guilt she felt as a single parent of a young man. The deceased's birthday was next month, and Clementine and Flick always went to the cemetery to leave a bouquet of sunflowers. It was one of the few things they consistently did together. 

They parked in front of an opulent skyscraper and disembarked upon the immaculate, nearly reflective, sidewalk. As they walked toward the entrance, the doorman prepared to block their way, but upon seeing Clementine's face, his confidence seemed to retreat and force him to make way for the mom and her sun. The duo arrived at the front desk at 8:56 a.m. on the dot. 

"He's here to see Paul." 

The receptionist flashed a look of understanding and motioned to the security guard to take Flick to the express elevator. Flick's guide leaned in and pressed the button for the top floor.

"You might want to brace yourself. It's a pretty quick ride for newcomers." 

Flick soared through the floors as the lift accelerated toward the sky, and he wondered if he'd end up amongst the clouds when the doors opened. 

Ding. The ride was over sooner than Flick had expected. 

The elevator opened up to blinding light. Tall, crystal-clear windows let in so much sun that Flick swore everything was covered in a film of twenty-four caret gold. A man in an impressive purple suit sat behind a desk at the end of the room, and the sun seemed to be rising over his left shoulder--a purple hillside. He stood up and looked down at the ornate clock on his desk. 

As if the clock timed its motions to that man, the second hand slammed straight up seemingly in response to the man's gaze. 

It was 10 o'clock. 

"So, you're my biological father?"

"As certain as the sun rises every morning," the man answered. "I'm Paul, but you can call me Dad if you want. I supposed I owe you something after all this time." 

"Well, that's not necessarily important." 

"Nonsense. Follow me." 

A stomach turning trip in the elevator down to the building's basement brought them to Paul's private garage. Flick could not believe what he saw. 

Here, the author of this story must admit that any words he chooses to use would not do justice to describe the splendor of the vehicle. The four-wheeled machine looked like it ran on pride and gave off glory as its exhaust. Flick tried to guess the engine's horsepower, but only exorbitant numbers came to mind. 40,000? 400,000? He was convinced this was something of myth. 

"You said you owe me something, right? How about letting me take that for a ride?"

The color drained from Paul's face.

"I would love to, but it's much more difficult to handle than you imagine."

"Come on, Paul. I'm your son."

The man in the purple suit seemed to share the same pet peeve with Clementine. 

"Here are the keys. The valet will show you how to exit the building. You have until noon. Be careful; the stick shift has a mind of its own at times."

Needless to say, Flick's ride didn't last long. Twenty minutes later, a cop stuck him down with a ticket with lightning-speed efficiency. Paul, paralyzingly embarrassed by his foolishness, locked himself up in his office for the day. 

Perhaps children don't always live up to their parents, he thought.

An exaggerated version of Flick's joyride in the city. Wikipedia Commons.

Author's Note: I decided to add a spin to Ovid's story of Phaethon and the Sun. The first time I read through the story, it evoked the consequences of the scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off in which the parking attendants take Cameron's dad's Ferrari out for a ride while Ferris and his friends spend the day in Chicago. Therefore, I placed Flick as my representation of Phaethon as a character who lacks a strong relationship with his father. For the sake of originality and the rapport I wanted to create between Flick and his biological father, I made Clementine Flick's adoptive mother rather than his biological one. The rest of my story follows the hubris of Phaethon by creating an analogy of between Apollo's chariot and the car that Flick takes out.

Bibliography
Ovid's Metamorphoses 
Edited by Thomas Kline
2000

Week 2 Reading Diary: Ovid I

For my first Reading Diary, I delve into the first books of Ovid's Metamorphoses in Unit Ovid I.

Deucalion and Pyrrha: This story makes me think of some sort of mixture of the account of Noah's Ark and the story of Genesis in the Bible. After all, the surface of the Earth is destroyed because of a god's anger, and the flood involves the escape of a duo--that is, Deucalion and Pyrrha. I would even say that the scattering of Pyrrha's mother's bones evokes Abraham's attempted sacrifice of his child at the order of God.

Io: Is there anything more common than rape in Greek mythology? In any case, this story brings to mind the question of what makes someone human. Can Io be considered a human in her animalistic form? Maybe it comes down to the ability to identify oneself, as Io did for her father.

Phaethon and the Sun: I LOVE the explanation of the etymology of "phaethon" in the introduction. My dad's a journalist with quite the penchant for etymology, and it's rubbed off on me a bit. I'm starting to notice a pattern in these stories in regard to the conflict between logical warnings and promises. Just as Juno only calmed down after Jupiter swore Io wouldn't be a source of pain, Phoebus was forced to let Phaethon drive the chariot after having sworn to grant him what he wanted. As Phaethon prepares to ride, I enjoy how Phoebus offers an explanation that fits with how the Greeks viewed their world in regard to the rising and setting of the sun. Interestingly enough, the distance between the Earth and the Sun is important in ensuring a inhabitable temperature, and the described consequences of Phaethon's veering off course certainly is defendable. With the death of Phaethon, a series of transformations commences, one of which reminds me of the Forest of Suicides in Canto XIII Dante's Inferno. For example, when Clymene tries to remove the bark from her daughters, she ends up wounding them.

Callisto: I like the redemption of Callisto in this story. At first she's sent away by Diana for the shame of carrying a child and eventually is turned into a bear. Jupiter's response is to place them in the heavens as a way to save them from death. However, it might be too much to say that Jupiter felt that he was to blame.

Semele: Once again, we find an example in which a god is bound by a promise thus introducing a problem in the story. Poor Semele couldn't have known the consequences of her request. On another note, I find Jupiter's 'pregnancy' interesting because it might reflect ideas of how gestation worked at the time of the writing of the story. To be honest, it reminds me of how male seahorses carry offspring to term!

Echo: I find it interesting how simple disagreements between gods can become, in a way, statements on fundamental observations in life. Something as innocent as what Jupiter said needed to be tested over the course of years to reach a verdict. Plus, these explanations for natural events seem so mechanical, and I don't mean to assign a negative connotation to that. Rather, I could say that they make logical sense.

Narcissus: The comparison of Narcissus' features to features of the Olympians seems to be a salute to their perfect form. The quote "What I want I have. My riches make me poorer" draws out the paradox between the relationship of love and beauty. If one is of perfect form, how could they ever be satisfied with anything less? And for Narcissus, love for the perfect form literally becomes a reflection of himself.

Pyramus and Thisbe: I immediately thought of Maximillian and Valentine from The Count of Monte Cristo when I read "So they talked, hopelessly, sitting opposite, saying, as night fell, 'Farewell,' each touching the wall with kisses that could not reach the other side." The scene evokes the conversations Maximillian and Valentine shared across the garden wall outside Villefort's mansion. As a point of contrast, however, dramatic irony exists in Ovid's story whereas in The Count of Monte Cristo the reader believes Valentine dies of poisoning.

Mars and Venus: As short as this story is, it reminds me of some novellas in the Decameron in which one character puts another to shame in return for being wronged by the second.

Perseus and Andromeda: Once again, there's an explanation of origin when it comes to where certain species of serpents came from. I must say that I'm a bit surprised by how nonchalant Perseus seems to be when it comes to taking Andromeda as a prize and placing her parents in a position where they cannot willing refuse his offer.

Perseus and Medusa: Man, Ovid has a very way of slipping those explanations for parts of nature as he does with coral in this story. Once he states it, he moves on. My only complaint about this story is its lack of suspense. From the beginning it seems that it's presumed that Perseus will be victorious.  

Week 1 Introduction: The Mezzo-Italiano from Oklahoma

I sipped my sub-par cappuccino as Serafina and her cousin Luigia, an exchange student around my age, chatted with me in Italian in The Bookmark. I had arrived forty-five minutes earlier to complete an oral exam as part of my Italian class, but evaluation had dissolved to conversation.

"Scusatemi, ma siete italiani, giusto?" 

The question came from a young man standing in line behind me. Our exchanges in Italian had caught his attention, but he must have not heard my mediocre accent. Serafina looked up with that sly smile of hers and answered him. She and Luigia were from Potenza, she said. And, as for me?

"Oklahoma, ma lui è mezzo-italiano."

To be clear, that's not mezzo-italiano by blood, but by language. 

Such a compliment had me beaming.
~~~
I offer this anecdote as a way to explore my identity. I'm only twenty-two years old, so I'm still working on that. However, a simple way to begin is the face that I love losing myself in 'the process.' Vague, I know. A psychologist might describe this as flow. For me, it's more about getting lost in the nuances. It's easier to do than you might think. Here are a few suggestions:

• Play piano music that matches your mood
• Speak and stumble through a new language 
• Fix that meddlesome doorknob with a paper clip 
• Buy an accordion and start teaching yourself
• Listen. Listen. Listen. 

My first and only 'accordion selfie.' (Embarrassing, I know.)

Find what works and go from there. It takes some experimentation, but I've found that the end-result is worth it.

To cover the basics, I was born in Tulsa to a journalist and a CPA. I grew up on Legos and the knowledge that I was loved by my parents. Music struck me early on, and I ended up playing saxophone for the band and piano for myself. I came to OU as a microbiology major, and after six weeks in Arezzo and two weeks of 'couchsurfing' in Northern Italy, I tacked on Italian.

When it comes to OU, I feel as if I've hit the jackpot. It's like playing with Legos as a young adult, but in this case, I'm creating experiences for myself rather than overpriced, plastic contraptions. I lead a peer education organization on campus that helps students with harder classes. I've given a TEDxOU talk over my experience with mental illness and the power of narrative as a tool to build empathy. I'm certainly had my failures, but it's part of the process.

At the moment, I feel like the souls who await to enter Mount Purgatorio. I've sent off my applications for medical school where I hope to incorporate the skills I've learned through hundreds of hours of tutoring to develop effective rapports with my future patients. If everything goes well, I'd love to teach medicine.

I, however, don't plan on being too picky when it comes to my future. I could end up a traveling pianist who retires to play stadium organ. I could end up teaching Italian at a high school. I might find myself as an activist for mental illness.

The point is that I can never be to sure what'll take place, so I try to relax. "Tranquillo, Jake," I say to myself.

And you know what, not knowing is all right by me.

Week 1 Storybook Favorites

When I think of the word storytelling, I tend to imagine not only the literary content of the story but also the act of telling the story. Hence, I Am Not my Brother's Sister: A Changeling's Journey  caught my eye thanks to the author's ability to give the storytelling itself a setting. It gives the author the ability to insert his or her own writing to highlight certain parts of the story and creates continuity among the stories. I myself have a tendency to implore narrative in whatever I write, even if it's a essay for a scholarship or campus award. In my opinion, it gives life to the words one chooses. 

Perhaps I've subjected myself to a type of determinative nominism by naming this blog after Boccaccio; I can't seem to stop myself from looking for ways in which I can draw connections. In any case, Remember the Alamo! evokes the Italian humanist's use of la cornice narrativa in the Decameron. As I scrolled through the different pages, I was both surprised and delighted to discover that the author had included letters written by characters in the stories. Just as members of the brigata tell their own stories within the plague-induced plot of the Decameron, these letters are the products of authors who are characters of a larger story themselves. Furthermore, imbedding character-produced writing in a story adds a sense of realism and seems to add credibility. 

As a language major, I LOVE seeing multiple languages in writing even if I can't read the foreign language myself. Finals Week: Death Notes  does this with Latin in a way the reminds me of Dante's Commedia. I understand a bit of Latin just based upon my knowledge of Italian, but for the most part, I'm left in the dark. Not knowing a language adds an element of mystery when the language in question is set within a story. Plutus' nonsense words in the beginning of Canto VII come to mind as an example. The psalms sung by the penitents in Purgatorio are another. There's a good chance that I'll incorporate untranslated language in my Storybook, and I'm interested how I'll use it to enhance my writing. 

Week 1 Storytelling: Political Strife in a Forgotten Town

THE lion and the unicorn
Were fighting for the crown;
The lion beat the unicorn

All round about the town.

Some gave them white bread,
And some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum-cake,
And sent them out of town.

(nursery rhyme)

Nothing had been the same since the coup. With the humans driven out, a vacuum of power had been created. As one would expect, mammals still held control, but they had divided into two factions: the Hooves and the Paws. 

To determine who would rule, the mammals made an agreement. Each faction would offer its greatest  warrior. It would be a standoff to match the gravity of David and Goliath's battle.

The Paws offered the Lion, their graceful and commanding feline. His mane seemed to expand when he roared. His power laid in his voice. Words were his weapons. The Hooves, on the other hand, offered a rare, relatively unknown challenger: the unicorn. While her existence had been challenged in the past, it had been said that her horn possessed the ability to defeat any challenger, no matter what his or her strength. 

The two combatants faced each other in the town square, and the respective factions gathered behind their champions. The Lion stood stoically at one corner of the square; nothing could be read from his inexpressive face. Wanting to make a statement, the Unicorn brandished her horn in a way that caused the crowd to jump back. She prepared her charge, but just before she could commence, the Lion opened his mouth.

The sounds that emanated from his gaping jaws failed to make sense to the startled crowd. There was something about the cadence of his roar. It seemed to have order and evoked memories of the way in which the humans spoke.

The Unicorn initially became paralyzed with fear, but once she regained her senses, she sprinted off away from the square with the Lion in pursuit. The confrontation continued throughout the town; the Unicorn would make an attempt at a charge, and the Lion would respond with his seemingly magical words causing the Unicorn to sprint off again.

With the battle decided, the rule of the one-town kingdom when to the Lion thus putting the Paws into power. 

The presentation of the plum-cake by a human representative of the Paws and Hooves. Wikipedia Commons.

To put themselves in the good graces of their new ruler as well as ameliorate the Unicorn's hurt pride, the citizens took it upon themselves to gift the combatants with bread. This storyteller can't explain why a group of animals would bake bread for a carnivore and an herbivore, but for some reason, it worked for some time.

Years later, the Paws and the Hooves began to form a truce without the approval or awareness of the Lion or Unicorn. Tired of the rule of a king and the antics of a resentful unicorn who had taken up vandalism and racketeering, they planned to throw them out of the town. The bread-giving had continued since the first battle, so the citizens decided to create a call-to-arms in the form of bread--in this case, plum-cake. 

On the anniversary of the Paws-Hooves confrontation, the distribution of bread continued as normal. Brown loaf. White loaf. Brown. Brown. White.

Plum-cake. 

The moment the plum-cake was presented, the Paws and the Hooves came together and used the same power the Lion had utilized years ago: Words. At the sound of language, the Lion and the Unicorn retreated with the same promptness that the Unicorn had demonstrated years ago. 

A republic was established that sought to eliminate differences between the Paws and the Hooves, and a holiday was declared to commemorate the overthrow. From that point forward, the date would be known as The Rising of Bread and Fair Rule. 

Author's Note: This slightly absurd tale is based on a nursery rhyme titled "The Lion and the Unicorn," which is quoted at the top of the page. This nursery rhyme in particular can be found in an online version of The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Lang. The rhyme gives an account of a lion and unicorn who fight in some way for the rights to the rule, and the lion ends up beating the unicorn everywhere in the municipality. Afterwards, the two animals are given different types of bread by citizens while some citizens end up giving them plum-cake and chasing them out of town. 

Week 1: Exploring the Un-Textbook

While these are out of order, I hope you'll bear with me!

Week 14- Decameron: As someone who is an Italian major, I can't pass up the opportunity to refresh myself over some of Boccaccio's novellas. From what I can see, we won't be reading some of the more scandalous stories like those similar to the one of Alibech.

Week 11 or 12- Canterbury Tales: What could be a better preview to the Decameron than works by Chaucer? While I haven't explored it myself, I've been interested at the idea that Boccaccio and Chaucer could have met. In any case, it would be a good area for me to explore to see what similarities I see between certain tales and novellas.

Week 13- Dante's Inferno: I remember seeing an episode of The Simpsons in which Homer is subjected to a form of poetic justice; he's force-fed donuts for eternity. Unfortunately, the demons of hell didn't realize that they had their work cut out for them. Homer's insatiable appetite proved to be too much. My interest in the exiled poet's work is based off my curiosity of how poetic justice, or rather punishment alla Dante, influences other works.

Weeks 2 or 3- Ovid I: It's clear enough that I have a train of thought when it comes to these units. Since I haven't had the chance to study many Latin authors, I'd like to expand my understanding of Dante's Inferno. The specific section from Dante's Inferno that comes to mind is the punishment of the thieves, which Dante bases off of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

Week 1: Arezzo- One of my Favorite Places

Arezzo, Italy: This laid-back Tuscan hill town with an Etruscan history is where I solidified my love for Italian language and culture. After studying language two years ago and subsequently couchsurfing in Northern Italy for two weeks, I felt moved to declare Italian as an additional major. I've been able to teach and study in Arezzo three times so far thanks to that decision.

View from Prato Park in Arezzo (Image taken July 2012).

While the historic center's aesthetic is more than I could ask for, I find myself noting examples in which the Fascist regime tried to reinvent the Medieval wheel. In Arezzo's case, it's more appropriate to say lance. There's no doubt that the pageantry and spectacle of the biannual joust has become routed in the population's psyche. However, with flagthrowers and jousters adorned in seemingly medieval garbs, the current tradition, which started in 1931, slightly twists the true. 

Flag-throwing in Arezzo's Piazza Grande (Image taken June 2012).

It's no secret that I'm a bit of italophile, and I'm sure that plays into my attraction to Arezzo. Yet, I doubt I'd feel differently about the city even if I were to have never dove into Italian. I've spent a total of six months of my life there, and it's safe to say it's become a second home. I consider it my 'European 'Norman, OK.

Sunrise viewed from Prato Park in Arezzo (Image taken June 2014).

Umana cosa...

...is to make one's blog before the deadline! =D