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.