Thursday, December 5, 2013

Displacement/Displacement



Although this is not everything I have been working on, this is the portion I read in class. I am sorry for the difficulties with my blog. I think I have them worked out, just a little late possibly, but better late than never. 



My One and Only True Love,
Being taken from the two of you like this is the hardest thing I could ever imagine. I swear to you as I have before, I am innocent, I will do anything and everything to prove my innocence and come home to the two of you; to see our boy grow into a man will keep me strong. I will persevere through this difficult time, I will come home.
When they took me from you, when they tightened the handcuffs and dragged me from the courtroom into the prison van, something inside of me died. It was the darkest moment in my life, the sun beating down on me through the window, blocked by the dark cloud of emotions all around me. I do not know if this is the last window to the outside world I will ever look through, or if it the first look towards the truth within lies.  I believe it was the truth calling, reviving what had died inside of me, preparing me for the difficult road ahead.
Reaching the gates of Attica was daunting; the structure was cold and lifeless, except for the armed guards who opened the gates. They were everywhere, looking, watching, waiting for something, anything to happen where they could exert their power over someone, anyone. That is what I have learned after a few short days anyway. They took me inside and prepared me for my new life. I was stripped and searched. They left not an inch of my body as it arrived; they tried raping me of my dignity and my sanity. But I am strong, I will not let them beat me into submission.  
When they were finished they dressed me, they gave me a number, 970219, they gave me sheets, and a blanket; they gave me my only possessions I am allowed to have and took me to my cell. The walk was one of the longest of my life, inmates chanting, their eyes beating down on me, judging me. The concrete walls were cold and lifeless, yet filled with tortured lives waiting to die. The sound of the creaking iron bars as they opened the gate to my cell sent chills down my spine. It wasn’t until they closed the cell door behind me that I realized this is my new home. The beginning of my quest to prove my innocence starts now.
I met my cell mate, Ryan, that first night, and to my surprise, he seems to be someone I will get along with. He told me about the structure within the prison walls. There are four groups who seem to run the ins and outs of prison life. Each culture sticks together: the African Americans, the Latinos, the Arian Brotherhood, and the other. The other is where both Ryan and I have chosen to offer our loyalties. We are by far the weakest of the four, but that will soon change. I vow to help this group of outcasts while I search for truth and justice. I do not know why I was framed for murder, yet. I will find the answers my lawyer was unable uncover. I will come back to you, or die in the process.
I will write the two of you as often as possible. You are in my heart, my mind and my soul.
Your True Love,
O.

Once upon a time…
A boy awoke to find he no longer slept in the comfort of his own bed. His Superman sheets which shielded the evil spirits in his dreams, no longer covered him. But he was strong. Using both hands, he rubbed the eye-boogers from the corners of his beautiful blue eyes. Taking one hand from his eyes at a time, the boy squinted, making the most peculiar face—not quite a smile, yet not really a frown. It was as if he were a ninety year old man eating a lemon, more wrinkles than face—the boy squinted through his one open eye in an attempt to capture the essence of his surroundings. He thought he smelled it, but it couldn’t be, there was no possible way. Removing his other hand, he opened both eyes, took a deep breath through his nostrils and knew it must be so. Even though he had never seen it or heard of it before, he found himself in a mystical forest of garbage. He was surrounded by the items no one else wanted.
The boy was alone, and although he wasn’t scared, he wanted more than anything in the world to be home. It was right then and there, the boy made an oath to return home. “I...I…I” but for some strange reason, the boy could not remember his name. He sat on a pile of old toasters, silver, red, black, every color imaginable seemed to be there. Each toaster had snakelike cords slithering closer and closer to his feet as he sat, trying to remember his name. He scratched his head once, made the same old man face as before, and somehow he remembered.
 “My name is Yungman!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he jumped from the pile of toasters just before the cords could slither around his ankles. The boy closed his eyes—once again making the same lemony old man face as before—keeping his eyes closed he could see his mother saying his name.
“Young man, clean your room. There is not an inch of carpet to be found. When you are done, come downstairs and you can have a fresh baked cookie.”
“Yungman, yupp, that’s it!” He said to himself.
The forest of garbage seemed never-ending to Yungman, for he could not see but trash in every direction. On his initial look around, he chose to begin his adventure by hiking to the highest point of garbage he could find. While he walked, his head rapidly swiveled back and forth, seeking treasures found in the trash of others.
“Eureka, look at this,” he said ecstatically to himself as if he were not alone. “This must be a warrior’s sward, and this, this is a warrior’s shield.”
What Yungman actually found was a broken guitar, the neck and body broken in such a way he was able to brandish them as his weapon and his protection. But the power of his imagination combined with the magical essence within the forest of garbage, transformed these tattered items into the very warrior sword and shield he envisioned.
“Heelllooo,” a voice meekly stated in such a way it was not quite a greeting, yet not really a question.
“WHO GOES THERE?” Yungman demanded.
A scrawny boy with broken glasses emerged from a pile of old wrapping paper. The boy was draped in ribbons and bows while the clothes he wore were tattered and torn.
“I’mmm Ryyyaaaan,” he stated hesitantly.
“Hi Ryan, I’m Yungman. Wooow, that’s a cool uniform you are wearing Ryan.”
The ribbons and bows no longer made up his outfit. Ryan’s uniform was that of a general in the military. The bows changed to medals the ribbons formed the stripes on his sleeves and pant legs. Both boys looked at each other, eying up and down from head to toe and back again while they circled around each other, waiting, waiting possibly for answers, possibly for something else to transform. But they kept circling each other until Yungman broke the silence.
“Where are we?”
“We are in the forgotten land of the past,” Ryan said with a new found confidence. A uniform has an uncanny way of turning a boy into a man.
“The forgotten land of the past?” Yungman asked.
“Yes, everything here has been forgotten by someone.”
“What else do you know about this place?” Yungman asked.
“There are four castles at each corner of the forest of garbage in the forgotten land of the past. Each castle detests the other. From what I have heard something big is about to happen. A battle maybe, I don’t know for sure though.”
“What kind of castles?”
“The castle I live in is just around that mound of tossed out wheelchairs,” Ryan stated as he pointed at the pile of over two thousand beat up old wheelchairs. “It’s the bubble gum castle. By far the best one if I do say so myself.”
“Woooow, a bubblegum castle?” Yungman asked as he couldn’t help but start chewing an imaginary piece of watermelon Bubbleyum, his favorite. “What are the other castles made of?”
“Well, there is a pizza box castle. There is a phone book castle.” The phone book castle was made strictly from Washington state phone books, due to the scratch and sniff apples within the front cover. The castle was only one scratch away from smelling fresh. “And the last is the tower of tin cans.”
“Cooool, but nothing beats a bubblegum castle.”
“What are you doing here in the forgotten land of the past Yungman?”
“I don’t know, I have not been forgotten I know that much. Actually I am on my way home. I just have to figure out how to get back.”
“Yea, I, I know, I wasn’t forgotten either. Anyway, we better get to the castle, it will be getting dark soon and you don’t want to be out here in the dark.”
The two boys ventured around the mound of wheelchairs as the sun set. Yungman had an eerie feeling he was being watched, every hair on his little body stood at attention as they made their way to the gates of the castle.
“Thanks for letting me stay here Ryan. But tomorrow, tomorrow I will find my way home." 

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Displaced Myth



Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
A typical college orientation involves meeting after meeting followed by an assembly, a math placement exam, a writing sample and eventually culminates with students selecting courses for the semester. But San Diego State University is not a typical school, in fact, in San Diego, school is a distant second to the blistering sun, sandy beaches, palm trees and ocean. To be honest, it is not the sun, sand or even ocean that distracts the students from their studies, (the average graduate takes six years to finish a degree at SDSU) but it is what these natural wonders of Mother Nature bring with them. Copper toned (surgically corrected) female beach bodies in bikinis and shirtless (steroid enhanced) muscle men roam the campus during the day and parties at night.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
Theron and Pete met for the first time during orientation weekend for San Diego State University. Their first exchange was a little odd, for Theron arrived to the room they were sharing before Pete and had taken it over. The two freshmen were only staying for three days and two nights, but Theron had enough clothes to last the semester and they were spread across the room, accompanied by his toiletry bag which hung from the closet door which contained: A tooth brush, whitening toothpaste, facial cream, face cleaning pads, four different colognes (each gave a different vibe for the mood he was in), a comb, four different hair products (once again for the vibe yet his hair was no longer than a quarter inch), q-tips, mouthwash, earplugs and 10 different varieties of condoms.
Not knowing which twin bed to take, Pete chose the north-facing bed, removed Theron’s clothes by tossing them from one bed to the other and staked his claim.
“What the hell man? I was getting ready to hang those up.” Theron barked as he stood up from the only desk in the room, walked to the other bed and straightened his clothes. “You wrinkled my lucky shirt.”
Hearing Theron refer to a shirt as his lucky one solidified in his mind the two of them would not get along. Although Pete was rather modest, bringing only necessities for the weekend, the two men had many similarities. They both were strikingly handsome, in great shape and both planned on majoring in marketing. Yet for the similarities they shared, there was something that each didn’t like about the other but neither could pinpoint what it was they did not like.
“Look, we have to share this room. So, you get your side and I get mine and all your bathroom shit gets the other half.” Pete said with a smirk.
“Fuck you, I am taking that bed. I was here first, it is my choice.”
It seemed as though the two men were so worked up about which bed the other would be sleeping in, the only logical answer was to fight. Both Theron and Pete were ready to fight to the death until Theron diffused the situation by putting forth the idea which settles all maters for 18 year old men on orientation weekend.
“Fuck it, let’s go see what the freshmen talent pool has to offer.” Theron said with a smile.
“I’m in, let’s check it out!” Pete replied. “Do you need a couple of hours to get ready?”
“Fuck you, let’s go.”
With the disaster of a fight to the death behind them, the two men ventured onto the campus. The two had a bond with one another that neither fully understood, yet they knew it would last a lifetime. As the weekend progressed, both men slept with different women each night and each morning went on a hunt for their next prey. Women filtered in and out of the room for the three days of orientation, although they never slept with the same woman twice. Both Pete and Theron had the gift of a silver tongue and could talk the clothes off a manikin, a gift they abused as much as possible.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
At the end of the weekend, orientation was over but the two friends were just starting their journey together. School was starting and they both decided to pledge the same fraternity. The Sigma Alpha Mala fraternity (known around campus for their extravagant parties), was a perfect fit for both Theron and Pete. Over the next six years, not a weekend went by where the two men did not enjoy the company of a different woman—once again, never sleeping with the same woman twice.
But at the end of their senior year, Pete met “the one” and married her that very summer. The setting was perfect for both Pete and his new wife Heather—a beach setting at a luxurious hotel where the sun set the sky on fire as it neared the horizon and the smell of the ocean breeze acted as an aphrodisiac for everyone in attendance—yet the setting was more than perfect for Theron, it was pure bliss. Over the two day wedding, Theron managed to bed each of the bridesmaids and two of the hotel employees. It was a weekend to remember. Pete gave up his wild ways of his past and began his new life with his stunning wife. But for Theron however, it was just another weekend of many to come.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
The two men parted ways for thirty years before they crossed paths again, Pete a new widower (his wife taken from him by cancer well before her time), and Theron, the same player from years past.
“I’m sorry for your loss Pete” he said as sincere as anything that had ever come out of his mouth before.
“Thanks Theron, it has been a rough couple of months.”
“I know exactly what you need. A new adventure, a new conquest and a little fun to get your mind off of the past.” Theron said with a smile.
“What do you have in mind?” Pete asked.
“We head to Old Mexico. There is a girl there, Penny, we should go down and see her. She is getting married but that hasn’t stopped us before.”
Pete liked the idea and was up for the challenge. The two men got into Theron’s new BMW M5 convertible and sped off down State Route 52 on their way to Tijuana. Feeling the warm summer air flowing through his hair at 90 mph, Theron decided to let Penny know of their plans to visit. Theron placed a call and wasn’t surprised when she answered on the first ring. Theron informed Penny of their plans to visit for the wedding, and being the womanizer that he is, Theron informed her of his plans to take her back to San Diego with him. But what Theron and Pete did not know is the call was on speaker-phone and her husband-to-be was listening to their every word.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
“Well of course you both are welcome to join in on the festivities of our wedding,” Penny’s soon to be husband David said without hesitation, (knowing full well the two men wanted to take his woman and carry her off to the states), “It would be our pleasure to have the two of you as our guests.”
Theron looked over at Pete, shrugged his shoulders and took one hand off the steering wheel in an attempt to see how Pete responded to the invitation. But before he got a response, the BMW drifted to the edge of the road. Theron jerked the wheel to get the racing car back into the lane and in doing so he over corrected which threw the car into the median, directly into oncoming traffic.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
The car jumped through two lanes of oncoming traffic and struck a tree, ejecting both Pete and Theron. Traffic on both sides of the interstate stopped to help the two men who lay dying on the side of the road. Multiple calls were made to the authorities and after just under an hour, flight for life landed and took both Theron and Pete to the hospital.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
The two men were alive but both were in a coma. They shared one room with two beds—similarly to how they shared a room the first weekend they met each other. Tubes were coming from their mouths and were connected to machines, which not only fed them but forced air into their lungs keeping them alive. The two men remained side by side in the room for many years without a visitor and without any brain functions at all. The first visitor, Harry, came on the just the right day. He entered the room and spoke.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
As Harry spoke to Theron, he looked at what was left of the man he once knew. Theron at one time was the perfect specimen for man, but now, after years of lying lifeless on the hospital bed, he was a withered shell of his former self with bed rashes covering his legs, back and ass.
“Theron, wake up. Wake up Theron.”
Harry spoke these six words while at the same time touching Theron on the arm. Theron had heard Harry speaking to him and revived with his touch, chocking on the tubes inserted in his throat. In an attempt to stop from choking, Theron tried to move his arms to pull the tubes from his mouth, with no success. But Harry, seeing him struggle slowly removed the tubes.
“Don’t move Theron, I am taking you home.” Harry told Theron as he retrieved a wheelchair from the corner of the room.
Theron could not move due to muscle atrophy, as well as from being stuck to the bed from years of lying there. As Harry lifted him from the bed and set him into the wheelchair, the bedsores on his back stuck to the sheets, ripping the skin from his body, leaving bloody puss stained ooze marks where his limbs once made their home. But Theron was free from his lifeless state from years past thanks to Harry. The same could not be said for Pete who spent the rest of his days in bed, never to wake, doomed to die in that very bed.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Walk

      "A seripigari said to me: 'Being born with a fice like yours isn't the worst evil; it's not knowing one's obligation.' Not being at one with one's destiny, then? That happened to me before I became what I am now. I was no more than a wrapping, a shell, the body of one whose soul has left through the top of his head. For a family and for a people too, the worst evil would be not knowing their obligation" (215).
     This passage hits rather close to home for me for I have been "a wrapping, a shell" of a man. For years I have wondered about without passion, without a purpose. Once I figured out that I needed more, I needed a story, I needed a passion, I figured out that I was no longer walking aimlessly through life; rather, I had a purpose and reason to walk. I have been the worst student in the past, but I found a reason to change my ways with regards to school. In a few short weeks I will be walking for the final time as an undergraduate on this campus. An end for some sure, but this is a walk which sets me on the path to something new, it sets me on my path to find my obligation.
     While visiting my family this past weekend I realized there is a little Mascarita in all of us. During this trip, I was the storyteller of my studies. I told my parents everything I was going through, every assignment, every obstacle. They listened. That is not how it has gone in the past. It started with my parents telling the story of school and the value in an education. I listened, but I did not hear. I am now not only able to hear, but see what they were wanting me to realize many years ago, so I walk and look at the angles as I pass. I may not know what I will be doing when I get to where I have be going for many years, but I think I will walk and let the answers find me, as they have in my past.
     This is a mask my parents have on their wall. Who knew, without ever hearing of Mascarita they would have a Mascarita mask in their house. The mask has a birthmark, the earth and a bird. It is missing the red hair, but one must believe there is a striking resemblance. 
    

    

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Calasso or Llosa

     The quote I am looking at today could be found in either Calasso or Llosa: "Memory is a snare, pure and simple: it alters, it subtly rearranges the past to fit the present."

Both Calasso and Llosa understand the complexities of memory and the value behind stories. Calasso gives us multiple versions of the same story depending on the source he chooses to use. While most of the stories are similar with subtle differences, it is the memory of the original author we are trusting. However, Calasso knows that the original action and memories can change depending on the lens one chooses to view them through. With each reflection from the truth or the original, the story changes shape altering in form to fit what will be known as the truth for the time. The way I see this is there is an original, I will use a painting for this demonstration. So, this painting has its original form, but when looked at in a mirror, it shifts and alters from how it was seen at the beginning. Add another mirror and the lens changes once more. Multiple mirrors could be added with the same results, each time there is the original, similar yet different. For me, the mirrors are the storytellers altering the original story to fit what they can remember at the moment of the retelling. It is similar, but not the same. The principals stay the same but the details shift to create something new.
     This quote is actually from page 95 in The Storyteller, yet it could have been an any page in Calasso. Mascarita tells every story from memory, yet his memory is from what he has learned from someone else. He tells the stories the best he can--better than anyone else in the tribe--but it is his version of the truth, his memory. Yet before Mascarita became the Hablador, memories were slowly being lost in the sands of time. These memories were the snare or noose, tightening over time choking the life out of the tribe.  The Machiguenga people were forgetting the past, an action which was proving to be the death of the tribe. With the help of Mascarita, the tribe could once again unite to hear the stories of the past, or at least one version of it.
    

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Dates to Remember

Today, or Thursday
  • Read The Storyteller.
  • Just do it and blog about it. 
November 5th
  • Displaced myth. Post written displacement to your blog. 
  • Present 2-3 minutes in class. 
November 14th
  • 2nd Quiz
November 26-December 5th
  • Presentation of Final Paper on "That, anyway, is what I have learned."
  • If there are any questions about what is expected, feel free to ask.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

25 Initiation Rights and Presentation List

 Presentation List for Oct. 10th

http://list25.com/25-crazy-rites-of-passage/



1.         Austin Arden -- (Free Choice: FC)
2.         Connor Bos--- FC
3.         Cody Brown--  FC
4.         Reed Brown--  FC
5.         Kara Christiansen-- FC
6.         Audri Cole--- Viracocha--- FC
7.         Henna Devine--FC
8.         Nathaniel Ellis--FC
9.         Ben Fitzgerald--FC
10.     Siri Gerrity----- FC
11.     Megan Goertz--FC
12.     Kelly Heabeerlin--FC
13.     Brian Jackson---FC
14.     Josh Jenks--Kintu FC
15.     Sarah Jensen----FC
16.     Zach Jewett--FC
17.     Ian Jirasko--FC
18.     Terrell LaForge--FC




This next set of prsentations will come from the “25 craziest Initiation
Rituals”  at this website:  http://list25.com/25-crazy-rites-of-passage/
At any time, any individual can negotiate for a replacement “initiation”
story by contacting the instructor and explaining the substitution. If you do not
see your name on this list, assume you have a FC (Free Choice).

19.     Elaine Li--Pangu    25
20.     Cavin Losett-- 24
21.     Jessica Matthews-- 23
22.     David Meade-- )22
23.     Elise Nickish- ) 21
24.     Towner Norton---Enuma Elish (Babylonian creation) 20
25.     Kayleen Offringa  19
26.     Rebecca Petrick   18
27.     Dakota Prukop   17
28.     Jorden Quinn  16
29.     Jordyn Raffety  15
30.     Victor Reed  14
31.     Michelle Rosen  13
32.     Kim Siemsen  12
33.     Chance Thomas   11
34.     Melissa Thompson   10
35.     Parker Tilton  9
36.     Annie Van Voast   8
37.     Whitney Whittecar  )7
38.     McKinder Wilsey   6
39.     Cayden Witzel   5
40.     Kristy Davis   4
41.     Jean Heetderks   3
42.     Sebastian Petzing ) 2
43.     Travis Province   1
44.     Kenzie Fisher (FC)
45.     Jon Paul Galeas (FC)