Storybook Favorites

Vishnu's Bedtime Stories

I wanted to choose stories that I wasn't familiar with the subject matter. I thought the idea of this blog was really creative. As if it was being explained to a child, it provided a good introduction to a few stories, ideas, and themes that will be expand on over the course of the semester. I appreciated the Author's Notes about his process and condensing of the epic stories. I enjoyed that Vishnu was hearing about his previous lives before being born as Kalki to understand his past. ("It is crucial that you understand who you were, or else you will have no idea who you are or who you will become.") The title is a little confusing just because of all of the different names. However, the introduction does a great job in explaining the title and the premise of the storybook. I really liked the simplicity of the design. It made it easy to focus on the stories, and it didn't bother my eyes with any weird colors or brightness. 

The Karma Times

             I'm familiar with the idea of Karma and "what goes around comes around." I thought the personification of Karma was a unique idea, and it is established quickly through the title and introduction. I like the background with all of the pages. It evokes the idea of a newspaper which ties into the title. I also appreciated the monochromatic color scheme because it made it easy to read. I also found it interesting that both this storybook and the previous one utilized the story of Rama, but focused on different parts. I enjoyed the second story because it showed Karma's mercy and not just it's punishing force. I appreciated the author taking such a strong stance in the author's note about the innocence of Gautama and with the innocence of Sita. I do wish that this storybook had a brief wrap up for the end instead of just finishing with the last story. While I think the Indian renderings of the different characters are beautiful and colorful, I'm obsessed with quotes, and this was my favorite picture on the blogs.

(Image Information: Photo retrieved from Karma Lessons, circa the Karma Times blog)

Tales of Ganesha

               Again, I really appreciated the simplicity of the layout of the design. I've heard Ganesha referenced, but I don't know much about the deity. I chose this blog because I thought their opening was hilarious. i.e. "I am sure all of you feel like there’s an elephant in the room…Go ahead, it is okay to laugh at my corny jokes." I thought it was clever and fun to bring Ganesha to Norman and have a coffee talk with students. The title and introduction are very straightforward. I wish the author's note was a little more distanced from the story, and that the heading was bolded. I liked how the photos were embedded in the text so they became more a part of the story. I'm beginning to see what a big theme fidelity is in Indian mythology. Every one of the three blogs had at least one story that dealt with it. I also find this blog humorous because of the strong usage of imagery with baby Ganesha trying to block Shiva's entrance or with Ganesha riding on a mouse. These stories were a lot more light-hearted, too. It was a good one to finish with the reading. I also enjoyed learning the myth for the waxing and waning of the moon. When I was younger, I loved Greek mythology, and one of the things I enjoyed about it was the explanations for ways that the world worked. This story reminds me of that. 

Introduction to an Anxious Over-Achiever

(Personal photo of myself with my stuffed cat, Fuzzy, who never left my side.)

I enjoy having too much to do and not enough time to do it in. At least, that’s why I’ve said when people questioned how I managed to take twenty hours a semester, work two jobs, and be involved with student organizations and productions.

Their follow-up: “What’s wrong with you?”

My response: “Lots of things.”

I use humor as a way to hide my true feelings. I’ve become a master of disguise—a master of everything is okay. I have high-functioning anxiety. I feel this overwhelming urge to try to do everything because I have this gripping fear of missing out or messing up and becoming an outcast. I remember in Kindergarten, I was so frustrated that my sixes looked like whales. We had to write the number six over and over and over, and I kept erasing and erasing because I thought that they were the worst sixes I ever saw. Eventually, I gave up and hid the assignment in the dark recesses of the junk drawer. (The only time I never turned in an assignment—I assure you!) I felt this strong need to establish perfection in everything I did. I strove to always have the “right” answer. I hate excuses, and I have made myself sick in pursuit of trying to do too much. In my senior year of high school, my immune system crashed. I had barely any white blood cells, and they weren’t completely sure what was wrong with me. I had my blood drawn and tested almost every day until my white blood cells were finally considered (on the very low end) of normal. Looking back, I’m not surprised that I became so sick. I would sleep an average of  five or six hours a night. On average, between activities, I was at school for over twelve hours every day. I would try to get a quick nap in at lunch or work on homework to attempt to get a little extra sleep that night.

Looking back on it now, I want to laugh and say that I’ve changed. I’m only taking thirteen hours this semester before graduating in May. Although I look at today and realize I went to work in the School of Drama Office at 9:30 this morning. Then came home at 5pm to work on homework and eat before I have to go back to school at 6:30pm until 11pm for rehearsal. I love what I do. I am excited to work in the School of Drama Office. I can’t wait to go to rehearsal tonight. I’m enjoying this class. I really do enjoy being busy. In fact, I get really depressed when I have free time. I feel like I’m squandering away the few precious moments I have on this Earth by taking a day off. Some will call this driven. Others will call this crazy.

I started attending therapy last year, and it is one of the best decisions I have ever made. Although, I feel like I haven’t changed much in practice. My own perception of myself has changed a full 180 degrees. While that is in part to therapy, it’s also in part to my experiences at the University of Oklahoma. I’m very fortunate to be surrounded by my encouraging and supportive School of Drama family. When I went in for my final evaluation, my professors told me that I need to work on not doing so much. I need to take time for myself and learn to say no. Throughout my time here, they helped me learn that it’s okay to make mistakes. It’s natural and a part of life, and it is not the end of the world. They’ve taught me to be kinder to myself. They’ve helped me realize the importance of mental health. Many artists struggle with that issue, and they are very open about their own experiences. This is probably way more than you wanted to know about me. You probably would rather know that I have five siblings (two brothers and two half-sisters). I’m the oldest. I have my library card number memorized. I wrote a rap as one of my essays into the University of Oklahoma. I got a 33 on the ACT with a perfect 36 on the science portion, and it’s really dumb, but I’m super proud of that. I’m more proud that I received the Mary Gray Thompson Award for Outstanding Contributions to the Activities of the University of Oklahoma Weitzenhoffer Family College of Fine Arts. I’ve also started working professionally as an actor this year. I’m in commercials for OERB and Main Event. I also got to meet Ted Levine, the guy who played Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs, earlier this year on set. I wrote a full length play last year. My favorite movies are The Imitation Game and His Girl Friday. Now you know everything you wanted to know about me and more.

On that note:

Hello, and welcome to me.

(Quote from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott that I painted.)

Week 1 Story: The Death of Mister Brown

The Death of Mister Brown

It was a rainy day as the bells pealed solemnly throughout the cobbled streets and vacant storefronts. Melancholy hung in the air making it almost impossible to breathe. Depression dug its talons into the inhabitants of the village—threatening to never let go. The town mourned their beloved milliner. Mister Brown was last seen walking home late at night. His coat billowed out from his tall, thin frame. He clutched the rim of his favorite brown hat that matched his favorite worn coat against the shrieking wind. After the death of his wife many years ago, Mister Brown moved from the apartment near his shop to a small cottage in the forest nearby. He always claimed that he enjoyed the brisk walk down the rolling hills away from the town. He felt that he was best able to talk to his dear departed wife when he was alone. Many of the villagers expressed worry about his living so far away:

Landscape with Cottage from the public domain of the

Metropolitan Museum of Art. Source:Archive

                “What about the wolves, Mister Brown?” inquired dainty schoolmistress Margaret McGee.

                “Oh Abram, you can’t possibly feel better all alone out there. It would chill even my bones,” remarked Ivan, the butcher, as he hacked the head off of a halibut.

However, Mister Abram Brown, paid no attention to their worries. That last night he snugly buttoned up his coat, pulling the lapels up against his neck. Then nodded to Ivan as he closed down his shop.

                “Be careful out there, Abram. It’s hard to tell if that howling is the wind or the wolves,” warned the butcher.

                “I don’t fear wolves, dear Ivan,” Mister Brown spoke in his wise, wizened voice, “My greatest fear has already come to pass. There’s no sense to worry about what might happen in the future.” He tipped his hat against the wind, and smiled a grave smile to his dear friend. Ivan watched the wiry figure of Mister Brown become a blurry shadow in the fog that was creeping up the hill. Ivan said a quick prayer for his friend and hurried home.

                As Mister Brown walked onto the dirt road that turned toward his beloved cottage, he spotted a shimmering figure in the distance. Her golden tresses cascaded down her back, drawing attention to her tiny waist. Her gossamer gown pooled on the ground, and when she lifted her slender wrist, it exposed her pale skin. He recognized her easily. He walked toward her, and she quickly fell into step beside him. She beamed up at him, and he gazed into her brilliant sapphire eyes. She was here. His only true love. Elizabeth.

                “Mrs. Brown, I’ve missed you so.”

                “And I you, my Abram.”

                “Life seems so dull without you, my little light.”

                “Abram,” Elizabeth spoke carefully, “do you love me?”

                “Of course! Did you ever doubt it?”

                “Even though I never bore you children?” Elizabeth nervously inquired.

                Abram stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. She twirled slowly to mirror him. He raised his hand to touch her face, paused, and then moved again to touch her. Her face dissipated under his touch like an image in a stream. Mister Brown choked back a sob—bringing his bony fingers to his dry lips. He swallowed hard while the tears welled up in his eyes. Elizabeth looked on forlornly. She knew she was helpless. Unless…she pressed forward.

                “Abram,” Elizabeth ominously said, “what do you want?”

                He looked at her with a gaze that told her everything. It was one of yearning in the most pure form. It chronicled their love from the first sight to the last goodbye. Elizabeth stepped forward tentatively. Her graceful form inched closer to his until they were a breath away.

                “Are you sure?” she muttered breathlessly. Mister Brown looked lovingly down into her eyes.

                “I’ve spent too many days without you here. I’ve lived a good life. A simple life. I have no regrets.” he assured. Elizabeth smiled and carefully pressed her delicate lips against her husband’s. Mister Brown began to hear a sweet whistle in his ear, and an ethereal glow began to envelop them both.

                “Welcome to our next adventure,” Elizabeth whispered tenderly in Mister Brown’s ear. Mister Brown finally took his wife in his arms once more. He cradled her beautiful face and kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, and her cheeks determinedly and steadily. As the wind rushed through the village, and a lone wolf howled in the distance, Mister and Misses Brown winked into eternity.

                The villagers mourned the loss of their dear milliner. They knew not where he had gone, but they hoped he had found a peaceful end. They placed flowers at his shop door. When Miss McGee stopped to shed a few tears, Ivan placed a sturdy hand on her shoulder.

                                                            “Her death. They parted

 but soon reunited . 

Elizabeth and Abram, together they’ll be.

 Arm in arm through eternity.

While we all will miss,

they'll now live in bliss.

Elizabeth and Abram, together they'll be.

Arm in Arm quite happily.” 

Author's Note: The original nursery rhyme was about a man who had died and used to wear an old, brown coat. In my elementary school choir, we sang a dirge-like song to this nursery rhyme. I decided I wanted to give Abram Brown a happier ending. It's  also a rather short rhyme, and I really wanted an opportunity to give it more meaning. Who was Abram Brown? How did he die? 

Bibliography: This story is based on "Old Abram Brown is Dead and Gone" from The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Lang.

Favorite Place: All My World's A Stage

All My World's A Stage

It's like taking a breath from the beginning of time. Suddenly, you become part of a tradition as old as civilization itself. The yearn to be connected to another. The need to find a reason for the confusion of life. The want to explain how you view the world. It's like all of time is captured there. The familiar musty smell promises new opportunities and delights in the remembrance of old memories. The ghosts of the past flicker in the shadows wanting to greet you like old friends. There's magic in the theatre...

Greek Theatre, Epidaurus from the public domain of the 

Metropolitan Museum of Art. Source:Archive 

I will never forget my first play. My mother decided that I needed an activity that would help me come out of my shell, and I auditioned for A Little Princess under bribery of a new book. I ended up being cast as the lead, and I went from dreaming to be a doctor or lawyer to deciding to be an actor. I was hooked. I remember that first theatre so well. The smell--intoxicating, comforting.The labyrinth of rooms that became dressing rooms, storage areas, the stage, the rehearsal room, and the lobby. As a small child, I felt like I could be lost in there forever. In a way, I wanted to. In a way, I still am. I fell in love with the theatre. I found myself in the theatre. 

To this day, my favorite place is to be in the comforting clutches of the theatre. The mystical thing about the theatre is how each one feels similar. They all have that same musty smell that lets me know that I'm home. I think finding that comfort is important. It allows me to be vulnerable. It gives you the chance to be someone else. Someone from another time. Someone who has had different triumphs and heartbreaking moments. Through learning about the character, I become a stronger person. When I played Karen in The Children's Hour, I admired her graciousness. People kept trying to bring her down, but she fought to keep it together. From one loss to the next, she tenaciously moved forward. She was patient and kind to so many that tried her. 

The theatre is an incredible tool. It connects us. It has been around for thousands of years and will continue for many years to come. As long as we have questions, as long as we live, the theatre will exist. It's comforting to know that my favorite place will survive even when I'm long gone. It will become a home and favored place for many others. The theatre exists worldwide, too. While it's thrilling to be a part of the production being in my favorite place daily for a month or more, even just sitting in the audience and observing someone else's work is comforting. The lights go down and instead of being lost in the world of the play, you are lost in the magic of the theatre.

(Me as Karen in the Helmerich School of Drama's The Children's Hour. Costume Design by Riley Smith.

Set Design by Jenn Bobo. Lighting Design by Olivia DeLuca. Photographed by Diana Miller. Fall 2016)

(Me as Karen in the Helmerich School of Drama's The Children's Hour. Costume Design by Riley Smith.

Set Design by Jenn Bobo. Lighting Design by Olivia DeLuca. Photographed by Diana Miller. Fall 2016)

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Hello All! 

I am currently enrolled in Indian Epics at the University of Oklahoma. I'm a Drama major, Acting Emphasis, and I will graduate at the end of this semester! BOOMER! Thanks for visiting! 

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