High Performance Computing and Communication Act

    Here we go...the last blog post of the year! 

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    As we (I?) count down the days to the end of this year, we were kindly asked (and threatened with the possibility of being exempted from possible exemption for the final) by our teacher to provide our feedback regarding the soon-ending academic year. Now, it is only appropriate that we (I?) get this done with as soon as possible so, hang on to the reading!

    My growth as a student, pertaining to APLAC, I believe, is notable. This is especially so in respect to my writing. I've never actually hated writing. I never hated writing; the way walruses never hated singing; the way dragons never hated their breath. Truth is, my enthusiasm far outweighed my talent and the resulting prose was, well, to use an understatement, substandard. Such was the state of my writing prior to entering E122 during fourth period in late August of 2013. The rest of the story has been documented, evaluated and indexed in HISD's computerized treasure troves of grades. ;)

   The skills of rhetorical analysis, fallacy-free argumentation, source-credibility analysis etc that I have acquired in this class have been instrumental in enabling me view everything around me from a different perspective. 

    Talking about the essays: I had a good time dismantling the rhetorical analysis prompt - or, I thought I did. (God! It better be!). Come July, though, I'm not excited to see the number next to the argumentation essay. That, I think, is because of the lack of practice on that section - which was wholly my mistake due to the total disregard I showed. Anyway, one must not jump to conclusions, right?

    Books: THE THINGS THEY CARRIED!!!! Ooops! Did I say that out loud? Well, it is not an overstatement. I think it was the best book we (I?) read this year. Naturally, I am not a fun of chronologically disarrayed pieces of literature. It always appeared to me it was one of those markers of "fake originality"; like an author who'd refuse to punctuate or capitalize his work for "originality's" sake or like a sham artist that draws two squiggly lines on a white backdrop and tells you it's "crude, abstract, modern" art. Tim O'Brien, however, threw the ball the other side - that's all I can say.

    On the other end of the spectrum, there was Truman Capote's In Cold Blood - which, true to its name, was written in cold blood. I found myself intrigued by the two murderers instead of the broad thematic message the author was trying to pass. Trying to understand the driving motive behind Perry and Dick kept me from finding the book's relativity to today. Perhaps, that was Capote's intention all along - who knows?

    Then, there is Al Gore! Bizarre, isn't it? Seriously, the never ending sarcasm and humor in the class played a big part in keeping me focused on the topics at hand. Hermione told Ron he had the "emotional range of a teaspoon": I have the "attention span" of said cutlery. So, I couldn't help but chuckle when Mr. Thomas said - sarcastically, of course - "...Al Gore gave us this wonderful thing called the Internet...". The class' response to that statement showed that it had passed as an esoteric reference - much to my disappointment. Although it is known that Mr. Gore did not invent the internet - and that he never claimed to have done so, there is something catchy about that statement, which has evolved to something of a punchline. However humorous, though, we must not undermine his notable contributions and give credit where it's due. Hence the title of this blog post.

So long!

    

(To Escape The Wall of Shame)

Hey, there! Welcome to the 5th (or 4th) post!

This time we are discussing the "things (people) carry", be them physical, mental or extra-dimensional. Although that is the topic, the sole objective of this post is to escape "The Wall of Shame" at E122. So, here we go with the things I carry...

I am not sure I have a physical thing that I attach much value to, or that I carry around with me all the time. I have this small red box that you'll - most of the time - find in one of my pockets. However, Gen. Keith finds more use in it than I do. GPS co-ordinates, "telephony metadata", cellular signals and all. Additionally, I carry my self (the physical one; the body) with me all the time. The logic is that if people claim their bodies carry the burdens and weight of their phantom dimensions, then hey, why not the other way around for me? Therefore, the physical thing I carry around is my body. Now, ladies, hold your horses. It is clothed and heavily protected - at all times. ;)

Dreams. I had a terrible one just last night. No, it wasn't about my name being indelible from The Wall of Shame. It was about something else. Anyways, let's talk dreams in the topic's context. 

          

         Q: "What is the dream you keep locked away and hidden - you know the one that drives you?"

    

         A:  I'd so much like to share it with you! But...but...like you said, it's locked, you know. And I can't seem to find the key anywhere! Darn it! :)   

Even more tragic could be the possibility of opening the safe after looking for the key for forever, and finding it empty. Zero! Zilch! Nada! So, a logical solution seems to be to wait for something to crystallize inside first. Luckily for us (or me), we (or I) have the power to influence what forms inside by the things that go on in the close vicinity.

There have been lots of faces in and out of my years. Most were just that - faces; others were lighthouses; a few were painting brushes; and five are (notice not "were") the girders and framework of my life. Irony is, the latter group's members don't have faces! They are more like virtual beings; albeit with more influence in my life than all other real people combined. Truth is, though, Galt, Roark, d'Anconia, Rearden and Taggart each lived more complete lives in their book-length existence than all other real people that I know - combined. If these five morphed into one real person, trust me, earth would have been a better place to live in. 

That said, however, it is not like I don't have real people I look up to. My parents, especially my mother, play significant roles in my life. I am closer to my mother in that we discuss about most things even though we are so different. Her frank and honest, yet smart approach to life has been exemplary to me. 

When I think of myself (I just did, for this post's sake), limiting my thoughts to adjectives - and three of them at that - becomes hard. Why think of oneself when there is a pre-defined limit to how far one can think? Isn't thinking supposed to be boundless? Anyways, getting back to the question, I think of myself in more than adjectives, with full meaning and context instead of "spare-part" adjectives. For that reason, and because my thinking was limited to three I-don't-know-whats, here are three statements I can say about myself. I hate contradictions. I hate incompetence. I admire endeavor and achievement.  

Lastly, regarding memories and experiences: There isn't much in those premises. Maybe, to a limited extent, the fact that I have been educated in more than five schools in three different countries. That, I believe, is a rare experience. Not in so much as shaping or molding me, but helping me realize the value of existence, a freak car-accident at four and a lengthy time of illnesses a few years later did a good job. However, with age, I am sure to encounter more life-defining incidents. Those incidents, I hope, will be included in all my authorized and unauthorized biographies. So, my authorized biographer, wherever you are, sharpen your writing skills, take many AP classes, get into a good liberal-arts college and constantly Google my name. As for you, unauthorized biographers - I have reasonable belief that there are many of you, you cannot imagine the lawsuits that will follow your books' publications and send them to the top of Time's Bestseller List.  

See you next time!

ሄሎ፡ መን ክብል፧ ᎐᎐᎐ማማ ጸብሒ ትሰርሕ ኣላ᎐᎐᎐

 እቲ ቀደም ግዜ፡ ዘመነ እኒእኒ ሕምባሻ`ከሎ እምኒ፡ ኣብ ሓንቲ ዓዲ ሓደ ንጉስ ነበረ። እዛ ዓዲ`ዚኣ፡ ኣዚያ ሃብታምን ዕድልትን ነበረት፤ መቸም ህዝባ ብሓጎስን ተድላን ይነባበር፡ እንስሳታታ ብሰላምን ምርድዳእን ይብልዑን ይበላልዑን፡ ዝናማታ ብግዚኦም ይምላለሱን ነበሩ። ብኩለንትናኣ ባህ ተብል ዓዲ ነበረት። እንታይ`ሞ፡ ዘራጊት ዘላተን ከብቲ`ዶ ጽሩይ ማይ ይሰትያ፧ 

Alrighty, what's the above you say? How about we start by greeting each other? (Three pecks on alternating chicks - starting from right - while shaking hands simultaneously.) Then, we sit down while repeatedly asking about each other's well-being. ("How's family?", "The young ones, are they OK?", "How's family?", "How's..."). And before I ask you whether you want it or not, I'll make you a cup of spiced tea, or even better, we will drink 4-5 rounds of strong coffee on tiny cups that have no handles!

How your coffee will be served...

Greetings! And welcome to this week's post. The topic? Something to do with identity and "third choice" and honoring parents and heritage. So, I'll be trying to answer the prompt as you hang on to the reading.

Now, to the first part of the prompt - regarding children honoring their heritage while leaving the things they don't approve of - I'd hate to repeat what others have elaborated on here. The general consensus seems to be - yes, I read some of what the others wrote - that each person has to tailor his/her own identity. Subtract the things you don't like or that are unrepresentative of you as an individual; add those that are the opposite. There is no way around. The basic idea here is that it is your responsibility, if not duty, that you live your life to the fullest - seeking the things that make you happy as a person - following your virtues. Seems like an easy thing? Not so much. Not understanding that is the major reason behind people's identity crises.

That said, the second part of the prompt, which is more specific to the person, takes me back to the opening of this post. That is my language - called Tigrinya - written in the beginning of this post. It's not particularly hard for me since I didn't leave my home country, Eritrea, until my pre-teen years. I grew up reading, writing and speaking it and I will continue to do that. It is one of those things you cannot just lose. Its complex form makes it even more interesting to hang-on to. And no, Google Translate won't help you here. :)
           

A typical Eritrean/Ethiopian mother

Having been brought up in a culture that is little known by others, I constantly have to answer questions like, "Where are you from?" here in the US and other places that I have been to. Sometimes my witty side shows up and I give ridiculous answers for my own amusement, as I see the inquirers' faces change from 'inquisitive' to 'I-am-sure-you-are-not-from-that-place-but-I'll-just-give-you-this-nod-of-the-head'. Most times, however, when I answer correctly, the face I get is complicated. It goes something like: Whoa-dude-!-I-have-no-idea-what-you-just-said-and-I-probably-never-will-but-I'm-going-to-keep-asking-you-again-and-again-until-you-yourself-start-doubting-whether-you-are-saying-your-own-county's-name-the-right-way-and-then-finally-after-about-the-fourth-time-that-you'll-have-said-it-you'll-give-me-an-introductory-Geography-lesson-to-help-me-visualize-your-country's-location. Well, enough said.

So, to sum it all up: race, ethnicity, nationality, culture, religion etc are like paint. They are a finish to how you look to others but have no say whatsoever to who you are; at least not to me. As attributes, it is a good practice to select and keep those pieces of your custom, religion etc that will be constructive in the long run. This is especially so here in the United States. Originality does not mean keeping it to the way your ancestors did it; rather, it is customizing a template that's present to help you.

Psss... 

The title translates "Hello, who is it? ... Mom is in the kitchen cooking...". 

The first paragraph translates:
Once upon a time, when bread was like the rocks (a traditional expression symbolizing "good days long past"), there was a king in a certain kingdom. It was a gifted place full of resources; its people living in harmony and peace; its animals hunting and being hunted in peace (?) and a generally beautiful place to live. Alas, a herd with an agitator never drinks clear water....