explain your L.A.N. Local Area Network - all the devices on your internet connection: I have at least 13 wireless devices and 3 wired in. This list includes 3 phones, 4 kindles, 5 laptops, one tablet, a TV, printer, and desktop computer. My tenants also have devices on the network like phones and laptops but I do not know how many.
reflect on what you learned about networks, did you have an OMG moment that you learned something new and interesting? if now write about what you learned: I was very surprised when you told me I had an outdated phone cord bringing internet into my house. Learning about how packets were transported all over the world in a couple of seconds for web pages was really new for me as well.
- what would you tell other people that they need to know about having an ISP/Home network: Different cords bring internet into your home based on your ISP. Certain networks prevent you from going on high bandwidth sites or going on these sites will slow down your internet. Your ISP can see what you do on the network.
Jaiyeola Omowamide. Two words, seventeen letters and 9 syllables of utter confusion.
For the longest time, I hated my name. It was something that I detested. It was like carrying a huge boulder on my back; nothing but a burden.
I didn’t always despise it. Maybe because I was too young to recognize the difficulty associated with it, but my detestation didn’t begin until I started elementary school. As a child, I was called many names; Zion by my mother, Jaiye by my father, Jaiyeola, by my grandmother, and even Butterfly because my mom described me as ¨being shy and always floating around¨ I recognized all these titles and had love for all of them...until I began school.
Throughout preschool and kindergarten, I had zero insecurities about my name. My mind was filled with the innocence of juvenescence, but when first grade commenced, I soon began to mature and with maturity, comes dignity and establishment of self identity. I became aware of how difficult it was for my teachers, classmates and even family members to pronounce my name. This made me very uncomfortable and in return, I developed a deep insecurity towards my name. An island of unconfidence began to grow around me where I was surrounded by Taylors, Michaels Ashleys and Brians, and then it was just me, Jaiye; alone, feeling like I was the only one. It’s a curse I thought. I felt like I didn’t belong and that inaugurated a shamefulness against my name , that would take years to overcome. It was then and there that I automatically ignored all of the love I had for “Jaiyeola” and replaced it with hate.
First days of school were always the worst, at least for me. Not because I was nervous to see all my friends but...you guessed it, because of my name.
It was the first day of fifth grade. New school, new teachers, different faces. I hesitantly walked into the classroom. About twenty faces stared as I walked in, face down, trembling because of the intense anxiety that dawned on me as I realized that the teacher would soon have to call out my name on roll. As I waited, I went over in my head fifty times how I would correct her once she pronounced my name wrong. Should I just interrupt her before she even attempts to? Or should I just tell her now before she starts roll call? It was like self torture. I could feel the prickly heat of sweat begin to to form. The teacher began to go down the list. I was completely unaware of when my name would be called next. As she read each name, apprehensive thoughts filled my mind. What if the class laughs? I was so distracted with the thoughts in my brain, that I hadn’t noticed that she had approached my name. I knew because she made a strained face. Her face became tense as she thought of how she would pronounce it.
“Jeyailoa?” she said. Every syllable that passed through her thin lips felt like nails on a chalkboard. That was nowhere close to how it was supposed to be pronounced. I could hear snickers in the background. I could feel the burning sensation behind eyes begin to form. Don’t cry I told myself. I forced myself to wear the most genuine smile.
“It’s Jaiye. Jaiye for short.”
“Oh...that’s different. Very different.” she softly smiled.
From that moment on, not only did I hate my name even more, but I hated first days of school.
Days that I had substitute teachers were even worse. With my normal teachers, they would learn my name after a week or two, so the stress eventually would be lifted off my back, but when a substitute showed up, it was like my life was rewinded back to the first day of school. And the hatred would suddenly came back. I remember cringing as the sub would try to pronounce my name. I wanted to shoot up from my seat and yell “ It’s Jaiye! Jai-yay! It’s not that freaking difficult!” But instead, a quivering hand would hesitantly, shoot up.
“It’s Jai-Jaiye,” I would stutter. “Jaiye is short for Jaiyeola.”
Even though there are people out there in the world, with more difficult names to pronounce than me, I felt as if I was the only person out there who experienced this problem. I didn’t have much as a significant problem with my last name because I didn’t identify with my last name as a first name, but I felt the worst towards “Jaiye” and “Jaiyeola” because those are names that people call me by. Other people that I knew had difficult last names, but easy ¨American¨ first names and I felt left out. Did my mom and dad not get the memo?
I was at the point in my life where I wanted my name change. I went through a list of names that I could get that was deemed “normal”. Christina? Or maybe Amy like my mother? My name was an anchor holding me back from fitting in. I just wanted to feel accepted. I wanted to feel like the standard white American. And that could all happen if I could discard this confusing, foreign name.
During the afternoon, in the school library, I was at the librarian desk waiting to check out some books. A white male librarian began to scan my books on the monitor. Since it was the school library, all of our names were in the database, so automatically “Jaiyeola Omowamide” popped up on the screen once he scanned the first book. I cringed when I saw the blue lettering on the computer screen. He raised his eyebrows at me in astonishment.
“ Wow, how do you pronounce your name?” he asked.
“Jai-yay-hola, O-moe-wah-me-day.” I replied.
“West African huh?’
“ Yes, Nigeria to be exact.” I smiled
“ It’s beautiful. Some of the most beautiful names are foreign to this land. Enjoy your day, young lady”
I walked out the library with a grin as big as the sun, that beams from ear to ear. It was the happiest I felt towards my name in a long time.
But how could something so incomprehensible and ugly be seen as beautiful? I felt as if he and others would just say that to be polite. There was this constant battle between what I heard, and what I wanted to believe. Do these strangers really think my name is as great as it sounds? I spent hours, days, months, and even years, thinking about this, and then it hit me. If these random people can tell me that they love my name, why can’t I?
Jaiyeola Omowamide; meaning a life of happiness and wealth and that a child has come to us. I was a child that my parents saw as a blessing so in return, I should carry great dignity with my name. My name is Yoruba, a language spoken in Nigeria. It means happiness and success, not depression and failure. It holds great amounts of history and heritage, and was given to me to be carried on to my future children and for those to come. Most African Americans, can never have their original names because their identity was robbed from them when forced to become slaves. I realized how lucky I was. Why hate it? Because it’s not “normal”? Some of the greatest people that lived didn’t become known because of being ordinary. They were unique. Distinct. Individual. And that’s just what my name is. One of a kind.
I now love my name more than ever. It’s something that I hold with considerable respect and I am forever thankful to my parents for giving it to me. And although, I still get people who mispronounce it, I laugh it off. We shouldn’t have to feel self conscious of ourselves, because we don’t fit the norm. Don’t be ashamed of who you are. And don’t let society deem what is and isn’t normal. This country isn’t just made of one culture, but many; a huge melting pot. Show pride in our heritage and what completes your identity.
I was happy because I was supporting what designs my favorite artist was making and I was watching his dreams play out as I see mine doing in the future. I think it is very important to have some sort of role model as a kid. Sometimes parents do not give you all the support you need so you look to other places to mold you. You are your role models, because you aim to be like them. You are inspired by their actions and often you try to be more like them. Kanye West was a big role model for me because he always stood up for what he believed in. His ideas are never compromised by those around him who always try to tell him what to do. And I believe that thoroughly; If you have something to say, you must put it out there in the world so that it can become more than just a thought. The world can always use more ideas.
Kanye once said: “Nothing in life is promised except death.” To me this is very inspirational. What this quote means to me is that if you have a purpose in life you need to give it 100% because failure is not the worst thing in the world. The worst thing in the world is dying without having anything in your life to show your success. That is why it is important for you to work at the things you love, and never give up. The only thing that you can know is that you will die. You do not know how anything will pan out. So in this time you are given you have to take advantage of it and really live it to the fullest. This is why I always feel like I need to hurry up and make my dreams come true. I constantly am anxious that I am running out of time.“I remember sitting in my room as a little child doing my homework. It was a rainy day and my mom had not gotten home from work yet so I busied myself with school. My dad was home but he was working in his room. Lately, I was feeling down. I was always bored and I didn’t like the kids at my school very much. We just never clicked. When I heard the door open, I started to run down the stairs in excitement to see my mom.” This is the type of excitement that I have always felt when it has came to this man’s art. It has always spoke to me. It never mattered if it were a song or if it were clothing or actual art. The amount of effort that he puts into his work is impeccable and can not be duplicated. But I aim to be as courageous and brave as he is and want to complete my dreams like he has.