Genaro Flores

A world I dare to imagine. In 1952, a Russian linguist named Yuri Knorozov was able to crack the indecipherable Mayan glyphs, the Mayan writing system that was used by ancient Mayans for centuries. There was debate as to what the glyphs read and how one should read them. Sir John Eric Sidney Thompson, a British archaeologist and leading Mayan scholar at the time, had a staunch view on the Mayan glyphs and nobody dared to contradict his hypothesis, as he was seen as the authority in this scholarly field. Yuri, being behind the Iron Curtain during the Cold War, was not greatly influenced by Sir John and didn't care about his authoritative ideas, he was in search of the truth. Yuri dared to go based on his intuition and came up with his own hypothesis on how to read the Mayan glyphs, one that was correct and is still used today. Why am I saying this? I think it's great that we are becoming an ever connected world, one where trade and mutual cooperation is fostered. However, more o...

I stood there, wobbling, with scepter in hand and crown on head. Wondering, breathing, crying, what was I supposed to do? I could see them. The white king and queen, staring at me, analyzing me. Their soldiers began advancing towards me, breaking rank. How could I break rank though? Knowing that sending my soldiers forward would mean certain death for them. How could I sacrifice them, as if their lives meant nothing. I wanted all of them to live, but as I stood there, looking at them with my queen to the right and my trusted advisor to the left, I gave the order. And so they marched. Their white soldier diagonal to my black soldier. Without hesitation, the white soldier drew his sword and the once brave soldier I sent to the front on my behalf, layed on the ground, killed by his counterpart. Water droplets hugged my cheeks as they fell to the ground, hugging me, attempting to relieve me from this pain, from this guilt. I felt numb. Death. Everywhere. Young men, slaughtered as if their ...

DO NOT read this book. DO NOT read this book. DO NOT read this book. Truer words have never been uttered than Thomas Gray’s “Ignorance is Bliss.” I urge you, if you want to continue living in the sweet, comforting, happy life of bliss, remain ignorant. Remain ignorant of this book and its content. Its devilish content that broke me free from my prison. I was a willing prisoner, but after this book, I fear there is no re entering this cell block. I fear I must face the world with this new knowledge of life, of the world, of the universe, I fear I am no longer ignorant. The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World by Explorer-in-Residence at the National Geographic Society, Wade Davis, has transformed my views of the world. I grew up in a beautiful traditional Catholic Mexican household, rich in traditions, stories and faith. One caveat, however, is that I did grow up with a rigid perspective of life, one seen through a Catholic, Wester-oriented lens, where our morals ...

“Knowledge is Power.” That phrase was everywhere in middle school, decorating the hallways and plastered in front of the clock. It was the school mantra. While I agree that knowledge is power, I have always wondered if there is such a thing as having too much knowledge. We all know that people with too much power can be dangerous, a threat to democracy and society. Could it be the case that people with too much knowledge are also a threat to society? Or better put, is there such a thing as forbidden knowledge? My journey to solve this question took me to the biblical story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. In the Bible, the serpent, a physical representation of the Devil, tempts Eve with a fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, telling her that if she eats the from the tree, her “‘eyes will be opened, and [she] will be like God, knowing good and evil’” (Genesis 3:5). Once the Lord God discovers that Adam and Eve have eaten from the tree, He says “ man has now become li...

After finishing America Ferrera’s American Like Me , I felt understood. I felt like this personal, unique experience of mine was actually the experience of many people throughout the country, each filled and woven with their unique perspectives. Throughout life I’ve had experiences that I felt like I couldn't share with people, not because I wasn't able to, but because I felt that they wouldn't get it. Reading this book has allowed me to feel like I was able to talk to someone.  I truly felt as if I was talking to these people and they knew what question I was going to ask and gave me their answers. I was able to relate to so many people on so many different levels. From Anna Akana’s mom telling her “‘Tagalog is a poor man’s language’” (Akana 219) to America Ferrar’s journey to La Esperanza and her realizing that there was a huge part of her family history that she didn't know, it was all relatable on some level. While I was never discouraged to speak Spanish, I have n...

For Book 1, I have chosen to read American Like Me by America Ferrera. I knew America Ferrera from her rendition of Betty Suarez in Ugly Betty , an amazing TV show that I grew up watching with my mom. I chose this memoir because I hoped that there was something that she and the other writers could tell me about this life, the life of being of a different descent in the US, and more importantly, how they were able to reconcile the differences and challenges that come from that.  Right from the gecko, America hit me with one of the most relatable situations, the awkward conversation of our name. Every start of the school year, there was an awkward pause before my name was read out loud. The stumbling of its phonemes and confused faces. My stomach sank and the heavy heartbeats persisted as I raised my hand to explain my name's pronunciation. To an outsider, these feelings might seem exaggerated, but as a kid, the last thing you want is to stand out, much less feel embarrassed in fron...

I stood there, wobbling, with scepter in hand and crown on head. Wondering, breathing, crying, what was I supposed to do? I could see them. The white king and queen, staring at me, analyzing me. Their soldiers began advancing towards me, breaking rank. How could I break rank though? Knowing that sending my soldiers forward would mean certain death for them. How could I sacrifice them, as if their lives meant nothing. I wanted all of them to live, but as I stood there, looking at them with my queen to the right and my trusted advisor to the left, I gave the order. And so they marched. Their white soldier diagonal to my black soldier. Without hesitation, the white soldier drew his sword and the once brave soldier I sent to the front on my behalf, layed on the ground, killed by his counterpart. Water droplets hugged my cheeks as they fell to the ground, hugging me, attempting to relieve me from this pain, from this guilt. I felt numb. Death. Everywhere. Young men, slaughtered as if their ...