so technically this is the secret sauce behind Embeddings (like those used in ChatGPT). Because high-dimensional space is so vast, we can shove millions of different concepts (words, images, ideas) into a vector space, and they won't "bump into" each other unless they are actually related.
⚡3❤1
Forwarded from Onyx Design ⚡️
My Dad Was Right
I just didn’t know it then.
Every evening, he came home carrying the tiredness of the day.
Before I could speak, before I could escape into play... he asked the same quiet question
“Did you study?”
Sometimes he’d sit for a moment and say things that felt ordinary, almost annoying:
“ጌዜህን ባግባቡ ተጠቀም”
“መፅሀፍትን አንብብ“
“ጓደኛ ምርጥ”
As a child, I took it personally.
I thought he didn’t see me.
Didn’t understand what I liked.
Didn’t care about my world.
In my mind, he wasn’t guiding me
he was controlling me.
A dictator, I thought.
Then I said "ምን አለበት አሁን ብጫወት በስምእም"
He was always looking at who I could become, not who I was at that moment.
Years passed.
Life began to ask its own hard questions.
Time slipped away faster than I expected.
Mistakes became teachers.
Loss became loud.
And slowly, painfully, his voice started to make sense.
Those simple words weren’t restrictions.
They were protection.
They weren’t pressure.
They were preparation.
I wish I had listened sooner.
Not because life would have been easy
but because it wouldn’t have been so hard.
Now I think about the things he said back then.
So simple.
So easy to ignore.
So expensive to learn later.
One day, I might come home tired too.
And a child might look at me the way I once looked at him.
And I wonder
will they understand me then?
Or will they understand me only years later,
when they whisper to themselves:
“My dad was right.”
"ሰነፍ የአባቱን ተግሣጽ ይንቃል፤ ዘለፋን የሚቀበል ግን አእምሮው የበዛ ነው።"
-ምሳሌ 15:5
@OnyxDesignx
I just didn’t know it then.
Every evening, he came home carrying the tiredness of the day.
Before I could speak, before I could escape into play... he asked the same quiet question
“Did you study?”
Sometimes he’d sit for a moment and say things that felt ordinary, almost annoying:
“ጌዜህን ባግባቡ ተጠቀም”
“መፅሀፍትን አንብብ“
“ጓደኛ ምርጥ”
As a child, I took it personally.
I thought he didn’t see me.
Didn’t understand what I liked.
Didn’t care about my world.
In my mind, he wasn’t guiding me
he was controlling me.
A dictator, I thought.
Then I said "ምን አለበት አሁን ብጫወት በስምእም"
He was always looking at who I could become, not who I was at that moment.
Years passed.
Life began to ask its own hard questions.
Time slipped away faster than I expected.
Mistakes became teachers.
Loss became loud.
And slowly, painfully, his voice started to make sense.
Those simple words weren’t restrictions.
They were protection.
They weren’t pressure.
They were preparation.
I wish I had listened sooner.
Not because life would have been easy
but because it wouldn’t have been so hard.
Now I think about the things he said back then.
So simple.
So easy to ignore.
So expensive to learn later.
One day, I might come home tired too.
And a child might look at me the way I once looked at him.
And I wonder
will they understand me then?
Or will they understand me only years later,
when they whisper to themselves:
“My dad was right.”
"ሰነፍ የአባቱን ተግሣጽ ይንቃል፤ ዘለፋን የሚቀበል ግን አእምሮው የበዛ ነው።"
-ምሳሌ 15:5
@OnyxDesignx
❤3
Forwarded from Austererie⚔
Me after solving 'Two Sums' for the 100th time just to keep my leetcode streak up
😁3