Dear K,

I know you are an ideal to me, but what an ideal you are. You are a man, a man who I trust and respect with every fiber of myself and who commands the same from everyone else. You bring out the best in me, showing how I can improve, how I can be stronger, how I can be better. You demand self-improvement with a look, and you are my conscience.

With you I can talk for hours, on a range of subjects. I am always learning from you and you-I hope- enjoy listening to me. I think of you when I don’t see you for a week and I wish we could spend more time together.

I miss the old days. The days where everything seemed happier, lighter, easier when you were so close. When you only lived two dorms down and I could just knock on your door, entertaining a personal haven.

Sometimes we would watch movies, curled up on opposite sides of the couch with only our feet touching each other when we changed position. The light from the television bathing us both in a flickering blue glow, casting shadows, light in the darkness of the room.

Sometimes we would just talk. You can make me laugh like no one else can, and perhaps that is why when I leave, I feel like crying. Because you are no longer there to make me smile.

You were there for me when my parents separated, always  sending me texts and jokes while my tiny house became a battleground, while furniture and possessions were separated into boxes. A light on my screen to assure me that everything was going to be okay as my world crumbled around me.

I miss your voice just as I miss the missed opportunity I had to be with you. Because you were just a friend to me then. I had a boyfriend who was nice, but didn’t make me laugh like you did. Who fell asleep when we watched Avengers. I didn’t see you then, and I don’t know when I suddenly realized I needed you. To laugh with, to cry with, to make dinner or buy take-out; to wake up on the same side of the couch with your arms around me.

But you don’t miss things until they’re gone right? Because by the time I turned to you…you had moved on, and you no longer seemed interested in spending time with me at all.

I know there will come a day when you will find someone else. When I will have to see you with someone else. Maybe you will finally get Katie-your  girl who got away- or fall for a cute Barista or Dog walker  and I will smile and wish you all the happiness in the world because I need you and even if you are just a friend at least I won’t have to loose you.

I remember the last day I saw you, talked to you. How at the end of the day I walked you to your car and we stood under the streetlights laughing and talking, while I shivered in the cold rather then go back inside because I wanted to spend just one more minute with you and I didn’t know when I would see you again.

You, who leaned so casually against your car in your leather jacket and boots. The street light turned your hair to gold and I wanted to laugh with you and cry and kiss you all at once because talking with you brightens my day and you’re graduating soon and you just looked so handsome.

I don’t want you to go.  To graduate, to get a job and to start your life without me. I don’t want to have to plan out days when I can see you and listen to you tell me how I look like Mom, or make me laugh-or just to hear your voice.

I know I have to let you live your life but still, my friend, as I watch you walk away, this last time, let me whisper quietly-my love- I wish you well, I wish you fortune, I wish you happiness.

I've learned a lot about toxic relationships, and the baggage that comes with these toxic relationships. The longer you are in a toxic relationship, the more baggage you will end up with. This baggage is not something you should ignore, or hang onto for very long, as they will result in a toxic environment.

The baggage that comes out of the toxic relationships, specifically the people that you surrounded yourself with during this toxic relationship, is something that is envitable, but should be acted upon.

Mitch Vlasak has been a kind individual to me, when I felt I needed a friend, instead of solitude. Mitch Vlasak is the convienient, comfortable friend that you hang onto, post-toxic relationship.

Just because an individual is kind to you, it does not, by any means, mean they are your friend. I've recognized that convenience, comfortability, and a little too much kindness is not exactly the kind of friend I want to keep around.

This may come off as confusing, so let me explain this for you. Friends, as much as they are your friends, should push you, make you hate them from time to time, and engage in healthy arguing patterns and behaviors. This simply means that a person cares enough about you to want to help you become a better person, and these are, most importantly, the people you should keep around.

For a very long time, I have settled for friends that offered me unlimited hours of companionship, overt amounts of kindness, however, no drive or will to want to be better. I have noticed that these, amongst other kinds of toxic relationships, are the ones that most people hang onto.

Not all friendships are meant to last forever, but sometimes, the wrong kind of friends are actually the ones that result in a realizing how little they bring to your life.

Your friends are a reflection of yourself, and this is something that I often forget. These are the friends, who will not go out of their way to fight for you, want you to continue growing, and who do not bring any passion or any purpose to you. You will encounter a few of these friends, while it does not mean that you should hate them, these friends are the friends that teach you how to let go of mediocre friendships.

In all aspects of life, you should continue to want to keep growing, and celebrating your successes, and as you get older, sometimes, not everyone will stick around, as a positive influence in your life. It may mean that you've fallen out of touch, you may have nothing in common, or maybe you have outgrown them.

These mediocre friends allow you to practice the act of letting go of friendships, and learning not to settle for less.

Write Your Tribute!

Sometimes, you meet people who provide you a safe, compassionate space to communicate your thoughts and feelings, which results in an incredibly healthy relationship. Other times, you might accidentally come across those, who do everything in their own power to bring you down, celebrate your failures, and exude negativity. You can not always get your way, or else, life would just be too easy, and moderately boring.

Take time today to reflect on the individuals, who continue to spend mindless hours tearing you down, even after years of being apart of your life. These are the people who you should thank today for reminding what you do not want in relationships, how toxic their existence in your life is, and the fact that these people are the people who continue to motivate you everyday to live a little larger.

Today, I would like to tribute, Samuel Otto Silkworth, an individual who has placed unlimited amounts of fear into my life, for the last four years. To this day, he continues to make exceptional efforts to go out of his way to make my days subpar. From time-to-time, he is successful in his feats. Today, however, he will not be.

After about four years, I am beginning to realize how much Samuel Otto Silkworth has heped shaped me into the sexy, strong and controversial woman that I am. In fact, my personal growth, that occurred over the last year, was as a result of his toxic existence in my life.

These toxic individuals do teach you something, as they are the continual reminders that life is a constant battlefield, and in order to make it in this world, you need to be able to overcome your fears, and continue to keep fighting the good battle.

Continue to teach yourself self-love and challenge yourself to go out of your comfort zone, despite the fear. I've learned to conquer my anxiety, by in turn, and simulatenously, appreciating the good people that I have around me, who do everything that Samuel Otto Silkworth has never done.

Remember that these people are the people who ultimately shape your own character, self-worth, and do not continue to let them dictate your life and your self-worth.

3 o'clock in the evening, a man hurriedly walks along a passage between the shops, along the pathway and into the street. Soon the street was crowded with no trace of any one particular person. Afterall, the street wasn't meant to sustain legacies.

But this man, he lingered in my mind as though I had just recorded history; my history. Never before had I seen him.His steps were hurried, unsteady yet objective, the red shirt and white trousers he wore could make do for a flag; it flew as the wind dictated, his shoes were a clear indication of the scotching sun and dusty weather. His face...his eyes were the most calm, inviting, tender and jolly; such a great contrast from my expectations. This was what kept me mentally stuck on his image, what kind of a man is this? who is he? C'mon Bee, what is wrong with me? Why the hell is this man so in my mind? Psst! there is nothing about him worth pondering on anyway?...On and on my mind went.

"Hey," my colleague called, "you are going to bring losses to this business. Gotta keep watch for the customers not the fantasies." I was selling at a local groceries shop to raise money for my tuition. With economic instability and rising cost of living, I couldn't rely on my parents for all-and-nothing. I mean, they just had a duty to be fruitfull and fill the earth, my job was to figure out my way through the life-street to the grave. But this man...

After 3 years.The money I had saved up from my salary at the shop was enough to get me through college. What a joy!! I travelled 10 miles home, took a week packing and finally I was set for schooling; give it my best, make a life, live the life and have my happy ever after.

I am 3 years old in college. Today, I am just from my favorite lecture in which I couldn't concentrate. I am so sad about something that I can't quite point out. So I drag my feet to the nearest bench and slump onto it. My head feels hazy, my feet are heavy, my body feels detached from myself, I'm hungry...

I gather the last energy resorts I have so I can try and manage this unexplainable situation am in. So I look up, maybe I'll see a friend and call for help, how I hope my best of friends is somewhere around looking for me too. I hope I won't pass out any soon. I raise my now lidded eyes and here he is reaching out to me, for me. It is him, that man, the man I saw at the shop, followed him with my eyes through the pathway and  into the streets. It is him reaching out to me and, I hope, to my life too. I feel all weak, maybe I will be out soon but I can tell that I am being carried in hurried, unsteady yet objective steps. I see hope. That man...

Douglas Adams has, for me at least, always been one of the greatest authors to grace the english language with his particular brand of humor. He was a master of his craft and a damn fine human being to boot.

I first learned of Mr. Adams when I was only 12 years old. I’m a bit ashamed to admit that my first experience with his work was the cinematic take on his novel "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy”.

I thought the film was decent, I laughed but it was not quite the experience previews made it out to be. It would be a full year before I was introduced to the original novel. It was my middle school science teacher who first handed me the book and while I was apprehensive of his suggestion at first, once I started reading it I couldn’t stop. When I finished the last page I immediately began devouring the rest of the series in a hungry, frenzy of reading. It was amazing, I laughed, learned, and had no shortage of deeper thoughts while I enjoyed these books (The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and all of it’s 4 sequels, I highly recommend reading them). As I came to the close of the final book I felt sad that the story was over, the adventure had ended. I had been in love with the characters and author from page one and now it seemed our time together would be done. Then I was struck with an idea. Surely this author has written more material since the publishing of this final book. I set about researching Mr. Adams himself and all his collective works. It was then that tragedy struck. Mr. Adams had been dead for 5 years.

Douglas Adams, creative genius was cruelly taken from the world at the age of 49 by a heart attack.  He was survived by his wife and seven year old daughter. I can’t imagine the pain this must have brought them, so great a man as he was, to have him taken so suddenly. My heart goes out to Polly whose mother passed in 2011.

After coming to grips with the fact that not only were the writings of this esteemed author limited to the 8 books he had published in his lifetime (another was published a couple years later posthumously but at the time of my discovery had not been released). I took up the reading of "Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency" with more of a somber attitude, at least for the first couple pages. Soon I was once again strolling happily through the wacky and wonderful world this man created. I held off on reading his only non-fiction book to have been published for a long while. I’m not sure why but looking back I am rather glad I did. My younger self would not have appreciated it the way I did at the age of 20.

I read “The Salmon of Doubt” shortly after it was released and then I concluded my readings of Douglas Adams collective works with “Last Chance to See” and as I turned the final page I felt a deep and profound sadness. I felt as if I had come to know the brilliant writer over the years. He had been a part of my life for almost a decade and still is today. The last two books I read by him gave me more of a look at the man himself because much of the content was non-fiction and felt more like a conversation than a book. I increasingly wished i had the chance to meet Mr. Adams, shake his hand and thank him for the laughs and insight. I wish I could thank him for turning me on to the works of Richard Dawkins, the field of astro physics, and the music of Johanne Sebastian Bach (I had heard snippets but never appreciated it until his writing encouraged me to really listen) all of which I maintain an interest in today.

In one of the articles from “The Salmon of Doubt” Adams answers a the question “If you could have been alive in any other time or place where and when would it have been?”. His answer is that he doesn’t think he’d be willing to give up his chance to live in the time of The Beatles. Were I to be posed the same question I think  I would have like to have been born just a couple decades earlier.

Then maybe, just maybe, I could have met the incredible genius that was and is Douglas Adams.

I have also included a link to a lecture given by adams before his death.

You really have. My double meniscal tears on my left knee, my transition into singing. You have truly seen everything my life has become and will become.

We were friends way back when we were dancing at EDE. I met you, and i remember thinking she is amazing, i hope i can become like her. When i first talked to you, that was different.

My first words to you were, 'You're so tall.' I can't believe that was what i first said! But as the days went by, we became more than friends. We became life partners, battling each lifestyle choice and obstacle with a smile and a bow.

You went off to Loyola, and i went to the hospital for my first surgery. I should've learned my lesson and stopped dancing then, but i was hellbent on dancing again, and this was before i realized i wanted to be a classical singer more.

I have always been singing classical music, but i wasn't on track for a career though. When you called me up and asked me how i was, i started to cry. But you knew exactly what to say, and i found my inner courage to keep going, to keep fighting, just like the good old days in the studio.

The second time it happened, i knew i was ready for a change. I called you up, and we chatted, i texted throughout the process. You were and are so supportive in all of my choices, and for me being who i want to be.

You have been there the entire time, and i want to say to the world. Sofia Mazich of Loyola College is a great dancer, and a greater friend.

I knew Fan from an online group.

The platform was mainly used by Chinese citizens and thus, he added me out of interest after knowing I was not from China.

He is 5 years older than me and shares his experiences with me. Although just knowing each other, we somehow ‘clicked’ and could have endless talks.

A year later, he left China to work in Sudan, Africa whilst I progressed to university. This experience increased our physical distance, but we were closer in heart through each other’s presence when either one of us is in need. He was always there for me during my darkest moments and depressive episodes, accompanying me despite his tight schedule. When I had insomnia, he would give me a call and talked till I was asleep.

Thanks to him, I was able to recover from those negative thoughts and feelings. On the other hand, I also gave him support as well as companionship when he felt lonely. It was stressful for him to work in a new country and being far away from his family.

Hence, I tried my best to share happy or funny incidents in my daily life to enlighten his mood. He was often made speechless by my silly jokes, but at least there was interaction with a culture he was familiar with. Now, he is somehow like my brother, providing guidance and care after having a deeper understanding of my lifestyle and personality.

I tend to sleep late whenever I am engrossed with a project and that is when he will nag until I realize the importance of sleep, off my laptop and go to bed. He is also very health conscious and nags every time I eat unhealthy food. For instance, I enjoy spicy food but my stomach cannot take too much of that. So, he tries to limit my intake of spicy food by nagging the negative effects of over-consumption. However, his effort has yet been successful, as I am sooo in love with spicy food.

But still, I can feel his care through his efforts. After this project in Sudan ends, he will go back to China for a break before progressing to another country for a new project. I truly he can spend quality time with his family and friends to feel the connection as well as bonding with people he cares for. Additionally, I hope to see him achieve heights in his career and attain his life goals soon.

Ultimately, I hope he is always happy, healthy and safe.

Thanks for your company, bro.

I am a classical singer studying at Westminster Choir College and i like to think I am a strong individual, but when when i'm practicing and singing, my confidence can sometimes diminish.

Now, it's not like i am null and void of confidence, i just have a hard time figuring out if i'm singing with the right technique, or if i am holding my support, and especially deciphering the correct technique to sing with when i am being bombarded with different techniques from many different teachers.

Hands down, i love it. I will sing at The MET one day. But i have a while to go.

Mark knows that. He knows when i sing off, or don't sing with the correct timbre, it's not because i'm not trying or being lazy. He is always able to figure out what is wrong and fix it with his yoga voice technique. The way he puts it, it's all about the intention of the sound and where you want it to go. Hold the ends of the rubber band and just sing.

He gets this process is incredibly difficult, because he has gone through the days of practicing when you don't think you sound acceptable, and the performances that you wish would just end. He has battled through all of those hardships and remained on top and now is helping me to do the same. When I'm not able to be nice to myself, he is able to push the sun through the clouds and make me realize why i started singing, and why i must sing at The MET.

When I am not capable of realizing that it's a process, he wakes me up and helps me understand it won't be perfect. Not today or tomorrow. When I can't, you can. He makes me want to work that much harder for the goals i want to achieve.

I somehow wonder why he cares so much about each student. I have the answer. He sees himself in each one of his students, and he wants each one of his students to succeed and work harder than ever before because he sees potential in them. I have a hard time seeing what he sees when i listen to myself or practice, but he has this way of finding the root of your issue, and squashing it.

Tree pose to warrior pose, he finds ways to weed out the difficult parts of my voice and address them head first. Why he tries so hard for me is because he believes in me, and that's all i need to keep going. I will sing at The MET.

Thank you Mark Moliterno

Teachers devote their lives to raising other people’s children.

Yes, you do expect children to arrive at school with a certain amount of discipline and manners already ingrained in them, but because they are in an environment free from parental scrutiny, they feel freer to be themselves. And it is that “themselves” that a teacher will see, acknowledge, and shape into something that will be the perfect balance of beneficiality between the individual and society.

We all think we know what a teacher’s job entails, having all gone to school ourselves. We remember the person standing in front of the class, imparting new knowledge, cleverly illustrated on the whiteboard (or blackboard, depending on your age) behind them. But what we didn’t see was what they really do for a living. The late nights marking seemingly endless papers, the “afternoons off” that they spent at a departmental meeting, a drama club, coaching sports or setting up for an awards ceremony. The weekends doing lesson plans or setting tests. The late nights lying awake, worrying about that student who has no food at home, or the one being abused by a parent. The meetings in which they tirelessly fought for a student they knew could do better, whom everyone else has given up on.

We do not give teachers nearly enough credit. It took myself working in the profession for four years, and eventually acknowledging that I was not cut out for the job, to realise how much a teacher really does.

Socially they will never receive the esteem that other professions enjoy. They will never earn what they deserve to, but in this tribute at least, I would like to acknowledge teachers for what they really mean to society, and hope that one day we could all see them this way: as the heroes hat make modern life what it is.