“In baseball and in business, there are three types of people. Those who make it happen, those who watch it happen, and those who wonder what happened.”
-Tommy Lasorda
Tim Salado, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing, is without a doubt someone that makes it happen. From spending time as a professional baseball player to entrepreneuring his own start-up, Mr. Salado is an expert on both business and sports. When it comes down to it, many aspects of sports, such as performance under stress, are present in the business world as well. Mr. Salado was kind enough to share some of the connections and tips he discovered during his experience in these two fields.
The first question that I asked Mr. Salado was if there were any similarities he had noticed between business and professional sports. “When I was in professional sports, you were brought on to perform a certain skill, and they were banking on your performance in that skill. And just like in business where you would hire someone to come do something for you you’d expect that to be done, so it’s a very similar approach… What’s similar from a player’s perspective is that, uh and a business person is that you’re, let’s say that you’re the person delivering the service or the performance, uh, there’s that aspect of you must perform under potentially difficult conditions.” This is an interesting response because he highlights one of the most challenging aspects of business and sports. Stress, an ever-present element of both athletics and business, can be managed using various strategies. Competing in sports, especially at a high level, can provide practice for individuals that are also involved in business.
When Mr. Salado was in graduate school, he wrote his thesis paper on a trance-like state called “The Zone.” He describes The Zone as “an elusive, very temporary, and fleeting state of being that is usually defined by an extraordinary performance.” Mr. Salado further describes this state of mind, “You become very aware of the things that are going on, but only those things that are necessary for you to perform the task. All other extraneous things tend to melt away a bit so you don’t hear crowds, you don’t hear, you know, things going on you become very focused.” In the workplace, The Zone is more likely to be experienced when giving an important presentation or sales pitch but still has the same effect on office workers as it does on professional sports players.
Since Mr. Salado has a Master’s degree in sports psychology, my final question to him was, what is the most applicable thing to business you learned while getting this degree? ” Sports psychology taught me to have an awareness, you know, to make a scale, where am I on that scale, where am I normally on that scale one to ten, where would I normally perform the best? How can I get myself from where I’m at to that level?” This is an extremely valuable strategy to use in both business and sports. If mastered, this technique will be effective in daily life to perform at your maximum potential.
From stress management to The Zone, sports and business have many similarities. Unfortunately, not everyone that competes in athletics has a positive experience. A CEO co-worker of Mr. Salado jokingly said, “I don’t wish harm on anybody, only our competitors and my Little League baseball coach.” This shows that sadly, playing sports doesn’t translate into business skills for everyone. However, most people who have competed in some athletic endeavor and go into business have at least one advantage over non-sports players.
Thank you, Mr. Salado, for sharing your knowledge with us! I hope you all have learned as much as I have about the fascinating correlation between business and sports.
It’s not a secret that AI, in at least some way, has found its way to affect our lives. However, did you know that the AI data centers, which are used to train and run AI models, are having a negative impact on the environment by damaging ecosystems, destroying habitats, and increasing global warming? That’s not to say that all AI is bad, and that we should stop using it all together, but that we need to stay informed to make sure that companies are taking action to reduce the damage caused by AI. With that said, why is this happening and what can you do to help prevent it.
What exactly are AI data centers?
Think of AI data centers as networks of massive computers that are used to train (create) and run the AI (for example, when you use it for something like a chatbot). Training consists of obtaining large amounts of data (such as images, videos, art, or text) then using many GPUs (Graphics Processing Units) and TPUs (Tensor Processing Units), which process the data, so after some time, you are rewarded with a model that does what you trained it to do. This is usually done in giant complexes with extensive cooling and power infrastructure to ensure that everything runs smoothly like in Microsoft’s Fairwater AI data center in Wisconsin or Amazon’s Project Rainier in Indiana.
photo by iStock.com/Hugo Kurk
How do AI data centers impact the environment?
The land for the buildings to be built on, the water to cool the hot processors, and the electricity that powers the buildings all affect the environment. The ladder two, however, are the most damaging. They can put strain on the local infrastructure, especially with their rapid construction over the past few years. Since these centers are massive, the physical construction of these centers also displaces natural habitats that can be home to all sorts of creatures, which could lose their homes. There is also the problem of noise pollution. AI data centers can greatly increase the amount of background noise for residents nearby.
What other impacts do AI data centers have?
These data centers are not cheap to build, and they need vast amounts of RAM (Random Access Memory), GPUs, and TPUs. Though, they must come from somewhere, and that sometimes means that AI companies buy most of the available supply, since it’s much more lucrative to sell to massive AI companies and strike big contracts than to individuals or even other companies for things such as phones, computers, or other electronics. There was even one time that a branch of the company Samsung did not provide RAM to another branch because they could get more money selling it outside of the company. This highlights how, because of AI, there is a massive RAM, GPU and TPU shortage that’s likely to persist for some time.
Should we get rid of all AI?
AI is here to stay, but that’s not all bad. It has allowed us to make advancements in medicine, science, and even space travel. Yet without AI, many of these recent advancements would not have been possible. Though, when companies are incorporating AI into everything, even things that don’t require it (like an AI fridge, AI toys for children, and AI coffee makers) as well as people using AI image and video generation to make AI slop, it creates unnecessary negative impacts that could be avoided.
What can you do?
First off, try not to excessively use AI for non-productive purposes (like making dozens of meme videos that you will just delete a few minutes after they’re made). Secondly, hold companies accountable for making AI data centers more efficient so less energy and water is wasted by talking about it online and voicing your opinion. Lastly, spread awareness about the effects of AI on the environment so that everyone is educated on this topic.
Conclusion
Global warming and habitat loss are still pressing issues, but AI data centers are just one piece in a puzzle that is much bigger than just them. Furthermore, many companies are taking measures to reduce the impact of these on the environment, but we need to make sure that this progress continues. They have the potential to lead to giant advancements in our lives, but we need to be more responsible with how we use these new tools and make sure that we prioritize stainability to preserve our planet.
Before leaving for Grand Central Terminal, Chiron called me once again. This time, it was to the armory. He presented me with an assortment of weapons, all of which I had no idea how to use. But one appealed to me – a black Stygian Iron blade.
I frowned. “One problem – I have had practically no training.”
“You have natural talent,” Chiron assured me. “You’ll learn fast.”
I highly doubted it.
On the train, I ran my fingers over the smooth, dark metal. I’ve never felt or seen anything so in tune with me – the sword just felt like a perfect fit.
In front of me, Godric nearly jumped out of his seat. I didn’t know much about quests and monsters, but one thing was blatantly obvious: something was up, and it wasn’t good.
Godric whispered something to Sanderson, and then turned to us. “I just heard something… unusual. Keep your eyes peeled, and stay alert. Don’t worry, though – it shouldn’t be much to worry about.”
The last part didn’t sound sincere.
Then I heard it too – grrrr. A black dog head poked up from the row of seats in front of Andromeda, who instinctively drew her Celestial bronze dagger. Godric unsheathed his Imperial gold blade. Sanderson lunged for his bow and quiver. Coach Hedge hefted his baseball bat and gritted his teeth, muttering “die!” Garret put his reed pipes to his mouth, ready to play a magical melody.
Meanwhile, I sat there, completely frozen.
“Hector!” Garret hissed quietly. “Get out your sword! Quickly!”
I fumbled with the sheath and clumsily retrieved the sword, nearly dropping it.
The dog climbed on top of its seat, revealing its small shape. Its body was fully dark except for a few patches of gray, which lacked fur and looked like burn scars, and its eyes glowed a soft amber. Its claws were as sharp as a cat, and it was about as large as a domestic dog. I haven’t had much monster training, but I could still recognize it – it looked like a baby hellhound.
Everyone else sat down with sighs of relief, stowing their weapons away. The baby hellhound made no attempt to attack. It tentatively reached out a paw to me.
“It’s drawn to you,” Garret explained. “Hellhounds are creatures of the Underworld, and you’re a son of Hades.”
I’ve never seen a dog look so hideous, but I gave it a chance. Sheathing my sword, I reached towards the hellhound and took it in my lap. It squealed with delight and closed its eyes.
I stroked its head and back. The baby hellhound looked content as it drifted into sleep. I did the same, and the land of dreams took me over.
Startled, I woke up, panting and sweating. Everyone else was sound asleep, except for Godric and Sanderson. They were playing chess on a miniature board to pass the time. The board was magical though, since a normal one couldn’t hover.
My memories of the dream were fuzzy – it involved that serpent, Jormungandr. He talked about destroying all demigods and something about rising sea levels. Two things that could cause a whole lot of trouble.
Godric turned to me, noticing I was awake. “Bad dreams?”
“Yeah.” I wiped a bead of sweat from my eyebrow. “It was about the serpent.”
He nodded in understanding. “Dreams and visions like those are common for demigods. So, uh, I guess you gotta just get used to it.”
Sanderson was concentrated on the chess board. Suddenly, he exclaimed quietly, “Ha! Get checkmated, Godric.”
“Flip,” Godric muttered. “I should’ve seen that.”
“Wanna play?” Sanderson offered. The pieces reassembled themselves and the board drifted closer to me.
“Sure, but I’ll lose,” I grinned. “That’s one cool chess board, though.”
“Thanks. It’s a gift from Apollo.”
Andromeda and the satyrs stirred, yawning and blinking their eyes.
“Ugh, another vision,” Andromeda complained. “More serpent stuff.”
Garret rifled through his backpack and found a few herbs. “Here, guys, take these next time you sleep. It should help prevent bad dreams, and it’ll increase sleep efficiency.”
Godric looked hurt. “Hey, where were these things when I needed them most?” He waved his hand and cracked a smile. “Nah, I’m just kidding. Thanks.”
“Got a world chess championship here, huh?” Andromeda asked jokingly.
“Not quite,” Sanderson said. “But close enough.”
“Come on, Hector!” Coach Hedge urged me on. “Beat him! I always lose, and it’s time for vengeance.”
Alas, I lost the world chess championship, but at least I made it to the endgame. Finally, I felt like I belonged somewhere with these people. I’ve been looking for a community for ages – I hope this was finally it.
Sanderson reached out his hand. “Good game, Hector. Not many reach the endgame against me.”
I shook his hand. “Good game, Sanderson. You’re pretty dang good at this game.”
“Thanks. Now, does anyone else want to lose?” Sanderson looked around with an innocent face. A ripple of laughter passed through us.
Garret leaned over to me and pointed at the hellhound. “Oh, and you might want to name your little pet there.”
I had totally forgotten about the baby hellhound. I looked at it, and it looked right back at me. Due to my powers from Hades, I knew this was a female hellhound.
I thought for a moment. “Is Charis okay with you?”
The pup barked with delight. I assumed she liked the name.
“Alright, Charis it is.” I had already started to like the baby hellhound.
Suddenly, Charis stood up and bared her fangs at a man walking through the train car. Grrrr. Whoever it was, Charis did not like them.
“Guys,” I interrupted. “Beware that man. Charis doesn’t like him.”
Sanderson frowned. “Charis? Oh. That’s your hellhound’s name, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She’s baring her fangs at him, that can’t be a good sign.”
The chess board folded itself up and the pieces vanished. Everyone held their weapons and scrutinized the mysterious person. He was cloaked with several layers of robes – an unbuttoned one, colored light brown, on the outside. Underneath, I could see several black cloaks. The man’s face was hidden by a brown sun hat and sunglasses. The headwear was normal, but the cloaks were unusual considering that it was in the middle of August.
I nearly jumped out of my seat when I examined his face. It wasn’t a man’s face, but instead a snake’s.
“Look at his face!” I whispered. “That’s a snake!”
The cloaks dissipated, revealing several 20-foot long King Cobras.
The steady hum of the heart monitor prevents me from falling asleep, even though the nurse says that my body needs rest. I’m exhausted. I’m sore. I’m weak. I don’t want to move. I just want to sleep, but the pain…and that monitor.
If only someone would shut that stupid thing up.
I lay awake in this hospital bed, my breathing shallow, waiting, hoping that someone will walk in to keep me company. Still, I know that no visitors are allowed after 8 PM, and I give up. Maybe, I’ll die before morning. It’s better than being alone all night, lying awake until the sun shines through the windows, pretending it’s going to be a good day. Every night that I’ve been stuck in this horrible hospital (way too many), I haven’t had more than twenty minutes of sleep at a time without being woken up by the noises, doctors, nurses, etc…and the stabbing pains in my chest.
The seconds tick by and no one comes.
Let me start at the beginning of…everything.
My full name is Alexis Rosalie Fisher, but I go by Alex. I’m 18 years old and I live in California. At this point in my life, I should probably be selecting classes for college, like any normal high school graduate.
Unfortunately, I’m not normal.
I have cancer.
I am currently living with acute myeloid leukemia, a type of blood cancer, specifically in my white blood cells. But my cancer is worse than normal. It’s stage four. It has spread to the rest of my body. It’s deadly.
My breathing becomes sharper as the thought of death swirls around my mind. Will it hurt when it’s time for me to go? Will I even feel anything at all?
You may notice that I talk like I know for sure that I’m going to die. I obviously can’t tell the future. However, the doctors told my parents not to get their hopes up, because “there is a chance that she can’t be saved.”
It isn’t the fact that I’m scared of dying that makes that statement hard to forget. It’s my family. My death would hurt them more than it could ever hurt me.
Just as I’m drowning in denial and negativity, the door opens. It’s the nurse. I quickly close my eyes and breathe like I’m sleeping. I catch a whiff of her perfume and almost gag because of how strong it is. When you put too much on, it no longer smells like roses. Instead, it smells like alcohol and desperation.
The nurse checks my vitals and peers at my “peaceful” form. I consider turning over, but decide against it because of the IV inserted into my forearm. And also the fact that I usually don’t move in my sleep. The nurse runs a couple of tests and I fight the urge to wince.
I hear a gasp and the closing of the door. My arm jumps uncontrollably. Great, a seizure. I mention it like it’s just a tiny irritant. That’s because I’m so used to seizures by now. I’ve been having them for a few months.
…I wonder why the nurse ran out like that.
The door opens once more and I don’t even bother pretending to sleep. The doctor’s worried face concerns me.
“Oh, you’re awake?” he says softly, though I obviously am.
I nod. The doctor whispers something to the nurse, who nods and slowly turns to leave. He sits down on my bed.
“Now, Alex, what I’m about to tell you is upsetting, but I think you have to know.” He takes a deep breath. “The cancer has started to affect your heart.”
I stare blankly at the doctor. I knew that something was wrong. But it doesn’t matter; the pain will just end sooner.
“The nurse just called your parents, and they’re on their way. I’m so sorry. There isn’t much we can do.”
I slowly nod. I’m not angry.
I’m not sad.
I just feel bad for my family.
Just then the nurse comes back in. “They’re in the lobby.”
“Let them come up.”
The nurse leaves again and comes back with my mom, dad and 21-year-old sister, Grace. Their terrified expressions rip my heart to shreds. I must look horrible, with my body being made up of, essentially, skin and bones. I look at my family and feel guilty, like it’s all my fault. I know that I couldn’t prevent myself from getting cancer, but I still blame myself.
Ten seconds pass.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
Thirty-one…thirty-seven…forty-four…fifty-six…
Grace is the first one to break the silence. She walks over to my bed and hugs me. I know why. Grace and I have been so close our entire lives, and I’m about to go. I want to hug her back, to hold my sister, but I can’t force my skinny, feeble arms to lift up off of the bed.
Instead, I whisper, “I love you.”
She looks at me, tears in her eyes. “I love you too, Alex,” she whispers back through trembling lips.
“We can try chemo again, or a transplant, but it’s risky, and I don’t think that either will do much. I’m sorry…”
I wince as a needle is inserted into the inside of my forearm. We’re trying chemotherapy one more time, one last shot of hope. All the nurses seem to avoid touching me now, and I feel more alone than ever. I know, deep down, that no matter what we try, how hard I fight, I only have a couple days left. If even that.
The nurse leaves the room. I try to read a book, but my mind wanders far, far away. Exhaustion creeps in, and it’s all I can do to stay awake. I’m scared now. Scared that if I fall asleep, I won’t wake up.
People always joke around and say that they’re sick and tired, but they don’t know what that really means. I’m the one that’s sick and tired.
Try slowly dying, I want to yell, scream at them. Over the past few days, I’ve been in so much pain. Too much pain, and I have no idea if this is normal or not.
I’ve never died before.
Why did I wish death upon myself, not so long ago? The reality sinks in slowly as the chemo seeps into my bloodstream. I’m in pain, but I can’t let myself die.
I don’t want to die.
I let myself cry while there’s no one in the room.
I wish I could tell the world that it’s working. I wish I could see the look on my family’s faces when I tell them I’ll live. But I know that I can’t.
I count the seconds that go by, knowing that my own are numbered.
Time is unique. It’s something beautiful. Something fleeting. Something terrible. All at the same time.
Incredible things happen in seconds, minutes, hours, days. Sometimes months, years, decades. It all has its place in time. Everything is centered around time.
And I let myself absorb that information. Everyone has a time that they’ll go. For me, it’s sooner than expected.
But the time is perfect. Fate. Written in the stars.
I let the seconds pass, not wanting to forget a single one.
Seconds.
I’m letting the seconds pass, cherishing every single one.
My sister and parents are gathered around my bed, their whisper-soft sobs echoing quietly in my ears. I can hardly breathe, see, or even think through this fog that surrounds me.
But it’s okay. I’m…okay.
I can hear birds chirping outside my window. I’m at home. I didn’t want to spend my last days at the hospital.
I take in shallow, rattling breaths, the air avoiding my lungs like the plague.
The room dims around me.
My eyes close, slowly, but surely.
The soft and steady heartbeat that was my lifeline ceases to exist.
It’s over.
Absolute silence.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
EightNine
TenEleven
Twelve
I count the seconds passing by, the words jumbling together, each one feeling as quick as light, but as long as an eternity of darkness. I hear nothing. I see nothing. I feel…nothing.
Then a white light suddenly appears above me. I feel myself smile. Not my body, but my soul. My seconds have stopped. Time is now gone.
I close up things in the library (putting away any lingering books, cleaning up the front desk, and doing a quick sweep of the floor), then I brush off my hands and head up the secret staircase to my living quarters atop the library.
There wasn’t much to tidy up here, as I had already cleaned it this morning, so I just opened up my current read—one of the ones Songbird had recommended to me—sat before my window, and waited.
We loved to recommend books to each other, it was one of our oldest traditions. While I was slow to get to their suggestions, they never disappointed. They always found the best stories, and always knew which ones I would love.
After some time had passed, I paused my reading to open the window, something I had forgotten to do. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to get in. A cold autumn breeze swept into the room as I swung the window panes open. A shiver ran over me, but I was smiling, inhaling the crisp scent of evergreens and the tinge of brine from the nearby ocean.
This time of year also made me think of them: all warm reds and browns and golds, early sunsets, and honey-like sunlight—with cool and crisp breezes as invigorating and refreshing as their spirit.
Looking outside, I could see the clouds painted orange and pink, the sun beginning to fade on the horizon, coating the world in fiery orange and gold.
This was the time of day that reminded me most of them. Not just energetically, but we always called and met up at this time. Our schedules worked out best for this, for me to conjure a communication spell for us to be on calls well into the night, the moon high in the sky by the time we finished. Then, on the rare occasions I was able to visit their river town, my wagon always got me there late afternoon or dusk. In my mind, this was their time of day.
With the natural light fading more and more, I decided to light some candles. Slowly making my way around my room, I set alight each candle I came across around the space.
Fire, which burned bright and lively, like Songbird’s creativity and humor. Fire, the element of the Sun, whose warmth was that of their words of comfort and care when my worries and fears arose. Fire, which lit up my room like Songbird lit up my day whenever we called.
The candles were all burning when the sky developed to deep oranges and purples. The Moon was showing herself more, now, sharing the sky with the Sun for a few moments. I smiled.
Sun and Moon, the ancient opposites. Yet, they danced in tandem, stories of old depicting them as siblings or lovers, but always connected—always tied to each other in some way.
And in that moment, looking up at the two celestial bodies, flashes of our history flitted before my eyes, in my mind, and in my heart.
The very first time we met, we were young and both in a class of storytellers, you always making me laugh during those meetings, you reaching out first, our first message to each other outside of the group, two years of learning and talking excitedly through just our words on paper about our favorite books and shows and movies.
Our first confrontation, where I was so afraid of losing you but knowing we had to have that conversation or we could not move forward, things being even better than before after that, our first call after years of only messaging, feeling shy and nervous but oh so excited to talk with you—and before I knew it, a whole new door of our friendship was opened.
To where we went beyond knowing our favorite books and shows, to learning about our siblings and them learning about us. To learn of our other friends, crushes, analyzed our social groups and each other. Listened and comforted and offered words of encouragement through heartaches and heartbreaks. Laughed over butterfly clips breaking and candy being left in the wash, fell in love with each other’s characters, and cried over our fears and insecurities.
An ebb and flow, light and dark and everything in between. Never a friendship that was all-consuming or obsessive, but instead soft and sweet and gentle and loving and beautiful.
I smiled to myself, tears welling in my eyes as the last of the Sun’s rays faded from the sky, feeling so full of Songbird’s warmth and joy, so full of gratitude for them being in my life, so full of hope and excitement for whatever our futures held and knowing that, no matter what, we’d always have each other through it all.
It was then that a songbird flew up and landed on my windowsill. It looked to me, chirped once, then twice, before dissolving into golden sparkles. The sparkles blew into the room on a breeze and Songbird materialized in a sunburst of light in the middle of my room.
“Hi!” Songbird, you, grinned, your aura golden like the sun on grassy plains.
“Hi!” I crushed you in a hug, and it was the reunion of the day and night.
Thank you, Songbird, for being the best friend the Moon could ask for.
It was early afternoon, and it also happened to be my birthday. My mother and I were on our way down the driveway to our car, while the neighbor was watering her flowers across the street. I don’t remember where we were going, but it must’ve been somewhere very important, because I was decked out in my finest attire and skipping around like I owned the place, because of, you know, birthday girl privileges. We waved; she and my mom chatted a bit. I remember shouting across the street that it was my birthday, and then we said bye and got in the car and left. It was a small moment, a simple one, and one I most certainly would have forgotten if not for the fact that when I came home, my dad handed me a small piece of paper.
Something I learned after that day is that my neighbor, the sweet old woman across the street always hunched over her garden, is actually a renowned local poet and creative. I’m serious, you can look her up, her name is Nina Serrano, and she’s one of the only people I know who has her own Wikipedia page. She’s an amazing writer and activist who’s published books, poetry collections, worked on films, and co-run a podcast, but I didn’t know any of that at the time. At the time, I was a child standing in my kitchen, clutching a piece of paper that read Poem for an eleventh birthday, and not realizing that this one small act of kindness would be the thing that carried me through many of my hardest moments.
‘Strangers’ is the name of my favorite song, and it is also the title I was instantly called to when I found out about this month’s collection. It may seem like an odd title for a story about love, and maybe it is–after all, I’m sure I’ll find the rest of my peers’ pages detailed with heartwarming stories about grandmothers and pets and girlfriends, connections and friendships, rather than random people met on the street. Which, obviously, is fair. Love is generally categorized by closeness and intimacy, something that’s impossible to achieve with someone you barely know–like, say, an across-the-street neighbor that you’ve spoken to once in five years. But what if it wasn’t? What if the closest connections are actually the ones you make in an instant?
Love is in the little things. It’s how they know your coffee order without having to ask, how they’ll wrap their coat around you when they see you shiver out of the corner of their eye. It’s your best friend’s nickname for you, it’s your mom making your bed for you every day of finals week, it’s your little brother letting you spoil the plot of shows that he hasn’t even seen long past his bedtime. It’s platonic and romantic, singular and plural, it’s intimate and expansive. It’s being seen by the people who love you most, and loving the people you know well. So yes, it’s those things, a hand in yours, a secret shared, but it’s also the even littler things. Like the weary nod of solidarity between early-morning commuters on the subway, the face of the store grocer when you make her laugh as she loads your bags, the kind smile of the boy who bent down and handed you the pen you dropped. Let me ask you, have you ever been in a room where somebody is butchering something so badly that you were united in long-suffering eye contact with somebody you’ve never spoken to before in your life? That is it. That is love. Thanks to Jimmy C’s terrible choir performance in the ninth grade, you and a person you know nothing about were, for one moment, connected by something powerful: mutual understanding.
In the world we live in today, it is so easy to forget that we are all the same, really. Well, okay, not really–I have blue eyes and you have brown, I can play guitar and you know piano, not to mention all the details and imprints of our psyches that will never resemble another’s in a thousand years, but you get what I mean. There’s so many labels and categories and different types of people you can be that it makes it seem like moments like the ones I described are meaningless in the flood of it all. But I don’t think it’s meaningless at all. In fact, I’d argue it means quite a lot. We all cry. We all feel alone. We all lie awake in our beds at night wishing someone would see us for who we really are, truly, and ignoring all the people who are right in front of us waiting to be seen as well. In the same vein, we all also smile. We all love someone deeply, with the depths of our hearts, and I’m willing to bet there’s not a person reading this who hasn’t laughed so hard they’ve cried at a funny cat video even once in their lives. Try me. We are all human, perfectly, imperfectly human. We blink and breathe and stare at the stars, and we are all so alike and so different at the same time, but when it comes down to it, we are one.
It’s so easy to feel so hopeless. It’s so easy to convince yourself that nothing really matters, that your existence has no mark on anything at all, that maybe it would even be better if you vanished completely. But it does matter. You matter. If you were not here, the girl who you gave your extra piece of gum to on the train when you were twelve wouldn’t have that memory to cling to when things get hard. The people that watched you trip into a geyser at Yellowstone wouldn’t have a story to pull out at every family dinner over the years (even if that was your most embarrassing moment. I get it, trust me.) You have made a million marks on a million people that don’t even know your name, and they’ve done the same to you. Take a second and think about all the people you’ve met in your life. Take a second and remember those people who you will never see again, but who brushed up against you for one second in time and in that way, added the smallest stroke of paint to the canvas of your life. Let yourself find the strangers, and remind yourself that you are not alone.
And sometimes, maybe your story isn’t over once you’ve exited someone’s life. I haven’t spoken to my neighbor Nina since probably 2021, after exchanging a few poems with her in an effort to repay her for the beautiful one she wrote to me. She told me I was an excellent writer–Nina, look at me now! I don’t remember what I wrote; I don’t even know if she still has them. But I still see her. I saw her yesterday, getting out of her car with her husband, and we waved. She’s about 92 now, and I’m about 16, and it’s been five years but I still have that paper in the same spot on my wall. Art has come and gone around it, even a whole loft bed has framed it at one point, but it is still there. A reminder to me that, no matter what, for one day I was what made someone write something beautiful. Do you understand how special that is? I haven’t ever told her all this, but tomorrow I’m going to print out this story and walk over to her house and give it to her, because she deserves to know. I have an amazing woman living right across my street, and I’ll be damned if I let my life go by without the chance to let her know how much she changed it.
For Nina xoxo
The Cello – An Explanation By Iliana Kim
Did you know that before the endpin was invented, people had to hold their cello between their legs? The cello is usually made out of wood and is shaped like a violin. The thing is you could fit two or three violins in one cello. I was introduced to the cello when my family started listening to the Bach cello suites. I was amazed by the deep, mellow sound that it produced. I love the way the cello calms me down and I see that other people are affected that way too. I like the several ways the cello is played, like in solos, duets, and orchestras.
I think the sound of the cello can create a nice and calm environment for the people who are listening. I really like the fullness of the sound and the level of volume the cello has. The sound of a cello makes me feel like I’m floating and I think it’s very relaxing. With certain songs people could feel happier, more energetic or stronger like I sometimes do.
In the one and a half years I have practiced the cello, I have played in solos, duets, and a few orchestras.The first time I played in an orchestra I felt it was easier than doing a solo or a duet. Solos feel like one ant trying to make a rather large ant hill all by itself with no one to help. But if you are doing a duet it’s easier because it’s like making an ant hill with fifty ants. Then again it’s better to build with a hundred ants than anything else.
I hope you and everyone who reads this will get to enjoy the magical sound of the cello, whether in-person or online, as a solo, duet or orchestral performance.
Something I love is the band Stray Kids! Stray Kids is an eight member K-Pop boy group created by renowned music label JYP Entertainment! They were first discovered through a TV show called Stray Kids, on which many K-Pop trainees competed in teams for the chance to debut as JYP’s newest band. In 2017, Stray Kids won and released their debut ep I AM NOT, beginning their rise to stardom.
The Stray Kids members are split up into three main units aka rachas; 3Racha, Danceracha, and Vocalracha. 3racha consists of Han, Bang Chan, and Changbin, and is responsible for producing and writing most of the band’s music! Dancracha is made up of the three main dancers, Lee Know, Hyunjin, and Felix. They choreographed some of the group’s dances, and Lee Know was even a back up dancer for super famous K-pop group BTS! Vocalracha is I.N and Seungmin, the main vocalists! Stray Kids used to have nine members, but their old lead vocalist Woojin left the band in 2018 for personal reasons.
Since their debut, Stray Kids have released over 300 songs and have collaborated with many popular music artists like Charlie Puth, DJ Snake, and Troye Sivan! They have also won over 100 awards including the Billboard Music Award for top K-Pop album for their 2023 release 5-Star.
Their latest project is The dominATE Experience, a movie about their dominATE tour. It will be kind of like Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour movie, but with more behind-the-scenes footage. The movie premiers in theaters on February 6th, 2026! I’m going to watch it in theaters on the 7th, and I’m so excited!
Stray Kids is an awesome group, not only because of their fun and interesting music, but because of the members’ great personalities and kindness towards fans! I think they’re all amazing people, and I hope you do too. GO CHECK OUT SOME STRAY KIDS MUSIC!!!
From left to right: Felix, I.N, Hyunjin, Han, Lee Know, Changbin, Seungmin, Bang Chan.
Thank you for reading this beautiful collection of works by these incredible guest writers and Lighthouse staff alike. We hope that their work has brought you joy in this season of love. We challenge you to openly admire and appreciate the things you love in life. The people, the places, the adventures and moments. The things that make you…you. Because, at the end of the day, love is what makes us, all gathered together in this lovely yet messy world…us. And as for the world, we must remember that we can never have too much love, understanding, and empathy for the people around us; our triumphs, our small moments, our shortcomings, those are what make us so human and those are the things that should be celebrated. So finally, say “hi!” to your neighbor, pet your cat, and treat others with the love that I know our hearts so deeply crave each and everyday.
Sincerely,
The Lighthouse Staff
“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”
‘Tis the season of love and growth. For many, that can be quite an unsettling thought. The continuous and often subconscious pressure that one must receive a box of chocolates, a neatly wrapped bouquet of roses tied together with shiny metallic ribbon, find yourself a dinner and movie date, etc. Although well intentioned the, at times, commercialized Valentines Day can be troubling. It can make the lead up to February 14 feel like a doomsday counter rather than a season that should be filled with appreciation and kindness.
So, we at The Lighthouse wanted to offer a different perspective on the day.
Romantic love is important, it’s wonderful, it has withstood the trials of time, giving us beautiful moments in history. Some say it’s what makes the world go round, shaping the most lovely parts of life. But there are other types of love too! And that’s what we want to hear about…
Come one, come all! We welcome you to write a short story, paragraph, or even poetry about something you love in life! It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic sorta’ love, it could be the love of one of your passions or hobbies, your pet or family member, your best friend, your rock collection, or even your favorite food! Truly, anything is welcome!
Human desire to project themselves onto the divine is highlighted by how the most honorable roles in society are often connected to godlike qualities. Virgil’s Aeneid, written as a Roman epic for Emperor Augustus, subtly explores politics while highlighting these divine ideals. The gods are more powerful than humans, yet their behavior often mirrors mortal traits. By showing the divine as flawed reflections of humans, Virgil helps explain why people act as they do. This connection between human ambition and divine example allows readers to see their own values and flaws amplified in immortal beings.
The gods’ human-like motives are evident in their emotions and actions. Juno’s relentless pursuit of Aeneas reflects stubbornness, jealousy, and personal grudge-holding that are all too human. She acts out of emotion rather than justice, demonstrating that even the powerful can be petty or vengeful. By giving the gods these traits, Virgil emphasizes that desire, anger, and pride are universal across mortal and immortal beings. The gods, then, act as mirrors that reveal human passions in an exaggerated and enduring way.
The gods also reflect political ambition and human manipulation. Jupiter, for instance, balances the ambitions of other gods, acting like a ruler managing competing factions. Minor deities, such as Allecto and Iris, carry out secretive schemes that resemble human tactics of propaganda and covert influence. Through these examples, Virgil shows how pursuit of power often involves deception, strategy, and ethical compromise. The epic suggests that ambition is inseparable from the challenges of moral and social responsibility.
Moral inconsistency and emotional volatility further link the gods to humanity. Juno and other gods often justify their actions while breaking their own laws, showing hypocrisy and moral relativity. Their feelings can shift quickly, from rage to protection or favoritism, much like human mood swings. Neptune’s sudden change from stormy anger to calm guidance illustrates this emotional unpredictability. By portraying the gods this way, Virgil highlights the complexity of morality and the struggle to act ethically, even for the powerful.
Ultimately, the gods in the Aeneid reveal human nature on a grand scale. Their passions, grudges, and ambitions make the epic relatable, even its immortal cast members. By exaggerating human traits in immortal beings, Virgil explores timeless themes of conflict, loyalty, and moral struggle. The divine challenges Aeneas, emphasizing that heroism comes from navigating both fate and human flaws. Virgil’s brilliance lies in using the gods to humanize his epic, showing that understanding human behavior is as important as understanding the world itself.
The Great Dickens Christmas Fair is taking Bay Area locals and tourists alike on a journey back to the heart of Victorian London. For just five weekends every holiday season, they graciously bring back the sights, sounds, and even scents of that beautiful period to history.
Image by San Francisco Chronicle
Imagine this, you stroll down narrow streets dotted with unique and authentic carnival games, English pubs with heaps of hot food being made before your eyes, and specialty shops selling handmade goods from all over. From street sellers and chimney sweepers singing carols, to characters like Ebenezer Scrooge, Bob Cratchit, Tiny Tim, the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, & Future, and even Mr. Dickens himself, will wander the alleys. The streets of the fair are crowded and bustling with people dressed in elaborate 1800s costumes, including sailors and seamen, businessmen, suffragists, thieves, and nobility. Numerous stores filled with presents, books, jewelry, textiles, artwork, and apparel pass by as you wind through neighborhoods and roads that have been meticulously recreated. You can smell hot, candied cinnamon almonds, pine and burnt wood, hot toddies, and musk. All of this, and just in the heart of the Bay Area, San Francisco.
Image by Fifty Grande
The fair, which has been a much beloved Bay Area institution for now 55 years, is still one of the most intricate and detailed Victorian Christmas events in the world. The Cow Palace is the site of The Great Dickens Christmas Fair, a long-standing Daly City facility that holds a variety of events, including concerts and even rodeos. It has opened its doors to the public since 1941, being the site of many of the historic conventions and moments for California. But once you enter during the holiday season, you time-travel back to Victorian London, completely forgetting that only 20 minutes ago you were struggling through thick 101 traffic.
The History
Image of Ron & Brian Patterson
But where did this incredible tradition start? The majority of visitors to Dickens London are likely unaware of its unique origin at a very different kind of fair in Los Angeles in the 1960s; Renaissance Faires. The birth of wide spread Renaissance Faires in America were arguable all thanks to the work of Ron and Phyllis Patterson. The Pattersons, still on the high of their successes in early “novelty themed” fairs made the decision to throw a small but special holiday party at their Hollywood Hills home in the winter of 1968, for their closest friends and family.
Image by Marin Mommies
They moved away from their tried-and-true Renaissance roots for this occasion and looked to Charles Dickens’ works and late 19th-century history for inspiration. The occasion’s costumes, food, décor, and activities were so enjoyable to the Pattersons and their guests that they proposed holding the event annually, possibly on an even larger scale.
In the meantime, the Pattersons had extended their Renaissance Faire productions to Marin County in Northern California, hosting it in the historic brick warehouses along Fisherman’s Wharf in nearby San Francisco. The scenery was reminiscent of the covered marketplaces of Victorian London, and the experience served as the inspiration for an extravagant Victorian Christmas Fair open for the public to enjoy. What started out as a house party was transformed into a large indoor fair for the Bay Area community. The Great Dickens Christmas Fair (or Pickwick Comic Annual, as it was once known) soon was born. In December 1970, the Anchor Works, a historic warehouse next to San Francisco’s waterfront Embarcadero neighborhood, hosted the first Dickens Fair for only three weekends. At the time, a newspaper article poignantly compared the Fair experience to walking onto a movie set.
Image by Marin Mommies
Image by San Francisco Chronicle
The Great Dickens Christmas Fair has changed over the course of its over 50 year run because of the participation of three generations of the original Patterson family, a big multi-talented ensemble of performers and artists, and thousands of loyal patrons and visitors. The only festival of its sort in the entire globe, it has grown to be one of the most cherished and eagerly awaited yearly events in the San Francisco Bay Area!
What to Look Forward to
From traditional English pantomimes and juggling acts to music hall concerts, sea shanties, and scenes performed from “A Christmas Carol” across the venue, there is always something to see. With numerous stages and activities, you can never really be bored. You can sing along with boisterous performers at Mad Sal’s Dockside Alehouse, learn a new dance at Fezziwig’s Warehouse, or even just listen in on the goings-on of the streets. The hand-powered Adventure Carousel, “Punch and Judy” puppet shows, Victorian fairy home crafting, and, of course, a visit from Father Christmas are just a few of the magical moments that await at the fair. And you are welcome to dress the part too. Costumes that are appropriate for the time period are not necessary, but they are highly encouraged.
Image by Secret San Francisco
By inspiring the resurgence of local art, food, community, and music, the idea of living history fairs give back greatly to our beautiful Bay Area culture. We find connection in creation, and that cannot be lost. So, if you need a break from the hustle and complications of today’s world, take a trip to somewhere that brings you joy and warmth, for many that is The Great Dickens Christmas Fair. They offer a chance for playfulness, an opportunity to be both a performer and the audience, a reason for coming together to, just for a moment, emphasize the true spirit of the holiday season; connection.
As the thunder roared and the wind howled, We see the light in the distance. And as the fire raged and burned, Comes the instance, Where temper is unleashed, and thoughts are telled. But the assistance is come, Yet the cries are yelled, And the mental resistance is held.
Where the Wind Walks
Come, we must go To where the wind walks. For there we can know, To where it stalks, And to where it blows. For where the wind walks, The leaves follow. And don’t talk, Until tomorrow. But keep moving Past the racks and stacks, Through the trees, And under the breeze. On the seas, But around the bees. Because where the wind walks, The seeds will follow. And we need the seeds, To feed our hungry, Because our trades south have failed, After we bailed, And sailed, To new land, And in this land, We stand, Hand in hand. So come, lets find Where the leaves follow, And the seeds go. Where the weeds sway, In dying light of day, To find what to say. Lets go, Where the wind walks The night away.
Today
What are you feeling today? Or would you rather not say? I myself am feeling a bit under the hay. So could you stay? Because I may. And I don’t know where to go anyway.
The Lighthouse 