One of the men in the audience turned around in his chair and looked at a woman surrounded by children, fidgeting in their chairs with cupfuls of chips.

“Look, he’s looking at his wife to see if he can bid,” auctioneer and Art Guild advisor Gerry Perrino said as he looked into the crowd of bidders.

The tears that pour from our eyes, fall down our cheeks, and land in our laps are the tears of anguish. The struggles we face, though some of them preventable, come as the inexplicable result of something great, yet tragic within our lives. Birds leaving the nest, never to return to their mothers; loved ones leaving our sides all too soon; the mystery of illness that plagues our bodies and baffles our minds – all share the same sorrow and longing for a second chance.

A few days ago, I wanted to write this article with ammo, unleashing a weapon against a society star-crossed, vain, and borderline obsessive in its love of the self, and for that matter, celebrities.

Today, I sit down to write this article with a bit more compassion than the angry, stubborn girl failing to see the tragedy in the loss of Heathcliff Andrew Ledger.

I love the HBO series Sex and the City. Carrie Bradshaw, a well-known New York City columnist writes about relationships. Even though I’m a humble writer in Newport, I’d like to start this feature off in Bradshaw fashion.

As Valentine’s Day approaches and stores stock up on chocolate, stuffed animals and candy; I can’t help but wonder.

Being so far from home in a new environment is one of the scariest things in life. You feel uncomfortable, like you don’t belong. You have no family or friends to turn to for advice and you feel alone. You know some people on campus but you’re not sure if you can quite trust them to be there for you yet.