By Scott Gerber

Be afraid to have never failed.

Be afraid of living with regrets for the rest of your life. Be afraid of letting others dictate what you should be afraid of.

Be afraid of never earning what you're worth, or losing your entire livelihood in an instant without any say in the matter.

Be afraid of waking up at 50 and realizing that your career has been nothing more than a patchwork of dead-end "real" jobs with nothing to show for it.

Finally, be afraid to live out the rest of your life as a mere dreamer rather than a doer who dreams up what's next.

Reading time is now over. You've got lots to do - and you're already behind.

- Scott Gerber

Goodbye, our sweet baby girl

"You can get a dog when you're twelve years old, and not one year sooner, because you are too young to take care of one now," mom said sternly.

When I was ten, she changed her mind.

I remember that I was taking private violin lessons at the time, and I hated them. Mrs. Ko was the meanest of ladies and had no tolerance for fingernails or poor posture, both of which I was fond of. Seeing as how I haven't touched my violin in years and years, one could say that my time there was for naught. But I would have to disagree.

One afternoon, as our car pulled into Mrs. Ko's driveway, the student whose lessons took place right before mine each week came out of the house. She was with her mom, who was also holding a small white puppy. I ran to play with the pup, and its owner told me that her two toy poodles at home had just had a litter of puppies, and that they were for sale. I asked my mom immediately if we could get one. She said no.

I did not perform well at violin lessons that afternoon.

Over the next week, I asked my parents daily about getting a dog. I showed them my Scholastic Book Fair purchase-- a picture book titled "Dogs" and read to them the excerpt about poodles:

"Poodles are the smartest dogs in the world. They are friendly and good with kids. They often win dog shows because of their obedience and are highly trainable. They do not shed, but need to be groomed. Poodles come in many different colors and sizes-- full, miniature, toy, and teacup."

As I'm sure you've guessed by now, mom and dad eventually okay'ed my request for a dog. We went to the owners' home to pick out a puppy. I remember that when we arrived, there were three puppies. Two of them were completely white, and very excited to see me. They jumped around in their cage, tails wagging. But the one I chose was slightly apricot colored, and she sat in the middle of the cage looking all cutesy. She was the smallest, and so I picked her. She cost me $100 Canadian.

And she was well-worth every penny.

Once home, I carried my new baby pup gingerly into our split-level home in Strongsville, Ohio. Mom kept telling me, "Let her outside to go pee," and I said something like, "No, she doesn't have to go right now." I placed her ever so gently onto the carpet smack dab in the middle of our living room. She peed instantly.

We spent a few days trying out different names on her-- Blossom, Violet, Daisy... we knew she loved them all since she responded to all of them with equal enthusiasm. In the end, we chose the name Findora (courtesy of Felix Lee, really).

I can say too little about how amazing Findora was. She had the best personality I have ever found in a dog, and she was the cutest. She was so sweet and friendly and happy-- and that's how we will always remember her, I'm sure. She inspired several families to get dogs of their own, and was even beloved by people who were scared of dogs ("I'm terrified of dogs.. except for Finny. She's alright.")

I never thought that she would be taken away in such a violent, terrible, scary way. But I hope you didn't hurt for long. I also never thought that this would affect me like this..

The family loved you, baby girl. Even though Felix always pretended that he thought you were annoying, he liked it when you would snuggle with him. And even though dad always claimed he "doesn't even like dogs," we all knew he always liked you best. Mom was your favorite. You were mine.

Thank you for always knowing when I was sad. Thanks for taking naps with me, and for going on walks and car rides. Thanks for always being happy, even when no one else was. I miss you already, sweet girl. Thanks for being the best for all of these years. You were so, so special.

From September of 2000 until the very last moment on May 28, 2013, you've been so incredible. And I can say nothing less for everyone who knows you.

Goodbye, Finny.

Love,
bcl.

The Chronicles of "Bithiah" (Part I)

Growing up with a name as strange and unique as mine has, I think, significantly affected much of my childhood and many of my experiences growing up. I dealt with the strangest name-related things as a child, and remained unaware of their eccentricity for a long time.

For instance, here is a brief list of things that happened to me only because my name is Bithiah:

1) Whenever there was a substitute teacher in class for the day, attendance always sounded like this-- "Andrew, Ryan, Kelly, Amanda, (long pause)... (brings attendance sheet very close to face, narrows eyes).. Hmm.. uh.. I apologize in advance if I'm about to totally butcher this... (totally butchers it)"

2) Whenever I met someone for the first time, regardless of the situation or surrounding or time of day, the introduction would always be the same--
Me: Hi, I'm Bithiah.
Stranger: What?

Me: Bithiah

Stranger: ... how do you spell that?

Me: B-I-T-H-I-A-H

Stranger: What?

3) Whenever I tell the barista at Starbucks what my name is so they can write it on my grande cup (grande. Always a grande!), I stand off to the side near the counter waiting for this exact scenario to happen--

Barista: Latte for Jennifer! Sam, I have your coffee right here! I have a tall iced passion tea for Greg! Two hot chocolates for Andrea! I have a grande decaf hazelnut latte with soy, light whip!

Me: Is that... mine? Maybe someone else who didn't bother to tell the cashier their name ordered the exact same thing as me just now. I'll just wait a few minutes to see if someone else goes up to get it... Okay, it's mine. It's probably mine. Definitely is. I've waited 4 minutes. The latte is probably cold by now. I guess there's a pretty high chance that it's mine. Should I just take it? Oh my goodness, I hope I didn't accidentally take someone else's grande decaf hazelnut latte with soy and light whip.. I'd feel so awful!

4) Whenever I met someone just one time, and then we separated for years and years, and then we reunited somewhere else, I would have to prepare to feel like an inconsiderate, selfish ass with a bad memory.
Me: Hey, my name is Bithiah Lee.

Stranger: Oh! Bithiah! Your name sounds so familiar! We must have met before! 

Me: Oh yeah? 

Stranger: Yeah, I'm sure of it! I recognize your name!

Me: Haha

Stranger: I'm JOHN. Do you remember meeting me?!

Me: ... I'm an ass.

5) Various situations might bring about this conversation--
Me: Sorry, how do you pronounce your name?
Jackie: Jack- E.
Me: Okay, Jack-E! 
Jackie: Your name?
Me: Bith- EYE- ah.
Jackie: Okay, Bith-E-Ah!
Me: It's actually, Bith-EYE-ah
Jackie: Yeah, Bith-eeee-ah. That's what I said!

6) Whenever I am involved in an e-mail exchange, this will definitely, always happen-- 

Me: Hey everyone, wedged sneakers will never be cool. Kindly, Bithiah

Recipient 1: Dear Bithia,

Recipient 2: Yeah, Bithia..

Me: Because they're a stupid idea. Love, Bithiah

Recipient 3: Hey Bithra..

Me: Yes, I do think you could get hurt walking in them. Sincerely, Bithiah

Recipient 2: Oh, Bithyana!

Recipient 3: Hey Papaya, 

Recipient 2: Messiah? 

Recipient 4: Yo Mathia..

Me: I will not buy them for you. Patiently, BithiaH

Recipient 1: Ok, Bithia

Now, in the name of progress and making improvements based on lessons learned, I am pretty happy to announce that I no longer live in shame in the classroom or in Starbucks! Daily I am making changes. After several years of trial and error, I have come up with my current, most recent, up-to-date list of ways that I have achieved victory over the brief list of things that happened to me only because my name is Bithiah (see list above):

1) Sub: Andrew.. 

Andrew: Here!

Sub: Ryan.. 

Ryan: Here!

Sub: Kelly..

Kelly: Here!

Sub: Amanda..

Amanda: Here!

Sub: (short pause)

Me: Here!

2) Now, whenever I meet someone for the first time--

Me: Hi, I'm Bithiah.

Stranger: (shakes hand)

Me: Bithiah. B-I-T-H-I-A-H.. Bithiah. Bithiah! I can write it down somewhere for you if you want.

3) Now, when I'm in Starbucks-- 

Barista: Can I get something started for you?

Me: Yes, can I please get a grande decaf hazelnut latte with soy milk and light whip?

Barista: Certainly! And your name?

Me: Sara.

4) Now, whenever someone looks kind of familiar, but also like they probably wouldn't remember me unless I told him my name--

Stranger: Hey, I'm John. What's your--

Me: Hi John! Nice to meet you. I'm so sorry to cut this short, but I have to go! I'm late for work! 

And then I run away.

5) Now, whenever someone asks me to explain the proper pronunciation of my name more than twice, I am prepared--
Jackie: So, how do you pronounce Bithiah?
Me: Bith-EYE-ah.
Jackie: Bith-eee-ah?
Me: You can call me B.

6) This item is unfortunately, one that I have not yet found a solution to. I may just have to prepare to admit defeat and accept the less-than-ideal hypothesis that the combination of the letters B, I, T, H, and A in the particular number and order in which they appear in my name causes instant dyslexia and loss of hearing. It's unavoidable. 

But in all honesty, I am not without grace. I am very understanding of the difficulties that my name causes on the everyday, and the havoc that Bithiah wreaks on the average conversation. Bithiah is tough, and a little bit rude. Storming into a crowded room jam-packed with Dan's and Ann's, she announces her arrival with three hideously awkward, blundering and unsubtle syllables. And people do stare. The Dan's, especially. The Muriel's and Henrietta's in the room tend to recover quicker and sometimes they even manage to pick up their jaws, though slightly bruised from when they first hit the ground, before I can catch them.

Bithiah sucks in other ways too! Like, whenever someone sees my name before they see me, it really is unfair to him or her, because my name poses a major obstacle in their normally very sharp deduction skills. They stare and stare at my name that is scrawled on the small place setting card sitting on the table next to them in the auditorium. They wonder to themselves, Is Bithiah a boy or a girl? Is she.. white, Asian, or Armenian? Oh my god. Bithiah has to be a guy. A German one. Probably huge. He sounds like a bully. And I'm going to have to sit next to him for this whole semester? Worst.

And then, when I finally arrive, this individual watches as I approach my assigned seat. Closer and closer I walk, and my new seatmate's face begins to change. It's hard to describe the exact change that takes place on his face. Maybe it's relief. Relief as he realizes that I can't actually destroy him using nothing but the stench of my manly armpits, which I'm sure he imagined would be both hairy and sweaty. And when I finally arrive to my seat, I often get a response somewhere along the lines of  "Oh wow! You look nothing like what I imagined you to look like," and I'm all like, "What did you expect me to look like!" 

Because, when I see your name, I don't just immediately think, "Oh, this person probably looks like a milk maid or cricket player from Greece. She sounds just like she should have auburn hair and probably definitely brown eyes." (Except for people with the names Precious or Stu. I do have images of you). But by this point in the conversation, my new seatmate's relief and surprise has pretty much reached the point of hysteria as he sputters out-- between gasps of laughter-- "You're a Chinese girl and you're so small." 

I know he would not have laughed at me for being Chinese or for being small if my name card had read Grace or MiMi or Wen-Chi instead.

But don't worry. If you were one of those people who admits that you saw the same hairy German man in your head at the first sight of Bithiah, I have grace enough to forgive you as well. I so get it. When the average person who has only ever been surrounded by Dan's and Ann's sees Bithiah for the first time, it is very common to also think of such names as Goliath and Bohemith and Bunyan and, if you're Chinese, a nickname, "Big Thigh Ah!" I am a realist. 

This concludes the first chapter of the Chronicles of "Bithiah." However, I find that this is the appropriate place to add these last two bullet points. 

• The Chronicles of "Bithiah" actually begins in the Bible. 1 Chronicles 4:18! You have no idea who Bithiah is, but you kind of do. She is Pharoah's daughter who found Moses in the basket in the river. She is his adopted Egyptian mom! WHO KNEW, EH?
• The name Bithiah actually means "Daughter of God" in Hebrew. Not quite "Goliath," eh?

Sincerely,

bcl. 

The travel bug

I've been bitten hard.

I think that it might be this time of year, because around this time every year (since 2008), I seem to find myself suffering from the same itch to travel. To take a break from the cold weather and the cycle that has settled into my everyday. The drain of a repetitive schedule is boring me-- aging me, really-- and is less than inspiring.

I think I need a nice, focused vacation time. To Australia. Or, just mayhaps, I could be convinced to go back to the Bahamas for a week.

Lusting for Adventure,
bcl.

*Open casting call for the role of "travel mate" begins today!

The Perks

I just finished Stephen Chbosky's the perks of being a wallflower.. 

And it put me in quite a funk. I really, really enjoyed this book, and I am amazed at Chbosky's words. Not even his thoughts, because that's what's so cool about this book-- the thoughts he described are ones that we've all had ourselves, but he's somehow managed to put them into words.

"He looked like all old pictures look. Old pictures look very rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are...

I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me."

"Dear friend, Wow. Wow. I can paint the picture for you if you like... it was like we were somewhere else. Like we were someplace better."

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite." 

He's such a genius.

I can't wait to watch:

Love,
bcl.

The plan

- bcl.

Merry Christmas!

11:00 Wake up

11:15 Put in first of many Christmas CD's

11:30 Spend some time with my Moleskin

11:45 Hot tea, cake, & conversation with mom, brother, and the fours

14:00 Market Village for "Wonton Time"

15:00 Almond flavoured bubble tea, Chinese waffles, and new fingerless mittens

18:00 Errbody at hot pot!

 20:00 Errbody's back at Auntie Amy & Uncle Stephen's

20:01 T.V. is turned on. Boys yell at basketball game. Aaron Li loses bet.

21:00 Ian insists that we go to the basement to play games. Concentration, to be exact

21:15 Concentration instructions are looked up. "Slap slap clap clap."

21:16 Aaron Li: "This is stupid. Who is gonna mess this up?"

21:18 Ian: "see doa bel-lay, faan keh".. Aaron Li: "..."

21:30 Stars and Smiley Faces play team charades

24:00 Aaron Li watches fish tank

00:30 Stairway photos

Merry Christmas, world. Happy Birthday, Jesus <3

- bcl.