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.

Lafayette

Dear Blogosphere,

I recently adventured IKEA, which you know is always a good time for me. As I was walking through the showroom, I saw a display labeled "Our 375 Square Feet Home." I was skeptical as I walked into the makeshift home because with only 375 square feet, I wouldn't even be able to do my daily work out of jumping jacks and lunges. Let's be honest.

But as I walked through this small home, I was both surprised and impressed-- mostly impressed-- that somehow, this chic couple from New York City was able to create such a home, sweet home in such a small space. With lavish textiles, cozy furniture, and clever wall mounts, I found myself in a very happy 375 square feet.

Here in Detroit, right in the heart of Lafayette Park, there's another label. It reads, "My 800 Square Feet Home."

Here's that story: A single, 22-year old working professional living downtown in a free-spirited big city. Her building is a historical Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, and she's living it up on the 18th floor. From her floor-to-ceiling windows, she enjoys a view of both the Detroit River on one side, and the city lights of downtown Detroit from the other. The quaint one-bedroom has been filled in with furniture, and a large area rug. Lantern lamps and a string of white Christmas lights have been strung from the ceiling over the piano keyboard and guitar stand. Its white walls have been colored in with posters, wall clocks, cork boards, photos, and drawings. Its cupboards are filled with assorted mugs and mason jars, and in its closets hang several jackets. There is plenty of room for both lunges and jumping jacks.

Living in Detroit has been incredible. Lafayette Park is such a gem, and aside from enjoying the actual building, I'm finding myself to be fully submerged in the heart of the hustle and bustle city life. From Lafayette Towers, I'm a 10-minute walk in every direction to some of the city's greatest attractions. Ten minutes in one direction will take me to Eastern Market, the largest farmers market in America; ten minutes in another direction will take me right into the exciting, high-energy Greek Town. I'm ten minutes away from the Riverwalk, and a short 30-second walk from the Dequindre Cut.

The story continues with true cultural immersion, incredible neighbors, and a renewed love for exploring and adventuring a new city.

Want to see? Want to hear about it? Want to do jumping jacks with me?

I'll meet you in Detroit.

- bcl.

Ugly babies & thieving grandmas

Dear Blogosphere,

Look, here's the situation. I'm going to be straight with you. This blog post is the result of a Meijer outing that inspired such a brilliant blog title, that I had no choice but to write the blog post to go with it.

This past Thursday, on my lunch break, I decided to go to Meijer to take a break from my desk, walk around a little bit, and maybe pick up a couple grocery items. I parked the car near the non-grocery entrance, and hurried in, with my scarf and jacket wrapped tightly around me. I began browsing the greeting card section first, then made my way over to the Christmas decorations and ornaments. Suddenly, I heard a loud, whiny child's voice. And then I heard the voice of a distressed sounding mom-- the kind of mom who you know bribes her children. Weird.

The child's voice got louder and whinier over the next minute or so, and the mom's "Stop crying, what do you want? I will buy you candy. What do you want? Stop this. Do you want more candy? How about this kind of chocolate? What do you want? Stop now. I will buy you this. And this? Stop. What do you--" grew increasingly desperate.

I have encountered whiny babies before. It's pretty unfortunate when you run into them in public spaces. You know, the kind of children that stomp their feet and cry real tears and scream bloody murder and thrash around on the floor. Worst.

BUT THIS TIME. For some reason, I was feeling extra annoyed and irritable. I think it's because usually, when babies start to freak the freak out, their parents will make some sort of attempt to end the nonsense. They might yell at them, threaten them, pick them up, or at the very least, attempt to hurry up with picking through all the tomatoes so that they can pay and get out of the store as soon as possible before they start getting dirty, judgmental looks from other customers. This mother did none of those things. She just kept muttering to them and then proceeded to slowly-- so slowly-- push her shopping cart up and down every aisle, stopping to examine jewelry, and books, and flower pots, and candles, and oh yeah-- candy bars. I tried to walk away from the crying children, but they.. followed me. Everywhere I went, I could hear that this lady was pushing her cart not far behind me. Finally, we intersected. I looked into the cart, and there were two babies! Twins, actually. Twin girls. And they were kind of ugly. I thought to myself, "Oh, please. You two aren't nearly cute enough to get away with this."

I called my mom at this point to ask her if Felix and I were like those nasty kids when we were in public places when we were young. She assured me that we were not. I felt better.

Then, I walked over to the bakery section of the store to pick out some bread. Next to the bread baskets, I saw an old grandma buying bagels. She was standing in front of the bagel display, propping the glass door open with her back. She had a paper bag in her left hand, and an insufficiently small piece of wax paper in her right. I watched her run her wrinkly hand over every single bagel in that glass case. Every single one. Gross. And then, when she reached the bottom shelf, she stroked the last bagel, and then she took it and slipped it into her coat pocket.

I guess she didn't realize that the glass door she was hiding behind was transparent.

I felt so strange after seeing that! I felt kind of annoyed and angry and confused, but also really, really found it hilarious. What do I do? What do you do? What does anybody do? I thought about tapping her on the shoulder and being all, "Excuse me, I see what you did there," but I was afraid I'd give her a heart attack. And since my CPR/First Aid certification hasn't been renewed for this year, I decided against it.

Thieving grandma tried to steal some cookies afterwards too, but I deterred her by going up to the same cookie table she was inspecting and standing really really close to her. Right next to her, actually. Close enough to smell the stolen bagel. Sick. When I had approached the cookie table, she was trying to pry one of the container lids off; I so startled her that she dropped the container, and knocked a few other containers off the table, too. Her guilt betrayed her. I helped her pick up the containers, and then I just stood reading cookie labels until she left. I was a hero that day. Or at least half of a hero. And Meijer will never know.

- bcl.

Challenge Detroit: Detroit Symphony Orchestra Returns with 37/11

Saturday night, 7:50 p.m. After enjoying a wonderful dinner at Cass Café, a very stylish group of classy Challenge Detroit fellows prepare to leave. Chairs are pushed back, jackets and shawls draped around shoulders, and heels are tightened. As the group makes its way down the stairs and out into the breezy night air, the fellows chat excitedly about their next destination—the Max M. Fisher Music Center.

 The Fisher Center itself is a gorgeous building. The glass doors opened, and we were welcomed into a spacious foyer by the sounds of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. While waiting for the rest of the group to congregate, I had a few minutes to explore the space. I walked up the four flights of stairs, and looked around at the various posters, photographs, and light displays celebrating music within the community.

From my upper balcony seat, I enjoyed the show with my fellow fellows. It was an incredible musical event, where the renowned DSO performed three pieces (Aaron Copland’s Rodeo Ballet, John Williams’ The Five Sacred Trees, and Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 1 in D minor). It was an exhilarating movement as we transitioned from piece to piece. It really didn’t even seem like we were sitting still, listening to classical music. They were more exciting; more like movie scores, perhaps. Really incredible scores.

The thing that struck me the most about the performance was the bigness of it all. I couldn’t believe that the group of people sitting on the stage below me was making all that music. No speakers, no microphones. Just individual artists playing their instruments. The acoustics, the volume, the feeling, the grandeur of it all left me with the most spectacular sensation.

There is something about music, isn’t there? Because music says the things we can’t say ourselves. And the DSO certainly said it well. 

love,

bcl.

A subject lesson: Bittersweet

THE BITTERSWEETNESS OF LOVE where God is concerned is the topic. In my many, many years of walking as a Christian, I have certainly come to realize that to love God has been both incredibly rewarding and terribly difficult. It has come easily and packed with tremendous joy at times, and it has been hard-- so hard-- during others.

And in all honesty, sometimes, it feels a little uneven. There have been times where I felt that I could taste only the bitter tinge of sacrifice and rules, and, it has been during those times that I found myself asking God if it is really worth it at all.

Whenever those occasions arose-- and when I realized what I was saying, what I was questioning-- I would be immediately stricken with mortification and terrible shame. "I'm so sorry, God," I quickly relented. I really believed that by feeling this way, I was not right. I felt that I was not being a holy, (   insert synonyms    ) Christian, and that I obviously needed an attitude adjustment since loving Jesus was supposed to be the best thing ever. It wasn't supposed to feel like a chore, or a heavy, draining commitment..

But, I think I had it backwards. Or if not entirely backwards, then at least sideways.

My mistake wasn't in thinking that love costs too much. It was in not understanding that it does.

In revisiting one of my previous journals, I came across a small quip that can be fairly accurately summarized with the following:

"God, you're asking too much of me. You're demanding too much of my time, too much of my energy, too much of my resources-- which I have very little of. You're taking it all, and it's too, too hard!"

I complained that to love Him costs too much. 

But then, this heavy cost of love was already demonstrated and proven to me.

To love me cost Jesus his life.

So He may ask much of me. But He could ask even more of me. My whole life.

And He gave it first.

This love that I have come to know is not just sweet. It is gloriously sweet because it comes after the bitter. To truly know and understand God's love for me-- and to think on the sacrifice that Jesus Christ paid upon that cross-- carries that very flavour: BITTERSWEET.

Our proof is scarred on hands that bled that we were worth every nail.

Humbled,
bcl.

Seelio

HEY ERRBODY, IT'S HERE. SEELIO IS LIVE!

For those of you who don't know-- which is more than most of you, I'm sure-- I have spent the last 5 weeks or so predominantly working in Ann Arbor. What kind of work, you ask?

I was producing a video project for an incredible start-up.. and now it's done!

Want to see it?

And be sure to check out Seelio.com!

- bcl.

*Special thanks to Dan Chern and Francesca Audia-- what an amazing team to work with!

Sharpie + Canvas Transformation

STEP 1: Get your hands on a pair of fabric, or canvas shoes. (I bought mine from Ragstock!)

The "Before"

STEP 2: Grab a Sharpie marker.

STEP 3: Make art!

My new "After" shoes

- bcl.

Photo credit: Felix C. Lee

Wood in the Afternoon

This is the title of the third-to-last chapter of Markus Zusak's novel, The Book Thief.

If any one of you readers are truly readers at all, you've probably at least heard of this novel at some point. In case you were wondering if I think you should read it, wonder no more. 

I, Bithiah Lee, formally recommend this book to you now.

What a beautifully written novel. Sometimes, I just forget what it feels like to read something that is gorgeous-- even if that something also infuriates you, makes you want to cry. You also feel giddy, because you realize that it's just words that are doing that to you. The shaking, the breathing, the blinking, the cheering-- just words. 

I would write more, but my fingers are still stiff, my eyes are so tired, and my head is throbbing, still, from taking in the last 250 pages of the The Book Thief all over the last couple of hours. 

Instead, let me leave you with this:

As you can see, I have been in your library again and I

have ruined one of your books. I was just so angry and afraid

and I wanted to kill the words. I have stolen from you and

now I've wrecked your property. I'm sorry. To punish myself, 

I think I will stop coming here. Or is it punishment at all? I 

love this place and hate it, because it is full of words.

- 522 

If only she could be so oblivious again,

to feel such love without knowing it,

mistaking it for laughter and bread

with only the scent of jam spread out

on top of it.

- 408

I have hated the words and

I have loved them,

and I hope I have made them right. 

- 528

Think on that, will you?

Thank you, Zusak, for this story.

- bcl.

Review: Kaling & Fey

Even as I sit here, typing up this post, donning deliberately oversized plastic eyewear, drinking stale, room-temperature water out of a mug-- and using only pretentious synonyms for everyday words (including, but not limited to donning, deliberately, oversized, eyewear, stale, pretentious, and synonyms), I can't help but wish that someone was here to take a photo of me. The kind of photo that was candid, of course. And probably instagram'd.

I also can't decide if this is a moment in my life where I will one day look back and feel embarrassed about, or if it will be remembered as one of my finest and proudest moments. Impossible choice.

Anyway, I just finished reading two autobiographies of two funny-ladies. (The reason that there is a hyphen between those two words is because they are to be read as one). Mindy Kaling's "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)" and Tina Fey's "Bossypants." I read them back-to-back, and thoroughly enjoyed them both.

(Note: I originally included a photo of Kaling's book too, but then I removed it because it was so pink).

To make a general statement, I would say that I enjoyed Bossypants more. While Kaling was funny in her writing (I read hers first), I felt that Fey's rendition of "I'm-hilarious-and-sarcastic-and-will-make-fun-of-myself-to-appear-lighthearted-and-fun-so-that-you-forget-to-dislike-me-at-least-a-little-since-I'm-super-famous-and-make-way-more-money-than-you-but-don't-feel-bad-because-I,-too,-once-suffered-from-teenage-acne" was a more mature, refined and even slightly less aggressive one. I felt as if it was evident that she didn't have to try as hard. She is a very cool version of herself. I will also like to take this moment to point out the irony of this paragraph as a whole since I am a 22-year-old sarca myself. I'm obviously just jealous of her. 

Anyway, I would recommend Bossypants to anyone who finds Tina Fey funny. If you don't think she's funny, then you shouldn't read it.

Here are a couple of my favourite excerpts (the ones that made me laugh out loud) from Bossypants:

(Referring to people who approach her and ask about the scar on her face)
"The grossest move is when they say they're only curious because "it's so beautiful." Ugh. Disgusting. They might as well walk up and say, "May I be amazing at you?"

"Every time I reached into the closet to grab a Sunday School dress or my colonial-lady Halloween costume that I sometimes relaxed in after school..."

"I was walking home from middle school past a place called the World's Largest Aquarium-- which, legally, I don't know how they could call it that, because it was obviously an average-sized aquarium."

(Regarding how proud she is that 30 Rock features 'normal human-faces')
"When you watched Sanford and Son, you didn't want to have sex with everybody you saw, just Grady. I've never understood why every character being "hot" was necessary for enjoying a TV show. It's the same reason I don't get Hooters. Why do we need to enjoy chicken wings and boobies at the same time? Yes, they are a natural and beautiful part of the human experience. And so are boobies. But why at the same time?"


Hahahahahaaa.

-bcl.

My Year in Detroit!

What I think my apartment will look like:

What it will actually look like:

WHO WANTS TO VISIT ME??

#housingsearch

-bcl.

Spiritual Growth

On the subject of my relationship with God, I would hope for it to be said of me that I'm growing, of course. I want to be developing and maturing as a Christ-follower. There have been lots of changes taking place in my life these last several months, and I am experiencing new things, and reflecting a ton. I feel as if I am beginning to change as an individual, too. Slowly but surely, I am noticing a difference in the way that I think, speak, and feel.

But above all, my heart's deepest desire is still for God.

I long for more of Him every day. I want to see and hear Him all around me. I long to be filled with a greater hunger for God's Word and increasing thirst for his presence.

Having said all of that, however, I will also include in here a brief mention of how these are things that are true of most Christians. Who doesn't want those these things? I have been making these same claims and praying the same prayers for years and years. But lately, for some reason (or many reasons), I've been feeling incredibly unsatisfied with my spiritual growth. I just feel so sluggish and stagnant and slow and.. grey. Right now, I can say confidently that I love Jesus! But I'm wanting that spark-- that raging flame within me. The passionate, burning desperation embedded deep within my heart to experience more of God's holy and awesome power. I'm just feeling kind of a little bit comfortable.

Abba Father, this is the cry of my heart. Just come and meet with me. I want a new touch, a powerful encounter with you! I am hereby requesting a private audience with you. Take me by the shoulders and shake me awake.

I am trying to be disciplined and diligent in striving for greater, and continuous spiritual growth; I'm not ready to give up yet. I'm sure that there are countless ways to gague whether or not I am "growing" but so as to take steps toward achieving self-accountability, I've come up with 3 questions to ask myself to help me focus on how to tangibly grow.

1. Am I growing in my knowledge of Christ?
2. Am I growing in my intimacy with Christ?
3. Am I growing in my likeness of Christ?

I spent the larger part of this past school year reading through the Old Testament, and it has been really very rewarding. Honest! I love the New Testament because it teaches me about how to live my life today, but wow. The O.T. has taught me more about God's character and about his heart than I ever knew before. I'm so thankful to God for revealing himself to me through his Word, but I want more!

I think that my intimacy with Christ is the easiest of the three to gague. It is pretty much reflected directly in my personal prayer life, my consistency (and desire?) in reading the Word, and in my actions and words and attitude.

Likeness of Christ. What a feat, eh? I want to become more and more like Christ. I want to bear the fruits of the Spirit as he dwells within me. May I speak and act out of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (*Galatians 5: 22-23)

Hoo boy. Spiritual growth, I am coming.

Step by step.

- bcl.

To a little brother who is no longer a little brother

Dear Felix, 

Do you remember when we used to be best friends?

Do you remember when you used to call me "gah jay"?

Do you remember when we would play Black Beauty and how I'd always be the horse?

Do you remember when we used to be together 24/7?

Do you remember when I described what a "booby trap" was to you?

Do you remember when I thought it'd be funny to nickname you "feline"? (Confession: I don't think I knew what that word actually meant at the time.)

Do you remember when you used to always be SO excited to see me in the hallways of Drake Elementary School and I wouldn't allow you to say hi to me?

Do you remember how you used to do it anyway?

Do you remember when we used to be the two coolest members of the rollerblading club of CCCC?

Do you remember when we would watch "Night of the Living Dummy III" together multiple times even though I was kind of scared every time?

Do you remember when your voice was more high-pitched than mine?

Do you remember when we used to shop for gifts for mom and try to pay using only coins?

Do you remember hula-hoop races on our driveway?

Do you remember when I was bossy and you would obey me out of fear that I would call the cops on you?

Do you remember when we went fishing with butterfly nets in our swimming pool?

Do you remember "Jacob Field, Jacob Field, Jacob Field, JAM"?

Do you remember when we would play the Cabbage Patch Kids board game together for hours?

Do you remember foot wars in the back of the Eagle during 6-hour long car rides to Toronto?

Do you remember the mustard-ketchup game during 6-hour long car rides to Toronto?

Do you remember when we would sing the pokemon rap together?

Do you remember when we tried to build-- and crawl over-- a bridge between our two beds using a blanket?

Do you remember when I bought Cutie for you that one Christmas?

Do you remember Buttman?

I'm sad that we got old.

Sincerely,
an older sister who feels so so old

- bcl.

"Keep in touch!"

Put positively, I am exciting. I have traveled a lot. I'm constantly on the move, gallivanting all around-- from city to country to town. I have met a lot of people, made a lot of friends, and taken a lot of photos as evidence. And, let's face it. I have over 1,000 friends on facebook.

Put negatively, I have had to say a lot of good-byes. I have left a lot of people behind, I have witnessed the slow deterioration of many friendships, and I always at any moment, can say that I am deeply missing someone. 

But listen.

I love my travels. I love packing my bag, as I excitedly text (or inform via the facebook wall feature), the relevant people that I will be visiting! "Hooray!" they always respond. "How long are you here for? When are you free? What's your schedule like? Do you like spicy foods?" 

And for one beautiful weekend, week, or month, I get to enjoy those friends and terrific family members. 

But then, the worst part comes. Always. No matter what. A messy collision of tears, snot, sad embraces, stifled sniffles, and red cheeks is the inevitable grand finale of every vacation. What follows is the sad, sad, sad dialogue between people(s) I love and yours truly. This is a symphony of choked up goodbyes, pleas to please keep in touch, and promises of remaining close friends even though we'll be separated by miles and continents and years.

Only a couple of days ago, I had a really great phone chat with a friend who I went to college with (by the way, if there was ever a line I could say that would make me feel post-grad old, that was it), and we were thrilled to discover that the quality of our conversations didn't seem to suffer too much from our live-to-phone transition. I was walking in my small, quiet South Lyon subdivision, and he was wandering the busy streets of New York City. Talk about bridging the gap, eh. It felt wonderful to be able to "catch up" with my friend, but at the end of the hour-long phone call, we both hung up, left to wonder about how long it would be until the next time, and whether we'd meet in his city or mine. (I hope it's his!)

As of late, I've been thinking about this very thing-- the attempts of keeping in touch. What does it entail? How do you accomplish it? What equates successful keeping in touch? Snail mail? E-mails? Phone calls? How often?

I wonder a lot these days about whether or not I am someone who's good at keeping in touch. Who are my best friends? Can they be people who I don't see on a regular basis? How many friends can I keep? Why can't we all just be together always? Preferably living in the same cul-de-sac.

Blogosphere, the entirety of this post can be summed up with the following: please write me a letter, because I probably miss you.

bcl.

Mr. & Mrs. Zheng

Congratulations to the happy, amazing couple!

"wooooo! yesss!"

I cannot believe how happy I am for these two. Solomon and Kristin are two of my very favourite people, and I am so excited to see how their "journey towards marriage" is now becoming the journey of marriage.

Their faith inspires me, and I can say nothing less for anyone else who knows them. My prayer for them is that everyday they will help each other to understand more and more the love and grace that God has for the both of them by demonstrating that very same love and grace to one another.

God bless bless bless you, Solo & Kristin!

All my very best love,
bcl.

109: Notes on Camp

This is almost getting out of hand.

The morning following my previous blog post about Chandos, I received an e-mail from a dear friend. The subject line read: Notes on Camp.

The e-mail reads:
I was trolling through "This American Life" and listened to this, thought of you, and thought you would like it, you Canadian camper. The finale is especially good. 

This American Life 109: Notes on Camp

and the fact that it ends with Hanson's mmbop is fantastic.

I just thought I'd re-blog and share this little gem. For those of you who have never been to summer camp but have had to hear about their friends who have been to camp talk incessantly about camp, may this shed some light and offer valuable insight into the crazed minds of proud "I <3 Camp" t-shirt wearers.

And also, for those of you who do understand camp or are uninterested in the matter, worry not. This link is for you, too. "This American Life" is fantastic! If you like things that are funny, dramatic, surprising, true (and witty!), you'll enjoy the stories. And Ira Glass.

Happy listening!

- bcl.

Cul-de-sac

Dear Chandos & family,

I miss you more than any words, even all the ones that I know, can say. I mean that in the most honest, non-dramatic way possible. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I mean, I remember you always; but I'm really missing you these days.

For just one more day, I want to be standing next to the flag pole with you on top of the hill, watching little kids get pwned by Beau and Spam on the soccer field. Just for one more day, I want to be playing keys and thigh-slapping with you on the stage in the musty ever-shrinking barn in which sheet music dampens and sags over the edge of the stand within minutes. For just one more day, I want to be dousing Cherry Grove in pine sol, hanging streamers in the staff lounge, and mopping the shower houses (even mopping the shower houses!). For just one more night, I want to beat you up in the grandmother skit in front of a campfire, and watch Genovia speak gayly in the director skit. Just for tonight, I want to be discovering the big dipper as we slip past the "beach closed" sign and lay down on the cold, rocking dock. I want to take one more picture with Ducky. I want to go sailing with him, too. I want a creamsicle from the tuck shop, and one more handful of no name cheese puffs while sitting on the kitchen counter.

I'm back in Toronto right now, and have been trying to meet up with some of my bests. (I wish that we were all a little less busy so that we could all get together at once and go on a canoe trip and make our own fires and poop in the woods and sleep under stars or something, but I miss everyone enough that I'll make the extra effort). It has been so good to see everyone, but it only makes me miss this more.

More importantly, however, is that after catching up with some of the camp fam, I'm only more certain that we should probably all live in a cul-de-sac together once we're all married (Pepps, Peaches, & Jet (almost!), you'll have to wait for the rest of us to catch up, ha).

If you are unconvinced, scroll on down.

I'm telling ya..

A cul-de-sac.

That is all.

See you soon.

Love,
Veto

xxo

Faux Paw

Hello friends,
Take a look:

Have a listen:

Click here to listen to Faux Paw

You're welcome.

- bcl.

Laptops

My current laptop (which is my second one ever) is about to explode.

Literally.

The (OS) C:// drive is so full that my laptop has started to lock up its programs.

I guess I can't complain, really. I paid $400 for my current cherry red Dell Inspiron 14z before junior year of college, following a tragic and unexpected death of my very first laptop (RIP, 1430). I shelled out the $400, promising myself that I would be pleased if this little guy could last me through college. Which it has, if but just barely.

I guess it's time to start looking for a new laptop again.

This does not excite me.

Blogosphere, this is stressful! All I really want from a laptop is for it to be solid, thin/light, affordable, good-looking, have high-speed performance, have unlimited memory space (I shake my fist at you, 14z!) and for it to last forever.

I made a list of all the laptop brands I could think of, knowing that there were plenty that I missed, but didn't bother to look up. Then I started to cross them out. I have chosen the process of elimination as my weapon of choice.

I have crossed out two so far:

Apple (not affordable)
Dell (don't last forever)
Acer
Asus
Sony
Toshiba
Lenovo
HP
Samsung (do they make laptops?)

Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuude.

Let me know if you have any good suggestions.

I want my next laptop to elicit a celebration from me:

bcl.

Karen & Me

Karen Yiu is my friend.

I discovered her in the summer of 2011 and I liked her instantly!

We spent one year separated by a 17-hour flight. 

I frequently missed her while we were apart.

We are reunited now! 

(Bithiah walks out of mtr station, locates Karen)

B: Is that Snoopy on your shirt?

Karen: YES!

We participated in 'free tram day' two times!

We ate cha siu fan and thought of Felix. 

Then we ate dessert at Teem Yee Yee, where Karen should have gotten strawberry and I should have asked for black dots in my sago.

While we ate, we discussed many different things, all of which Lili already knew about.

The End.

- bcl.