I Have A Theory

"Do you love me because I am beautiful, or am I beautiful because you love me?"

That wonderous line came from Cinderella while I was browsing quotes online. It reminded me of a theory I had about beauty.

Once, I was sitting in my torturous math tuition class, across me, sat a girl with gentle features, fair skin and a pretty face. She had large eyes framed with double eyelids, a cute nose and a pouty small mouth. I thought she was beautiful. Her friend asked her a question, she turned, smiled and said.

"Shit!"

Ahem. At that point, her gentle, sweet features simply degraded into that rough vulgar word. She turned into an average school girl almost immedeatly in my eyes. It was the first word I heard from her and the strongest impression she made on me. I began to think about my theory.

Even if a girl has a gorgeous body and a beautiful face, if she's ugly inside, slowly she'll become ugly in your eyes.

There was a certain girl I knew sometime back. I meanly stereotyped her as average looking; though I knew perfectly well that it was wrongful of me. I didn't like her, in fact, I near couldn't stand thinking of her. However, one day I began talking to her and I found her lively, intelligent and cheerful. She was so nice and polite, seeming to know exactly what to say, the expressions on her face making me laugh quietly from their spontaniety and quirkiness. I began to realise how fair her face actually was as I began to love her as a sister. To me, she was someone beautiful.

If a girl is just average looking, but she's beautiful inside, she'll transform into someone beautiful.

Honestly, I know its wrong to judge a person by how he or she looks, but I admit, I have on many, many occasions. After having done that, reminding myself I'm not that great looking myself. However, thats how it is I guess. Skin is just a piece of glass that allows what you are inside to shine through. I believe what you look like can't be chosen; but infinitely more important, what you are, can be chosen.

Oh, how I know.

I got this picture from Deviant Art, its called "Pen and Paper" by Anazo. Being the complete math klutz I am; I find myself feeling for this guy. Algebra in all its torturous glory has the infamous ability to turn students into lean, mean, suicide machines. Well, as long as the Anazo dude lasted long enough to take this expressive picture.

Algebra is pretty much like a large, hideous pink van with green stripes to me. Its disgusting to look at, terrifying almost, but you need it at certain times to get a bunch of people from here to there. For instance, I was sitting down on the bench at a futsal court at a game I arranged. Wondering how I was supposed to get everyone's cash, give them the right amount of change and not end up comatose in the process. Then, a friend of mine with a inhuman ability to do math, began accepting cash, counting them out, and giving change accurately. Stylishly adding, subtracting and switching from small sporadic change into a large fifty rm note to be paid to the futsal owner dude.

Well, I guess I've got to thank God he made many different types of people. Including guys who like math. I might get better with digits someday, but as for now... ugh.

Erk.

One Republic

Dudes, I have a new favourite band. One Republic. Honestly, at first I figured that they were just some small not so famous band that made an awesome song with Timbaland. However, confessing that I had to listen to bands with violins, or whatever to a certain friend, he immedeatly pointed me to One Republic. "Jo, I think you'll like One Republic."

Yes I did. Every song was either good or great; the last time that happened was in Switchfoot's The Beautiful Let Down. Normally I would only like a certain song from one Cd or three at most, the rest of the tracks just lost my attention, making it a chore to listen to them till I got to the next song. However, One Republic's music was wonderful, I found myself closing my eyes and enjoying every song. .

Their lyrics were so meaningfully framed in their passionate music. Instead of the same boring rant at the world or the torturously corny love songs from other bands, One Re's music was uplifting with substance to them, flowing from their experiences and humble beginnings as a Myspace band. Exactly the stuff to listen to if you're thinking about a beloved or loved one. Or if you're in a hard time needing a little bit of encouragement. One Republic gives that, in my opinion.

.

Phew.

I am melting. I feel like a fish being steamed in a steaming cooker. Or whatever you call that wierd canister thingy that steams fish. Sweat is my constant companion at the moment and my body odour my own brand of cologne.

I smell disgusting. Originally, cologne used to be on my list of must have's next to facial hair and a godlike athletic body. However, after finding out the amount of dead grapes or whatever goes into the diabolical mixture to produce its wickedly seductive smells, I decided to decline. After all, witht the sad tear jerking sight of roses smashed and stepped on inhumanely and cruely, who would want to? Which leads to the question, how do I smell wonderful in such a catastrophically hot day?

Well! There are so many inventive and creative ways really. Way number one, my favourite would be to get a bunch of your pals two days in advance of a hot day! If it isn't a hot day, then; coffee? Hang out with them! Do stupid things together, however, do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, fall asleep. At night, go play waterballoons or slap each other with wet towels shirtless! They are fun! Just get creative! After two days, you should be so exhausted you'll fall asleep instantly and not wake up all during that cruel day of olfactory torture.

Become a girl. Somehow, for some wierd reason, when God created Adam and Eve, he made Eve smell nicer. Imagine Adam prancing completely naked about through the woods of Eden wrestling with the butterflies from morning to dusk. What a gorgeous scent he must have had. Then God was like, I'm going to give this dude a Woman, or this woman a man, or whatever you prefer. And Kazaam! Woman. Being Adam's helper, she's got to be stronger where Adam's a loser at. Therefore, hello awesome smelling hair! Honestly, its not fair! whenever guys leave a pile of used clothes on the floor, the smell radiating from it is a potent mixture of stale sweat, dead skin and that indescribably humid disgust. However, when a girl leaves her mess on the floor, it's a nice smelling mess. I took that from a mag by the way. I have never before, in my unspoilt teenage life, sniffed a girl's mess. (mess being bunch of clothes)

Or, you could just take very consistent showers. On a normal day, I take about three showers, four max, two minimum. That's so I'll be clean and nice smelling in school, fresh smelling at home and a knockout in my dreams. It usually works too! Unless I do something stupid in the middle of showers, like be myself.

So! Long story short! There is almost no way for me to escape the crushing smell of my very own. So, for my birthday, why don't you guys get me cologne that doesn't involve the killing of innocent grapes and flowers. Cause, grapes and flowers are living things too.

The Mall of my Mind.

There are so many things I want and want to learn. These things mostly bump around in my day dreams and sometimes manifest as hysterical delusions played out infront of my long suffering friends. Air Guitar face melter anyone?

Sigh, I'd love to learn how to play a guitar. Its a beautiful instrument with rich sound and gorgeous looks. Not only that, its fulfilling and relaxing to play an instrument you can sing with. Gosh, I want to pick it up.
Next on my list, an electric violin from fender. Wow. Seriously, this is what all electric violins should look like. Sleek, black and glossy. Normally, when this passes through my imaginations, I can see myself playing that gorgeous thing next to the electric guitarist in a glorious instrumental. The stage lit with a gazillion lights in the middle of a stadium surrounded by adoring masses. Right, back down to earth.

Next up, I'd love to get slim enough to fit into one of these and actually look good in them! However, being the wonderful health and excersise addict I am......... sigh, you know what... Just love me for myself okay? Who else can play unashamedly with his fats in the middle of History period? Not many.

I thought, wouldn't it be cool if i took up skateboarding? I actually went so far as to borrow a friend's board. As soon as my two feet were on the grip tape and those poly something wheels began rolling, I realised two things. 1) this was fun! 2) Jo+ four tiny wheels on a plank of wood= well, considering my almost autistic prowess of brain to limb coordination, I'll leave it to your colourful imaginations.

Finally.





Sigh. Honestly, I had no idea what all the hype about cars was. Had. Until I drove on a freeway, gosh; it was an exhilerating experience! Finally I understood what it was about about speed. Of course, one must always follow the rules of the road ( very innocent and sincere look) but imagine if there was no such thing as a car accident or a speed limit. Yeap, this one is planted firmly in the imaginations and daydreams department.

Well! I have lots that I want to do and lots that I want to have. There is no way a blog could cover everything. It might, but I'd be far too lazy to put everything in. All of these are wants, not needs and neither are they practical or profitable. But sigh, its awesome to imagine.

i want.

Jo.

Ok. dangerous to whine on my blog.

Ladies and Jellyspoons

Right, I was walkng past a mirror one day in my favourite white striped blue shirt with dark blue cotton pants. I had my favourite (only decent) pair of sneakers on. I realised as I walked past that infernal self consciouness amplifier that I had boobs! And a huge Boob which others would call a belly. My goodness, that was frightening, maybe it also had to do with the fact i just ate.

Its not fair though, why do some people stuff themselves as if the food they eat did actually exist but still retain their idiotic figures? How do I? With only two and a half meals per day, find himself with a gelatinous face growing on his Greecian example of male beauty. Sigh.

Yes, right now most of my friends would probably be thinking, go excersise! Diet! Well, as most of my friends are walking skeletons or specimens of immortal beauty, devoid of all human blemishes, and are able to stay that way whithout excesive self torture... :PPPPPPP. I give thee.... the raspberee..... (Atunagaga, go away)

Well, I mope. Its a good strategy though, all the shallow women would stay away from me. Sort of like the movie Penelope. Not only that, I'm one of the few guys who has the goods and the steeled courage to sing milkshake with his shirt off.

Fat is Phat!



(I wrote this late on an impulse)

The Day a Boy Becomes A Man

Amazing how the body reacts when its nervous. he heart races as uncomfortable adrenaline pulses through your veins and all sleepiness vanishes, leaving you very much scared and awake. Even though you feel very sleepy and tired. That was the night before.

Right now, I'm in the Kancil, the car actually seems decent. In fact, while waiting for the exam to begin I was entertained most of the time, mostly thanks to an Indian girl who unfortunately accelerated into the rear bumper of a chinese dude and partly thanks to the tense but friendly company around me. The instructors look completely the same, only this time, the one manningThe Slope was a very grumpy looking JPJ lady. Her frown never once left her face; thank God I didn't see her yet.

I checked the clutch level, it was fine, the steering was slightly assisted and the accelerator was standard. I promised myself I wouldn't scream or panick as a so embarrasingly did the last time.

A malay dude in sunglasses pointed at me and motioned me up The Slope, I left my nervousness and let my recklessness lift my foot of the cluth, then came my right foot down on the accelerator. As my car pulled up the slope, I was surprised at how little came through my mind aside from that fast raising tension to slam the brakes down. Half way up, the clutch went down and I let my Kancil slide forward. Now. It stopped.

Yes! I was perfectly on that yellow line! My prayers were half fulfilled! I pulled up the handbrake three times, as I looked hurriedly around the controls and signalled the the grouchy examiner. She was talking to another person! My foot slowly left the brake and my car creaked downwards ever so slightly. That was enough, I left my foot slightly on the brake. I looked to my left and noticed a fellow friend up the slope with me and we exchanged looks that conveyed my nearly relieved feeling and her troubled situation. I put my hand up again. The examiner finally noticed me and pointed down the slope. My car roared then purred as it struggled against the handbrake. I let it loose and it rolled uncomplainingly down The Slope. Yes! I have conquered you.

I released the clutch and let my car work its way over the the parking area of the exam. Suddenly, I heard a the sound of a pole being hit by a car. Not very pretty at all.

Parking went perfectly as well, thanks in most part to the formula subscribed by my intructor and many tense prayers. I worked fast, deftly switching between first gear and reverse and turned the steering wheel as strongly as I could. It was all over in about two minutes. The examiner motioned me off to the three point turn.

At that time, everything was pretty much going enjoyably pleasant. However, falling down at the end of a race doesn't qualify one for a medal. I refused to take things easy. Once again I worked the first and reverse gear and acted through the entire routine whithout problems.

It was satisfying, releaving and marvelous as I saw a not so grumpy JpJ lady tick off every "lulus" box and motioned me to sign. Yes, i've passed it all, from the scaling of mount everest with a monster to the precision of a brain surgery with a 700 pound scapel, I passed(indulge me lah!) It was the day a boy becomes a man. Now if only mom would let me drive.

Iron Man

The truth is, I'm Iron Man. dum dum dee dum dum dee dee dee dee dee dum dum dee dum. (agressive electric guitar nots)

As I sat in back seats of the cinema surrounded by friends, the missile, Jericho, flew. The toy of destruction forged from the brain of Tony Stark himself then exploded into tiny munitions. As Tony Stark,the soon to be Iron Man, stood infront of a gloriouos back drop of mountains with his arms outstreched as though a saviour; shards of hell fell from the heavens; its explosions blanketing the mountains. I loved it. It was awesome.

An Awesome Day

At night, after being dropped off by andee, I walked into a living room full of relatives and friendly faces. My face had an exhausted, goofy smile plastered on it and I was wearing a sweater in hot humid weather. did I look funny? I expect I did.

It was the best of times, it was hardly the worst of times. In vineyard, we have a precious tradition of creaming beloved classmates on their birthdays. It was LKm's sabo day, or birthday, whichever you'd rather call it and michelle planned it all. Michelle, who's an angel most of the time planned the ultimate sabo. As she told us about her diabolical plan, you could see pure evil leaping out of her black pupils. You could smell her cream lust, she wanted cream splattered all over Lkm and nothing. Nothing could stop her.

And so the day drifted by, nothing much happened, which isn't true of course, but I want to get along with the story. So then came the end of lunch. Mishie had this fiercely equated idea that if, if, the air conditioner was turned off, Lkm would be overwhelmed by the heat that she would be forced to take her sweater off. But somehow, she didn't. It was so odd, I thought to myself, is it possible that she could remain in her caccoon of cotton when I was being steamed alive in my own sweat?

Plan B.

So came the last minute of school. The fires of mishief roared as the demon of sabo awakened. Well, I went to play ping pong. The target was sent right to the toilet to toil at the soil. Still outside and blissfully playing ping pong, I was snapped back the mission when Julian impatienly ordered me into the room behind.

It was there the death squad was assembled. Weapons checks were performed on our Mark II shaving cream cans as we focused on our tasks. Sensing the weight of the room I gave a said what was on my mind. I said, "this would be our finest moment." And began spraying war designs on my face. After maori and pole dances later, Jaryl popped his head out, he was our designated watcher.

"Wait for when I sing happy birthday," he said. More pole and maori dancing ensued. By me alone, with most of the deathsquad giving me death stares and death threats.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YO..."

I was first out of the door. "AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" I gloriously cried.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" The look on her face, was stretched in delirious horror at the sight of a face full of war shaving cream and five other fierce saboers! She turned around, only to be blocked by one. She ran to the other door and pounded Rachel clumsily into door of which Rach was defending. Seeing no other way, our target did what most people would have done. She squated in a corner as oodles of glorious shaving cream was sprayed on her. Admist the laughter and thrilled screams, Lkm was covered in the purity of whitness. Smelt like a man's chin too. Regaining a sense of space and time, she got up when most of the attack had ended and dazedly made her way to the toilet.

Jaryl's hungry eyes turned upon me. Next thing I knew, the hunter became the hunted among his fellow hunters. I ran into the backroom for sanctuary, when I came out, the entire place smelt like a ladie's stubless legs. (erm... i have no idea what girls use to shave their legs but...) We had to clean up. Five seconds of fun followed by fifteen minutes of mopping wipping and more screaming. It was worth it.


*grammar edited