Tattoos and a good voice don't go well together, at least in America.Take it from Carly Smithson, who wasn't really the worst singer last night but got voted off just the same. Somehow, I have an idea why Ms. Smithson suffered from this misfortune: tattoos are ugly on TV. Come on, if everybody's favorite, and most likely future UN Ambassador of Peace, David Archuleta likewise have dragons and a bleeding heart inked on his arms, I think there will be less annoying girls shrieking like a hyena fucked by a porcupine here on Earth.
Yeah, I know, Smithson looks phony. No matter how hard she tries to smile kindly and look so proper by acting like Mother Teresa's reincarnation, it doesn't look believable. Even if you want to convince yourself that she's a good singer and might be less bitchy than what her tattoos speak loudly of her, you just can't help but cry "she's a phony bitch!". And you'll go, "ooops... did I just call her a phony bitch?"
If it's not the tattoos or the phony look, then her previous album when she was still under MCA was the one to blame. Maybe Americans want justice to reign so they got rid of the pro and let the amateurs take centerstage for a clean and fair fight. However, the burning question is, who's the real amateur among the Top 5 left? Scour the Internet for an answer and you'll stumble upon information that will make you realize that this season of American Idol is the worst so far. I agree that this season has a lot of great talents, probably greater than the previous seasons contestants. However, that doesn't guarantee that it can deliver the most exciting season though. Now where's Sanjaya when you need him?
1:45 Is Too Long A Time
I just found out today, though in a very tiring way, that it takes four laps to complete one mile in a standard track. Pressured by time and my frustrations, I struggled in running around the oval for four times. If only air has calories in it, I'd be obese by now with the way I was trying to feed oxygen in to my lungs.
All these dieting and working out are new to me. Back then, I thought the Nutrition Information printed on food labels are there to serve as a sign that what I'm about to put in my mouth has some vitamins or other good stuff in it. Apparently, for a considerable length of time, I was stupid and acted like a retard for having that kind of notion. I didn't know that on those pretty little charts, I could also find the number of calories I have to burn and the amount of fat that would settle at the used-to-be hollow spaces of my tummy, ass, and arms. Who would have thought that my ignorance is to blame for my extra pounds? Now I have to deal with the nasty flabs which miserably failed to disguise themselves as muscles.
And, oh, exercises. Ayayay. When asked what sports I play as part of my healthy lifestyle, which is, of course, non-existing, I cited basketball as my favorite. Truth is, it was almost six years since I last played ball and that was in my last year in high school during a sports event, where I scored two points. The most tiring part was being on the bench and cheering for my team mates who seemed to play better when I'm not inside the court. Anyway, before hitting the track, my recruiter taught us how to do proper sit-ups and push-ups. Obviously, they weren't easy for me but because I really want to join the Army, I pretended to look tired after doing just four sit-ups and half push-up. Nah, just kidding, I really gave it my all. I swear!!
After stretching my rusty muscles, I started my journey to Teaneck High's track. Goal: One mile in ten minutes and thirty seconds. As I was about to begin my trek through the last lap, I heard my recruiter say that I have two minutes left. Of course, I got disappointed again with myself and just wanted to stop and walk away (nope, not run away, I'm way too tired to perform that cliche at that moment) Somehow, a part of me refused to give in to that kind of defeatist attitude. I thought to myself, "let me pass out, I'm sure they'll get some help if ever that happens". Run a little, slow down, walk, run again. That was how I managed to finish my little race against myself and my limits. Although I only managed to cover one mile in 11 minutes and 45 seconds, Sgt. Robinson told me it wasn't bad for a first-timer. That I'll be better in time.
One minute and 45 seconds off the timer. I know it's not something to be really proud of. However, if you're like me who easily gives up when the situation gets too tough to handle, you should be. Congratulations to myself!
All these dieting and working out are new to me. Back then, I thought the Nutrition Information printed on food labels are there to serve as a sign that what I'm about to put in my mouth has some vitamins or other good stuff in it. Apparently, for a considerable length of time, I was stupid and acted like a retard for having that kind of notion. I didn't know that on those pretty little charts, I could also find the number of calories I have to burn and the amount of fat that would settle at the used-to-be hollow spaces of my tummy, ass, and arms. Who would have thought that my ignorance is to blame for my extra pounds? Now I have to deal with the nasty flabs which miserably failed to disguise themselves as muscles.
And, oh, exercises. Ayayay. When asked what sports I play as part of my healthy lifestyle, which is, of course, non-existing, I cited basketball as my favorite. Truth is, it was almost six years since I last played ball and that was in my last year in high school during a sports event, where I scored two points. The most tiring part was being on the bench and cheering for my team mates who seemed to play better when I'm not inside the court. Anyway, before hitting the track, my recruiter taught us how to do proper sit-ups and push-ups. Obviously, they weren't easy for me but because I really want to join the Army, I pretended to look tired after doing just four sit-ups and half push-up. Nah, just kidding, I really gave it my all. I swear!!
After stretching my rusty muscles, I started my journey to Teaneck High's track. Goal: One mile in ten minutes and thirty seconds. As I was about to begin my trek through the last lap, I heard my recruiter say that I have two minutes left. Of course, I got disappointed again with myself and just wanted to stop and walk away (nope, not run away, I'm way too tired to perform that cliche at that moment) Somehow, a part of me refused to give in to that kind of defeatist attitude. I thought to myself, "let me pass out, I'm sure they'll get some help if ever that happens". Run a little, slow down, walk, run again. That was how I managed to finish my little race against myself and my limits. Although I only managed to cover one mile in 11 minutes and 45 seconds, Sgt. Robinson told me it wasn't bad for a first-timer. That I'll be better in time.
One minute and 45 seconds off the timer. I know it's not something to be really proud of. However, if you're like me who easily gives up when the situation gets too tough to handle, you should be. Congratulations to myself!
Keep Walking
I keep on walking, in this place unfamiliar and cold in different ways. With music as my sole companion, and memories as the insatiable fuel. Doors of opportunities swinging wide open, and I'm walking towards one of them, but this time, without the excitement and enthusiasm I once had, that time when all I had was the freedom to dream.
While walking, I am looking back over my shoulder. Hoping to find you there behind me. Praying you will be able to keep up because I won't be able to slow down. Could not. A dream helped shaped by you is waiting to be fulfilled.
I will keep walking. Once you are already here beside me, we will run to catch one door left ajar.
While walking, I am looking back over my shoulder. Hoping to find you there behind me. Praying you will be able to keep up because I won't be able to slow down. Could not. A dream helped shaped by you is waiting to be fulfilled.
I will keep walking. Once you are already here beside me, we will run to catch one door left ajar.
