I just found a colossus of pre-Idol David pictures, some of which I actually haven't seen before, and I'm in heaven. He definitely looks a lot better now (understatement of the year, really) but there's just something so endearing about seeing him as he was before Idol happened that I don't care how grossed out I am that he ostensibly feels compelled to show me what he's eating or that his beard is the ugliest thing I've ever seen on a guy. Okay, I exaggerate, but the point is, it's fugly. Like, for realz.
Despite David's occasional grossness and his more-frequent-than-not disastrous physical appearance, I love all these precious pre-Idol pictures 'cause they're the things that give me a better sense of who he is. And not just the pre-Idol pictures, but pre-Idol stuff in general. Like that cover of Creep he performed with Axium during one of their live shows? The cussing during the crowd banter, especially the "well, fuck you, we're gonna do it anyway", is just soooo endearing. I really like that he's not some squeaky clean, Bible clutching contestant, like most Idol contestants seem to be. And so nothing makes me happier than seeing him flip the bird on stage (he's the guy on the left with some random shit drawn on his arm, not the guy in the white shirt).
I LOVE DAVID, and I swear I'd sell all my organs to hear him sing his Analog Heart songs live. I don't even need to be there in person; I'd sell my organs for the freaking mp3s and the videos.
I also cannot stop watching I Don't Want To Miss a Thing, and the 'yeah yeah yeah' part still gives me chills despite having watched it 83425781674602381274528 times already. It's not the technical perfection of his singing, but the sheer amount of passion and grit he pours into his singing - which is precisely one of the two things that originally made me fall in love with him, the other being his voice, obviously.
I cannot stand this guy anymore. His voice is too beautiful for words; he is too beautiful for words. I love him so much that I will be very sad if I don't marry him, which means I'm doomed to live a life of depression and sadness. Oh, woe is me, life is soooo tough (/David Cook).
2. Non-Cook Content #1
I realised something pretty disturbing recently.
I realised that I haven't ceased to be inherently, subconsciously and inevitably attracted to the type of guys that caused all the angsty drama last year. You know the type: confident, arrogant, articulate, not exceptionally good-looking but OMG FUCKING INTELLIGENT and therefore sexy, and almost unbearably charismatic.
It's stupid, isn't it? I think it is, and I think I'm doomed. I like nice guys, but I just am not as attracted to them as the Bastard prototype. The kind of guys that make me fall wildly in love and completely take over my life are the ones that are more likely to break my heart than the other way round, and the kind of guys that I should be dating are the ones that I'd get bored of after two months. Despite the nonsensical angsty drama that happened last year, I still seem to be inviting punishment and pain and heartache. Why, self, why?
Well, the bright side is, admittance is the first step to cure, and I admit that I have a problem. I really don't know what's wrong with me but quite clearly something is wrong with me. Do I seek out excitement no matter the cost? Am I masochistic? Do I really hate myself that much?
The truth is, I don't hate myself at all and I'm not masochistic, and it's not really about excitement per se. I find men who are more intelligent than me unbearably sexy and even if I've gone down this route before and it was paved with shards of glass and broken bones and hearts, I still cannot help but take a step forward when I find myself staring down at it yet again. It's the intelligence and the articulateness that give rise to the charisma and the confidence and the arrogance and the bastard swagger, all of which I just cannot fucking resist. On the flip side, guys who are nice, polite, humble, understated in their intelligence (assuming they are intelligent), not particularly charismatic but not exactly wallpaper either, perfectly gentlemanly, a good listener, actually care about what you say, are super nice to you, and I could go on forever but I'm sure you get the point; on the flip side, such guys don't challenge me the way the former category of guys does. I am not intrigued by a guy who is not able to say something that makes me sit up and pay attention or tell me that "wastrel" is actually a word and that I shouldn't have laughed at it, and neither am I intrigued by a guy who doesn't argue aggressively with me. And you know what is strange? I hate arguing. But I want to be able to argue - debate, whatever - with a guy who actually has something to say, and can actually say it really, really, really well.
My intellectual snobbery knows no bounds, does it? I can't even comprehend how it is that I'm still like this after what it put me through last year. I mean, seriously, I thought the whole point of making mistakes is to learn from them, but quite evidently I didn't get that memo...or rather, I did, but I threw it away without reading it.
I am an absolute moron. Seriously. This is kind of why I need David Cook to save me from myself. I was thinking that maybe he's not my type too, but on second thought, even if he's not exactly lawyer-articulate or law school-intelligent, he's still articulate and intelligent, he writes better than many people I know (and we all know how important it is to me, a guy's ability to write), he has a killer voice, he is a musician and we all know how I dig guys with an artistic side or are artistic period, and he's worldly enough to provide me with interesting conversations. COME TO SINGAPORE, DAVID, AND BE MY SAVIOUR! I can't have my heart broken by yet another one of those...types.
Human beings are quite retarded. Or maybe it's just me.
2. Non-Cook Content #2
Dinner with the Bitch Club was fun and I didn't even realise how much I've missed them until we finally got together.
Okay, I'm really not in a writing mood right now and I'm really amazed that I managed to write this much, and it's damn hot so I'm going to swim, so I'll just say that I love my friends. Yay!
Title of entry from David Cook's Silver
Edited to add at 5.48 p.m.:
OMFG my entire body has turned to jelly from the swim and I'm currently deaf in my left ear.
On another note, I still remember that I have this paper that I intended to get published but um, unsurprisingly and predictably, I haven't done any work on it since, like, last December. I really want to work on it but I honestly don't know what to do about it and I need to talk to him. Should I email my prof now or when I come back from June?