Contents

• 1 The magical princess
• 2 Step up to the wave
• 3 Save me the embarrassment
• 4 Princess from the undead
• 5 To be or not to be
• 6 My future decided
• 7 Hollywood nightlife
• 8 Attack on the order of the bears
• 9 Kiss and tell

The magical princess

Once upon a time there lived a pauper by the name of Jeremy, and a magical princess by the name of Selena.  (Well, at least so they wanted to play along as if it were the case  to make a great story .)  Now note that when I say “magical”, I’m not referring to the poetic personification of magnificence, or some other televised subrogation of enchantment of whose dominant purpose is the bottom line rather than reenactment of reality by way of storytelling.  My friends and fellow Waverlyans, what I’m describing to you is what was thought to be a long lost art, of which only one line, the true Royal bloodline carries: her Royal Highness, Selena Marie Gomez.  Though the power within herself, neither her, nor her people, were ever aware of it.

Every day, Princess Selena would be ushered along the streets of Waverly Place, and Jeremy was startled at her beauty, glory, and passion.  Sure there were paparazzi trying to catch a glimpse of her beauty, and crowds of fans who wanted to be Selena, Jeremy never missed a day when she passed by, wondering whether, just whether, Selena Gomez would ever become Selena Shum (though he never spoke of this aloud, because it was prohibited).

Her Royal Highness, though only fourteen years of age, was a great ruler.  Though she was incredibly young, she quickly rose in stature and in recognition among the people for her fair judgments in the House of Lords, where she sat is Chief Justice: And her name on thousands of manuscripts: “Gomez CJ” (this is the short hand for referring to a Chief Justice of the House of Lords).  God had provided Selena with indescribable wisdom, and she ruled with honor, and most importantly of all: integrity.  Upon death of her father, King Triton, because Selena had no brother, and was the oldest of six sisters, she took the throne.

The life of Jeremy the Pauper was somewhat different.  To say that Jeremy and Selena were from different universes would be a metaphor that only starts to cover the difference between the lifestyles of Selena and Jeremy.  Every day, seventeen year old Jeremy had to wake up and tirelessly slave away at his job at the (to be) Cinderella Chapel, where he worked as a builder.  Each morning, Jeremy had to wake up at 5am in the morning, and build what was to become Cinderella Chapel, which would continue until 12am at night.  Sometimes, Jeremy didn’t even get the time to sleep, though each day around 1pm as Selena was out there to greet the people, Jeremy’s mind always wondered off, with the idea that he and Selena could somehow be together.  But he knew that was impossible.  Not only was the consideration so ridiculous that it could never eventuate, but if anybody knew about it, he would be locked away and thrown in to Dragon Dungeon (and not even one person who entered Dragon Dungeon has been seen coming out), and it was for the simple reason that he was a Pauper, and she was a Princess.

“Waaaaaaaahh waaaaaahhh I want my mommy,” Todd ridiculed as he walked past, as Jeremy was slaving away at Cinderella Chapel.  ”So you still think Princess Selena is going to even consider slime like you?  I might just find to it, that Selena finds out how much of a loser you are – you better look out for what’s coming your way!”

“Yeah what a loser,” Troy, one of Todd’s close friends repeated, as he knocked down one of the bricks that Jeremy had laid.

As soon as they left, Jeremy burst in to tears not knowing what to think.  He knew he only worked this hard because of his dream.  His whole heart’s desire was to meet Selena, and he knew that if he could ever just touch her, his whole life could change.  If only he could work as her servant, working on her castle, the Waverly Castle, people would realize that he wasn’t just an ordinary boy, but that there was someone inside of him that was extraordinary who could escape.

“I’m gonna find her whom my soul loveth, and when I do, I’m gonna hold her, and not let her go,” Jeremy said to himself.

Ten years later…

To say time goes by fast is the least that could be said about the precious commodity.  After finishing high school at fifteen, Jeremy entered the trade of commerce, dealing in the financial markets, later taking on to study the law in all the priestly eleven: criminal, tort, contract, property, equity, administrative, constitutiona, civil, evidence, company, and ethics.  By the age of nineteen, he became an apprentice and studied the physical and chemical sciences.  On completion of the physical sciences, he went to study the biological sciences, all of which he completed by the age of twenty five.

But Jeremy was now aged twenty seven, and, well, Jeremy still lived with Mandy, his house mate (and also best friend).  Jeremy was three years Mandy’s junior (who was thirty), but they had met each other at a service at Cinderella Chapel, where they were first acquainted.  But no, don’t get the wrong idea!  Though it is true that Jeremy thought that Mandy was hot (and Mandy, well, also had a tiny crush on Jeremy), Jeremy spoke of Princess Selena all day.

Mandy was in fact closer to Princess Selena than Jeremy was though.  She worked as a maid at Waverly Castle, and she was best friends with Miley, who was a close friend of Her Majesty Princess Selena.  So by mutual friendship, Jeremy thought, he was only a couple of connections away from Selena (though note that this did not mean that it was at all “proper” for Jeremy to approach Princess Selena under any circumstance, and attempts could see him imprisoned for life!).

Amanda was a funny girl, she had dark brunette hair, skin that was relatively tanned, and she looked pretty in, well, basically anything.  She and Jeremy had been attending Cinderella Chapel since it was completed ten years ago, and they had shared all sorts of secrets, failures, and successes.

The relationship wasn’t always this great however.  Jeremy had once told Mandy, “You know we’re friends and stuff, but I think when I get married we’re gonna have to break up”.

“Well then you can just stuff our friendship then,” Mandy replied.

“No, what I mean is, when I get married I’m going to commit myself to my wife, and so it’ll be awkward if I’m still friends with a girl.  I think you’re just going to need to become very good friends with my wife.  Agreed?”

“Well yeah, but you can’t just dump me okay?” Mandy replied.

“I’ll see what my future wife says ok?” Jeremy replied.

Mandy was one of the nicest people Jeremy had ever met.  Their interests matched well, she loved fashion (Jeremy called her “fashionista”), and was in to healthy dieting and exercising, all of which Jeremy was in to.  Thank goodness Jeremy didn’t live with another boy, because they would’ve had a nightmare with his intricate preferences.

But the question did pop up between Mandy and Jeremy once.

“Do you have the hots for me Mandy?”

Jeremy asked this because in class one time, Jeremy had asked Mandy what she thought of him, and she wrote down the words “hot”, thought about it for about five seconds, scribbled it out, and rewrote “good looks” and “good personality”.

“Umm, well do you have the hots for me Jeremy?” Mandy replied.

“I don’t know, do you have the hots for me?” Jeremy replied.

“I thought you liked Princess Selena?” Mandy queried.

“Well I do, but say for instance if by the age of thirty I don’t get married, do you wanna hook up?”

Mandy didn’t say much.  Even though Jeremy himself started to doubt whether he and Princess Selena would ever be an item, Mandy worked at the Castle, and she knew Jeremy had as much opportunity at Selena as every other boy in the kingdom had, despite that he was a pauper.

“Hey, let’s go out to McBronald’s,” Mandy said.

“I don’t want to get fat though…  Because then Selena will think I’m an ugly duckling, am fat, and have a bad voice!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Jeremy, you’re not fat,” Mandy reassured him rolling her eyes.

“Shut up!!!” Jeremy remarked, “you can say that because you’re a size six and you’re so amaaaaaaaaazingly pretty – but not as pretty as Selena, of course”.

“Seriously Jeremy, you’re not fat, or ugly.”

“Shut up Mandy, you’re just saying that because you’re my friend, it’s so obvious.”

“Okay, what about we just go to Subway then?” Mandy suggested.

To say that Jeremy was a drama queen (or should  I say king) was an understatement.  The definition of a generation y teenager, Jeremy was just that: obsessed with reaaaaaaaally tight skinny leg jeans (so much so that another one of his friends, Zac, once said “Are you gay? Because dude, you have really tight jeans!!!)

Step up to the wave

Overview: Backstory of how Professor Shum fought odds winning the “Step Up 2 The Wave” competition, where he subsequently became Special Agent Shum, with the help of his BFF Mandy.
“Today class, we will be studying the thermodynamics of the latest nanobot from The Walt Disney Company,” Jeremy started in lecture theater GP1-03, the largest auditorium on campus, which fit a total of up to 1000 students, though the class was maybe, 800 students or so.  Many students though, brought their friends, and the lecture theater was almost filled to its extent.

Although successful as a University engineering professor, Jeremy was unsatisfied with being just another worker in the Waverly Place.  He was committed to one day getting the hand of Princess Selena, although he didn’t know how that would happen.

That afternoon, after class had finished, although Jeremy thought it would be another average day, little did he know that his chance was approaching.

As he passed out from GP1-03 and walked through the waiting area, he noticed a poster which had been blutacked to the wall, with the words “Step Up 2 The Wave”.  Grabbing his iPhone out, he immediately jotted down the details, because it was an opportunity to work with MI5, which was the special force that protected Princess Selena.  Decennial, meaning every ten years, a competition would be held for new recruitments to MI5 of people from “The Commons”, but only those with the absolute top notch physique and mentality could apply.  The last time it was on, Jeremy was seventeen, not yet eighteen, so he couldn’t apply.  This was the first time he would have an opportunity.

The competition of “Step Up” was different every ten years.  This decennial, the competition was to be based upon a dance battle.  Jeremy was trained in many arts, but dance was not one of them.  His BFF Mandy though, was a brilliant dancer, because her mother had taught her since a young age.

‘Oh hi Jeremy’, I said, excitedly. Was I too obvious? Did I sound too desperate for friends? Maybe he’d think I was a loser? What did he think of me? Would he think I’m an ugly duckling? Maybe even fat? You see, we were in grade ten, and it was everybody’s first year of being a senior, and nobody at the school knew each other. We didn’t meet much people in week one, far it was only filled with wondrous tours of our school to be.

‘Hi Miley’, Jeremy replies, seemingly overwhelmed by the first week of school, ‘how’s school going?’

‘It’s going good,’ I shrugged. It sure didn’t sound so in my voice.

‘Let’s go and get some recess’, he says, smiling, realizing things weren’t going as well for me as I’d hoped. I guess you could say I am that emotional type of girl. I never got into the hand-cutting thing because I mean, what do you get out of it? However, I’d always secretly go into the toilets and have cries in between lessons; despite I don’t think anybody knew.

‘Sure’, I said, ‘Actually I’ve got to put my books into my locker; can you please save me a place in the line?’ No. What was I doing? I had just opened myself to the chance of being rejected. What if Jeremy were to reject my request? What if when I got back the others in the line didn’t let me in with Jeremy and told me not to push in? This surely wasn’t my day.

‘Yeah that’s fine’, he said gleefully.

It didn’t take me long to return, and I slipped into the line next to Jeremy with no problems, Sometimes, I just wonder how much we worry about things that never come to pass – it’s almost like our happiness depends on the acceptance of others.

The teacher counted the next five in. You see, our school canteen was quite small, and to prevent theft, the canteen only allows around twelve or so odd people in there at once. I then tried to predict whether the teacher would let us in, for the number the teacher let in wasn’t always five. It was arbitrary, and often depended on the benevolence of the teacher. Bad teacher and it would seem the entrance pass would always extend to the person just before you; good teacher and you would always seem to be the last person to be allowed in the canteen.

It was a grumpy looking blonde woman, who looked like the serious sort of person. She looked like the sort of person who may have been good looking when she was younger (but probably still quite serious); but still not the sort you could imagine being married to an ordinary man. However, to define an ordinary man in his forties is impossible. I just can’t see how any woman could find them attractive.

‘Okay, next five’, the teacher utters in a rather whisky tone, counting the next five. It seemed like me and Jeremy was so dose to the front that this would be both our turns. We quickly scurried forward. Jeremy takes one-step past the teacher with no problem, with me tailing him. No problem. He takes another one. He is clearly past the teacher, but then the unthinkable occurs. The teachers hand drops right in front of me.

‘That’s it, Miss’, she says. I couldn’t believe it. My newfound friend and I would be separated, like Romeo and Juliet in Romeo & Juliet, or Mr. Darcy and Miss. Bennett in Pride & Prejudice. Unbelievable! How could an education system, which vows to teach children, attempt to destroy the social psychology of young teens by ripping one from another?

A tear left my eye, and I dropped my head, so that my light brunette hair covered my face. I had spent hours on my makeup but I knew my tears would ruin all of the work I had put in. My mascara wasn’t waterproof, and nor was my eyeliner. I rubbed my eyes with my palms, trying to cover my eyes so nobody would see me in tears. Suddenly I felt a tug on my hands. I didn’t want to know who it was, for nobody could make it better. Who knew me or wanted me at school anyway? Lifting my head slightly, realized it was Jeremy.

”But…’’ I said, trying to figure out why he wasn’t in the canteen, such as whether the evil teacher had asked him to come back out whilst I was crying.

‘It’s okay’, he says, I’m here for you’. That was all needed to hear. I put my arms over him and rested my head on his shoulder.

‘You can go in as well’, the teacher says, rolling her eyes backward. Maybe she wasn’t as mean after all.

Jeremy had come to me and had rescued me and I was grateful. We have been great friends since. The canteen was one of our favorite places to hang out at school, as they stocked the yummiest muffins in the whole of Franklin, which won first place in the Tennessee State Fair, dubbed the ‘Moo Shoo Muffins’, Isn’t that such a hilarious name? I have no idea why it was named after the little dragon from Mulan, but they are some delicious muffins.

Mandy was my other dose friend. I had first met her in math’s class. She’s one really smart cookie, but she’s also extremely pretty. She’s a brown-haired person, but her hair’s a lot darker than mine is is. In addition, my eyes are a lot more grey and blue than her greener eyes. Probably the only similarity is our ceramic straight hair that rolls down to our back.

I had met her back in Week 1 however. Like her. I’d always liked math’s, since I was good at it, and I usually got on with the teachers, they’d let us talk in class whilst doing work, and once I’d had finished my work, the teachers let us do things we liked, such as making paper airplanes, and playing with our tech decks.

My classroom was in the A-Block, which was near the front of the school. It was still quite early in the morning, early in the week, and despite it was a little windy outside, the sun was up, and shone through the window, illuminating the reasonably sized room naturally. The room had an old school blackboard, and was painted all white. There was a door to the front left of the room, which seemed to be a doorway to the classroom next door.

I was running late. The lesson said ‘10:00am’ but it was already 10:06am. It was the first lesson of mathematics at the new school, and I’d be late? What would the teacher think of me? I’d have to make up an excuse. I guess it really wasn’t my fault, for I had no idea where or what ‘A2’ was. You see, in Junior High, we didn’t go around to different rooms for lessons – all of the lessons were in the one room, with the one teacher. How was I supposed to know ‘A2’ meant A-Block, Room 27 I had to prepare my extensive speech in my mind, which I would present to the class, like the Abraham Lincoln’s address to the United States Congress?

Moreover, there it was ‘A2’ in large print on a piece of white plastic nailed to the door. I peeked through the door to see my embarrassment. I saw most of the seats filled with students, so I was a little worried. However, the teacher didn’t seem to be there.

‘Move it little girl’, I heard from behind me, as they pushed me to the side. It was some fat kid. Gosh, why can’t people these days get some manners? I walked in after him, a little worried. The seats seemed to be all filled up. Moreover, it seemed like it would be harder to get a seat than it would be in a game of musical chairs.

The fat kid walked up to the back, and not wanting to sit next to him, and not seeing many free seats around anyway, I walked in a perpendicular direction across the front of the classroom. I hoped the entire class didn’t see me, for I only wanted a seat. At least I wouldn’t have to do my Lincoln speech.

‘Hey, sit here’, I hear a voice. Had I known somebody from the school? I quickly turned to see whoever made the remark.

‘Hi there, there’s nobody sitting here, do you want to sit here?’ she says, whilst moving her bag off the chair to her right. She was pretty; amazingly pretty actually; the sort of girl that every person would like. She seemed nice, but also a bit of a rebel.

‘Sure’, I reply, unsure why a girl as pretty and popular as her would be interested in me.

‘I’m Mandy’, she says.

‘Hi, I’m Miley’, I reply smiling.

‘So Miley’, what’s up?’

‘Not much, you know – school’, I reply.

The door in front of us suddenly swings open; and a little clean-shaven man, with glasses the size of his face, in his mid fifties walks out.

‘Hi class’, he says. The whole room silences.

‘My name is Mr. Mercury and I will be taking t his Year 10 math’s class.’

After explaining to us the details of the first chapter of Year 10 mathematics – moderately difficult arithmetic, we are given time to work. The chatter in the room increases, and people start moving around, ‘Ouch’. I said quietly, reacting to something that hit my head. What was it? In addition, who could have a grudge on me already, I thought to myself. Looking down at the ground, it was half a rubber, somebody threw at me. Turning around, the fatty from earlier laughs.

‘What’s your problem?’ he exclaims

I quickly look forward, knowing that I will burst out into tears any

second and my newfound friend will discover I am a newfound freak. Crying was the last thing I could do to introduce myself to Mandy. After all, I had been given the opportunity to become friends with the hottest, most popular girl on the planet -I couldn’t let an eraser sacrifice all that.

My eyes began to swell with tears. Miss Popular was sure to desert me. She’d probably think I’m a crybaby, a wimpy whore, a sobbing slut.

‘Hey, what’s wrong’, I hear as Mandy pulls my left hand away from my red eyes.

‘Nothing’, I say.

The fatty, who threw the eraser at me, and his friends, are now all laughing.

‘Look fatty’, Mandy turns around saying, ‘stop being a prick, and find something useful like losing some weight on America’s Biggest loser, rather than being a girl basher.’ I couldn’t believe it. Mandy actually stuck up for me.

‘Here you go Miley’, she says, handing over a few tissues, ‘everything’s okay’.

‘Thank you Mandy’, I stutter.

I surely couldn’t find a better friend. Literally love at first sight; and we have been BFF’s ever since.

As if that wasn’t cool enough, Mandy and Jeremy are best of friends, and should I say, I reckon, more than just friends do. I’ve always thought Jeremy was hot, but since we’re so close, he’s like my brother, and I’m just happy that he and Mandy have it going on.

Save me the embarrassment

“Oh my goodness Mandy, I think I’ve traveled back in time, it’s 2007 right now isn’t it?”
“Yeah so for some reason I’m still thirty, you’re seventeen, not twenty seven, sure Jeremy, really convincing.”

“What, you’re not twenty?” Jeremy giggled, he knew his time travel was a failure.

“If only I could be seventeen again, I could have changed everything that is my life now.”

Save me the embarrassment.

‘Mom’, I exclaimed, ‘You’re not coming with me in that’. It’s not like one day I grew up, and wanted to discard my parents. No. It’s just that they don’t understand me. My Dinosaur mother just didn’t go through what I’m going through, and to have your mom dressed in daggy clothes was the last thing a fifteen-year-old girl needed.

‘Bad news’, dad enters into the room declaring.

‘I’m adopted’, I taunted.

‘It looks like we may need to sell some of our belongings to cover the rent for the house’, dad continues. I started to begin to envision  all of the things I had come to store up over my teen years, and what  sort of prioritization I could afford in discarding my somewhat less- needed items.

‘This is the worse I’ve ever been treated in life’, I exclaim thundering out of the lounge, into the study.

‘Wait until you get married’, mom exclaims.

‘Miles, can we talk?’ dad says.

‘God, what?’ I shout, pulling my right earplug out of my ear.

‘Forgot, dad should leave message on daughter’s MySpace rather than addressing her’, he mutters quietly to himself.

‘Oi’, I scream, as the revving on my annoying little brother’s Playstation blots out all of the noise in the house, ‘stop playing your stupid little car games’.

It’s not so much that I was an angst or hormonal teenager, or maybe it was, but if everyone around me could shut up and stop annoying me, maybe I wouldn’t be a pissed off so-called ‘typical’ teenager. After all, its thanks a lot to the Industrial Revolution that young people were displaced, causing the social construction of the categorization of ‘adolescence’.

‘Listen, I know I said I was going to buy you the new iPhone 3G’, dad continues, ‘but it seems like we are a bit tight on the budget, so…’

‘I was going to show it to all my friends so they wouldn’t think we’re that pov’, I interrupted, ‘Nice one dad – Thanks!’ I exclaim.

Mom was finally ready to head out. Not entirely, what you’d call exquisite or elegant, but at least endurable.

You see, we were going out shopping, and I had always fretted about shopping with my mother. Boys all know that girls one day turn out like their mothers, and imagine if a boy saw me with my mom. God, such depressive deliberation should not even come into the mind of a teen.

Anyway, the ride was great for it was a bright sunny day, and we were heading out to Chapel St Mall, which was the biggest, brightest, and best shopping precinct in town.

‘You look a bit emo today’, mom said as her eyes met mine, which received a tremendously ample application of black outliner this morning.

‘Emo?’ I taunt, ‘More like emo-mazing’.

Soon, we arrived at Chapel St Mall, and had found a free car park close by.

‘One small step for Miley’, I said stepping out of the car, ‘But one large step for Mankind’, I chuckled, and feeling fictitiously fantastic, but unsure as to whether what I had just said actually made any sense.

As I was about to race into the Atlantis of Shopping Malls, through the car park, before actually distancing five odd meters from our car, I find myself lying on the bitumen after knocking into a rather pale girl.

‘I’m sorry’, I quickly declare, trying to get myself off the ground and wiping my dusty hands on my skirt. The girl also lifts herself off the ground slowly.

‘I’m –’

‘Sara?’ I interrupted. I had seen her several times at school before, but I had never really talked with her for she was from a different cliché than me.

‘Oh no’, my mom cries out from behind, staring into her phone.

‘What?’ I sneered, ‘You just received an SMS from a space zombie from Pluto asking you to return to Planet Too-Too?’

‘Miley, I’m really sorry about this, but it looks like I will need to head off to work for an unexpected meeting which seems to involve a presentation to one of our biggest clients so I’m going to need to head off – have fun with uh–’.

‘Sara’, she says finishing off mom’s sentence.

I vowed to myself for the last time that if I were ever to become a mother, I’d be a real mom; one who actually cared more about the title of parent than the one on her business card.

Anyway, introduce yourself to Sara the Book Worm. Head honcho of the Pacific Coast High Book Club. I hated books with a passion, and in particular, the King and Queen of book land: the ‘book worms’. Sara wasn’t exactly ugly. She was hot, minus the braces; the fashion, hair and make-up, and maybe the fragrance…

‘And I have this massive dream where Jeremy Shum, who gets za ladies…’

‘Shut up Jeremy,’ she said butt in before I could finish my sentence, ‘you so do not’.

‘Why does everybody say that,’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she giggled.

‘Anyway, I was wondering

What did the pen say to the pencil?

What’s your point?

Princess from the undead

‘Where’s my novel Princess of the Undead?’ I thought to myself scurrying through a pile of books that I had taken out of my bag, which seemed to be somewhat comparable to the height, and shape, of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
‘Have you lost something’, Mandy calls from the desk beside me.

‘Yes’, I exclaimed, ‘my social life’.

It was English, and I was in year twelve, and approaching the end of the year: the forever-dreaded SAT’s were coming up soon. I don’t know why SAT stood for Schools Admissions Test, since for every normal student, excluding book worms, which I couldn’t properly provide representation for, stood for something more like the Sick and Twisted.

There was probably no subject I hated with a passion more than English. Our teacher, Ms. Mattiske, was, I guess, fairly nice, but a rather hard marker. Moreover, to reiterate what I mean by ‘hard marker’, if you were to score above eighty-five percent, which was an A, you would be William Shakespeare.

‘So hydrogen and oxygen are getting a drink, and gold walks in, and they go ‘Au, get out of the bar’’, Jeremy says walking pass the front of my desk and through the side to the seat behind me, ‘Because, you know, Au is the atomic symbol for gold’, Jeremy clarifies.

‘Ah, ha, ha’, Mandy taunts.

‘Someone’s looking towards the SAT’, I say in a rather rhetorical tone.

‘Oh, look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning’, Jeremy laughs.

‘You know what Miley’, Mandy says, ‘many people think these SAT questions are difficult; Not me.’

‘No?’ I gasp.

‘No’, she replies, ‘These questions all have answers’.

To be or not to be

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of an imaginative mind must be in want of a good wife.
‘Things I’d like in a girl,’ Jeremy wrote down in his notepad, as he dwelled into the question, which I really had no interest in.

To imagine the statistical probability of meeting the one meant for you, if there is such a thing, is almost an inverse googolplex, I thought to myself. As the number googol was a rather large number, one with a hundred zeros following to be exact, the inverse of this rather large number would be rather close to zero.

You see, the mathematical definition of ‘probability’ is the occurrence of a ‘match’ divided by the number of potential possibilities. Given that the population of English-speaking countries (USA, UK, Canada, Australia, Ireland, New Zealand, India, Philippines, and South Africa) is at any one time 1.4 billion (and growing), because the typical ratio of male to female is approximately 1.06, the world population of women is approximately 680 million. Given a male would target females with a standard deviation of age five years older or younger; this would refer to a range of the female population within a range of 10 years. Assuming that at any one time 15% of the population will be within this age range, the concatenated population still equals a whopping 100 million. As an example of a comparison, the probability of winning a lottery is usually around one to 65 million. In other words, finding ‘the one’ is potentially twice as hard as winning the lottery.

To find just one girl to spend the remaining forty to eighty years of a boy’s life at the mere age of twenty is just an unbelievable idea, but yet something that the market performs to do, nearly just as effectively as the job market.

Despite there are more men than women, I thought, it is so much more difficult for a girl to find a good boy, than vice versa.

Anyway, it is unanimously agreed in statistics that a sample size of root (two) of the population, can be considered representative of the population. Although only a sample size of 10,000 English-speaking teenage girls is required, this is still maybe a more difficult investigation to complete as first thought.

Have you noticed however, that even if, a thousand girls had passed one by, maybe only a dozen or so have the ‘it’ factor? Maybe then, jotting down the attributions of girls I liked, I could find common traits I liked.

‘Kiera Knightly,’ Jeremy said.

‘Super anorexic with no personality?’ I remarked.

‘Awesome British accent and skinny’

Boys certainly overrate dating Ms Knightly. Her personality, I had seen from many movies, was rather unsatisfying. However, maybe this was their imagination, capable of the concoction of the shopping for selective genetic features.

‘Cameron Diaz, perfect smile and funny.’

More like slutty. Despite Ms. Diaz had an unbelievably cool smile, an overly dazzling personality that would keep boys laughing for hours; it wasn’t too long ago that she released semi-nude porn. Maybe the idea would be a girl like that would even replace cable.

‘Anne Hathaway, dark straight hair.’

‘What about Sophie?’ I asked.

You see, Sophie Winzar was Jeremy’s best friend, who sported blonde hair.

He had explained it to me before. Being brunette myself, I found the remark offensive when he first told me. However, he explained it was not a slut in actuality, but those who dress and pretend to be like it.

In fact, I remembered when Jeremy made the remark to an Uncle at Church who worked as the Marketing Manager at the Walt Disney Company, who told him his wife overheard the conversation, and wanted to give Jeremy a good slap.

‘Sophie Winzar’, he finally finished with.

As Jeremy’s best friend, I thought he would probably include her.

He told me the back-story nearly a million times. He must have the memory span of a fish, five seconds, or so, because he repeats himself quite a bit.

Anyway, he was friends with this young lass initially because he thought she was rather ‘hot’ (whatever that means), but then he meets another girl, and talks to this girl he used to like (but no longer do) about the new girl that he now likes. Then later they act as if they never had thoughts of each other, but both of you deep down have that awkward moment between each other?

He actually liked her for many reasons, if not simply for the fact that they get along like magic. Maybe there is this unspoken law where one gets along with one’s friend only because they find some of her attributes most important in a potential partner.

‘Jeremy,’ I then thought, ‘can’t shut up, hyperactive, imaginative, energetic, and crazy’.

Back to Sophie, she was a bit of a klutz, pretty nice and positive, but I knew most important of all to him, Godly.

Jeremy made it a tradition to talk about his Sophie story as often as possible. It was in the computer room at school. He was ultra-hyperactive that day and decided that he wanted to get girl attention. I think it must be some sort of social interaction between groups of young boys, where the boys have some sort of untold of competition to grab the attention of the girl. Apparently, he was far too embarrassed just to go up and talk to Sophie randomly, so he ditched a pencil from one side of the room to the other. Ducking immediately down, he almost expected her to come over to my side of the room shortly thereafter to complain of the dangerousness of his actions. This never resulted, however. Later asking her what she thought about it, she actually told me she never knew of it.

Thinking that she knew he threw a pencil and ignored it, he talked to my friends about how amazingly hot she was (though he never actually saw her face; only saw the back of her head).

As she was leaving the room, he said a quick ‘bye’ and she responded with ‘bye’ as well.

As random as it would seem, she came back bursting into the room thirty seconds later, came up to his computer, and asked him if I knew where ‘Queen Victoria Hospital’ was.

Discovering they were later in similar classes, he was from then forth friends.

My future decided

There is always this ‘moment’ where everything in life is decided. Maybe it was in year twelve, maybe it had to be years later, maybe it was an event under your control, maybe not; but there is a time in your life where the whole course of your life is decided.
It is surely an interesting observation, that in life, sometimes, the most effective strategic moves we can make are those that we do not intend to happen. We just go on living life, entering doors that open, leaving behind the ones that have closed, and your dreams just come true.

It is commonly said that there are two guarantees in life: (1) taxes, and (2) death. Despite the blatant omission of other probable choices such as contractual warrantees, and acts of God, why does society fret the Armageddon of these two matters more than any other? Although little can be said for underlying reasons for societal psychology, perhaps the question of fear can be quickly overcome if only one found the perfect antidote: education.

Taxes are administered to literally every aspect of society. Even Capital Gains, is taxed today. However, nobody put it better than Benjamin Franklin who observed that nobody can ‘take’ what man has emptied into his head. Knowledge learnt, is the tree of life that humankind has been searching for indefinitely: non-taxable!

Further, knowledge is free from death. As one generation passes the knowledge to the next, knowledge transcends time and thus from death!

The Chinese mastered the politics of education before any other civilization. Education is only as effective as the numbers who study for it, and although realized the national good was expensive, knew very well that ignorance would be even more expensive.

Early schools though, saw the dual objective of study. As we move into a knowledge-based economy, there is a lie being spread that education is only for making a living. No, early schools knew that education was also for living, and classes such as etiquette, ethics, theology, and philosophy were readily abound.

Having reached a mid-life crisis realization of lost fundamentals of the early schools, many institutions are scavenging back into history to find other pedagogical treasures they may have lost.

For this very reason, medical schools have recently reverted from the 1900’s teaching-based structure back to the learning-based paradigm of the Athenian period. Problem-based learning now accounts for a much larger majority of the substantive course; and practical training is now a requirement.

We are just relearning what we forgot though: it is not what is taught; it is what is remembered, transferred, and used – that is, what is learnt.

Even before you step into Disneyland, you are greeted with an unusual looking train that takes you from reality into the dreaminess that is known as Disney. Secluded and with no more remnants of the surrounding plains, the noise of the five o’clock traffic of a major city has now changed into the teen pop jingle that is Disney. With all acting as reasoning actors in the Economy that is Disney, the King With No Overalls is all too abound, with kids too encapsulated by its glory to realize the reality: that it’s all unreal. What is being sold is in fact not happiness, but only hope. However, maybe hope is happiness; even the chief happiness?

Unwary of the war that is waged outside the Fortresses of Disneyland, warlords fight in the intellectual battle of hope and reality. Disney executives launch a box office bomb propagandizing that hope is a prerequisite for ‘dreams come true’; and realism maniacs complain to the United Nations’ International Court of Justice of unfair play, unreasonableness, and misleading conduct.

Whilst the ideological corporate war is waging, our homes deal with the same battle civilly. Older citizens, who have been victimized by the naivety that is hope, know all too well the fever that is known as disappointment. The more the child is drugged, the worse their fever will be, until eventually, they wake up to reality, too paralyzed to ever hope again. At least this was their story, factual to the tip.

Whereas there are 5.1 billion people on earth at this very moment, a Gallup Poll found that less than 3% have access to the world’s riches. Statistically then, most will never realize their dreams, and will only be greeted by the slow compromise and surrender of their fondest hopes.

As economists and actuaries make this dispiriting realization, parents just know better than to expose their children to the two-faced joker that all too disappointingly smacked them in the face.

On the deathbed of many of the world’s most successful, analysts have often asked what their strategies for success were. Whether it is success in chemistry, physics, physiology, or literacy, the answer is always the same: they believed in something when no one did, they hoped.

Without these dreamers, we would never have seen the victories that are known as Lincoln, Edison, Teresa, Disney, and Wilberforce. Martin Luther once stated, ‘Everything (important) that is done in the world is done by hope’.

If only society came to a holistic understanding of accomplishment that moved away from ‘me’ to ‘us’. To me, a thousand mining failures is worth the one that hits gold – and the winner has an obligation to celebrate his success with the thousand failures; just as the thousand failures have an obligation to keep as a good sport, hold that upper chin, and share in the victory of the winner: for he too, has won.

Once we gain a holistic view of success, I think that Man will realize that their greatest fear is not that they are weak and undesired, but that they are powerful beyond their imagination, and never had a jurisdictional right to constrain the Image of God.

Hollywood nightlife

“It’s either me, or that slut,” Miley swiped.
I have a theory that every person has a secret diary, where they put their deepest adventures, whether it is in writing, in conversation, or in thought. This was Jeremy’s secret diary, and he had no idea I was reading it.

I knew he had a bit of a thing for Selena Gomez, but as I flipped through his prayer diary, it was like page-after-page obsession with her.

‘Selena Shum’, he tested with ink on the pages, contrasting it alongside ‘Selena Gomez’, her would-be maiden name.

Pictures with her face Photoshopped with his, clearly, this was a scene from How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days.

Talk about romance, there was even a mathematical calculation, with mathematical inputs of seventeen (the age of Selena), and twenty (the age of Jeremy). Apparently, the statistical correlation between the two was considered in the six-sigma region.

As they say, love makes you crazy, doesn’t it?

It was difficult to believe that we were still friends even though we were out of high school. I was busy pursuing my singing career, Mandy touring with me, and Jeremy busy studying engineering and management at University. It’s hard to believe that it’s really only until after high school, do you realize how great high school was. All the funny moments in particular.

Nevertheless, this was the first time I had seen Jeremy in nearly five years. Graduating high school at fifteen, Jeremy had already been out of University for five years, and I and the Hannah Montana franchise had taken off.

‘Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it’s you Miley,’ he exclaimed walking in unexpectedly.

‘Aww hi,’ I responded, not expecting his entrance, with me awkwardly holding on to his ‘secret’ diary. I mean, as his best friend, don’t you think I would have been smarter than to be reading a diary labeled ‘secret’?

‘I’m sorry,’ I quickly added; as I realized his eyes looked down suspiciously to see what I was reading.

‘Nah it’s cool,’ he responded, ‘I was going to show you it anyway, easier than recalling all of those events hey.’

‘You are really in love with Selena Gomez aren’t you?’ I exclaimed to try to break the ice. Maybe that wasn’t the best entrance though, for a long time unseen friend. Maybe he had changed and wasn’t the same kind of guy I had known when I was a child.

‘Well she’s pretty, and I guess she’s pretty Godly,’ he added.

‘Yeah your babies would look so hot,’ I said.

I really didn’t know what I was saying. You know how when you are speaking to people sometimes, you are so excited, that you don’t even know what you are talking about? This was one of those occasions.

‘Yeah,’ he said giggling.

‘By the way, I think what you are doing is so great for God these days,’ he continued, ‘you can only do so much in ministry, but in the entertainment industry, you are reaching kids who ministers may never reach.’

‘So I guess you are the world’s biggest teen pop star’, he stated enthusiastically emphasizing the words ‘world’s biggest teen pop star’.

Rolling my eyes, I replied, ‘yeah, I think God is using me in exciting ways.’

‘Hey, what about you, what are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Umm…’ he started, ‘I uh… work as an engineering manager,’ he continued.

‘No way,’ that’s awesome, ‘I exclaimed.’

‘It is pretty cool,’ he said as his head looking down.

It’s not like I’m a special agent, but without training in forensics, I knew very clearly that Jeremy was not telling the whole truth, having known him for so long.

‘Hey we should go shopping,’ Jeremy said.

‘All the shops are closed though,’ I remarked, since it was already late at night at around 10pm.

‘I know, which is great,’ Jeremy replied, ‘because we can go out in the secret!’

I chuckled aloud, as I knew he was making reference to the Hannah/Miley life I portrayed on television.

‘Okay, we’ll go out in secret,” I exclaimed.

It was so cool that we both finally had our license. In addition, I do know at Church they say you shouldn’t go hanging out with a guy just a boy and a girl, but because we’d known each other since high school, he was one of the guys I could actually trust.

‘I got a question,’ Jeremy said as he was driving through the dark, seeing what was open, ‘how do you know which girl is the right one?’

‘I don’t really know,’ I replied, ‘I thought Justin Wilde was the guy, and we eventually split up.’

‘Do you reckon God has provided us with the one, or do you think God lets us go around finding someone who’s suitable, and we commit to them?’ I ask.

‘I guess it’s a combination of both,’ he replies, ‘what do you look for?’

I knew the exact sort of guy I liked; I spent hour’s journaling, and re-journaling, until I refined the list perfectly.

‘SPECIAL AGENT SHUM,’ the sheet of paper stated. My goodness, could Jeremy be a secret agent?

Attack on the order of the bears

“I will destroy you with my latest contraption, the Disney-inator-inator,” exclaimed the evil scientist Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz.
“Wait a second,” Jeremy replied, “I thought you were a Disney mascot.”

Pulling his mask off, Heinz Doofenshmirtz revealed himself as Nickelodeon/CBS boss Leslie Moon.  Once again, a new technology that proves CBS has once again beat Disney, “muahahahaha,” he continues.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Jeremy begged the evil Dr. Doofenshmirtz of the Order of Nickelodeon, falling front down with his knees bent and head facing the ground, hands covering his ears.

“Battle utosis,” Selena Gomez suddenly exclaims as she blows open a slot of rocket right behind Jeremy.

With another blow, “Battle utosis,” Selena pushes Dr. Doofenshmirtz back twenty yards or so.”

“Ah-me-ka-me-ya!” Selena exclaims as she creates a huge ball of energy and blasts it at Dr. Doofenshmirtz.

As the smoke dissipated, both Selena and Jeremy looked attentively at what was of Dr. Doofenshmirtz.

Still not knowing it was Jeremy, Selena pulled off Jeremy’s mask, “whaaaat, Jeremy??”

Selena and Jeremy both made eye contact.

“It’s okay,” Selena replied.

By this time, it had become evident to everyone that Dr. Doofenshmirtz was no more.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Selena said, as Jeremy fainted in the arms of Princess Selena.

Kiss and tell

Princess Selena was waiting by as Jeremy slowly recovered.  She stayed in his room to look after him the entire time, bringing in flowers and decorating his room, making it just about as stunning as a Disney holiday hotel.

As Jeremy moved and began to yawn, Selena ran over to Jeremy’s side.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright,” Selena exclaimed.

“Where,” Jeremy began, “Where am I?”

Realizing he had nearly been defeated and that Princess Selena had almost saved his life, ”Why can’t I do anything successful in life?” Jeremy contemplated out loud.

“I’ve dreamed all my life that I could help you, Your Majesty, but yet in the darkest hour of our Kingdom, you were the hero, and I, just an anti-hero.”

“Who cares how stories are supposed to be, Jeremy.  I hate this tokenistic dichotomy between the masculine male, and the weak female.  So what if I saved you?  Isn’t that what friendship is about?  That if a friend is in trouble, the other friend helps?”

“But now everybody thinks I’m this heroic Agent J, and you know it’s just all a facade.”

“Shut up Jeremy,” Princess Selena said looking deep in to Jeremy’s eyes, “Sometimes a girl likes soft socks, I wished you were honest with me from the start, why did you lie about who you were to me?”

“You know what Selena, to tell you who I am, I’d have to know who I am: And I don’t know who I am, I mean, is that even ascertainable?  Or maybe, should it be ascertainable?”

“Eventually Selena, somebody is going to solve the impossible P=NP question (a Millennium Prize Problem which will award the winner $1m if they solve it).  The issue thus then, is not answering questions, but asking the right ones.  For thousands of year, mankind tried to solve questions relating to theology, but they got nowhere.  They were asking the wrong questions.  In the past hundred years, our economic system has forced mankind to answer questions relating to commerce, which has what has led to the extraordinary industrial revolution.”

“So then what is the right question then?” Selena asked, somewhat contemplatively.

This was Jeremy’s moment.  He knew the question he wanted to ask her, and he had two choices.  Was he to revert to the quiet Jeremy when he was growing up, or was he strong enough to face the biggest battle of them all, asking Princess Selena for her hand.

“Do you ever think there’d ever be a you and me?” Jeremy said with an undertone.

To Jeremy’s disappointment, there was a moment of awkward silence that led to an instant feeling of anxiety.

Biting her bottom lip, Selena looked down, gliding her eyes away from Jeremy.

“I,” Selena started.

“I, uhh,” Selena again attempted to start unsuccessfully.

“You know what an agent is, right?” Jeremy asks

“They do all sorts of wacky things with guns and do things for the good of mankind, right?” Selena responded.

“Agents, owe a fiduciary duty to the principle. I owe a fiduciary duty to you, and I have two legal responsibilities, the no profit and no conflict rule,” Jeremy starts.

“And falling in love breaches the core of what fiduciary relation is about.”

“Nawwwhh, forbidden love,” Selena interjects.

“Shut up Selena, you’re meant to be mean to your constituency, you’re a princess, gosh LOL!” Jeremy giggles.

Princess Selena smiled at Jeremy.

“What?” Jeremy asked, as his smile steeped even deeper in to his face.

“What do you think?” Princess Selena said.

“You’re not maaaaaaaaaaaaad at me are you?” Jeremy replied raising one eyebrow pretending as if he thought she was really mad at him.

Without saying another word, Selena leaned forward, and Jeremy bit softly on her lower lip.

Princess Selena was restored to her throne, and Jeremy had achieved his dream of marrying Selena, thus obtaining the title of Prince Jeremy of Waverly Place.
And they lived happily ever after.

The best way to prepare for exams is to go through past year examples. You should thoroughly read, discuss solutions, and understand the exercises completely.

For psychoanalytical exams, there are additional points you should consider:

• Be confident, which should include:
• Check out the test site before the exam
• Chose your breaks
• When they say “go”, take a 15 second break. This is because you’re so nervous, you start to read, and when you’re at the end of the passage, you notice you haven’t understood anything!
• Between each long passage (usually several questions relate to a single passage), have a 15 second break. Do this because if you don’t select when to break, your mind will do it automatically
• After finishing a block of long passage answers, transfer them to the answer sheet. This will prevent incorrect transfer, but also give you a short break.
• Note the time. When half time is, and you haven’t gone through half the paper, speed up
• Eliminate: Don’t focus on finding the right answer, but crossing out the wrong ones. First, cross out the obviously wrong answer. Then cross out the answer which is wrong with a bit of insight. From the final 2, guess the answer that most correctly answers the question, because:
• It doesn’t require additional information not found in the passage.
• It doesn’t have words that are too strong, such as “must”, “always”, “never”, “only”, etc
• Don’t skip questions: Questions that look hard may be easy, but questions that look easy may be hard. You don’t have the time to skip around.
• Sit upright, don’t lean back whilst taking the exam. Even when reading the passage, sit upright.
• During the breaks, exercise: wriggle your ankles, close your eyes, stretch muscles
• Think quickly and clearly, because of the pressure of time, which will leave most candidates an uncomfortable feeling when finished. Keep your mind on the ultimate goal, which is to finish as many questions as possible; not getting stuck on interesting passages, becoming obsessed with answering each question perfectly, or introducing your own ideas
• Write on the answer sheet. To ensure you move on after reading, feel free to cross out the words as you read them.
• Move on. If a question is taking you too long, You must move on from important questions with a guess.  Randomly choose one of the answers you haven’t cancelled out yet, then circle the question to come back if you have additional time at the end.
• Read to understand the main idea, like you do in a daily conversation, skipping words you don’t understand. The key to doing well is to understanding why the person is saying what they’re saying.
• Don’t go back to the passage. After reading a passage (to understand it), don’t go back to it. The right answer is usually not there, but you can be sure the wrong answers definitely will. Remember what you find hard, others will also find hard.
• Stamina, due to length of exam

The sum of angles in a triangle is always 180 degrees.

Since we know that the angles of the triangle add up to 180 degrees, we can work out what x is:

“So angles in a triangle always add up to 180 degrees?” Miley asked.

“Yep,” Jeremy responded.

“Always???” Miley wanted to confirm.

“Always,” Jeremy said, “just like your never-ending love of me <3″

Exterior angles can be calculated with the knowledge that angles on a line add up to 180 degrees.

Since we know that angles in a triangle add up to 180 degrees, we can calculate x as:

More complex examples

(exterior angle of a triangle)

Another example:

(angles of a triangle)

Another example:

Another example:

A triangle with 3 sides that are equal are called equilateral triangle, symbolized as:

A triangle with 2 sides that are equal are called an isosceles triangle, symbolized as:

“Hey Jeremy, you squished the triangle!” Miley said.

“That’s the point,” Jeremy replied, “2 sides are still the same, but 1 is not anymore!”

“I still think it was mean  ” Miley commented.

A triangle with no sides that are equal are called a scalene triangle, symbolized as:

Triangles with right angles are called right-angled triangles, symbolized as:

Triangles with 3 angles that are acute (below 90 degrees) are called acute triangles, symbolized as:

Triangles with 1 angle that is obtuse (larger than 90 degrees) are called obtuse triangles, symbolized as:

Remember from year 7 the principles of:

• Measuring angles
• Angles on a straight line
• Vertically opposite
• Parallel lines and Corresponding angles
• Alternate angles

In addition, you should be aware of co-interior angles. For example, in the angles:

Examples of co-interior angles are d and f, which add up to .