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Female Body

Hello fellow readers, this blog post will be a response to Manley's post on the female body.

Here's a link: http://ramblebamble.posterous.com/

It reminded me of a coworker I use to have after I read it. I once had a coworker who was very curvacious. I suppose some people could say that she was fat, but it didn't look like fat to me, it just looked like curves. She was also gorgeous, one of those Italian women with fine chiseled face, big lips and long, black straight hair that grew as fast as weeds.

But she wasn't happy with her body. She kept on emphasizing how she was 'working out' and kept on telling everyone that she did x amount of sit ups the night before. I never once thought that she had low self esteem, because in my head I always thought, "How can someone so gorgeous have low self esteem?!"

However, I should have clued in that she had low self esteem because of the way she talked. She kept on complaining about everyone and everything, and at times I couldn't quite tell whether she was serious with the snide remarks she was making to me.

Anyway, she was eventually fired. It wasn't until afterwards when someone else pointed out to me that she had a huge problem with her body image and had low self esteem. I was in shock. I would have never guessed, in a million years, that she would have had an issue with her body, since like I said, she was GORGEOUS.

So apparently, even gorgeous women have issues with their body. Personally, I've always been fine with my body. I use to be extremely shy, so the skinnier and more invisible I was, the better.

Also, a lot of women have issues with their chest size. My ex-coworker was very curvy, which also means that she also didn't have anything to complain about her chest size. But now that I think back, I think she may have a problem with that too, from the comments she would make.
(She often spoke in Italian to my other coworkers, which was very rude, I suppose it was to keep me out of the conversation. I could tell what she was always talking about though because she talked a lot with her hands.)

I guess it doesn't matter what size your chest is, you'll always have problems. I have come to terms with the fact that I'm flat chested: 1) I'll never have to worry about sagging, 2) I can see my feet when I look down and 3) I can fit into anything type of clothing I want.

To each their own. When it comes down to it, it's all about having the right amount of self esteem.

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Plagiarized

So I had Peter edit my rushed essay (To hear the story of how I met Peter, press 1, to continue reading me babbling about my life, press 2.) since I was worried that my essay sucked ballz.


I was re-reading the edited version of my essay just now, and here's the problem: IT IS TOO PERFECT. Holy crappers, like I have to give Peter an extra big tip or something, he polished my essay so much (grammatically, he didn't change any of the content) that it's shinny-ness and perfect grammar (something this blog is lacking) is killing me.

What do I do what do i do what do i doooooooo
What if my professor yells at me?!? What if he thinks I plagiarized?!? He's going to think "This essay is lacking grammatical mistakes, which is almost impossible for a stressed undergrad to achieve. PLAGIARIZED!"

Eeeekkkk! Though I'm making this into a laughing matter, I'm actually quite scared. What if this is the end of my undergrad career?!?

And although it's shinny and all, I'm afraid I'm still going to fail this paper because the content sucks!!! Oh Lord, just pls give me a B- ... that's all I'm asking for. Forget the A++, too late for that now, all I want is a B-.

Ok, calm down calm down calm down.

I was having a craptastic night since I got back my quiz from my class and I NEARLY FAILED since I apparently read the instructions wrong. I was really mad at myself. Like, EXTREMELY UPSET (Ask my sister, she witnessed the entire thing.) At least now I know for next time.

But then I got home and laughed a lot, all thanks to Tabitha and Colin. Yay for friends to provide laughter.

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Small Things

I found myself in bed this morning trying to cheer myself up. I gave myself a pep talk, starting with the little things.


I said: Ann, if you get up, you can watch an episode of the big bang theory. And you can have tea and adobo. Then you can curl your hair whichever way you like. And then you can talk to Annabelle. Then you can edit your essay, which really won't be that bad. Then you can call that Peter guy to edit your essay tomorrow. And then you can go to work and not have a sucky time.

I find these mini pep talks useful, if you start with the small things and go on from there, you'll realize that the situation you're in really isn't that bad.

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Slow and Steady Will Drive Me to My Grave

I feel like blogging in the middle of the night.


I was serving my favourite customer today (I'm being sarcastic) who shall be nicknamed 'Panty Knot' since she always acts like her lady undergarments are bunched up. I have had a long history with this customer. At first, we had a decent customer-sales associate relationship. I was amused with the thin, white mustache she always had on her upper lip (might be lipgloss, who knows) and the fact that my other coworkers feared her.

Secretly, I thought I could tame the knot with my winning smile and friendly service. Sadly, my noble quest of taming the shrew ended when she threw a shoebox across the counter and told me to go to hell when I refused to return an item she bought.

My encounters with Panty Knot gradually became worse, she accused me of having terrible service, threatened to never shop there anymore, cursed some more, yadda yadda yadda ....

So today, I was busy running around serving customers, when all the sudden I hear Panty Knot's voice saying, "Can I get service around here?! I'm not feeling well!"

I look up, and to my dismay, Panty Knot has approached the counter with her milky mustache. She then swings her cane over the counter and nearly hits the customer I was helping. Wanting to rid of her quickly, I followed these simple three steps:

1) Get her phone number
2) Have her pay
3) Give her the item

Usually, people do not complain about fast service, but like always, she had something to complain about.

Panty Knot says: "Slow down! I told you I'm not feeling well, why are you trying to rush me!"

I start feeling bad, since she could legitimately be sick. So I linger around while she inspects her item. She holds the unfortunate shirt up and turns it around. Then she puts it down on the counter, so I ask, "Is it ok?"

"Why are you trying to rush me!" She snaps.

"It's because you put your shirt down, so I assumed you were done looking at it!" I snap back.

I then divert my attention to someone else before we ended up yelling at each other across the counter.

Anyway, so after my shift, I reflected back on what Panty Knot said about my going too fast. She hasn't been the only one who has accused me of being fast lately. My siblings often have a hard time trying to keep up with me when I'm walking, then I did just write my essay really quickly, and I do have a bad habit of making fast decisions.

If I keep it up at this rate, I'm going to suffer some serious indigestion. This bad habit might be from the fact that society is always in such a fast pace, and that I'm afraid that if I slow down, I'll be left behind.

Tomorrow I'm going to challenge myself by being extra slow. I will eat slowly, talk to Panty Knot slowly, walk slowly and be extra patient. I am going to stop being in a hurry all the time and breath in the foggy air.

The only thing I refuse to slow down on is typing. Nothing is worse than a slow typer.

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Divine Providence

Sometimes I feel like things are just going too fast for me, or that I just work at a super speed pace and I'm doing things wrong.


I started to suspect that something might be wrong with me a couple of weeks ago (alright, this is a lie. I've always suspected something was wrong with me.) when I was writing this essay about polar ice caps and I finished it in one afternoon. I was like, "Wait, this can't be right, how did I finish this so fast?"

So I don't even know if I failed the essay or not because I skipped class yesterday to go to Snakes and Lattes with Matt and Manley, which means I never got my paper back. I may have completely bombed it, who knows.

Then this morning, I was writing my essay for Shakky, I started and finished it in a few rough hours. (Granted I did all the research beforehand, but putting it all together into words should take me longer)

Now I'm scared, why did I write it so fast?! Am I even doing this correctly?!? Is this going to be a F-- instead of A++? But seriously, when I try and slow down and write an essay slowly, I panic that I don't have enough time to write it and go super speed.

Then I read a friends blog and realized that maybe my fingers have been taken over by some divine providence and that God was typing my essay for me. Lord, if you took over my fingers and typed this essay for me, this better be an A++. (Kidding)

Ok, ignore this nonsense. I'm writing all this because I'm in panic mode.

So I've never really shared my desire to be a teacher when I grow up with you guys before, but the truth comes out now: I, as a typical of all English majors, am aspiring to be a teacher after I graduate. Although the thought of molding impressionable little minds into worthwhile citizens that I would want to live beside sounds appealing to me, I AM SCARED.

1) I am sacred that I will never get into teachers college. Panic panic panic.
2) I am scared that I don't know enough to teach them. (there's nothing worse than a stupid teacher.)
3) I am scared that I will never get into teachers college. Panic panic panic.

I guess my very rational fear of never getting accepted into teachers college is why I never want to talk about my future career choice. (Instead I tell everyone about my back up plan: Which is to work at Sears for the rest of my life) I freaked myself out in the bus the other day, when I was suddenly hit with the realization that I will have to apply NEXT YEAR and possibly be rejected by next year.

Deep breaths x 100.

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The time I failed using the Oxford English Dictionary

Another reason why I fail in life: I gave the online Oxford English Dictionary too much credit.


I went crazy yesterday trying to figure out how the Oxford English Dictionary could possibly give me historical data. Example of my stupidity: I was trying to figure out historical data on Shakky's poem, Rape Of Lucrece. Apparently, and I don't know why this wasn't obvious to me, I just read my essay topic wrong and OED online only has definitions.

Gahhh I wasted so much time taking the OED apart... I feel so dumb. T.T
My proff seriously needs to be more clear with his instructions, or was I just reading too much into it? I tend to do that, since as an English student all I ever do is over analyze things. Subconsciously, I was probably trying to find a secret hidden message with the instructions which will lead me to that desired grade of A++.

Lesson learned: There was no hidden message. The OED is just a dictionary.

Yesterday I was thinking of how I should probably make my blog a more useful resource, like Manley's food blog. I could always just blab about books I've read and have a book blog, (A blook) but book blogs are snobby.

Anyway, I decided to be useful and write about how you can incorporate Shakespeare into your everyday conversations. Sounds fun :)

Because I'm writing an essay about The Rape of Lucrece, we'll start off with that.
Ann's Shakky lesson #1

So let's say your friend is complaining about the newly elected mayor in Toronto. Your friend says, "I don't like the newly elected mayor of Toronto."

Then you say, "Just be glad he hasn't raped his first retainers wife."

Your friend will say, "Wtf?"

Then you say, "Shakespeare has this poem called The Rape of Lucrece where the king of Rome, Tarquin, rapes his retainers wife, Lucrece."

Your friend will say, "What?"

Then you say, "It was because Collatine, her husband showed her off in front of Tarquin making Tarquin jealous and envious. Anyway, do you want me to continue or am I just going to ruin the ending for you?"

Your friend will say, "I don't think I'm ever going to read it."

Then you say, "Well I'll just spoil it for you then. Lucrece ends up stabbing herself. Then her father, husband and Brutus went around the streets of Rome showing off her dead body, which led to Tarquin and his family being booted off the throne. And that was when the government in Rome changed from kings to consuls."

And if your friend is polite, s/he will stay and listen to you babble on, and say "That's um, fascinating. I didn't know you read Shakespeare."

And you say, "Yeah I've read tons of his plays and sonnets. But The Rape of Lucrece shows off just how smart Shakky is because it's all about the psychology of his characters."

Your friend will say, "Shakky?!"

Then you say, "Oh, just a nickname I gave Shakespeare."

Then your friend runs away.

So, I hope you guys learned something, and that this will be useful to you guys in your conversations/ever want to show off.

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Loneliness Phobia

I can't believe Kev and Michael are out of the Amazing Race!!!! T.T My heart was pumping so much during this last episode. Oh well, I'm going to continue watching the show, the next team I'm voting for is Nat and Cat because they've landed in first place at least 3 times.

I'm on a 'two day reading week' from school. Don't know why they didn't just give us the whole week off. But this is good, since this is the first time I'll be spending the whole day at home in months, I've been busy lately running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. Also, because I've made the conscious decision to pretty much spend the whole day with MYSELF, this means that I have pretty much cured myself of my 'loneliness phobia.'

I've been suffering with 'loneliness phobia' for months, which is why I always had be out and doing something. I NEVER wanted to be alone, and when I would go to bed, I'd always have my lights/radio on. But deleting my twitter was the first step to curing myself, ha. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has suffered with this, being alone with your thoughts sucks. This odd phobia of mine may have started this past summer when I spent way too much time by myself.

So as some of you may have remembered, and I may have mentioned this to some of you as well, yesterday was Nov.7 WHICH would have been my one year milestone. I had anticipated for weeks that yesterday would have been the saddest day of my life and that I'd mope around all day. When Amy asked me to see a Hedley movie with her on Nov.7 I hesitated because our first official date was to the movies, it would be too nostalgic. Luckily, a couple of my friends were having a combined birthday party yesterday, which I gladly said yes to since I figured being surrounded by a lot of people was just what I needed.

But then last week, I was completely swamped with things to do. I only have classes three days a week, and they're pretty much full days of studying and reading. Then I worked a bazillion hours on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. On Friday, I opened and went to lighthouse afterwards, then went to see Megamind with Tabs and Emily, so I ended up getting home seriously late. Then I had to wake up early the next day to go to work, afterwards I went to have dinner with my grandparents, and as a result got food comma. I went to bed right after and next thing I knew, it was Sunday, the dreaded Nov.7.

Basically, yesterday I went to church in the morning, then to work afterwards, then went to the party. It wasn't until we started to sing nostalgic sappy love songs that night with Selina's Karaoke Machine did I remember that it was the 7th. This was around 11 at night WHICH means I only had 1 hour to mope, but I didn't even mope because I was like, "This is stupid." If I had gone through the entire day without remembering, and had basically forgotten about it, it means that it means nothing to me anymore. (Which I had suspected for a while now.)

I also have had my novel to distract me from a lot of my own thoughts. I haven't been diligently recording my progress in this blog. I already have a plot and I've been trying to conjure up characters in my head. Hannah gave me these psychological profiles/tests which has helped me a lot. I took a test and apparently I'm an ESFJ, but Hannah and I both suspect that the test was inaccurate and that I'm actually an ISFJ. I'll explain this later -_-, its actually super fascinating.

Time to write my 'essay'.

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