A Losing Battle

i cant escape you. youre everywhere i go. its my house, you cant be here anymore. we ended it last year, promise remember? i said no more, i dont want to keep hurting you. but here you are still. in the morning when im brushing my teeth. in the kitchen when im making dinner for one. even in my room, what should be my last private sanctuary. this game we play, its getting old. i cant do it anymore. but....i cant escape you....



the ants are back!!!!!!!
summer is here....

....

so im about to go to my cousin sean's graduation from h.s.
ha, those fucking idiots think college is the real world. i want to warn them, tell them to hang on to it as long as they can, but..........

.....

nothings better than watching my roommate, richie, reciting shakespeare with a jamaican accent in his underwear for me at 2am. sexy fuck.

ahhh. i need a Fight Club

"i guess im just wondering what everyone here wants to know....have you actually met brad pitt?"

wow, to be chuck palahniuk. its more than devoted fans. its knowing that youre influencing everyone in the room. a whole demographic of the generation.

....

the joy of writing. too bad its always clouded by the lack of talent.

....

"hi, i was wondering if you guys had a dvd or video of Twelfth Night."

"of what? night as in 'night and day' or what? spell it."

"yes, night as in night and day. t-w-e-l-f-t-h n-i-g-h-t."

"is that an adult one?"

"no. its shakespeare."

remember alann, just a few more papers EVER and then youre an ADULT!

speaking of adulthood. i now have a blog and myspace. is it because i dont want to let go?

my day in numbers

1 - hour of sleep i got today (saddle ranch, the o.c., family guy, staying up and talking about scary dreams/ghosts/stories, breakfast)

41. 23- dollars it cost me to fill up my 1998 four cylinder Toyota Camry with the lowest grade gas. !

6- number of lecherous guys who started dancing (ewww) with Ro and Jill without asking. thats gross. we just wanted to dance.

8- times i rolled my eyes during "monster in law"

2- unexpected phone calls that made me very, very happy (one from my friend adrian, whom i love even more than pop music and another that made me smile all night)

....

wow, i almost forgot how good it feels.

why couldnt they all just be the wet kind?

you know that place between awake and asleep? it can be a very scary place to be:

it started out okay. i was inspecting a house with some people, i think i was planning on buying it. i was really annoyed about one particular part: just off the kitchen, there was a wall with a small cutout. i was thinking, this is so unnecessary, there should either be a complete closed wall or just a wider door opening. i then began to explore the rest of the house. i started walking around thinking, okay this is the living area, this is the den, this room has a bed, therefore it is a bedroom, etc. soon i realized that i was going around in circles but nothing was the same. every room i was entering was new and i couldnt find the front door, my way out. as soon as i thought, something is wrong here, something is wrong with this house, an old man in a striped shirt came running down the stairs towards me. he was moving in that scary movie hyper speed. i knew he was a ghost. he jumped on me and started to strangle me and i couldnt get him off.

heres the thing though: i was conscious that i was 'dreaming' but i couldnt snap out of it. it was so intense and real but i knew it wasnt. i could hear conan o brien introducing james spader on my tv. i could hear them engaging in some funny banter. i could hear richard playing a michael jackson song on his guitar in the room next to me, but i could not get this guy off me. i could feel my eyes moving REM style, i was telling myself to just open my eyes, to just get up, or yell or anything. but nothing. for ten seconds this ghost man in a striped shirt was killing me. quite possibly the worst feeling because i was completely and utterly helpless.

crazy shit.

and youre right richard, its better to close the bedroom door when youre alone at home. it does feel like something is watching you.

fuck this shit, im 22.

im going to go sleep with richie in the living room. hes buff. i hate night terrors.

sometimes, a queen size is too big

you better:
- have a life of your own
- handle a.d.d. well
- know im new at this, too. its been a while
- like karaoke, or at least be my groupie
- want to pinch some kids' cheeks so hard they cry
- be smarter than me
- be able to give me the beat to any song at a club
- indie, bollywood, pinoy cinema, documentary, etc.
- just colin farrell (and enrique iglesias) , accept it
- yell at me!
- get my humor and love it anyway
- be serious. relax.
- talk. shut up.
- like flowers. hate red roses.
- like my friends. i will never choose
- pay, because ill never ask and always offer
- just tell me. we're adults, we change our minds
- agree with me that she's hot
- make me feel it, 2 weeks, 3000 miles, whatever
- not lie. really love me. dont settle. dont judge.
- judge me a little for having a blog

aUCLAnn83 (11:28:22 PM): ah. i forgot how to date.
seeanne29 (11:28:37 PM): s'okay
seeanne29 (11:28:42 PM): i apparently don't know how to love

i dont like your girlfriend.

....

"(10:09:10 AM): do a lot of people "bug" you?
aUCLAnn83 (10:09:17 AM): actually no.
(10:09:26 AM): it seems your the only that takes initiative to dislike people."

- what? am i crushing?

- wow, pcn is over....so close to being a good experience.

- fuck, another late paper.

- drop it. as if. youre ruining it.

- god, please help me dance and sing better.

- like me back.

- alann, put yourself out there.

- any meat and rice. any. right now.

- i do hate the bar/club scene.

- the bar/club scene is great when youre with someone.

- fuck you. o.c. parties are great.

- almost there, hang on....just a....little....longer.

Ode To Nice Guys

This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

Fu-zu Jen, SEAS/WH, 2003

But part of me also believes that Nice Guys have the exact love life they want. When they're ready, when someone's finally earned it, GAME ON!

And to all the girls who turn Nice Guys into Assholes by forbidding them to see their friends, forcing them to use terms of endearment such as "boo" or "babe", who use "sex" as a weapon/punishment/distraction, or who do anything else to manipulate, scare or confuse a Nice Guy....DIE.


Ladies, remind me to introduce you to my friend Chris Cuenza.

youre sweet, but wrong: im just an arrogant, standoffish asshole.

"i don't know...i think that you're soo nice and that people hold your opinion about things very highly...and i think that they're afraid that if they say something or do something, you might be disappointed...and i think that disappointment from alann could almost be as bad as getting your toe cut off."

how can i be intimidating when most of the time im just scared?

on another note:
who cares if they think we're together/ you like me/ i like you? am i a mongoloid (not that there's anything wrong with mongolism)?

PLEASE, LESS pOLITICAL cHILDISH nONSENSE.

dylan, dylan and dylan

so dave chapelle checked himself into a south african psych clinic for undisclosed reasons last month which explains why his show's season premier has been pushed back. all i can say is.... don't miss out on great white shark diving at seal island- its fucking awesome.

"obsessively clicking the 'refresh' button will not make people email you"

fuck you, dru hill was oh so good.

i hate it when people are meaner when they know theyre talking shit to/about someone who won't talk back.

nobody watching? thats CHARACTER.

i thank god for friends who are genuinely nice. you feel it. its authentic.

i hate assholes. get over yourself.

be proud, nigga.

dear paul,

you should not be embarassed to bump Mariah Carey's "The Emancipation of Mimi" in your black 2005 Mercedes c230 Kompressor just because you're rockin ganxta style (blazer, do-rag and flexfit). Other people just don't know how "its so good, dawg".

your buddy (whom you felt comfortable enough with to admit your secret),
alann

p.s. you're right, tracks 2,6 and 9 do have a way cool r&b vibe!

A Secret Life
Stephen Dunn

Why you need to have one
is not much more mysterious than
why you don't say what you think
at the birth of an ugly baby.
Or, you've just made love
and feel you'd rather have been
in a dark booth where your partner
was nodding, whispering yes, yes,
you're brilliant. The secret life
begins early, is kept alive
by all that's unpopular
in you, all that you know
a Baptist, say, or some other
accountant would object to.
It becomes what you'd most protect
if the government said you can protect
one thing, all else is ours.
When you write late at night
it's like a small fire
in a clearing, it's what
radiates and what can hurt
if you get too close to it.
It's why your silence is a kind of truth.
Even when you speak to your best friend,
the one who'll never betray you,
you always leave out one thing;
a secret life is that important.

HMOs

"Do you know what your porn name is?"

- surgeon to my student-nurse roommate during an open heart surgery