"Hearts are stronger after broken; wake on up from your slumber, open up your eyes." -Needtobreathe
My homeboys, Needtobreathe, always seems to have a song for the way I feel. The above quote may not actually describe the way I am feeling right now, however, there is a line in the song "Slumber" that makes me miss my best friend at this very moment.
After an afternoon of watching "Being Erica", I have come to the conclusion that I have a lot of "regrets." By regrets, I mean "things-that-could-have-gone-better." Not so much as to say that I would change them if given the chance; Lord knows I would definitely light my back on fire, and pick up some sketchy guy from the Downtown Tim's to party with us again.
Regret is a pretty strong word. Our past has helped shape who we are now. Not to say that it is all we are, but it made, at least, a small contribution. Now, if I could change my high school grades, or who I lost my virginity to (don't ask, he's still closeted), I would. If I could go back, tell Laura I loved her one last time, or give Kylie another hug, or tell my grandmother the very things I should have, I would.
Alas, I cannot. I must learn to live with the consequences of my actions, or lack thereof. Life goes on, and so must we. Those that live in the past cannot be happy with their present circumstances.
So, if I could give you one bit of advice, make amends, tell your mom you love her, give your best friend a hug.
Tomorrow may not come.
Namaste.
A blog featuring the misadventures of a simple guy. Not your average gay. Try to be happy, find peace. We all get a little lost on the way, right?
Friday, 30 March 2012
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Who You Are
"Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing; it's okay not to be okay."
Allow me to get a little sappy here. This is a total change of pace for me. Normally I am either bitter, or complaining, or whatever-the-fuck emotion I am feeling. Alas, my pace is getting a pace-lift.
I have noticed that society is all about "self-help" or constant "self-improvement". This irks me a little bit (read: drives me bat-shit-crazy).
In a world where everyone is so individualistic, and so unique, the need to conform is high. Fuck that. I don't want to be "normal". I want to be whoever the hell I decide. If I wake up at 7 and have a shot of tequila, deal with it. So many people are thrust into this realm of conformity and being "not good enough." Who says you're not perfect, just as you are? If we were all the same, what would I have to botch about? Fuck all.
So, kid in the closet, I don't bitch about you; I fucking salute you. Those walls you built are mighty tall. Break em down. You gotta do it at some point. Because the truth is, it will not help in the long run.
To the lady with a problem getting your seatbelt around your waist, don't ever be ashamed. Each pound tells a story of pain, I am sure. Every kilogram a memory of something lost, or something that you have been looking for, but have never found.
To the woman who is struggling to make ends meet, but still has the cutest kids, and the heart to tell them it's gonna be alright, I love you.
Namaste,
This time I mean it in its literal sense.
Brennan
Allow me to get a little sappy here. This is a total change of pace for me. Normally I am either bitter, or complaining, or whatever-the-fuck emotion I am feeling. Alas, my pace is getting a pace-lift.
I have noticed that society is all about "self-help" or constant "self-improvement". This irks me a little bit (read: drives me bat-shit-crazy).
In a world where everyone is so individualistic, and so unique, the need to conform is high. Fuck that. I don't want to be "normal". I want to be whoever the hell I decide. If I wake up at 7 and have a shot of tequila, deal with it. So many people are thrust into this realm of conformity and being "not good enough." Who says you're not perfect, just as you are? If we were all the same, what would I have to botch about? Fuck all.
So, kid in the closet, I don't bitch about you; I fucking salute you. Those walls you built are mighty tall. Break em down. You gotta do it at some point. Because the truth is, it will not help in the long run.
To the lady with a problem getting your seatbelt around your waist, don't ever be ashamed. Each pound tells a story of pain, I am sure. Every kilogram a memory of something lost, or something that you have been looking for, but have never found.
To the woman who is struggling to make ends meet, but still has the cutest kids, and the heart to tell them it's gonna be alright, I love you.
Namaste,
This time I mean it in its literal sense.
Brennan
Ready or Not
"Here I come, I'm about to show you where the light comes from." - Britt Nicole
My life thus far has been filled with joy, sorrow, and far too much vodka. The most important being the vodka. Being a Polish-Canadian, vodka has had a huge impact on my life.
I wear my heart on my sleeve. Why, you ask? Because, simply put, it's honest. People who try to hide what they're truly feeling piss me off to no end. If you aren't okay, don't tell me you are. On the other hand, however, I also get why this is so hard for people. If you don't want to describe why you're angry, sad, in a murderous rage, or any other menopausal or PMS-esque fit, then don't. Please don't blow up on me when I say something is wrong... Fuck, you make it so obvious.
I'm a gay man. This doesn't define me... However, it does offer a little bit of insight as to why I am so psychotic. The gays confuse me. In a community that has suffered from so much oppression from the outer realms of lifestyles, why the fuck is there so much segregation between individual groups in our community?! Legit. I may not want to get married to a drag queen, but if they want to be a drag queen all the power to them.
(I know this has somewhat turned into a rant. I'm bitter, bite me motherfuckers)
I work at Starbucks. I cannot go one single day without it. It is the source of my happiness, and my misery. It provides me with money (albeit not much) and free coffee. What's wrong with that, right? Everything. I slave away, slinging lattes for those who believe they are entitled to everything and anything, simply because they are breathing. Fuck you.
I'm catholic. Oxymoron, right? Probably. I am not sure how I feel about it... However, it is one thing that has remained constant since my infant baptism, and nothing else has ever held true.
I am a firm believer that every person has a place in this world. A purpose. Even if that purpose is to make me feel like shit while making your venti nonfat no water 180 degree, no foam, light whip Tazo Chai. I fight for the acknowledgement of suicide being a major crisis in this world. Hope is real. Help is real. Your story is important.
I have known far too many people to have committed suicide... 8 to be exact. Having suffered from depression and having suicidal thoughts, as well as attempting to take my own life 3 times in the coming out process, this strikes home.
Music is my fortress. This seems pretty cliche, but no matter what someone says to me, I think of a song for the statement. It's my own OCD complex. If I cannot think of a song, I look for one. My hours spent listening to random songs by the most obscure artists has allowed this to become a reality.
So that is me. Kind of. There is so much more to me. But that's all you really need to know. This is only the tip of the iceberg... Brace yourselves, betches.
Namaste
My life thus far has been filled with joy, sorrow, and far too much vodka. The most important being the vodka. Being a Polish-Canadian, vodka has had a huge impact on my life.
I wear my heart on my sleeve. Why, you ask? Because, simply put, it's honest. People who try to hide what they're truly feeling piss me off to no end. If you aren't okay, don't tell me you are. On the other hand, however, I also get why this is so hard for people. If you don't want to describe why you're angry, sad, in a murderous rage, or any other menopausal or PMS-esque fit, then don't. Please don't blow up on me when I say something is wrong... Fuck, you make it so obvious.
I'm a gay man. This doesn't define me... However, it does offer a little bit of insight as to why I am so psychotic. The gays confuse me. In a community that has suffered from so much oppression from the outer realms of lifestyles, why the fuck is there so much segregation between individual groups in our community?! Legit. I may not want to get married to a drag queen, but if they want to be a drag queen all the power to them.
(I know this has somewhat turned into a rant. I'm bitter, bite me motherfuckers)
I work at Starbucks. I cannot go one single day without it. It is the source of my happiness, and my misery. It provides me with money (albeit not much) and free coffee. What's wrong with that, right? Everything. I slave away, slinging lattes for those who believe they are entitled to everything and anything, simply because they are breathing. Fuck you.
I'm catholic. Oxymoron, right? Probably. I am not sure how I feel about it... However, it is one thing that has remained constant since my infant baptism, and nothing else has ever held true.
I am a firm believer that every person has a place in this world. A purpose. Even if that purpose is to make me feel like shit while making your venti nonfat no water 180 degree, no foam, light whip Tazo Chai. I fight for the acknowledgement of suicide being a major crisis in this world. Hope is real. Help is real. Your story is important.
I have known far too many people to have committed suicide... 8 to be exact. Having suffered from depression and having suicidal thoughts, as well as attempting to take my own life 3 times in the coming out process, this strikes home.
Music is my fortress. This seems pretty cliche, but no matter what someone says to me, I think of a song for the statement. It's my own OCD complex. If I cannot think of a song, I look for one. My hours spent listening to random songs by the most obscure artists has allowed this to become a reality.
So that is me. Kind of. There is so much more to me. But that's all you really need to know. This is only the tip of the iceberg... Brace yourselves, betches.
Namaste
Monday, 26 March 2012
Introduction, and crap
"I do not stand on protocol. If you just call me Excellency, it will be okay." - Henry Kissinger.
Let's be serious. If you weren't born into royalty, and I certainly wasn't, absolutely no one will call you "Excellency."
With that out of the way, I'm Brennan. Now, this will change your life. I'm not exactly what one would consider "stable." I keep you on your toes, I find joy in the simple things, and find myself in some pretty complex emotional situations.
That being said, who the eff cares?
I'm your typical small town gay, living in a really crappy conservative city.
21, 6'1, brown hair, blue/green eyes... We don't need to go into the rest, but my current boyfriend likes to call me #hefty. The hashtag is to be included.
I feel as though I am trying to sell myself here. What is the point of that? Most people won't even give this blog a glance. Well, peace out to you mother fuckers. I'm fucking great. Don't like it, I don't give a flying rats rip.
So, with this, I conclude the introduction. Shitty start, I know. It's 12:34 am and I just worked an 8 hour shift slinging lattes for the overly conceited and holier-than-thou's of Calgary. Bite me.
Namaste,
Brennan
Let's be serious. If you weren't born into royalty, and I certainly wasn't, absolutely no one will call you "Excellency."
With that out of the way, I'm Brennan. Now, this will change your life. I'm not exactly what one would consider "stable." I keep you on your toes, I find joy in the simple things, and find myself in some pretty complex emotional situations.
That being said, who the eff cares?
I'm your typical small town gay, living in a really crappy conservative city.
21, 6'1, brown hair, blue/green eyes... We don't need to go into the rest, but my current boyfriend likes to call me #hefty. The hashtag is to be included.
I feel as though I am trying to sell myself here. What is the point of that? Most people won't even give this blog a glance. Well, peace out to you mother fuckers. I'm fucking great. Don't like it, I don't give a flying rats rip.
So, with this, I conclude the introduction. Shitty start, I know. It's 12:34 am and I just worked an 8 hour shift slinging lattes for the overly conceited and holier-than-thou's of Calgary. Bite me.
Namaste,
Brennan
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