Light Boasting

Been busy as of late, so I never got started on that 30 day challenge. I'll probably start it over break. In the meantime, I'll fill a bit of space over here.

The current thought I have is one about hearing people talk about how great things are. It's not a bad thing. Really. I know if I had a cool girlfriend, or even a really fun fuck buddy, I'd be talking about it too, and I know my friends would like to hear. Most of them, anyways.

The only problem about hearing someone else talk about their haves, is that it reminds one of his or her have nots. Sometimes that isn't a problem, to a degree. But you don't go up to a starving man and talk about, in detail, this juicy fucking steak you just got done eating. It's just fucking rude, you know?

But as I said, I'm cool with the happy boasting, to a certain point. Actually cool past the point I get intimate details of one's sexual life. I need this shit for writing stories, after all, and if I'm not getting it at the time, I need to get it from somewhere. However, when I'm going through a drought, and you just can't shut up about what great sex you're having, while completely ignoring anything I mention about how my sex life is or isn't, even saying "idgaf" in response to bits I add in, all while continuing down your merry road of how much fucking this guy makes your life awesome, and then top it off by mentioning how you shouldn't be talking about this because you might give me the wrong idea? Well, I have reason to be a little annoyed. Not too annoyed, especially if that person in specific is reading, and I know she does from time to time, but annoyed nonetheless.

However, looking back at the last four paragraphs and the reason I wrote them, I have to say the boasting part actually isn't the thing that bothers me. (I shall repeat it's both entertaining and informative.) The thing that annoys me is how one sided it all is. You can talk about your triumphs and failures, but the moment I say a thing about mine, we've hit the mystical land of "idgaf". I know I'm the kind of guy who listens, but why is it when I try to get listened to, I get stonewalled? Either way, I'll still listen, it's both my nature and my trade, but maybe you should think about occasionally returning the courtesy.

PS: This rant also applies to money, you rich fucking bastards.

Doctor Strangebuck (Or How I Learned to Love Valentine’s Day)

The last time I wrote on this dear blog of mine, I was a bit lonely and very, very whiny. Since then a lot of things have happened and while I don’t have a girlfriend still, I’ve dealt with a lot of the emotional problems that caused me to be so lonely back then. Also I got laid, which was pretty awesome, and redeemed sex for me. So I’d like to think I’ve matured over the past four months, to the point that I really don’t care what day today is.

You see, the past Brendan would have entered this day feeling super depressed. I would have walked around seeing all the lovers here and there looking all lovey dovey and jealously would have filled my being. I would have been depressed on being single and spent the day beating myself up. If I was feeling in a particularly writey mood, I would have posted a little emo diatribe about how evil this holiday is and how it made me feel all depressed and shit. Because it did make me depressed for a long time, including the year I wasn’t single.

But I simply don’t care anymore. This day fails to inspire the feelings it used to. And I don’t mean in a, “I feel sorta dead kind of way.” Valentine’s Day just doesn’t piss me off anymore. It’s just another day. A day where chocolate prices might be marked up to stupidly high levels, maybe, but it balances it out when the day afterward chocolate is deliciously cheap. It’s consumerism for the sake of consumerism masked under the auspices of love. As simply that, the holiday works and if that product actually gives someone, anyone joy, why get all jelly?

So when I see people getting all down about this consumerist holiday, I now have to ask, “Why?” It’s not like this holiday is actually about love. It’s about love in a heart shaped box that has “Fannie May” written on it. But I know the answer; it’s because the holiday reminds lonely people how lonely they are. The reason this day doesn’t bother me is that I don’t feel lonely anymore. I don’t need someone to be happy anymore. Perhaps if those lonelyhearts could learn what I’ve learned, maybe V-Day wouldn’t hurt them either.