Stories about a Guy named Brian

I was going to write a happy blog about the time that I almost got hit by another car because I was driving the wrong direction on a one-way street in San Diego downtown, but something else came to mind. {Note to my readers: this next blog has alot to do with my previous one: Cowboy Democracy, so if you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it}
Before this blog, I wrote on a different website, Facebook.com, I would write because I felt more relieved to let people know what is going on in my life and be honest in hopes to encourage honesty, individuality, and the hopes of allowing people to express themselves through a form of writing. Being in a really expressive mood, I pasted my blog on that site. Now the thing with that sight is alot of the people on my account is from my old school, where I was almost expelled for writing blogs on facebook that had homosexual content as well as openly admitting my sexual orientation. So it is obvious to state that it wasn't taken well.
I recieved an email from someone that is afraid to talk to me in public for fear that I am going to "stomp across the school grounds screaming that [the conservative party] is a bunch of Nazi's." I have known this guy for four years, it's sad how someone who lived on your floor; who would get in intense debates with you involving the best film of all time; who would admit to certain things no man has ever admitted to me before; would say that he is afraid to be around me because he is afraid that he might lose his job because he's associating with a nutcase that likes to scream like a crazy homeless person on Skid Row. Well honestly he should know me better than that because I (nor my best friend) will make a scene unless he or I are being verbally or physically attacked.
He also mentions that he is wondering why I have become such a militant homosexual. I can answer that one really simple, I believe in defending my rights and hate that some straight people like to stand in the way of expressing my God-given rights to make out with my boyfriend, hold his hand, and greet other homosexuals wherever I damn well please. I may sound bitter, but I am just frustrated.
I am frustrated that I am not allowed to be a person that I want to be. I am frustrated that my rights as a gay citizen aren't being respected inasmuch as a straight person (this involving marriage, health insurance, parental, and expression rights). I write edgy material because as an artist, I push limits to enhance dialogue and interest.
I have been known to create scenes and push limits, but I would never rececreate the Feminist movement just to make a statement at an ignorant school. I tried it once a year ago; that led to fighting to stay in school without getting expelled. I am a month and a half from graduating and there is no way in hell that I am going to be stupid enough to make a bold statement, that's why they invented fashion.
When I was a kid, I discovered a thing called a journal. With this journal, I would let out my feelings and creativity by writing. Some of these stories all involved one guy named Brian (my first crush). Brian would either be the savior or the enemy in my stories. After a while, all the stories sounded the same and then began to talk about my day. This escalated into writing more stories which then led to erotic gay stories, then finally to blogging and screenwriting. I really hope the next advancement in my writing career involves one thing: publishing.