Channing Tatum concerns me...

It is amazing the things that can happen when you encounter magazines.

Wal-Mart. This past week. I was working. This magazine was brought to me as something that had been misplaced on a shelf somewhere by a customer. These things get brought up to me all the time.

Just not with Channing Tatum on the cover.

It is my responsibility to reorganize these items (hundreds a day) so that they get taken to their proper departments.

But I didn't do that with this magazine, because it had Channing Tatum on the cover. And there is a rumour that he is bisexual. And I am like a 12 year old girl whose dream in life is to marry Justin Timberlake. Or Channing Tatum.

Back to Channing Tatum being bisexual.

A co-worker comes behind my desk and we start hanging out. This woman is middle-aged, but definite a sexual prowler. She says I wear nice pants. She isn't the only person at work who says it, but she is the oldest. And maybe I do wear nice pants. They get the job done.

I tell the co-worker that this guy on the cover is bisexual.

She says, "Thats too bad. He's going to die young."

My response. "Huh?"

She says, "He'll get AIDs from the guys."

Moments like this hurt more than I can show. Not only because this is a completely secular person who has shown some degree of prejudice, but because I know that once I am "out" people will still have these feelings, and have them about me. And they won't tell me about them, because they don't want to hurt my feelings.

Moments like this make me more aware of why some First Nations want to be white. Why some women wish they were men. Why the poor wish to be rich. And why the Quebecois never want to be English. Why I wish I was straight, but never like that.

Its easier to be powerful. To relate to the people who are powerful. You just don't want to be like the scum of the earth.

One day I am going to have to give up this false power that I have, and have people talk about me behind my back.

for the Bible tells me so...

I've come to the conclusion that revolution is necessary. I'll feel differently tomorrow. But revolution can be nothing but good. Right?

I just watched the recently released documentary "for the Bible tells me so." It felt like the story of me - a story that I want to share with the world. I cannot recommend it enough. If you want to view a copy, let me and I will get it to you - I've e-mailed the maker and asked for a digital copy. If that doesn't go through, I will get several copies.

Then the revolution can begin. It has to. The church cannot be a part of hate, hate that leads to suicide, suicide that leads to death and pain. This is not God. God cannot accept this. As I have said before, this is because God is everything but Hate.

If he exists.

I wonder what my life is like in a post-gay existence; where it is simply part of me rather than the central aspect of my thought. My everyday, simple, natural existence. I cannot wait for the fact that women don't make sexual sense to me to be open.

But it isn't going to happen right away. Can you imagine this conversation? This is the conversation parents know is coming, that parents don't want to have. This is the conversation that children know is coming, but that children know they have to have - this is the moment at which one admits that one is NOT the same. For biological reasons. For reasons that cannot be recognized by sight, but for biological reasons.

A couple nights ago I couldn't sleep. My parents had been out of town, and coming home the day after. I was crippled with fear, feeling that the moment for this conversation had come. (I realize this moment has been coming for 22 years, and still hasn't materialized. I'm working on that. Give me time, and a couple shots of tequila at a coffee shop.) I stayed up late, writing a series seven of spastic poems. I don't do this. Write, or write poetry. Music is my method. But words tortured me.

This is intimate stuff. It can get intimate. But I am going to retype it here for you. You may not like it - I'm not Leonard Cohen, William Blake, or Shakespeare. I'm only Neal Robert Adolph. And I don't really know what I am saying, except that there is truth in it.

I. Misery makes sense to a gay man, because nobody knows his name unless they read his birth certificate.
And even then they only know his name.

Happiness confuses me.
It is unfamiliar and frightening.
Misery feels like home.

II. I'll sit around my home, reading about God,
and wishing that my friends were not so inspired by him.
Because I am impressionable and lonely.
What inspires them can temporarily inspire me.
Because I am lonely.

Even when I am inspired, I know God doesn't exist.
Why would he want to.

III. I am so capable of allowing fear to paralyze me.
I can't imagine what it is like to feel somebodies lips on yours.
I propose it is like encountering God for the first time.
Like heroin. So damn good. So false. fleeting. Never to be captured again.

I want somebody to play with my arm hair.
Caress the hair on my thigh.
Is it actually electrifying? Does it paralyze? Will I even like it?
These thoughts arrest me. Why be something that I am not convinced I will enjoy?

IV. A confession is always on one's mind, but never on one's lips. The fear of rejection prevents words to form in the mouth that they have lived in for years.
They are nesting.
They aren't interested in learning how to fly.
Because escape from prison is only tempting when the sun is out, and a rainbow is in the sky.
And even then the nesting cage is familiar. Safe, dark and lonely, but familiar. It makes sense. Just like misery.
Misery makes sense to a confession.

V. Nobody hates a gay man quite as much as he hates himself.

VI. I've written novels about myself a dozen times. The first one was written in 2003. I was 17, and I was about to commit suicide. The words never materialized, but the novel was written.

In the style of a disappointing romance novel. Lots of lust. No sex.

VII. I say to you, O protector of children from freedom their parents do not desire,
to you, O protector of adults from freedoms their God does not desire,
to you, O protector of mine, sitting in your fortification north of Saskatoon.

You are bastards for letting me lie.
I'm sorry for blaming you.



I may have fallen in love with Bishop Desmond Tutu. A man, across an ocean, and of elderly blood. He says this, and it is sexy. "I can't, for the life of me, imagine that God would say, 'I will punish you because you are black. You should have been white. I will punish you because you are a woman. You should have been a man. I punish you because you are homosexual. You should have been heterosexual.' I can't - I can't for the life of me believe that is how God sees people."

The God of Desmond Tutu is sexy.

Hugh Jackman inspires me.

I won't deny my vanity, though I think I try to cover it up with no degree of success. I work at Wal-Mart, as a customer servicer nowadays, and sometimes it gets really boring. Sometimes when this happens, I grab a magazine to read. Once I read a magazine specifically for the reason that Hugh Jackman was in it, and I was getting really excited for the upcoming Wolverine film. In the magazine, he was asked about his perspective on homosexuality, because apparently he has played roles in theatre where his character was gay. He said this:

"Homosexuality is only a part of the whole. I like to think that sexuality doesn't determine the entire person."

Ok, that isn't a direct quote. Don't go searching for it - you won't find it. But it was similar to that. And I loved it. I probably wrote it down and lost the piece of paper at some point.

I like the idea that this blog can act in some format as a venting piece for my interactions with my emerging homosexual existence. I want it to exhibit the dialogue that I need to start having with the world around me. But, as per Hugh Jackman, I need to include other parts of my dialogue with the world.

Thus, this post, where I begin to share some of my concerns with the world, responding to events. Maybe you'll get a better sense of the whole of me. I am more than just gay.

I was at a friends wedding last weekend - a wonderous event, as weddings always are. This friend is an inspiration amongst men; an intelligent man, who is passionate about God and God's people. He is also a communist. I cheer for him.

And he hasn't walked into a Wal-Mart in 3 years.

I work at Wal-Mart, as a customer service desk employee. And I am well aware of why this man refuses to shop at Wal-Mart. They treat employees poorly, choosing to understaff stores and giving people insufficient hours or wages to allow for a living. They don't treat customers well, because there is not enough staff to care for their needs. They don't have expectations for how the employees of their producers are treated. They encourage people to spend beyond their means by making purchasing easy. They have poor environmental policy. They direct enormous volumes of money from the communities where money is earned to a head-quarters and into a corporate bank account. Money leaves communities because of Wal-Mart.

I don't like Wal-Mart. I enjoy my job though. And I enjoy the people that I work with; they are good people, with great humour, great hearts, and great intentions that just have the unfortunate experience of working at Wal-Mart.

And so I have plans to never shop at Wal-Mart again. Which is hard, because I tend to buy a lot. I am a Wal-Mart consumer - impulsive, dangerous, unconcerned with my bank account or how my purchases are affecting people around the world.

So I am going to start a system, online, with this blog, displaying my non-Wal-Mart purchases.

Canadian Tire. 2 Items

- A Key cut. $2.99
- A Hidden key kit. $2.99

- Taxation. $.060
Total not given to Wal-Mart: $6.58

I'm looking forward to living out my morals rather than merely discussing them.

What Israel can do to a man.

"I would like to buy $3 worth of God - not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep, but just enough to equal a cup or warm milk or a snooze in the sunshine. I don't want enough of God to make me love a black man or pick beets with a migrant. I want ecstasy, not transformation. I want the warmth of the womb, not a new birth. I want about a pound of the eternal in a paper sack. I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please." (Wilbur Reece)

My discussion last night with Joel made me realize how little faith I have in the world that I live in, and how little faith I have in the inspiration of God to change the world; to make it an environment of love.

Joel suggested that there are people in my church are much more capable of love than I want to give them credit for. I have my doubts. But Joel said that there are people in my church that are aware of the radical love of God's kingdom, and try their hardest to live it out. People that know that God's love is far too radical to allow for hate - not just because they are a dueling opposites, but because God is not hate.

I want to be able to afford that radical love to the people of my church. To the pastors of my church. I want to have faith in God for change. And I should be so inspired by the change that has taken place for the gay community at large.

But then shootings take place in Israel at a gay community center for teenagers.

And I hide in my closet. The revolutionary in me dies down. I am quiet. I stumble in the dream of being straight.

Damn my fear. Shit on my cynicism. I wish to dispose of them and become a good person again. The person I want to be.

Joel is a good friend.

So you say you want a...

Revolution.

This song, a Beatles classic, comes to mind tonight for two reasons. Firstly, I was listening to the Across the Universe soundtrack, and I quite enjoy this scene from the film. Secondly, because of a discussion I have with a friend tonight. Maybe I should get it tattooed to my body or something.

I was discussing frustration in my church with my friend. If anybody is reading this blog at all, then they would have have read my recent post on why I attend my church. Well, I should perhaps inform you that this reasoning is not particularly sustainable - though ideal, it doesn't last long. I was on the verge of collapsing today and asking my pastor for an exit interview. I may still do it.

I was having a conversation with somebody that I have been "out" to for about a year. I kind of forced myself out to him on the eve of Heath Ledger's death, in a kind of shock response to his death, and a ode to his incredible acting ability in Brokeback Mountain and pretty much everything else. He was locked in my car. For about 2 hours. Playing word games with me while I imagined methods of coming out to him.

If you've been reading, you'll know that I have moved onto e-mailing distant cousins and close friends. Perhaps a poor policy. I'm still in a state of no-response limbo. I hate this.

Anyways, on to the point.

I shared my frustrations with my friend, Joel, who listened. Recently my church's senior pastor has decided that young adults are not prepared to ask questions regarding the complete validity of the entirety of Christian scripture. My best friend from high school (the first to hear of my sexuality) is in the role of leading this group of young adults, and had his heart destroyed when this took place.

I was thoroughly unhappy with the result, or the process. This pastor is horrible at resolving conflict, and making people uncomfortable, and providing people with opportunities to be challenged. And this is the church in which I must find solace once I go through the process of "coming out" publicly.

Which I think I am nearing. Joel could turn me into a revolutionary.

I attend a Mennonite Brethren church - which is Christian talk for conservative central. We aren't particularly well known for changing our ways, or our thoughts and approaches to social concerns. We are known for helping those in need around the world, but keeping to ourselves locally.

And just to avoid the questions - I drink alcohol. Regularly. I dance. Regularly.

I don't take a horse-drawn cart to church. Ever.

I think I am normal.

My friend Joel is telling me that my church needs to change - that there is no way that the old-school way of viewing Christianity will survive another 50 years because there are very few youth that are interested in carrying the torch anymore. We have been inspired and infected by social liberation theology.

Me being gay could make this obvious. It is a decisive matter. The church would be separated on it - they would confront the disunity and have to respond. The young and the old would disagree.

But I hate that part of revolution - where people don't agree or get along.

But people shouldn't get along while others are oppressed. Ignorance is bliss, but unacceptable.


So do I start a revolution? It is damn tempting.

But it isn't quite so simple, just as it never is. And if a book is ever written about the gay Mennonite that changed the world, I don't want it to present it as simple.

I help out with youth ministry. Children.

And I am gay.

Special questions arise. None of them are valid questions, but they arise. Have I touched little boys? Have I convinced other boys that they are gay? Have I turned others gay? Maybe these are questions that need to be confronted so that we can become aware of how barbaric our image of gay culture is.

But do I have to be the person who is hurt throughout the process?

“Abba, Father,” he cried out, “everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.” (Mk 14:36)

What is there left to say?

Below is an e-mail that I just sent to one of my closest friends and cousin. I'm blotting out his name. This is kind of an OH SHIT! moment.



Hey XXXXXX,

I don't know why the hell I am sending this to you. Perhaps in the hopes that I can stand before somebody naked, stripped of a dream and encountering reality. Read on, if you are still interested.

I'm finding myself entirely crippled in discussion recently. I live in a world entirely alone, it seems. I cannot relate to other people's discussions, and I find them fleeting and entirely uninteresting. The content is fascinating and relevant, but they demand a discussion for hope, a phenomenon which I find myself having in decreasing numbers in the adult world and in my own heart.

I hear about how you, Tyson, Joni, Jenna, and Kyle and Andrea are protesting the expansion of foreign industry in the community, and I am jealous. You are people who are using your morals and operating in the world with them.

I haven't felt this freedom for a long time, and even then I have only felt it in limited amounts while working with youth ministry. As I am no longer involved with that at church, I do not know if I will be able to change the world, or even hope to. I get frustrated by trying, and I am so thoroughly conflicted that even my most exciting of ideas seem to be flawed by imperfection.

I don't think I can call myself a believer anymore, or if I ever could. Agnostic - certainly. Trying desperately to believe in something as sexy as God, but always finding myself restricted and incapable. Disappointed by those who claim to follow Him, and frustrated by the being himself.

I am also immensely lonely. I feel like I live on a continent entirely alone.

I have no friends who fulfill me anymore. Nobody who challenges me, or who is interested in the same things as I am. Nobody who will discuss politics or religion and do so with interest, or immense, blunt, and painful honesty. Nobody will listen to my compositions and provide proper critical feedback. Nobody will actually become a part of my life - exist with my existence. Befriend me with any consistency. I am on the backburner, in a locale called Regina, alone in a sea of 200,000 souls that move like giants. My continent is shaken by earthquakes and I do not respond. And I know that i have done this to myself.

You talk about Meadow Lake and it sounds sexy. Fulfilling. As though you don't really want anything more.



I have recently come to the conclusion that I am developmentally and relationally retarded or immature.

The disgusting part is that I know that only people who care about themselves have self-esteem issues. And I want to be able to put down my concerns and pick up a cross for somebody else - to die to myself so that I may live. But I am at an impass that I cannot overcome; I stand at a cliff alone and insecure. Unfortunately I must jump off in order to go anywhere.

And so I leap, with a question I thought of while we were discussing my relationship with Danae on Tuesday night.

XXXXXX, what would you do if I told you I was gay?

Untitled

I hate these nights when I come home having had a bit too much to drink. My mind races to realities than dreams. And the reality is that I live in a dream.

Constantly.

For the past 22 years of my life. 23 if you are from Korea.




I am gay. This is the reality. The dream is that I am straight - and this is the dream in which I live. My friends are relatively convinced of this dream, and I am more than prepared to live in it.

Kind of.

Tonight I got a phone call from one of my best friends, saying that she was engaged to this wonderful man that she met in University. I am enormously happy for her - this man is gold, as best as I can tell, and I am enormously happy for the two of them.

The problem is this - I was part-way through partying with a good friend of mine, as he was celebrating the last few nights of his bachelorhood. And in the very near future, my best friend from high school is getting married.

Perhaps I am not making myself clear enough just yet.


It seems that everybody that I know is in love with somebody. Is permitted to be in love with somebody. And is moving beyond just being in love with somebody, and I am merely existing inside of a dream that I know is reality but that I kind of want to be reality. But I know that it isn't a reality that I can exist in.

And so I have to ask myself whether or not it is time for me to starting the process of declaring another piece to my puzzling existence - my homosexuality. And if it isn't - have I already missed the time? And if it is - how do I go about it, and how do I find counsel in doing it?



Now, I shouldn't pretend to be entirely alone. I have told some friends in the past that I am gay - and they have all been relatively supportive, and many have remained very close and reliable friends. Good people that I have been blessed by.

But the fear of rejection from everybody else is enormous.

Let me say that again.


The fear of rejection from everybody else is enormous.