(Appeared Jan. 2002 in "The Frequency," the magazine of CSCR Cable FM 90.3, published at University of Toronto's Scarborough Campus.)

I didn't realize how "different" I was until I was running through Scarborough Town Centre around 11pm last December on a fine Tuesday night.  As I attracted weird looks from the five people lurking around the transit area, I was carrying a tub of Harry Potter Collector's Edition popcorn and a giant Pepsi, running to catch one of the last buses to get back to Markham.  But, before I tell you more about that story, let me explain how I got to this point.

I've gotten used to having to make my own opportunities in the face of social pressures and restraints.  The first time I auditioned to sing at a high school talent show, the teacher in charge remarked, "There are a lot of talented singers that are going to be a part of the show.  But I'll put you in anyways."  So, I've had to follow a "different" way of thinking for a long time just to stay afloat with my creative aspirations.  I'm hoping to be an entertainer someday, but even if that fails, I want to have music and writings that I can look back on and be proud of.  Sounds easy, right?  This year at U of T Scarborough (my fourth)  I've thrown myself into working on a play called "Searching For Adonis."  The play chronicles my years of experience at University, beginning in 1998, when I was completely afraid of being out of the closet.  (Since Scarborough ain't the grandest place to be gay.)

There I was - a brand new froshie.  I had arrived on campus, still hung up on a guy that got drunk and danced with me at a high school party, but, one class was about to change my creative destiny.  The class itself set the tone for my career in University, since we studied some of the greatest works of literature.  It was in this class that a mysterious guy caught my attention.  He looked like a Greek God, and I nicknamed him "Adonis" since I didn't know his name.  I also thought there was no chance of meeting him, since he looked totally off limits, even somewhat aloof.  I thought there'd be no point in trying to start a conversation with a guy that had the distant allure of, say, a movie idol.  Yet, I'm a Scorpio, and I'm stubborn, and I set my sights high. (A friend recently said it's bad that I "aim for the stars without looking for what's already on the ground.")

My second year arrived, I became close friends with a guy that helped me come out, and managed to make me forget the "Adonis" for awhile.  I fell in love with him, shared a month with him, but then he decided to get married to a woman.  Hmm...  On the rebound, I asked a guy (whom I work with) out for coffee, and I found out six months later from his sister that he wanted to beat me up.  But...er...somehow, we became good friends.

Yeah, so, anyway, third year arrived and I started to see the "Adonis" again.  I got the idea in my head that, since I was now bolder and more confident, I could introduce myself to him, while totally respecting his space as a straight man!  Yet, my past experiences with approaching guys didn't give me the greatest idea on how I should do this.  So, I got tons of friends involved in the "quest for Adonis," and while I learned lots of cool stuff about him, I was still a big chicken.  At this point, the frustration of *not* meeting him led me to start writing songs and I began to explore cultures and attitudes I'd never thought of challenging.  It was almost as if meeting this "Adonis" had become my metaphor for bridging the straight and gay worlds, questioning homophobia in life and on Scarborough campus, and conquering the idea that I should be ashamed of being myself.  The more that I tried to get friends to help me meet the "Adonis," the more I learned about society's attitudes and stereotypes.  In fact, I learned that anyone, straight or gay, can be unfairly labeled and judged.  (Which is the key element I want to show in my play.)

Fourth year arrived, and Mr. Adonis was back.  During September 2001, even after the world had changed, I couldn't work up the guts to introduce myself.  So I started writing my play, "Searching For Adonis."  Then in October, the impossible happened!  I introduced myself to the Adonis, and after shaking his hand, he said "What's up?"  After some friendly waves in the following weeks, I thought, "What if I tell him about the play?"  I mentioned the idea to friends, and the turning point came when I got compared to Hitler.  Yes...that Hitler.  Yikes!  One friend explained that giving my play to the "Adonis" is bad, since he'd send of mob of Italian guys after me. (Not in the way I'd like, either.)  I countered his argument with the fact that I wouldn't have come as far as I have with my music, my creative goals, my confidence, and actually getting to meet the "Adonis" if I'd listened to what other people had said to me.  My friend replied, "Ok...when Hitler wanted to take over Poland people said 'no, no, no,' but he did it anyway.  Then he said he'd take over other places, and advisors said 'no, no, no,' yet he took them over.  Finally, in the end, it all caught up with him."  As my jaw dropped to the floor, it took awhile to realize how....uh...insulting that was.  Yet, after some thought, I gave a copy of my script to a friend of mine who knows the "Adonis."  I said to my friend, "Give it to him, but explain that I don't want him to be offended!"  It isn't every day you go up to a guy and say "Hey, you inspired me to write a play!  Wanna read it?"

But I'm not the average person.  And I know that some of my friends will stop being my friends after reading this.  And even the "Adonis" himself may hate me at this point.  But a friend recently told me, "You don't do things conventionally."  That hit the nail on the head!  I think you *have* to gamble big to get a big payoff.  Dreams should be big, or else why set goals for yourself?  Even the Make-a-Wish Foundation is airing commercials reminding us of the importance of dreams and how they can come true.  I think as adults, and more importantly, as Scarborough students, we are actively encouraged *not* to dream. We're told to fit in to some kind of preconceived structure that everyone can deem acceptable.  But why should I want to be like everybody else, and why should being different be scary to others?  Everybody's scared of so many different things right now that it's ridiculous.  I get irked when I hear that people on campus still brand themselves "fag-haters" and help contribute to the negative attitudes towards others.  Often times, the same people that hate gays are victims of prejudice themselves.  Ironic, no?  Even people involved with the campus LGBTQ group are afraid to put up posters during the day, for fear of getting attacked.  Yet, I come back to the point that, are we always supposed to live in fear of something?  Call me a naive optimist, but no one should have to live in fear.

So there I was on December 4th, 10:50pm, Scarborough Town Centre, with 10 minutes to catch one of the last buses back to Markham.  I ran to the movie theatre to grab a Pizza Hut personal pan pizza to go.  But realizing there was no time to wait for the pizza, I didn't want to leave with nothing, so I ran to the snack counter and asked for the best deal they had.  "The Harry Potter Combo!" the server proudly told me.  So I paid for the combo, pulled out a bus ticket, made a mad dash down to the bus stop, gathering weird looks from the few people in the station.  Yes, considering the fact that I had a big tub of movie theatre popcorn with me, I looked strange.  But I realized something.  I am different!  I'm proud to be myself!  I try to put the 'diva' in 'deviant!'  Do I pay the price to be myself?  Yes.  But I've also been very lucky, and very blessed.  And I never got anywhere by *not* being myself, so someday, I think that it'll all be worth it.