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Confessions of a parking ticket fugitive

How I was thwarted again by Montreal parking!

My car was stolen. 

I stood in the spot where my car had been, wondering how I would get to the West Island in time for brunch (behold, the most insufferable phrase I’ve ever written).  But wait—what was that just down the street? My car gleamed on the horizon, parked on Saint-Laurent as if it had been dropped down by a spaceship that got bored of the abduction mission. So it had been towed! And charged $186 for the honour—happy Thursday to me.

But why? The signs said I could be in my spot until Friday—or so I thought. New rules had changed the game overnight in the form of bright orange signs that had seemingly spawned out of nowhere and announced, “Gotcha!” Just the latest addition to a saga of suffering. Anyone who has ever tried to park, let alone drive in the city, will tell you that it verges on impossible. And who is to blame for all these problems? My arch nemesis: the Montreal parking police. 

The case of me versus the MPP (an acronym that I just made up) has been an ongoing battle, defined by endless tactics of evasion followed by endless consequences. Many a brain cell has withered away as I have attempted to decipher parking signs in my search for salvation. Can you blame me for always parking where I shouldn’t? The signs are written in an extraterrestrial dialect and resemble a cruel Terms & Conditions Agreement. You may occupy this spot, Earthling, but only on the full moon that lands on a Tuesday, and only if you drive a red Honda. 

I would cruise around for up to an hour sometimes, searching for a spot like a hawk preying on mice. I felt like a fugitive of the law on these mornings spent outrunning the parking police, my Tracy Chapman CD as the soundtrack to my smooth escapades. If you ask me, there’s a certain romantic tension between me and the MPP. An enemies-to-lovers trope, some might say. 

It’s all fun and games until reality bites though. I have been informed by numerous parties that you actually have to pay parking tickets. What do you mean I can’t just use them as lightly-humorous wall decor? My parking ticket art installation is only just getting started. This is almost as shocking as the time my friend hit me with a stern “you know, Emma, you actually do need to pay your taxes.” Just like my days of tax-evading were brought to a bitter end, the law will catch up to me again. 

But let’s have a moment of seriousness—who’s actually in the right? This time I can argue that they did me dirty (my roommate later told me she had seen them putting up the new orange signs at dawn, those sneaks), but all the other times…I’ll admit where I’m wrong. Montreal parking is a royal pain, but maybe parking shouldn’t be easy—that will incentivize fewer people to drive cars. (I really am anti-car, I swear. Up until last year I swore that I would bike everywhere for the rest of my life. Well, I folded. When your family lives in freaking Ste-Agathe, you do what you gotta do.) 

I suppose I really could just ditch the car, though, or learn the language of parking signs. But where’s the fun in that? Maybe I like the thrill of the chase. 

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Are we all just living the same life in different fonts?

Don’t be fooled—social media capitalizes on relatability and social isolation.

Do you ever see a meme or video on social media that is oddly specific and relatable to you? I always find it so unsettling how well my algorithm knows me, from my taste in music and books, right down to personal experiences that I thought were unique.

I’ve stumbled upon videos lately that really made me sit back, set my phone aside and stare at the wall. Seeing memes related to our secret little quirks or even our very specific and seemingly unique past trauma can be ruled out as coincidence; however, it seems every single piece of content I come across lately is eerily accurate.

Yes, I watched The Social Dilemma on Netflix when it came out—it still haunts me. I also read Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. That’s how I learned that the algorithm compiles data from likes, comments, shares, and other interactions, and that some social media even record the amount of time you spend on a specific post and where your gaze catches on the screen. I’m always painfully aware that social media preys on my attention and time, which the algorithm then uses to throw me into a vicious cycle of doom scrolling.

However, I also realize that users capitalize on relatability. We all (subconsciously or not) know the golden rule to success on social media: if people don’t relate to you, they simply won’t care. My own experience in business communications taught me how hard content creators work to get on the “For You” page. They have to work with the system, but they also feed it more tools to reel us all in.

So what if my algorithm notices that I am a Swiftie eagerly anticipating the announcement of  Reputation (Taylor’s Version), that I have a “golden retriever” boyfriend, that I secretly dream of owning a book and plant shop joined to a cat café (apparently it’s a “feminine urge”), that my Roman Empire is being a woman in a man’s world, and that I am afraid of the dark? Is it really so bad that my social media feed is so meticulously tailored?

The answer to that question will depend on how you answer this one: Is social media a means for entertainment, or to gain information? Part of me wants to say it’s just entertainment and it doesn’t really matter. But another part of me is screaming that my algorithm is putting me into niche boxes and shuttering me from the bigger picture of the world. I find myself consuming mindless content instead of learning about the war and humanitarian crisis in the Gaza Strip, for example. I have to go out of my way to learn about that.

It always gets me when I see someone comment: “Are we all just living the same life in different fonts?” Your social media feed is giving you that impression, showing you oddly specific videos you’d send your best friend in a heartbeat. Your algorithm knows that if you are entertained and you feel seen in a world where human connection is blurred by screens, it will keep your attention just a bit longer.

Am I really a die-hard Swiftie, or am I just being overexposed to that content? Is that video really “so me!” or does it just touch on something I can somewhat relate to? Are these memes truly relatable, or am I just yearning for a vague sense of community and belonging in a socially-isolated generation?

Did you find this article relatable? If so, I’ve succeeded in the golden rule. Welcome to the Social Media Existential Crisis Club, where we question this warped sense of belonging and combat the negative effects of the algorithm on important information sharing.

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The future of journalism is in your pocket

A slower and more niche medium, podcasting is reshaping the way news is consumed.  

In the years following the pandemic, the landscape of podcasting has undergone a seismic shift. A study conducted by the Nieman Lab found the number of new podcasts launched dropped precipitously, falling by nearly 80 per cent between 2020 and 2022. This startling decline in new podcast creations has left many questioning the state of the medium, wondering if it has transitioned from a gold rush into a more mature market. While the surge in podcasting during the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic was substantial, the subsequent drop in new shows and episodes suggests a market favoring ongoing, long-term content rather than limited-run productions. 

Precisely because we are in an era of endless scrolling and perpetually refreshed newsfeeds where the estimated reading time written under headlines determines the worthiness of your read, I believe the future of journalism is in audio—more specifically podcasting.   

Audio journalism refers to journalism that is done via the recording or transmission of voice on the radio, television or internet. Audio has been an important component in journalism since the invention of the radio. I think audio journalism, in particular podcasting, is a  medium that will grow as essential sources of news, storytelling and opportunity within local communities, even if the frenzy of our daily lives and the rapid flow of information has made it difficult for the ordinary citizen to keep up. 

In my opinion, podcasting embodies democratic media creation and consumption. In his work, Silvio Waisbord explains that in the digital age of journalism, we’ve witnessed a profound shift in the dynamics of news dissemination. Historically, news resembled a top-down pyramid controlled by a select few. Today, it has evolved into an egalitarian landscape where anyone can participate in sharing information. I think this transition from vertical control to horizontal openness and equality is embodied by podcasting, and will lead to more sustainable journalism.

Podcasting will thrive because audiences want content on a smaller scale that resonates with their communities. Katerina Eva Matsa, the director of news and information research at the Pew Research Center, highlighted that people are now making deliberate choices in their selection of social media platforms for news consumption, often driven by their personal identities. This shift indicates that individuals are not only seeking factual information, but also a sense of community through their news sources.

I feel that podcasting offers a more immersive and detailed approach to understanding current events and issues. Often readers don’t delve deeper than headlines, which can contribute to the spread of fake news and misinformation. Recent data from the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism shows that only 51 per cent of consumers who “read” an online news story actually read the whole article, while 26 per cent read part of it and 22 per cent only looked at the headline or a few lines. 

In our hectic daily lives, where we’re always on the move and easily distracted, podcasts are becoming the go-to way for people to stay informed while doing their everyday tasks like commuting, working out, or doing chores. It’s like having a personal news companion, making news consumption more personal and accessible. 


As trust in local news rises and the focus shifts from reaching large audiences to nurturing communities, I believe podcasting stands as a vital and enduring medium shaping the future of journalism.

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The lack of self in the chaos of a typical nine-to-five

Should structure eclipse creativity?

I cannot be the only one who debates between having a traditional nine-to-five or rebelling against societal pressure and opting to freelance and work for myself. Before transferring to Concordia, I was at school in Toronto for the sole reason of opportunity: Toronto is where the Canadian divisions of the Big Five publishing companies are, and I saw it as “the land of opportunity” to get a start on my career. Clearly, I got disillusioned. 

My end goal is ultimately the same, but seeing how bleak people look as they’re leaving those grey office buildings makes the “Do I really want to do that?” debate rear its ugly head.

As someone who is more right-brained, the topic of how people can still maintain their creative side around a traditional nine-to-five job is of interest to me. Is a traditional, structured nine-to-five viable for a happy, creative and well-rounded lifestyle? 

Given the cycle of the same place, commute and people, the exhaustion that comes with repetition demotivates us to unleash our creative side. Routine monotony is something that characterizes the nine-to-five: tasks become repetitively predictable, which leads to a torpor of ideas and a decrease in creative thinking. In a typical nine-to-five in-person office setting, there is rarely any room to experiment with creative solutions.This lack of flexibility hinders the nurturing of our own unique creative potential during moments of inspiration. Without our creativity, we become a shell of ourselves. 

Work is a key component of our personal identity—it makes up the good majority of our time and is where we see our professional growth as well as our paychecks. With finances being most people’s Waterloo, it gets difficult to make your passion your profession, but it is our passions that make us who we are. Otherwise, we would all be slightly altered versions of the same person. 

Because of this push to earn to survive, our passions and the component of our identities they create often get disregarded and viewed as “less important” because they don’t contribute to our job. Nonetheless, it’s essential to explore avenues unrelated to work in order to be a well-rounded person. Think about it—someone that can only talk about their job and whose personality is solely their profession is far less interesting to interact with than someone who has passions they can be excited about. Your personal identity needs to be cultivated through your passions. 

Of course, a nine-to-five does not always offer time to pursue your creative passions—jobs in and of themselves are demanding, and by the time the work day is done, you might not have the energy to tune into your creativity. So much of the day turns to be in the interest of the company you work for, and not for yourself, which is unfulfilling to say the least. Creativity becomes lost when there is no space for it. 

I’m not speaking out of assumption as I’m writing this. While everything stated so far applies to an in-person job, it does not necessarily apply to a hybrid or remote position, and I was lucky enough to work a remote nine-to-five position last year. While I had a schedule to keep, the remote option gave me the chance to both work on personal projects when I wanted a break from work and to be a bit more creative with company projects because I had cultivated a motivating environment. 

I am of the mind that either a remote or a hybrid role is opportune for creativity, mostly because of the lack of repetition I touched on earlier. You have the option to create your own working environment, you can step away from your work, and it also gives a certain flexibility that a rigidly scheduled in-person nine-to-five may lack, and a job that offers a hybrid or partially remote option is something that I have looked into. Alternatively, I might do a one-eighty and work for myself—in an age of technology, there are enough resources and opportunities out there to apply creativity and passion and make a career out of it.  

Our whole lives, we’re told to create our own identity, but it is tough to do so when we’re expected to ditch our cultivated and unique selves in favour of a job that might not even bring us personal satisfaction. Constantly keeping busy does not mean productivity ensues. You could complete meaningless tasks but never actually accomplish anything.

The responsibility, networking, and steady paycheck of a nine-to-five are great, but if it doesn’t allow you to develop your own creativity and see a cultivated and personally accomplished version of yourself, then is it worth doing something you aren’t really passionate about? Why work for someone else’s dream when you can work for your own?

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But seriously, let’s talk

Bell Let’s Talk campaign points to larger issues in mental health advocacy.

Every year, Bell Let’s Talk Day strikes a chord. As the event on Jan. 24 approaches, I want to talk more about exactly what makes this seemingly well-intentioned campaign a bit unsavoury, and how its nature is indicative of larger issues. 

For context, Bell Let’s Talk was started in 2010 by the telecommunications company Bell Media as the largest mental health initiative in Canada. Though it’s an ongoing campaign, each January is marked by a specific day where their advertising goes full force. I’m sure everyone is familiar with their pledge to donate five cents to mental health programs for every text and social media interaction that includes #BellLetsTalk, and the subsequent flooding of similar messaging—although in 2023, the company announced they would replace this strategy with a $10 M lump sum donation. 

In a sense, the campaign filled an important gap, as few other major companies are so vocally dedicated to the issue of mental health. This advocacy takes the form of four pillars, according to their website: “fighting the stigma, improving access to care, supporting world class research and leading by example in workplace mental health” (which is ironic considering past allegations concerning Bell’s working conditions). Their mission statement in contrast to their actions can be scrutinized, along with their overall mental health advocacy campaign. 

The name itself is problematic to many who have speculated on the corporatization of mental health and the fact that Bell features its own name so boldly. In a 2019 statement, the company claimed that “it put its name on the campaign because no one else would,” as mental health was discussed very little at the time. Still, this is a very effective advertising campaign that ultimately benefits the company, no matter what cause they’re supporting. Maybe I’m biased—personally, I’m skeptical of any major corporation that claims to be doing a good deed—but publicity is still publicity.

The publicity often takes the form of short videos about mental illness coupled with alarming statistics (such as this one, which tackles suicide rates in Canada). Though destigmatizing conversations around mental illness do need a starting point, the videos are a little reductive and sensationalized. The presentation usually includes a shock factor, and the solution is always the same: just reach out. The campaign implies that talking about it is the most difficult step, but fails to acknowledge the systemic issues within mental health programs. Sure, there are resources out there. But how good are they?

Mental health resources are just another part of a broken health care system that is often inaccessible, damaged by bureaucracy and a lack of proper care. From what I’ve witnessed through friends and family members who sought help, the truth is quite jarring; the health care system, particularly in the sector of mental health, can actually be quite cruel. 

People must jump through endless hoops to acquire care, while being condescended by healthcare workers or mental health professionals and being exposed to environments that are not conducive to healing (the state of psychiatric facilities is a topic begging for its own article). These issues are even more prevalent for marginalized communities, with countless examples of injustice and malpractice in the healthcare system. 

It’s ironic that those who need help the most are often dehumanized by systems that claim to be the solution. I can’t help but be disillusioned by the notion of seeking help, and resentful of any campaign that reduces such a complex issue to such a simple solution. This isn’t to disregard the campaign’s message as a whole: talking about mental health is of the utmost importance, and we do have to start somewhere. However, we also need to reflect on societal factors that contribute to mental illness—a broken system is not the solution. 

Issues with mental health advocacy do not begin or end with Bell. Bell Let’s Talk is just one example. The way that mental health is discussed points to the need for a complete reform. Though efforts have been made to destigmatize mental illness and improve access to needed services, this is only the beginning.

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What if the CBC struck being distinctly Canadian from its mandate?

We should re-examine how the CBC defines Canada’s national identity.

The CBC exists to “be predominantly and distinctly Canadian”, according to the Broadcasting Act. This presents a dilemma when millions of Canadians do not feel represented by the CBC.

Conservative Party leader Pierre Poilievre’s pitch to defund the CBC has resonated strongest with his base, but also with the wider public. According to a 2023 study by Spark Advocacy, only 55 per cent of Canadians value the CBC and want it to be maintained.

Poilievre wants to get even with the CBC because he believes the broadcaster is partisan, biased and out of touch. I disagree. However, this begs an interesting question: can the CBC claim to be “distinctly Canadian” when millions of Canadians don’t mind shutting it down to save money? I contend that the CBC should rethink the role of nationalism in its journalism and entertainment programming. 

How does the CBC define Canada? My family is Portuguese and Canadian, and I grew up in Portugal. Comparing the CBC to its equivalent Portuguese public broadcaster RTP may shed some light on this nebulous subject. RTP is a generalist channel—it hosts O Preço Certo (The Price is Right), telenovelas, but also a theatre and concert archive, and a tool for teaching Ukrainian refugees Portuguese. 

RTP follows what Portuguese audiences want. Meanwhile, the CBC had previously made peculiar choices such as eschewing American television for reruns of Coronation Street. In my experience, the CBC “narrowcasts,” while RTP broadcasts. Maybe there’s even a missed opportunity for the CBC to broadcast for American audiences, who don’t have the good fortune of a strong public broadcaster.

I grew up watching the CBC by osmosis from my Canadian mother’s side of the family, and as someone with progressive politics and settler-Canadian origins, I am close to the imagined audience for CBC programming. Yet, I realise that the CBC spoke to me in a way that fit my pre-existing ideas of what Canada is: a nation with a common identity, united by things like language, values, shared references. In many ways, a nation like Portugal; but Canada is different. 

The CBC’s national identity mandate has colonial origins. As Canada practiced—and continues to practice—settler colonialism, television and radio create a national culture synonymous with European, settler Canada. In a talk entitled “News” given at Columbia University, journalism researcher and sociologist Michael Shudson reflected on how journalists are often “handmaidens to the powerful.” Therefore, the CBC is a handmaiden to colonial society. As a result, the CBC has been criticised for using extractivist methodologies in its reporting on Indigenous communities—taking Indigenous stories, and then re-packaging them for settler audiences.

Public broadcasters in other countries including RTP also have nationalist mandates, but the context is different. Laws like Portuguese music quotas are in part a defensive act to protect home-grown industries from foreign competition, and these policies become even more pressing in a journalistic culture where there was censorship until 1974. Portugal doesn’t have two solitudes, it has the oldest borders in Europe. The European national broadcaster model doesn’t work in Canada.

Canadians are diverse, and many belong to diasporas and have strong ties with other countries, including myself. The preference for “distinctively Canadian” journalism ignores that Canadians are connected to foreign lands, and is often rooted in a “founding nations” colonial definition of Canada. Things being as dire as they are, maybe what the CBC needs is a radical reinvention in line with what makes Canada distinct.

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PSA: Don’t cut our courses

Course cuts are happening and I’m worried.

Concordia University has seen a decline in enrollment in the past couple of years. As a result, measures have been placed to cut 7.8 per cent of the university’s total costs, CTV reported. This news mostly covered its impact on staff; however, students should be concerned as well. 

As for the Fall 2024 semester, tuition is expected to increase by 33 per cent for out-of-province students. The decline in enrollment in recent years has already led to financial loss. Tuition is now expected to double for some students, which is expected to lower the annual enrollment rate even more.

The news about tuition hikes for out-of-province students was already upsetting. I remember the moment when one of my professors made the announcement that made my classmates and I go in shock: course cuts would begin as of Winter 2024. We learned this information before news outlets published their articles about Concordia’s budget cuts. The professor urged us to register for our courses for the upcoming semester as soon as possible, as she explained that courses with low enrollment by Nov. 15 could be eliminated.

Course cuts will now be a means for the university to limit its annual budget. This will not only be problematic in terms of schedule-making, but it could affect the entire student body’s future tuition as well.

I learned through listening to class discussions in my classes that low enrollment in a class ultimately means that a course with let’s say a cap of 25 students  would need to fill 80 per cent of its seats. The number, however, depends on the class size. 

I still have a number of courses to take before I finish my degree—a few program-based courses and electives. Course cuts could derail my graduation plans, as I’m hoping to finish my degree by the end of this year. Should my courses get cut, I’ll have to extend my studies even longer. I’ve been a student at the university for many years and have worked hard to get myself on track for graduation. It’s been an important goal of mine over the past few years, especially because there was a period when I was unsure about continuing my studies. I persevered, however, and I’d like to see it through.

Every student is in a unique position. Some students begin their studies halfway through the year, while others drop their courses for personal reasons. Life is unpredictable as it is, so it’s worrisome that course offerings might now be increasingly unpredictable as well.

Course cuts affect everyone—students, professors, and staff alike. They might help the university’s budget, but they would be disastrous for the Concordia community. This begs the question: are course cuts worth it at the expense of our studies?

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Keep it up: How to maintain momentum in the new year

We tend to hit the ground running with all our goals, only to stagger—how can we actually stick to them?

This year, my roommate and I decided to get a headstart on goal-setting. In November, we pulled out the whiteboard and boldly filled it with countless goals, all with the intention of “getting our life together.” In retrospect, many (if not all) were pretty unachievable. My personal favourite: our promise to climb Mount Royal five times per week. Yeah, right. 

I think we’re all familiar with this cycle. The new year is synonymous with a fresh start, a fact that’s almost too cliché to write about: gym memberships, new diets and promises to break bad habits transform into February failures. The shooting stars turn out to be meteors and burn up quicker than they appeared. This phenomenon isn’t just true with the new year; it also applies to new beginnings at school (hello, winter semester). So where does all our initial enthusiasm go, and can we reclaim this energy to actually accomplish our goals? 

First off, it’s important to understand why we lose momentum. When it comes to resolutions, the most obvious reason is that we simply expect too much of ourselves. This can be explained by a phenomenon called the “empathy gap.” The Decision Lab explains that this is the “tendency to underestimate the influence of varying mental states on our own behavior and make decisions that only satisfy our current emotion, feeling, or state of being.” So when we made our Mount Royal resolution, we were crazed by enthusiastic energy and forgot how it actually feels to be tired. 

To carry through on your promises, you need to be realistic with yourself. It’s always tempting to imagine ourselves as super disciplined, high-achieving people, but that’s often a bit of a stretch. As busy students with countless external stress factors, we have to be honest with ourselves and realize that time and motivation are difficult to come by. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t set goals, rather that we should consider how our goals actually fit into real life. Start small and make an attainable plan. Keep yourself accountable by setting small milestones and keeping track of achievements. Gradually (and with great patience), these will build and snowball. 

When it comes to the new semester, the same principle applies. I start every semester with the idea that I’ll be an absolute academic weapon, doing all my required readings and completing every project in advance. Instead of setting such vague, unrealistic goals, I’ll aim to stretch this enthusiasm out and actually make a plan for myself. Maybe I’ll aim to complete “most” of my readings, schedule my time day by day, and see where I can go from there. 

In case you were wondering: since November, we have climbed Mount Royal a grand total of zero times. Maybe we could choose a hill instead, or reduce our goal down to one time per week. Or maybe choose a new goal entirely. Here’s the funny thing, though—with all this time I’ve spent thinking about how I haven’t climbed the mountain, I could have just gone and climbed it by now.

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Alone, but not lonely

Before you can enjoy the company of someone else wholeheartedly, you need to learn to be by yourself.

I absolutely adore my own company. I had roommates the first semester of my first year of university, and by the second semester, I’d moved out on my own. 

I guess that’s what comes with growing up as an only child. 

While some people recharge their batteries with big social events, I recharge with a cup of Murchie’s tea (specifically) and at least a 48-hour hiatus, no matter how long my last social interaction was. Those 48 hours are my time to simply exist and plan. Plot, if you will. Over my 20 years of living, my coveted time alone has led to a significant amount of personal growth. 

For only children, it’s much easier to spend time alone because we are accustomed to being self-sufficient. We had to find ways to entertain ourselves and not feel lonely when we were by ourselves. We were our own best friend. 

For those who aren’t used to being on their own, it can be scary.  There is no one to entertain you, no one to talk to face to face. It’s a tough situation to be in, especially during short and dreary winter days. 

The first step to conquering this is to learn how to enjoy your own company. It is not something that can be taught, but it is something to learn. I am very proud to have determined how best to spend my time alone and, in the spirit of it getting dark at 4:30 p.m., how to use those same tactics to battle the winter blues. 

Make your favourite beverage, and try a new recipe: aside from a good London Fog tea, my favourite thing is a teapot of cambric tea. With a new homemade baked good or the result of that new dinner recipe I found (who knows where), this is a favourite pastime.

Listen to a podcast (not music): Especially if you grew up with siblings, having background chatter will help you feel less isolated. I love listening to Stuart McLean’s Vinyl Café—though I know how every story ends, I always find the endings hilarious, especially if it involves the questionable decisions of the main character, Dave. No one ever said that you have to actively listen to a podcast…

Explore: Go to a new metro station and explore the general vicinity to get your however-many thousand steps in. Who knows, you might find your favourite new café. This is truly a two-birds-one-stone situation.

Go for a drive: Sing along to some music, put together that great comeback you should’ve said when you had the chance, or drive to your favourite haunt outside of the city. Just make sure you don’t turn left at a red light.

Clean: Maybe it’s just me, but cleaning is therapeutic and a great way to kill time. I genuinely look forward to Sundays because, though a bit unorthodox, it is my apartment deep clean day. 

Reset: Tying into the above, when the space around you is clean, your mind is too – doing a weekly reset, whether that’s to clean, go work out, or do your favourite thing around the city–  to jump into Monday in full swing is a great way to take your mind off of that lonely feeling.

Write: Sure, I’m an English Lit Major so this is a given, but how else do you think this article got written? (For context, I’m currently on my 48-hour hiatus).

The results of self-growth from spending time alone are the foundations of being an adult. Like any habit or routine, it will take some time getting used to being comfortable spending time alone. However, getting to know yourself in a solitary setting and being okay with being alone is a pretty big (and sought after) achievement. It allows you to protect your peace. So, just take a deep breath, and see where the day takes you.

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Easier said than done: tips to handle stress

Burnout feels inevitable this time of year, as do tips to help avoid it—but do those “helpful tips” actually work?

It’s 4 a.m. and I’ve just finished my fourth cup of coffee. 

It’s the most wonderful time of the year—burnout season. Exams are somehow just around the corner, but you’ve barely recovered from the last exam season. You’re running on fumes and wondering where all the hours in a day go. Inevitably, you’re burnt out. 

And somehow, burnout really does seem inevitable. Harvard Business Review puts it well, saying that this exhaustion “can stem from the demands of an always-on, 24/7 organizational culture, intense time pressure, or simply having too much to do, especially when you lack control over your work, dislike it, or don’t have the necessary skills to accomplish it.” 

(Felt that.)

Our world seems to just be built this way. School prioritizes results over learning, and work prizes productivity over well-being. That realization begs the question: is there anything we can do about it? 

With the end of semester burnout comes a staple of the season: tips and tricks to handle the stress. The issue is that many of these tips are much easier said than done and don’t address the inherent issues within our education system, workforce, and productivity culture. 

To delve deeper, I considered common advice and asked students from various universities and CEGEPs for their thoughts on burnout to find out whether these so-called “helpful tips” are actually helpful at all, and to discover their own personal strategies to manage stress. 

Get more sleep? This is the one I struggle with the most. My roommate, on the other hand, has no trouble prioritizing her sleep schedule. “All-nighters are a scam,” said Georgia C. Leggett, a McGill anthropology student. “I found I did my lowest quality work late at night, so I started making sleep my main priority. It makes me feel better, I get more done, and I buy less concealer.” 

Eat healthy? Nobody prioritizes their health more than Francesca Foy, a McGill finance student who only knows two food groups during exam season: RedBull and Couche-Tard sandwiches. She claims it’s an absolute must for “the grind,” but she does notice a big difference when she makes the time to eat right. She enjoys meal prepping with friends as a social activity: “That way you’re having a good time but also being productive and doing something good for your health. Plus, I suck at cooking, so this is a sneaky way to let my friends do all the work.” 

Stay active? “The problem is that when you’re approaching burnout, every technique feels like a chore,” said Nicolas Lachapelle, who is studying engineering at UOttawa. He and burnout are good friends, so he tackles the issue by going on long stress walks. Personally, I’m a big fan of multi-tasking—listening to your lectures while going for a run, or even doing a reading on a stationary bike can help integrate some movement into your study grind. 

Make studying fun? You can usually find Dylan Badke-Ingerman in the Concordia library (though she’s a Dawson student), distracting me with gossip and suspicious Bulk Barn jelly beans. We’ve taken to hosting regular study sessions, and though we don’t get very much done, the study parties at least make us feel like we’re in it together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ” Badke said. “I actually get lots done when we study together.” Well, that makes one of us. 

Find what works for you! Ultimately, you need to find methods and tricks that make sense for who you are and the life you lead. I may never have a proper sleep schedule or a diet that isn’t 95 per cent stolen leftovers (sorry Georgia), but I do have floor naps and Bulk Barn. And when all else fails, I try to remember: school does matter, but not more than health and well-being. So even though I have three more assignments to finish, I think it’s time to call it a night. 

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We need to address the real causes of homelessness in Montreal

Thousands of unhoused people are victims of a broken system and especially vulnerable as winter arrives, yet little thought or empathy is given to the issue. 

As the streets get colder, it becomes even more urgent to address the homelessness crisis in Montreal. Temperature drops are life-threatening to this vulnerable population and exacerbate their already harsh living conditions. It’s time to talk more in depth about homelessness and its causes.  

According to the CBC, the population of unhoused people* in Quebec doubled between 2018 and 2022—totalling nearly 10,000, half of whom are in Montreal. I’ve noticed that casual discourse around homelessness is often damaging and fails to address deeper issues. I have heard the topic be approached with disgust or contempt toward unhoused people, sometimes accompanied with demeaning jokes and comments. This contempt should instead be directed toward the systems that cause homelessness and the governments that do little to address the issue. 

The lack of affordable housing and subsequent housing crisis is just one cause of homelessness. Traumatic events, extreme poverty, domestic abuse and discrimination can all play a role. Those who struggle with sickness and mental illness are more susceptible to homelessness. Systemic and personal issues create dire situations, especially for marginalized groups.

In Montreal, Indigenous people are 27 times more likely to suffer from homelessness than other demographic groups, according to a recent count. The Inuit community is particularly affected, making up 25 per cent of unhoused Indigenous people. This is the result of systemic racism, inter-generational trauma, and lack of services for those who need them most—but most of all, it is a direct example of the ongoing effects of settler colonialism.  

It is essential to view homelessness through this lens and realize that unhoused people are victims of an oppressive system. We must be particularly mindful of this fact and put pressure on governments to establish better solutions. 

The city’s relationship with homelessness is a complicated one. On numerous occasions, Mayor Valérie Plante has called on the provincial government to provide more funding and work with the city to make a long-term plan. “[W]hat I’m looking for is a bigger conversation with the entire ecosystem,” Plante said to The Montreal Gazette in June, “…and that includes the provincial government and the Ministry of Health and Social Services, because they are in charge of homelessness, mental health and drug use, because often these things are connected.” 

In early November, Social Services Minister Lionel Carmant announced that the Quebec government will grant nearly $10 million toward increasing space in shelters and establishing emergency services as the cold approaches. While this is a positive and essential step, it is not enough.

Broad reform is needed. Alberta advocates for a “Housing First” approach, which aims to break the cycle by setting up unhoused Albertans in permanent housing and providing them with ongoing support. This support would aim to address mental health, employment, and addiction. Montreal should take a similar approach with a decolonial focus, and move away from emergency solutions.

If you want to help, it’s impactful to volunteer and donate when possible. But first of all, we must flip the narrative around homelessness. Mocking and pejorative comments are dehumanizing, and it’s essential to consider the systemic issues at play. The simplest way to help is by speaking mindfully about unhoused people and considering the causes and effects of homelessness. 

*A note on vocabulary: the term “unhoused” is growing in usage due to the sometimes derogatory connotations of the word “homeless,” and to emphasize that unhoused people may have outdoor or community spaces they call home. In this article, I switch between the two terms, but use “unhoused” when referring to the people themselves for this reason.

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Personal journey: Discovering happiness through faith

Money isn’t the key to happiness.

Questions about happiness and its connection to money have often crossed my mind. What is happiness? How do we find it? Can money truly be the ultimate source of joy? These were questions that would constantly come up while pursuing what I believed would make me happy, like attending my dream university and working in a job I loved.

Throughout my childhood, happiness was always linked to materialism. Money was the predominant love language I received as a child, and it seemed to be the only source of joy in my life. I was fortunate to travel during school holidays, received constant gifts, and seemingly had everything I asked for. Outwardly, I appeared to be a content and fulfilled girl. I was called a “princess” by family and friends. However, there was always a void in my heart: I was longing for a different type of love. 

As a teenager, I battled with depression and what made it worse was not knowing the root cause of my misery. Despite possessing what many would consider to be everything, the symptoms of depression manifested. I used to cry daily and became open about my suicidal ideation. I transitioned from being a “princess” to a “spoiled child.” What I had grown up believing would bring me happiness failed to align with my reality. I was confused, and this forced me to start asking questions. 

After talking with friends and professionals about my emotional state, I gained a better understanding of my reality. I discovered that I had grown up lacking affection and love, which as a result made me struggle with low self-esteem and anger. The void within me tormented me, and I desperately sought a way to fix it without knowing how. I realized that I couldn’t turn back time to change my past. Healing my inner child became my responsibility.

One evening in July, as I scrolled through Instagram before bed, an animation reel caught my attention. It depicted Jesus reciting the Romans 8:18 verse, which reads: “The pain that you have been feeling cannot compare to the joy that is coming.” As a Muslim at the time, I didn’t believe in Jesus, nor did I care to learn about Him. However, after reading that Bible verse, the pain in my chest, which was caused by prolonged stress, suddenly stopped. For the first time in years, I slept in peace.

In the following days, I started encountering individuals who would preach the gospel to me. All of a sudden, I felt it in my heart that everything that has ever happened in my life is a call for me to be Christian. 

Following my revelation, I gave up everything and converted. I lost my old lifestyle, family members and some friends. However, what I gained is far more valuable. I transitioned from feeling unworthy and being thirsty for love to knowing that “I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139). The peace, love, and happiness I’ve experienced since discovering religion is deeper and stronger than the short-term pleasure you get from spending a weekend at Disneyland or buying a designer bag. 

Sometimes, the inner self requires more than what can be obtained physically, and no amount of money can compensate for the void within. In my journey toward healing, seeking faith has played a crucial role. 

Faith has provided me with a sense of purpose, a supportive community, and a connection to something greater than myself. It has become a source of strength, helping me address the wounds of my inner child and navigate through life’s challenges. Healing and restoring our happiness is a life-long journey, and I believe that this journey is unique for each individual.

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