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The eternal drive toward Montreal

Graphic by Mackenzie Sanche

I always joke that half my personality is that I grew up in the Laurentians. I never shut up about the commute to school—it’s nearly four hours out of my day. Some might say I’m basically a superhero for it (nobody says that). I most definitely am not. People literally live in this city and spend the same amount of time crossing it as I do fleeing it.

My mother sometimes says it would have made my life easier if we hadn’t moved so far from the city. My dad often spends his days on the road for work. But they came here to find peace: the comfort of the fields that hug sinuous roads, stars we can actually see, silence. I’ve never been a city girl and I can now confirm that I never will be. Montreal is too fast-paced for my little heart.

I would be closer to school and my future dream job if I moved to Montreal. But I don’t want to narrow my world down to a single island, however great it may be. I would rather spend hours of my life in traffic or in the train if it means I get to escape the endless buzz of the city in my downtime.

If you live within a 50 km radius of a major city, you probably have already felt the pressure to escape your small town for bigger things. Maybe that stems from the American Dream concept. To me, Montreal has always felt like the ultimate goal, the ultimate success—get a fancy university degree, get a “good job,” get a house that costs much more than it’s worth. Some people might dream of Montreal like others dream of New York City.

That’s how I ended up attending university in Montreal, which made me very anxious very fast. My therapist suggested taking with me some of the things that make me feel safe. He might’ve meant something physical, but I took memories: listening to a wailing loon with my dad from our tent, befriending ducks on the lake with my mom, nodding to the stars that listen, watching the silver maples dance when it’s going to rain.

I went to Gaspésie last summer for the first time. Out by those mountains and shores, I was so far from the usual breakneck Greater Montreal ecosystem that Montreal felt like a hazy concept. For a second there, I envied the simplicity of being far, far away from the pressures of city life.

I’m just starting to adapt to the rhythm of Montreal and Concordia, but now I’m graduating. I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, windswept and awed as I stare out at the ever-changing landscape of my future. I don’t know what life is without school. I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. But my time here has taught me to better identify the people, the places and the things that make me feel happy and like myself; and my therapist has taught me to keep those close to my heart wherever I go, like a portable safe space.

The Laurentians are half of my personality probably because they’re a collection of memories and people who have shaped me into who I am. While university has fiercely chipped at me like a diamond, the Laurentians have polished me with love and kind intentions. No matter where I go, I know I will always circle back here even if it seems counter-intuitive toward my “success.” 

But really, what is success without bliss? There’s something admirable about respecting your boundaries and keeping sight of what makes you happy, even if it doesn’t make sense on paper. My parents moving out to the Laurentians might have complicated a few things, but it was also the greatest gift they could’ve offered me.

I’m happy for those who found a home, a dream or a haven of anonymity in Montreal. Meanwhile, I might as well spend my whole life with one foot in the city, looking for success and creative opportunities, and the other foot in the Laurentians, looking for peace—just like my dad did, and he turned out just fine.

Can toilet paper single-handedly fix Montreal roads?

Toilet paper might be the saving grace of Montreal’s terrible roads, but there are other theories about this interesting phenomenon.

Montreal has turned commuting into a religious experience; I’ve never prayed more than for my car to stay intact when going over one of the city’s characteristic potholes. Driving on Montreal roads is an experience perhaps more wild than La Ronde roller coasters, but luckily, a sneaky solution is in the works, and might be saving our dire situation.

The first time I noticed it was on my very own street. I was driving home from a friend’s house, and was shocked to see what looked like toilet paper blowing in the wind, scattered like streamers. At first, I wondered if we had been the victim of a movie-esque teenage prank, but as time passed, I began to see that this phenomenon was not unique to my neighbourhood.

As any self-respecting journalist, I realized that it was my duty to figure out why toilet paper keeps littering our streets.

In recent times, toilet paper has gone from a hot topic for giggly nine-year-olds to a widely discussed product by adults. Unless you live under a rock, I’m sure you’ve heard about the toilet paper shortages that marked the first wave of the pandemic.

Experts consider this shortage to be a possible reason for toilet paper on the streets of Montreal. The toilet paper companies, delighted with the boom in business, began to overproduce, leaving them with a surplus that would literally take years to deplete. The companies then decided to donate the surplus to the government, who chose to decorate the streets with it, claiming that it would greatly contribute to “a lack of ambiance.”

“I’ve done my research on this,” said Ben Wexler, who presents a different theory. He’s a student at Dawson in Liberal Arts, so you know that what he says is legit. He explained that though there’s not a substantial coverage of this on mainstream media outlets, there are actually “fluffy aliens” who have heard about the toilet paper shortage on Earth. These aliens have seen us fighting over it, and worry that we’re going to “come up there and start using them as toilet paper because we don’t have enough.” Wexler says that they dropped the toilet paper down to Earth as a precaution against this frankly rational fear.

Oakley Griffin, an Honours English Literature student at Concordia, originally wondered whether this phenomenon was the “aftermath of some failed protest.” He’s discovered, however, that stuffing toilet paper in the cracks of the streets is supposed to help mend them. To this, he wonders “whose dad is in charge of fixing the roads,” as this stunt is reminiscent of his own father dealing with an ant infestation by killing them using duct tape.

“With a 3-ply roll of toilet paper, from Charmin, no less, you get the best results,” explained Randy Brandman Farber, a Montreal therapist, on how it helps fix the roads. She says that because of the high quality of the product used on the streets, she would have no hesitation “scraping it up” and bringing it into her home if there was another shortage.

Wexler echoes this sentiment, but for different reasons, citing that “it’s a gift from the aliens, and it would be rude not to.”

In addition, given that public restrooms are often closed in these tumultuous times, toilet paper on the roads provides an excellent solution in an emergency bathroom situation.

That being said, toilet paper might, in fact, be the saving grace of Montreal’s bumpy roads. Either way, its presence on the streets is a soft caress reminding us that though we might not be able to see our friends, at least it’s always got our backs… or better yet, behinds.

 

Feature graphic by Taylor Reddam

Categories
Student Life

The Woodnote: finishing touches

 Zoom-fatigue, red-zone isolation, and finishing touches at the Woodnote.

Our mailboxes were installed! Life at the Woodnote is starting to really take shape now, I never realised just how much having a mailbox made me feel like a real person.

Since I last wrote, most of the balconies have also been installed, the silver diamond-shaped siding has been finished, and the construction workers have started adding plants everywhere. It looks great!

Despite the exterior of the building really starting to come together, I still think the interior hallways need some work. I can’t help but wonder if the concrete floor will remain as is, and if they will add some kind of trim where the wall and floor meets. Right now, in the first floor hallway, there is about an inch gap where unfinished drywall should meet the floor.

Tenants received emails from the co-op board encouraging us to join committees. According to a document outlining membership involvement opportunities, several committees are being developed and will be proposed at the Woodnote’s annual general meeting on Oct. 18. These committees include Anti-Oppression, Safer Spaces, Member relations, Outreach, Labour, Arts and specific projects, and much more. Although nothing has come of it yet, I hope that I might be able to have a say in jazzing up the hallways a little bit as a part of the Arts and specific projects committee. I don’t mind the white walls, but some fun, artistic touches and murals couldn’t hurt (think, the murals in the staircase leading up to the greenhouse in the Hall building.)

It would be difficult to coordinate such a project now, under the current red-zone restrictions. Tenants have been asked to limit their interactions with others, in addition to using hand sanitizer at the entrance and wearing masks in the hallways.

All I can say is I’m glad I’m not living alone in this studio apartment. I know others that are, and it must be so challenging to keep from feeling totally isolated. Although online events have a great way of suggesting this aura of togetherness, the Zoom-fatigue is real and even as an introvert, I miss working around other people in the VA building’s studios. I wish there was a way for us Fine Arts students to work in the common room, socially distanced, with masks on. But sadly I don’t think that is a possibility in the slightest. The common room is still bare, safe for construction scraps, garbage and recycling. I wonder if it will be developed at all this year, and where the garbage and recycling bins will be kept once the common room is ready.

Documenting this move has definitely been an interesting exercise in self-reflection for me, giving me the opportunity to think back on the weeks prior, really notice all of the subtle changes and truly appreciate this space that I have come to love. I hope that this small series will inform and inspire future Woodnote tenants. This is an exciting place to be, and I’m glad I get to be a part of it.

Missed the last articles about The Woodnote? Read more here.

 

 

 

 

Photo by Chloë Lalonde, and video by Adam Mbowe.

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