It must be a human instinct to try and find a narrative for our existence, a hallmark of which is to define the borders of a certain time of life and call it something. We say, “That was a great summer for me,” or “2005 was an awful year.” It is only in retrospect that we feel we can complete the picture of all that happened; whilst living it, everything is simply confusing. Tomorrow might be better than today; maybe it’ll be far worse.

Because of spending many years in school, I often measure the years from September 1 to August 31. In which case, I am nearing the end of another year – and boy, what a year. I mark the beginning of it from when Monika arrived in Montreal, we went together to the SPCA to adopt a cat, and two weeks and $1000 later, the cat was dead from panleukopenia. I quit my fulltime job; I attempted to work freelance, I scrounged for money, and finally I ended up working for the National Film Board – but only for a three month contract. Then I ended up freelance again, living mostly on the meagre earnings of Villeray Communications, again scrounged money anywhere else I could, and now I’m back to mix of salary work and freelance. I feel very lucky to participate with a theatre project at Porte Parole, and if I can draw anything from the year that’s been, it’s that opportunity is always out there – even in a Craigslist ad!

Since I’ve arrived in Montreal, life has seldom been dull. I was determined that life should be different here than in Edmonton, and in that respect, I’ve never been disappointed. When times aren’t the best, I try to remind myself that if you take big chances, you shouldn’t be surprised if sometimes you feel like you just landed flat on your face.

Then there are the moments when you think luck is finally going to your way; you want to feel energized and happy, then blammo! Something kinda crappy happens. Like this week, I’ve been laid low with a mild form of “le gastro.” Yesterday I spent almost four hours at the doctor’s office. It seemed like everyone got in before I did, including people who had arrived much later. I felt very aggrieved. At least the doctor, when finally I saw him, was pleasant and professional. He gave me a prescription, told me what to eat and drink, and sent me on my way.

This morning I wake up and – gross bit coming – there are maggots in my garbage. This is the second time this has happened this summer. I’m appalled by it. Makes me seem like I’m the proprietor of some outpost of the third world. Or an exceptionally filthy human being. But I am neither! Frankly I don’t understand the maggot thing, I really don’t. On both occasions, they’ve hatched within 24 hours of my changing the bin bag. The food they live on has only been sitting there, decomposing, for 24 hours. How do they generate so quickly? It’s disgusting. I’ve changed my system now to try and thwart these blighters. I’m using a new garbage container that has a lid you can lock down tightly. Nothing is getting in there. Nothing! This weekend, I’m doing another big clean of my entire apartment. I thought it already was pretty clean, but clearly the critters think different. Foul beasts.

Let’s not start on the question of money. Banks were hounding me this week. I think I’ve sorted a way out of my hole, and by October, I should be feeling less desperate. My car will be paid off! Five years of $462/month payments. Over! I suppose if I’d never felt scarcity in Montreal, I wouldn’t be getting the full experience. Only a privileged few are affluent here. Most people scrape by much more modestly. I don’t know what the stats are, but I’ll bet average incomes are 20% lower here than in Alberta. The town is probably better for it. Although a little more affluence spread around in the health care system would certainly be warranted!

But to conclude, really, my own feast-or-famine earnings notwithstanding, do I have much to complain about? No I don’t. If two years ago, someone would’ve told me that by the summer 2009, I’d be onto my third professional contract, working in a bilingual environment – in a second arts-related position to boot – I don’t know if I would’ve believed that fortune teller. Nope. It is really, all in all, a splendid place to be. Montréal, je t’aime plus que jamais, malgré que tu sois quelquefois cruel.

Banchi the cat keeps it real

Banchi the cat keeps it real