The Land of Milk & Honey

Before my big move, my sister envisioned me taking Toronto by storm, with “Don’t Rain on My Parade” playing in the backdrop, throwing my hat in the air à la Mary Tyler Moore. For the past two years, I’ve been bending God’s ears with my prayers, asking Him to open doors for me in Toronto so I could start a career in publishing. When I finally found the book & magazine publishing program, applied, and got accepted, I thought “Wow! Finally, I’ll be doing something monumental! I’m one step closer to my dream!”

I had this vision of what Toronto would be like, in my mind this city embodied a sort of land of milk and honey for my professional life, whereas I believed that Montreal felt much like Egypt to the Hebrews. Well, I’ve always had a vivid imagination. I settled in my new pastures with that colourful imagery in mind, ready to embrace my destiny, start a new chapter in my life, etc.

And then reality kicked in: livin’ in T.O. ain’t no picnic. And I thought life in Montreal was a pain in the ass…

The rent is too damn high, my friends and family are too far away… but my studies are gonna take me places. That’s what I remind myself everyday whenever my living conditions make me feel like a hobo with a fabulous wardrobe. What I learn in class fulfils my artistic aspirations, and it’s so thrilling because it allows me to hone other artistic skills. However, I’ve come to learn more about myself: there’s more to me than just an artist. I’m a family person, I’ve had the same friends for 10, 15, 20 years… so in a way, I’m pursuing my dreams, but there’s a part of myself that’s not being fulfilled. The people I care about most are not there to witness my growth and I’m not used to not having my support system with me.

Everyday’s a struggle to pay bills, groceries, rent, even for some freakin’ cough syrup. The semester was nearing its end and I was as sick as dog. The last time I had a cold was in 2007. Despite having a suppressed immune system and living with my mom who gets the scariest kinds of flu twice a year (and that’s with a regular flu shot, mind you), I just don’t get sick. Arthritic pain, yes. Fatigue, of course. But runny nose, headache and coughing??? Nuh-uh. So when I experienced the early symptoms of a cold, I was mad. I wasn’t mad at myself, oh no. I was mad at Toronto: that city made me sick! The stress of trying to make ends meet, being separated from my loved ones, feeling overwhelmed with projects, hearing about people getting shot with crossbows in public libraries and some guy stabbing his dad further down my street and the po-po shooting him (thankfully, I was napping when that happened)… Yes, Toronto took a toll on my health and gave me a nasty cold.

When I finished packing my suitcases after my final exam 2 weeks ago, I was overjoyed: I was going back home for the holidays. Yes, going back to the city I grew to resent for so long for oh so many reasons. Now I realize how futile it was to feel so bitter and fed up about a city that raised me. All those emotions faded during my first three months living away from my family. I don’t know, maybe while I was away I idealized my hometown as a sort of emotional Promised Land or something, a safe harbour, a place to come home to when life’s punches knocked me down too many times, where I could regain my strength before the next battle. I don’t know, maybe it’s the poet in me that sees Montreal as this place where everybody’s nurturing and everybody has a solution to your problem.

I don’t regret moving away, because it took taking this giant leap of faith to help me realize where my priorities stand. All my life I’ve given so much importance to my studies and on laying a foundation for my career… There’s gotta be more to life.