Lucy

I had never proofread anyone’s essay before, well technically I did, but I never really thought about it. So I proofread my roommate’s essay. I don’t really know what I was expecting since she’s studying politics and I don’t know ANYTHING about that, but it was quite fun. As expected, I didn't understand a single thing that she wrote, but I wasn’t completely useless either. I knew I would correct the grammar because French isn’t her first language so that’s what I did, but there was something else that I did, which I never thought I would be doing. I was rephrasing it, you like when you write something, and then you read it, and you think the idea is good but the way it is said is just not right, well that’s basically what I did. It was so satisfying because, in a way, it felt like I was editing a book. Well, not a book but something. You know, just correcting mistakes, and rephrasing it for it to be the most perfect version of itself. See, I think it really comforted me in what I want to do in my life, it was like I saw a glimpse of what I could be, what I will be, and it felt really good. I could EMBRACE who I am, I genuinely saw myself doing this FOREVER ! Well maybe not forever, but you get the point. I will simply end this post, and this blog by saying thank you, because never in a thousand lifetimes, I would have imagined proofreading my roommate’s essay would have shown me a clear path to my future (I just reread that last sentence and it lowkey looks like I’m talking about God, I’m not thought I just felt poetic 😔).

I thought Michaëlle Sergile’s exhibition was really interesting, firstly because, unlike most people who want to talk about others, she valued those women by erasing them. She simply put them in a spot where people actually WANT to know who they are. Because, when you see someone and you don’t know them, you generally don’t care, but when you CAN’T know someone, that’s when your curiosity starts to act up. That’s when you’re starting to wonder who they are, and what they’re doing. Human kind is a curious species, and will only bother wondering about all of this if they can’t, not if they can because the information is there to take, and there is no challenge in that, it is boring. However putting those women in the dark, makes their aura a lot more mysterious,  because WHO ARE THEY to be hidden like that ? Which is why it is really interesting, because somehow, hiding these women, says a lot more about them than any words can. Hidden is what they were, simply invisible. They were a nanny, or a nurse, always a job, but never a woman. By doing all of that, Michaëlle Sergile empowered them, she gave them their womanhood, their LIFE back. She called out all of the people who hid those women, and she shamed them for what they did. She showed to the world the treatment they were getting for simply existing, for being what every single person on the planet is,  for being themselves.

Just a snowy reading (TURN THE VOLUME UP!!)

Laure Prouvost you are so weird I love you. Before anything I would like to thank her for creating this absolute banger of a song Transbird, it has been on repeat for a week (I don’t think it is a surprise if I’m telling you I’m listening to it right now), it will 100% in my top songs 2025 in next year’s Spotify wrap. ANYWAY, not the point, this exhibition was amazing, while i felt really unsafe for the whole of it, I don’t have any other words to describe it, really. The way she dedicates her work to people, it is like (from what we saw) she isn’t really there, but she, at the same time, everywhere. The way her work looks like it is a part of the brain which we all have, but only a few people have access to it, and she sure does, maybe better than any of us. As a literature student I HAVE to say that writing is simply the best way of expressing yourself, or simply to talk about something, but how can I when Laure Prouvost’s art exists ? She simply gets it. The way she uses the human body, but not a perfect and skinny one, no, an old and wrinkled one (no hate to her grandma though she’s a queen). Oma-je felt like a breath of fresh air, like when you’re hiking and you stop in the middle of the forest, or at the top of a mountain, and you can just BREATHE. Yeah, I think that is exactly what it felt like, for me at least.

Last Thursday, my roommate and I went to a book launch. It was at the library Saint-Henri Books, on November 28th, it was called “Book*hug Press Fall 2024 Launch for New Translations”, and yes, the asterisk was part of the title. It was, well, interesting. I don’t really know what I was expecting, I mean it was exactly what I was expecting, meaning authors reading an extract of their book, and answering questions, but I guess I thought it would be better. First of all, it started super late, because we arrived like 25/30 minutes late, and it still hadn’t started, and second of all, the youngest person there, besides us, was one of the authors, and even she was way younger than the rest. So yeah, I’d say the average age was, I don’t know, 55 ? 60 ? The authors seemed nice though, well some of them were authors and some translators, it was technically their book launch since they were launching the english translations of all of these books, but two of the actual authors were there. Let me think, we had the author Natasha FONTAINE, and her translator Howard SCOTT, for her book Nauetakuan, they both read the same extract but she did it in french, and he did it in english, then we had Jonathan Kaplansky for Not even the sound of a river, the author wasn’t there, and finally we had the author Fanny Britt for Sugaring off, which was her book, her translator couldn’t come. Anyway it was something I had to do at least once in my life as a literature student, so now it’s done. I was expecting a glass of wine though (they actually said there would be a wine tasting I’m not an alcoholic), but no, there was only water 😔.

For this post, I chose to write about the trauma section of this exhibition, at the McCord museum. I think choosing to talk about trauma is the most logical to do, for me at least. Don’t get me wrong, I'm not saying that i’ve been through anything close to this, thank god I haven’t. No, I'm just saying that a trauma is a trauma, and the less you relate, the more horrifying it is. It was so weird, entering this room felt like such a heavy thing, like the entire atmosphere of it was made to make you uncomfortable, from the floor which was weirdly soft like moving sand, to the lights which were really dark and red, and the black walls, like wow am I visiting a museum or am I being held hostage ? Anyway, back to traumas. I think the most horrible thing about all of those stories is that most, if not all of them, went through it as children. Children being deported, and seeing their families for the very last time at the ripe age of 4 years old. It is so sad to read about all of this, knowing that if they testify it’s because they remember, and in a way, it might have been better if they didn’t. I don’t really know which is worse, the pain of forgetting or the pain of remembering ? In any case, those people, children or not, went through such horrible things, and their voices deserve to be heard, worldwide. As a french teenager, I had never heard about it before, and it breaks my heart to know most of the world won’t either.

For as long as I've wanted to study literature, working in publishing was my main goal. I, for some reason, had never really bothered to look into the things I actually had to do, like degrees or diplomas. I just figured studying both English and French literature would be a very good way to do so, so that’s what I did. Turns out the publishing world is lowkey dying, yeah I didn’t see that one coming, and to survive this death, they adapted to digital publishing, so that’s probably what I will do, eventually. I have no skills whatsoever in digital, I'm not even sure I could tell you what that is, but yeah, I'll lean into it if it’s what it takes. It honestly makes sense that real books are dying (by real, I mean those that are printed on paper), I mean the last time I bought a book it was 30$, like what ?? And it wasn’t even a big nor rare book, it was about 90 pages I’d say, plus it was boring. But anyway, ebooks are so much more practical, and cheaper. Well that actually depends, now some ebooks are worth the same price as a paper book, like I’m buying a FILE, why am I paying 15$ when I could just illegally download it FOR FREE  on Anna’s archives ? But however practical or cheaper ebooks are, we need to bring REAL books back in the game, because in all honesty nothing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING beats the feeling of finishing a book, and seeing it all messy with highlighter, pen and post-it, and possibly a couple of wavy pages because you read in the rain. Instead, most of us just have a boring pdf 😔.

Written by Lorena Gale, Angelique tells the story of this young slave, Angelique, partnered up with another slave, César. Together they had three children, all of them died within two years of their birth. As she tries running away with her lover, Claude, he abandons her, and she’s forced to go back to the plantation, where she is incriminated and killed, for arson. For this play, we had to pick a scene, which stood out for us. My friend and I picked scene fourteen of the first act, where she talks, for the very first time, about escaping, with César, who doesn’t have such hopes. You may ask yourself why this scene, and I would tell you it is an excellent question. The truth is, I think this scene is one of the most, if not THE most important scene of the play. Indeed here, Angélique talks about escaping for the very first time. She talks about her life before, we know a little more about her childhood thanks to this scene. She has hopes of escaping and of being free again, well not free, because she says it herself she’s never been free, but when she was a child she didn’t feel like a slave either, while she already was one, she was with her family so it just felt like work to her, and we can think that maybe, that is the feeling she is looking for again. In contrast with her, and her ideas, there is César, who doesn’t remember anything from his life before, and who accepts his fate as a slave. He is content with what he has : Angélique, and what he will have : his children, and he knows that is all he will ever have, that’s why he doesn’t have hopes of running away, because he knows, or he’s afraid, that those hopes turn out to be fake.

We went to see The Wolves yesterday, the good thing about it is that I was absolutely clueless about what the play was about (besides them being a girls soccer team), so it was a full surprise for me (and a good one). First, I thought the stage was really original, indeed, instead of having the public down and the stage up, it was the other way around, like an actual soccer field, which made us feel like the actual public during the game they’re about to do at the very end. The play takes place during their Saturday morning training, this is the only glimpse of their lives we have, we somehow manage to have a pretty big picture of what they’re all like. It however did give us a pretty long suspense of who died at the very end. Indeed, all the girls are coming on stage, one by one, before the last girl comes in, we know she can only be #7 or #14, which already informs us of the absolute tragic situation between the two of them because we know they fought right before, meaning that one of them died while being mad at the other one, and the other will forever feel guilty about it. I was personally really sad to realize #14 was the one who died, since she was my favorite character, but it was the right choice, because killing #7 wouldn’t have strengthened the bond between the girls and her, plus she seemed to be in the wrong during the argument she had with #14, so it would’ve appeared like some kind of karma, which would have been, in my opinion, extremely wrong.

In this film, we follow 12 years old Tekahenthakhwa, also called Beans. We see the summer of 1990, through her eyes, as she is forced to grow up fast because of the Oka Crisis. Beans meets this older teenage girl, April, who guides her through this summer, and who allows her to be stronger, and to escape the crisis by being someone completely different. As Beans meets April’s group of friends, she also meets her brother, Hank, whom she develops a crush on. While we don’t know their age, we know they are older than her, since they’re at least 16 and she’s only 12. The scene which really stood out for me, was when Hank took her to the forest. Having kissed her before during the party, Beans has hopes for the kiss to happen again, but she is obviously not prepared for what is about to happen, which is him asking her to give him a fe££ation. Being 12, Beans doesn’t know what it is, she quickly understands what this is about when he starts unbuckling his belt, and the absolute fear and disgust in her eyes, show us the exact moment when her innocent and sweet childhood is left behind. The whole crush and delusion she had about him falls apart instantly. Then, as she runs away to April, and makes her understand what her brother tried to do, it is revealed that April has suffered the same thing from her father, and she then endorses her role of “big sister” towards Beans, by protecting her, and believing her. I think this scene was interesting because she finds misery in the little life she had built for herself, which makes her go back to the reality of her situation, which she managed to escape, and as she goes back to reality, she also becomes more mature, as she leaves the reckless adolescence she lived for 78 days. 

Meditating has never been my thing. For as long as I can remember the idea of doing so just repulsed me. Well not repulsed, but I very much didn’t want to do so. This morning was different, because I finally did it. I know I only did it because of an assignment, but I actually wanted to. My mom used to tell me to meditate, and I did once, just to please her, but I didn’t like it. Now I don’t know why, but this time was different, like I could see myself doing this every morning before getting out of bed, or before each one of my study sessions. So I did that, and let me tell you that my 30 minutes of studying were so good. No but really, I was super focused for 30 STRAIGHT MINUTES. I’m usually really easily distracted and working for 30 minutes without any breaks is, for me, basically impossible. The crazy thing is, I had my phone, right next to me, on vibrating mode, and I could hear the notifications but I didn't look at it, not once. It was like meditation put me in a bubble, far away from any distractions, and honestly, it felt really good. I was being so productive, I was really proud of myself. Now I know that meditation is something that I will do again, and that I'll put in my daily routine. Whether it is to help me fall asleep at night, or waking up in the morning, or just to help me focus before studying, it is so good. It doesn’t even have to be for a long time, just 5/10 minutes a day, and you’re done.

We went to see Sakura at the theater, based on Anton Chekhov's play. I don't really know what I was expecting, considering that I hadn’t read the play beforehand (I know I was supposed to, I’m so sorry 😔), but it was certainly not this. I actually think I was expecting to hate it, and I didn’t so I was confused, but I genuinely loved it. I was caught so off guard when they started talking about the covid, like wasn’t it supposed to be set in the 1900’s or something?? But I really liked the fact that it was a modernized version of the play, I honestly think it made it so much better. I also really liked the fact that the actors were changing the sets during the play. What I mean by that, is that they didn’t set the whole room in the dark to change it, they didn't hide it or anything, they were doing it in a very graceful way, like they were embracing it. Another thing which was really good, was the fact that the characters were not only playing on stage, they were also playing in the public with us, like we were a whole part of the play. I also feel like the end wasn’t rushed at all, and it wasn’t explicit either, but somehow they manage to make it seem like it wasn’t missing anything, although we don’t really know what happens to any of the characters after. In the end, the play was quite sad, but not DEVASTATING, it was beautiful in its own very special way. It was worth every second of fear I had of not being in time, because I got lost before the play.

Running and studying are two of my main occupations at the moment. I always do at least one of them, every single day. However, I never did one right after the other, like straight up studying while being full of sweat. I have to admit it never even crossed my mind, and I can tell you that now that I did it, I will NEVER do it again. First of all, the 30 minutes run was perfectly fine, except for the part where it was super sunny and I wasn't expecting that, so I didn't have a cap on (which caused me to have a huge headache) and which made me regret choosing my black leggings instead of my shorts. So I ended up with sweaty legs and let me tell you I absolutely HATE IT. Second of all, when I came home, sat down and studied, I was so not focused on what I was doing, it was just kind of a blur. Plus, I was something between dehydrated, and too hydrated, so it was really uncomfortable. I can now tell you that it’s never happening again, and also just the fact that I had to time my run for it to be 30 minutes exactly, not one minute more, or less, and then doing the exact same thing while studying. I think I'm just too anxious for this type of thing. Plus, I still had my running playlist on, so I was STRESSED. I’ve never been on drugs, but I honestly think that’s what it would feel like, because my head was buzzing, and the world was spinning, which was NOT a good sign.

Why do I study literature? That’s a question I ask myself everyday, it might even be one of the most important questions of my life right now. Why do I do this? I told my parents I did it because I wanted to work in publishing, that’s what I told myself as well. But the truth is, I have no idea. Am I lying to myself? Am I doing this only because I was good at it in highschool, and because classes were kind of fun? I think I don't really know why I am doing this, but I'm doing it anyway because somehow it is what I am meant to be doing. Studying literature. While most people would think it is useless because I would end up working in a McDonald's or in a corporate job, having no skills required besides knowing how to print, how to count, and to look cute, I see a prospect of a wonderful life. It is risky, sure, because I might actually end up doing THAT, but if I make it, if I succeed, I might just be the best version of myself, and in the end that’s all that matters. So why am I studying literature? To improve myself, to find myself, to BE myself. Walking around in the streets, knowing that I know silly little things about authors that no one has ever heard of, is actually the best feeling in the world. Nothing beats the feeling of reading poetry from the middle age in the bus, surrounded by people who are just chilling on their phone (knowing that I’d probably do the same if I didn’t have to read this absolute torture of a book for the next day 😔).

I went to study at the library today. I had never really been there before, I don't know why. When I first arrived in Montreal, I thought I would spend all my time there, studying with my music, drinking coffee (I don't even like coffee), and romanticizing my life as if I’m Rory Gilmore. Well, turns out I’m not Rory Gilmore (shocking I know), I’m just Lucy, and I’m not an academic weapon, so I don’t go places to study, the farther I have is my living room. Anyway, I went, and while being there was actually quite fun (I kind of felt like a corporate girl with a big office), I don't think I will go again. See, I thought I’d be super focused on what I’d be doing, that I’d lose myself in work, so much that I would leave at night. But no, I did an online test about some library stuff, and when the hour passed, I left without looking back. I left like I was waiting to leave ever since I stepped foot in there. I was kind of disappointed in myself though, because I really wanted to like it, I wanted it to be my inspirational spot, like being there would make me work for endless hours, without even needing to take a break. I think I thought it would make me someone else, someone that is not me, and well, it unsurprisingly did not. It did comfort me about myself though, because I know how I work, I know when I work, and I know that it isn’t at the library in the middle of the afternoon, it’s more with my roommates, in our living room, in the middle of the night (which often causes me to sleep through my alarms 😔).