Light As a Feather
shady and weightless on an August afternoon
my hair lifted aloft in the breeze
i am light as a feather
and glittering with sweat
this is my freedom
and i'm not through walking yet
when i'm all chipped polish and sunburns
when i feel my neck in a noose
the scintillating heat
and the paving stones under my feet
are my freedom
and i'm not through walking yet
when i'm claustrophobic and suffocating
when i'm the proverbial bird in the cage
the cicada's drone
and the air saturated with gold
is my freedom
and i'm not through walking yet
the turbulent trees are sipping on tawny sunshine
grey shadows splatter on brick painted pink
and the air smells like iron
and flowers and cider
this is my freedom
and i'm not through walking yet
I used to work at a Nickel's restaurant right beside the Côte-des-Neiges metro station in Montreal. It is difficult to characterize this period of my life as anything other than ghastly and awful, not just because of Nickel's but Nickel's was kind of... the crystallization of the ghastly awfulness. Fully representative of the doldrums of this epoch. I had just moved to a new city where I didn't know anybody, had no friends there, was not adept at the language, and I had no structure or plan to help smooth the way. I was homesick, we were broke (see above, breakfast restaurant where people genuinely think it's acceptable to tip $0.50 on their meal), and I didn't know what I was supposed to be DOING. With my LIFE. I could also write a very long essay about how restaurant culture is toxic, and how my manager was pervy and gross, and how I felt ill-equipped to handle that because I wasn't confident that I could get another job. Even with a very practical music degree.
In 2010, I decided to go back to school, to get another very practical music degree, and I quit working at Nickel's. If going for my Master's did nothing else (which maybe it didn't?), at least it got me out of that situation. Once I was settled in an environment I knew (institutionalized learning!) with built-in friends and acquaintances (hello Alana!) and someone I actually KNEW and who CARED ABOUT ME (hello Peter Freeman!), and living closer to the vibrant, cultural heartbeat of the city (hello St-Urbain and Bagg!)... I started having a good time. For two years, I thought I hated living in Montreal! I turns out I just hated being sexually harassed in the workplace and having bacon grease in my hair all the time. (Those two problems were only tangentially related.)
Once I started enjoying Montreal, living on the Plateau, making friends, playing music all day... I also started to write songs. YAS DAHLING! Who knew that being happy and supported, having direction and purpose would lead to creative output?? Truly, hindsight is very good indeed. Several years passed between the writing of my frist song (Joints) and the writing of this gem, but the idea for it was born in the summer of 2010. Never have I felt more free than when walking home from work in the gorgeous August weather, just feeling so intensely glad to be out of that appalling restaurant.