A Day in the Life of an In-Between Something

Written in April 2025.

My partner and I watched a day-in-the-life YouTube video following a small farmer on his homestead, and I wondered if I would be happier living in the countryside, working on a farm. I asked my partner what he thought, and he said he'd be open to it only after having a family. He grew up in the city, and he never had to question where he belongs. I grew up in the suburbs, an in-between of nothingness. I knew everyone who lived on my street. Some were my friends, others my bullies. My childhood best friend, who still lives in the small town I grew up in, just gave birth last Friday. In three years, her child will be the age we were when we met.

When I was a kid, I dreamed of a life in the city. I bought The Sims 3 Late Night with my babysitting money and created characters who would get lost in a world too big for them. There was something almost magical about existing in a world of anonymity. Just a small character in an extensive city, stacked in a building with so many other souls. Everything seemed possible in the city.

When I graduated from high school, I begged my parents to let me move to Montreal for college. But because of my autism, they deemed me unable to live by myself. I was able to move a few years later, when I was 21, to attend McGill University. Because of the university's reputation, their pride in my acceptance, and the fact that my two bigger sisters moved there a few years before, they agreed to let me move to the big city. I've been living in Montreal for five years now.

I just recently started to see myself as an adult. Before this year, I was confused about my gender identity, my emotions were all over the place, and I was moving every few months, desperately looking for stability. Without a proper home, I had a hard time connecting with who I was. I was always anxious about my living situation, and did not have the energy to address those other issues. Now that I have a stable home, a stable partner, a stable gender expression, I have more time to address my unreliable emotions, and suddenly I feel so much more mature, like my head is clear from what was previously a big cloud of insecurity and uncertainty.

For the first time in five years, I feel like an adult in the city. I know the city's secrets, I walk its streets with confidence. I don't feel so small anymore, as if I finally belong here.

Now I wonder, if I did a day-in-the-life YouTube video, would others be envious of my life the way I was for the farmer's? I won't make a video, because I'm extremely camera shy, so instead I want to write it out. Maybe, if I imagine myself from the point of view of an outsider reading about my life, I will start appreciating it more.

I wake up to the sound of cars passing by, police sirens, and the voices of strangers walking by my bedroom. There is a level of comfort to the city's soundscape. I'm surrounded by life. My partner wakes up before me, usually at around 5 or 6 AM. He's a baker. I'm often in a state between life and sleep, watching him dress up for the day. He always kisses me goodbye before leaving, and I fall back asleep.

I work for a small non-profit community-based music festival as a grant writer. I worked there for four editions of the festival, first as an intern and then as a full-time year-round employee. I'm working on my fifth edition, but I won't be there to celebrate because I'm going back to school in September for my master's degree in information studies.

I live in the most densely populated neighborhood of the entire province. Imagine it yourself: tall apartment buildings from the 60s made of concrete, homemade shelters in the door frames of abandoned buildings, colorful townhouses from the 19th century, pan-Asian markets, and only a very few trees. My partner, who has lived in this neighborhood for four years, has befriended many of our houseless neighbors. They are nice people, and we try helping them out whenever we can.

I leave home at around 8:30 to grab the metro, always with a coffee in hand. After a few stations, I need to catch the bus, and because it only leaves every 15 minutes, I often have time to sit in the sun, drink my coffee, and read a bit. The bus stop is in the Arts district downtown, with tall buildings of glass and strange sculptures everywhere.

I arrive at work at around 9:30.

My job is extremely boring. I sit in front of a computer all day. I write grants, create budgets, and email government agents. On Tuesdays during winter and spring, we have listening sessions where all employees sit together and listen to artists who applied to play at the festival. We vote together to decide who should come to play. We receive around a thousand submissions and accept only 80 people.

I work in the Mile-End, and maybe I'm biased, but it has the reputation of being the coolest neighborhood in Montreal. It's often compared to a smaller Brooklyn. It's a very artistic neighborhood with a huge Hasidic Jew population. It's been the trendy neighborhoods for decades now. I know too many rich kids who moved there after graduating from McGill to play poor and live the bohemian artistic lifestyle before getting bored and moving back into their parents' mansion.

Before leaving work, I often go grocery shopping for dinner, or stop at the library to pick up a book. Then, it's bus, metro, and home. In the evening, I like to read, smoke weed, play video games, and watch TV. We usually go to bed around 9-10PM.

I lay in bed and listen to the cars stop by. When I lived a small town, I'd fall asleep to the sound of crickets coming from the forest behind my home. Sometimes, there would be no sound at all. Complete silence. I guess that's the appeal of the countryside. But the city is different. There is no silence, no darkness. It never sleeps. And it feels safe, knowing I'm surrounded by life, never alone.

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