Tag Archives: Books

Citizen of Ville Joie is changing!

16 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in Personal thoughts

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Good day to all,

You may have noticed that there has been less updates on my blog lately! Well, have you? Because it’s true!

I have been reflecting on my story and I have come to the conclusion that a change was needed, and so a change was made.

And boy is it ever a big one!

You see, I began my story, Citizen of Ville Joie, using the “Biography-through-Fiction” format, believing that I needed a fictional character to tell my story in order to express what I truly wanted to write about : emotions.

As I was editing my text, however, I realized that I no longer needed that character, or that cane to lean on, in order to achieve the goal of getting the reader to feel what I was feeling during these troubled times in my childhood. I believe it comes out just fine when I tell the story with my own words, as me. So all I need now is a new First chapter to lead into the recounting of the events and I’ll be on the right track! Well, that and finish the editing, and the re-editing, and the re-re-re-editing. And then, re-write and re-edit the first, the second and also the third re-write. And of course make sure there are no “speliing miss steaks”. Then I’ll be done. Maybe.

And here’s the kick…the English and the French versions will come out at the same time. Oh, the joy d’être capable of parler deux languages!

I love you guys and I appreciate your support as always!

Steve

Citizen of Ville Joie – It’s a wild world

01 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by in Second pass

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl ends his show.

“…As for you, dear listeners and you who joined us for the first time either here at home and around the world, thank you for the kind words you sent to us through different media all night long.

I must admit, I was afraid my story would be heard as a lamentation or come out as an attempt to convince you that my life has been more special or even worse than yours. People sometimes have this propensity to compare stories with others in the hopes that theirs is the saddest. In fact, now that I have shared the events of my early life with you, I find myself mostly lucky to have been able to survive it all. I know that some of the kids who spent time with me at Ville Joie and also a few others who went through similar events in their lives before or after me didn’t have the luck I have had and they are no longer with us to recount their tales, to tell us how confusing and how painful life can sometimes be even if you live in a place called Happy Town.

I guess I can find some pride in knowing that, added to this luck, was the strength I have shown in leading a somewhat normal life in the circumstances, even if it amounts to just doing what had to be done, even if it amounts to nothing more than surviving.

I have learned very early in my life that sometimes, all we need to clear the confusion in our mind or to heal the pain in our heart can find its way to us, wrapped in a short sentence. It’s no coincidence that in this life, one of the many things we should be thankful for is also one of the very few things we know is a certainty. And it’s no coincidence it is also a very short sentence.

It’s a wild world.

We leave you, for now, with this last song from Cat Stevens.”

The great thing after working with someone you trust day in and day out, is that you get to a point where you don’t need to talk to know exactly what someone else is thinking. I knew Susan would keep Wild World as the last song of the show as I suspected she knew it would be appropriately suited for my closing segment. She leaves her booth to come in my studio and proceeds to walk in my direction. I instinctively rise from my chair, stick my phone in my pocket and meet her halfway to give her a big hug as well as thank her for her friendship. Her response is barely audible because the song playing in the background is mixing with the noise outside my booth coming from the crowd that has erupted in applause after the on air light went dark.

As Susan and I look and smile at each other, I can feel my phone vibrate so I reach for it in my pocket to get it out and have a look at it like an old pro.

“Oh good lord,” Susan says.
“You’re gonna get addicted to those aren’t you?”…

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Love, what else…

18 Thursday Apr 2013

Posted by in Second pass

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl speaks about love.

“…I have been trained to wish for love so intensely and for so long, in the end it’s the wishing that contents me and as more time passes, I become less willing to trade that comfort for the uncertainty that often accompanies actual love. I swear the stuff the human spirit can learn to live with.

As a result, I choose to have relationships but never to really be in one, hovering instead on the surface and when things get too deep, when the uncertainty becomes all there is, silence comes to the rescue. Just like silence came to my rescue on the faithful day I was taken from my family and driven to an orphanage in a big white car by a complete stranger wearing a suit.

Love. Love, what else, would be my curse, an inescapable failure throughout the years as a result of the words written for me long ago in the chapter of my life discussing affection and intimacy. Like all children I wished and expected for certain matters of the heart to unfold naturally. I expected love from my mother, instead she disappeared behind a closed door and left me to stand as an orphan by my suitcase. I expected to share a bond with my brothers and my sister, but we became strangers instead. I wished for love from the first family I was sent to, but they broke my bones, tore my skin and planted the seed of shame inside of me. Deep down, I wished for love from or for each of the other families I crossed path with, in return I rejected them or they rejected me.

I wasn’t the victim in all of this. Love, what else, was the victim.

So, what could possibly compel me to tell my story now and in such details after all the years of efforts I deployed to blur its images with a thick veil of silence? Love, what else. Love, and woman. A stunning and brilliant woman who also disappeared behind a closed door in a moment that awoke in me a feeling so old, the dust raised by that gesture made my heart sneeze. A woman who has in her eyes a kindness equal only to that of Danielle’s and who has twice the good looks of “Andrée with two e’s”. She wished for closeness, she received nothing but silence instead. I look forward to beg for her forgiveness while holding a bag of fresh pastries…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – An angel on my shoulder

04 Thursday Apr 2013

Posted by in Second pass

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl speaks about what Danielle meant to him.

“…But for now, we return to our story and the conclusion to Citizen of Ville Joie.

I have been told by my parents that I have nothing to worry about, that they will keep me no matter what happens. My long journey into the unknown is now behind me so I can focus on being a kid and ask myself inconsequential questions such as “who do I want to be when I grow up?” instead of big ones like “where will I be tomorrow?”

I’m making a few friends and see them every day at the community centre where we hang out most of the time and I begin playing baseball with some personal success although as a team, we all know we will never amount to anything. Summer goes by fast and I attend the local school where I make a lot of new friends. Our teacher is nothing but kind and patient even though I act like a mentally challenged class clown most of the time.

One day, after school, my mom announces to me that Danielle has lost her long battle with cancer. Hearing this, of course, takes me by surprise and saddens me but I don’t react to the news of her death with as much emotion as one would imagine. It will be a few years later or when I begin revisiting my past through a more mature eye, that I will be able to measure Danielle’s immense impact on my life and appreciate the importance all she did for me. As an orphan, I was lucky enough to benefit from her kindness, from her devotion and I absolutely adored her company but I couldn’t process everything it meant at the time because there were too many things happening around me so fast. I will need a little more living and little more losing before I can learn the true meaning of appreciation.

The afternoon Danielle and I first met, she made the promise to find me a home, knowing how testing it would be even in the best of circumstances. Obviously, she made that promise before she knew she would face this personal and painful challenge. With her own body working against her spirit, she kept a promise she made to a child who wasn’t even hers and she worked until the very end to keep her promise to give me a life, even though she was in the process of losing her own. She lives still in my memories of Happy Town, in the kindness I can see in others thanks to the example of her own and yes, she lives in the regrets I feel whenever I look back on some of the things I wish I could do over. I wish I could see her again, hold her tight in my arms as I know I would and thank her for everything she did for me.

Danielle forever is an angel on my shoulder.

A few years past and my parents who opted to wait until I was old enough for my signature to be legally binding, take me to the local Social Services’ office so I can sign the adoption papers and officially become their son.

I keep going about my life the best I can and experience my teenage years like any other normal teenager you’ve ever known. That’s if there is such a thing and you’ve ever known one. I smoke, I drink and I get caught. I stay, I leave, I live, I fail and I come back. Life is strange that way; maturity has this way of showing up after you mess up which is usually when you don’t need it anymore.

As a young adult I spend years trying to heal the wounds from my past and fight with everything I’ve got to shed a layer of skin stained with the shame and the sadness left by these confusing years. I refuse to succeed at anything, sabotaging countless golden opportunities, believing to my very core that I am not deserving of the happiness that would accompany any accomplishment.

When I finally become an adult, not in birthdays but in actual mental age, I get to discover which of these wounds will never completely heal. Love, what else, as the deepest and the most grueling of them all.

Early on, I make a habit of dating women with whom I know for certain there is no possible future. Women who in return will use my vulnerabilities and hurt me deeply, some of them without even realizing it, others for their own entertainment. I can’t really blame any of them; I drive most of them to do it. This never ending battle that took place inside of me throughout the events of my childhood, this desire for happiness which constantly clashed with my self imposed restrain from enjoying it, stays in me until the quandary itself becomes a biological part of who I am.

I was trained to wish for love so intensely and for so long, in the end it’s the wishing I became comfortable with and as more time passed, I became less willing to trade that comfort for the unavoidable uncertainty that accompanies actual love…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The sun rises

21 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in Excerpts from Citizen of Ville Joie, Second pass

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the real part of my story, Daryl talks about being home at once.

“…When I first moved in with my new family, I became Daryl H. but the moment I hear my mother’s words, is the exact moment I become Daryl Heart and a tremendous weight is lifted off of my shoulders. I feel confident enough to make new friends and after a wonderful first summer, with the new school year in full swing, I complete my integration not only with my family but also in the community.

As for that fragrance I couldn’t describe when I had visited my family’s house on the I met with them, the pleasant aroma that intrigued me so much at the time, was the one of comfort. My senses were trying to speak to me and tell me I was home at once. So many emotions in such a short time for such a small heart. My life had been so complicated, the events and emotions so overwhelming that the simplicity of the next few years to come would be a blessing.

One last break and when return, the conclusion to tonights’s story.”

Surprising how something you get to see every day can, given the right circumstances, reveal itself to you in a whole different light, with a whole different meaning. While I was going through these last two segments, I knew, of course, there was a light coming at the end of that dark tunnel I entered at some point in my childhood and as I spoke, I kept staring out one of the windows of my studio which offers a view of the city, a view made breathtaking by the sun slowly climbing above the high rise buildings, strangely following the rhythm of my story as I was tackling it’s final chapters. I have seen the sun rise through that window a few thousand times over the years I sat in that chair but it is today, of all days, that it decided to finally reveal its true beauty. A calming scene that sets the mood to help me finish my show in the right state of mind and better prepare me for the rest of this day which already has a different feel to it compared to my usual routine.

Through another window, the one that gives me a view inside of the station, I can now see that my good friends Sean and Chris from the morning show have joined the crowd of onlookers as have some of the suits who had rushed to Jackson’s office at his request in order to deal with what they saw as the crisis I had caused. They have different look than the one they had on their faces when they first got here. I’m thinking that during that little emergency meeting of theirs, they got a deeper look at the numbers Susan gave Jackson earlier and now, like the small minded accountants they are, they feel happy. One of them confirms it by giving me a thumbs up, accompanied of course by the phoniest of smiles. He doesn’t know, nor does he care, what it took to get those numbers, so long as they’re good. Where’s that good old gag reflex when you need it.

Also confirmed is how at peace I now feel with my situation when my phone vibrates and I calmly, almost instinctively, reach for it to see who is texting me instead of jumping with the look of someone in desperate need of a defibrillator.

It’s Annie. She is still there. Her face is the perfect background image for how I feel right now. And her words, her words are the light at the end of this dark tunnel, the one I entered a few weeks ago.

“I’m…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Home at once

13 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Excerpts from Citizen of Ville Joie, Second pass

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the real part of my story, Daryl talks about being home at once.

“…While the shock of switching families so abruptly will last awhile, I don’t really have a choice to go on and march through it with my head held as high as possible. And so I get to meet the rest of my family at my new grandparents’ home which is within walking distance from our house.
My new family is a large, young and close knit family. The kind that doesn’t need an excuse to arrange for a get together and have a great time. My grandparents, disarming in their simplicity, are just as warm as their home. They have passed on their kindness and welcoming hearts to their children who are now in the process of passing it on to their own. Setting foot in Papi and Mamie’s house as we call it, is nothing short of a cleansing experience that washes away all that is artificial, all that is untrue from one’s personality, leaving only what matters. If that feeling is the only fortune they leave as their inheritance, when the moment comes, I’ll make sure to lawyer up to get my greedy hands on as much of it as I can.

I am lucky enough to once again have great parents. I have a beautiful home, an extended family as warm and as accepting as anyone could possibly hope for. I know that because during the countless conversations Allan and I whispered between ourselves at the orphanage about what we thought a family should be or what kind of family we wished for each other, none of what we talked about was remotely as good as what I have in my life right now. I am, thanks to my previous experiences, also more aware than ever of what I need to do to make it mine.

But the transfer from one family to another with no time to recover in-between was too brutal, for a lack of a better word, and I am so confused after this change of life, I’m struggling to rise and reach for it.

The regrets I feel whenever I think my recent failure with Gerard and Grace, and I think about it often, added to the shame I have accumulated through my stay with the D family as well as through what I have come to see as my failings with the other families, are pressing hard on my inside. I am now convinced that each time I was given an opportunity to make a family happen for myself so far, it was I who failed to please and convince those who gave that chance. In essence, I am all that remains from my own past and so it is my fault if there is no one left from it and on whom to lay the blame. In a matter of a few days after becoming a member of a sixth family in a period of four years, my ten year old mind has found the answer to “why me?” I have now taken to bringing myself down by calling myself names, with “no good” and “stupid” as the most common ones. In my mind, the only possible answer to “why me” is “because I must deserve it.” Most kids run around all day without wondering about tomorrow but while having dreams of becoming something years down the road, when they grow up. I just want to sit still and I have no dreams for the distant future. As for my tomorrow, I just want to stop being so tired emotionally.

All of this is happening inside of me with no signs of it on the outside, except for the occasional long period of silence. I keep hidden that ugly stuff and I try as hard as I can to be as good and to make myself as likable as possible. I am so conscious of my every move, so afraid of doing something wrong, I sit in the living room of my new home and do as little as possible thinking to myself that if I do nothing, then I can’t do anything wrong.

Despite all I have, and I do have a lot, there is nothing I can see or feel in my immediate surroundings or future to convince me to come out of my shell, to begin to trust the adults around me and start to fully live as a member of the family. I remain in some sort of emotional limbo while doing everything I can to be as quiet as possible and be on the lookout at every turn to stay out of trouble. Something big, something out of the ordinary, is going to have to happen to shake me out of this torpor.

Considering the intensity of the drama that has surrounded me these last four years, thinking of the many life altering changes and the countless moments filled with extreme emotions, it is only fitting that all it takes to convince me to let go of my grip is something as simple as a short sentence. I hear the few words that will change my entire outlook on life one evening during dinner.
I don’t know how this conversation with my parents turned all of a sudden to all of the families I had been with in the previous years, but it did and in the process I must have said something that reveals my fears and prompts my mother to say the magic words as she looks at me in the eyes.

“We’re keeping you, no matter what.”

When I first moved in with my new family, I became Daryl H. but the moment I hear those words, is the exact moment I become Daryl Heart and a tremendous weight is lifted from my shoulders. I feel confident enough to make new friends and after a wonderful first summer, with the new school year in full swing, I complete my integration not only with my family but also in the community.

As for that smell I couldn’t describe when I had first visited my family’s house, the pleasant fragrance that intrigued me at the time, was the one of comfort. My senses were trying to speak to me and tell me I was home at once…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Erasing the question marks

07 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in Excerpts from Citizen of Ville Joie

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the real part of my story, Daryl talks about arriving in his sixth family.

“…The transition from one family to another, without the usual time spent in Happy Town in between, turns out to be far from easy. Normally, when things didn’t work out with a family, the orphanage was not only the one place in the world where I could be sent, it was also the one place in the world where I wanted to be. Added to the obvious sense of security I felt there, was the a great opportunity to let go of my life as a member of a family and go back to being an orphan. A period of grace to help me move on from a family and prepare, as well as one possibly could, for the next one.

But in this instance, Gerard and Grace decided to let me go at the same time as this new family expressed their desire to welcome a child. A timing that worked out perfectly for these families, but one that has deprived me of this much needed time for myself and peace only Happy Town can provide.

A few moments after my arrival, my new parents inform me that I will finish the school year at my current school, which is quite a relief, and as a very thoughtful gesture, they also give me the choice to take a few days off and stay home with them so I can adapt to my new surroundings. I don’t know of a kid in the world who would say not to this but I turn down the perfect opportunity to stay home and be lazy instead of going to school because I feel this intense need to spend as much time as possible with my friends, whom I now see as all that remains of the stability I thought was finally mine just a few days ago.

During that same first evening at around seven thirty or eight o’clock, my parents notice I have gone missing and are frantically looking for me everywhere. They even get dressed and go outside by the river to look for me. They are completely freaked out and wonder where in the world I could possibly have disappeared. I don’t know what startles them the most, that I have disappeared without saying a word or that they find me, safe and sound asleep in my bed. We, Citizens of Happy Town, never have to be told when it’s time for bed, we just do it as a natural reflex.

That peace I talked about in the last few hours, the one Ville Joie so generously offered to me, is the peace I wish I could find as open my eyes and wake up this first morning in my new bedroom, in this new home. I need a moment to remember where I am and that Gerard and Grace are no longer my family. I have to remind myself that nothing I will see today will look familiar. Before I even get out of bed, I can feel the weight of the inevitable questions that accompany the first day of a new life and although I know from experience that each question that will arise will find its answer in due time, I am also aware of the what it takes to erase these question marks one at a time. I just can’t believe I have to got through this again. Why me?

On my first Saturday morning as Daryl H., my parents get a fuller glimpse at the kind of child they are dealing with. I wake up before everybody else, sit quietly in the living room and wait for them to wake up and join me. When they do, we all have breakfast together, after which I help with the dishes and then go back to sit in the living room. Every move I make is done quietly and politely until I’m told it’s quite alright to turn on the television and watch cartoons if I want to. At first, everyone thinks the way I’m acting is cute. And why wouldn’t they? Who wouldn’t dream of a ten year old so well behaved. I make my own bed every morning, set the table, wash the dishes and speak only when asked a question. That stuff has been drilled into me at Ville Joie and I don’t even know it isn’t really normal for a kid to do all these things. Some of my new cousins aren’t too thrilled with what I can do since they begin hearing their parents tell them “your cousin Daryl does it, so why can’t you?”…

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The ugly ties that bind

01 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by in Excerpts from Citizen of Ville Joie

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from my story, Daryl’s boss, Jackson, shows up at the station wearing yet another ugly tie!

“…As Jackson turns around to walk out of Susan’s booth holding this impressive pile of commendations, she looks at me with satisfaction and gives me this reassuring “I’ve got your back” kind of wink. Jackson’s face was so red when he left, there is probably still a glowing trail in the hallway leading to his office. Or was he simply being choked by the particularly ugly tie he chose to wear for us today. Just this once, I’m going to allow myself to be mean and root for the latter.

Another heartbeat skipped, courtesy of my cell phone. I better get used to this thing vibrating or ringing if for no other reason than to avoid going into cardiac arrest whenever it does. This time, it vibrates to alert me of a text from Chuck, a man nearly fifteen years older than I am and probably ahead of me technologically by an even greater margin.

“Listened to your show all night Daryl. Way to raise your profile and deprive me of sleep! Second pictures were sent last night via courier so get ready for a crazy ride. So proud I’ll be a part of it. So proud of you.”

Just yesterday, these words would have sounded more like a warning instead of the encouragement they are meant to be and surely would have sent me digging deeper in all that stuff inside of me. Only, since I let most of it out last night, there isn’t much left for me to sink my shovel into. Maybe it’s because I’m tired but, instead of the predictable silence, what sneaks up on me this time is a smile of approval. Maybe letting all that stuff out was the right thing to do. Maybe I’ll be fine.

More suits are showing up for work early, most likely called in by an alarmed Jackson. There is no way for them to avoid walking in front of the window of my studio to get to his office and as they rush there one by one, as if they just got off an assembly line, they stare through the glass to pay me phony disapproving looks. It baffles me they would think their looks are supposed to mean something to me. Even more baffling is they still explain my attitude towards them by a problem I may have with authority in general. They should know by now it’s just theirs. I’m quite fine with authority. In fact, I have always believed that authority is nothing less than a byproduct of respect. But respect is not something owed, it has to be earned. They have had nearly three years to do something about that and I’m still waiting. Playing with numbers, which is exactly what they do, makes them accountants, not leaders. Nothing wrong with being an accountant but when was the last time a bookkeeper inspired to the point where people lined up to blindly follow them to the depths of hell. Maybe these accounting prophets hangout on Twitter and that’s why I’ve never heard of them…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The strength within

24 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by in Excerpts from Citizen of Ville Joie, Second pass

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from my story, Daryl thinks about what Danielle, his case worker, meant to him as a child and still means today.

“…I will see Danielle again. I will see her one last time.

When we return, the conclusion to tonight’s story.”

The years that separate Danielle and I have severely faded the image I have of her in my mind but luckily, it has left untouched the way she made me feel and that is what resurfaces first when I think of her. When the mood calls for it, as it very much does right now, one deep breath with my eyes closed is all I need to recall how good it felt to be with her when I needed it the most and at the same time benefit from the remnants of appeasement she has kindly left for me not too far behind my memories of her. For that, I am greatly indebted to her and I welcome the good she still brings to my life as the gift it truly is.

It does matters more and more however that I never had a real picture of Danielle. Holding an image of her would add a tangible feel to the emotions she awakens when I think of her. Obviously, during the period I was lucky enough to have her as my case worker, the adults around me had to have their priorities straight and taking pictures, which was a lot more work back then compared to today, was probably not very high on their list.

Had I known then I would one day come to crave pictures of certain people from my youth, I would have insisted someone freeze a few moments in time. What I wouldn’t give today to have a picture of Danielle with her arm around my shoulders. I would guard with my life an image of Allan and I together at summer camp or one of Andrée with two ee’s smiling at me. The only picture I own of that period which is also the only one of me before the age of ten, is a picture of myself sitting in the mess hall at Ville Joie. I have no idea what I looked like when I was a baby, what I wore on my first day at school or thank God, if I looked as ridiculous as I felt wearing that ugly clip-on tie that went with that oversized suit of mine.

I feel selfish for focusing on what I wish I had when I carry in me the soothing memory of Danielle’s presence. After all I pressed myself to look back on tonight, remembering how Danielle calmed my fear of the unknown when I was a child is enough to convince me I have the strength to face the other kind of unknown coming my way today. Life is a lot easier when all you have to do is close your eyes, take a deep breath and conjure on a strength that already lives within. I guess that’s what they mean when they say you “have it in yourself” to do something.

It’s a brutal return to reality as I open my eyes to see Jackson in the midst of an animated discussion with Susan in her booth. Judging by the color on his face and also by his very presence here a solid two to three hours earlier than usual, he is aware of what I have been doing all night and he isn’t happy about it but Susan seems to be holding her ground. As much as I would like to, I don’t have enough time during this break to leave my seat and go get into an argument with him. He won’t go any further than Susan’s booth either, he knows better than to enter my studio during my show.

From my seat, I can see Susan showing him the numbers from last night and I don’t have to be a lip reader to understand she is telling him the feedback from the listeners have been great. Susan, being the competent producer that she is, has had the foresight through the entire night of printing a large number of positive Emails, Facebook posts and Tweets written by listeners from all over the world and she abruptly ends the conversation by shoving the entire stack of printouts in his hands. When Jackson turns around and walks out Susan’s booth holding this impressive pile of commendations, she gives me a feisty “I’ve got your back” kind of wink.

Jackson’s face was so red when he left her booth, his head will probably be medium-rare by the time he reaches his office. Or was he simply being choked by the particularly ugly tie he chose to wear for us today. Just this once, I’m going to be mean and allow myself to root for the latter…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Bearable memories

20 Wednesday Feb 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the biographical part of my story, Daryl says goodbye to Gerard and Grace.

“…I spend my last few days with Gerard and Grace apprehending our goodbyes and when it finally comes, it is as difficult as I expected it would be. On my last day as Daryl D., Danielle was supposed to pick me up after school and drive me to my new home, where I would begin my life as Daryl H. Since school was within walking distance of our house, I was lucky enough to go home every day for lunch which I would share with Grace.

At lunch time, Gerard shows up to have lunch with Grace and I, which is something that has happened only a handful of times so far. He says he wanted to spend a little more time with me so here we are, sitting at the table, eating our food in silence. Food which used to taste so good just because it was prepared by Grace, just because I got to eat it in her company.

Before he leaves to go back to work, Gerard stands by the door as I sit at the kitchen table and we look at each other one last time. He tells me he has never been good at saying goodbye but he wishes me the best of luck and all the happiness I can find. He then lowers his head, turns quickly and walks out. I swear, I heard his heart break as he walked through that door. This is one of those moments, so intense they cannot be made up or imagined. The kind of moment meant to be remembered forever, exactly as it happened, because it is filled with the memory of a true and honest to the bone sadness. And that’s what time uses to make it bearable.

After Gerard leaves, I try and eat as much of my meal as I can but it’s not easy to get anything down with my heart in my throat. The time for me to go back to school has come which means it’s time to officially leave this family behind and hope the afternoon with my friends will bring some sort of comfort and help me forget that I woke up this morning with one family and will go to bed tonight with a new one. I tell myself that I have to try and be strong so I can keep it together at least until then. There’s something about a bed, any bed really, that makes it the perfect place for tears. Sadness however, can sometimes be a diva so it doesn’t always care what the plans are, so it shows up whenever it wants and demands every bit of attention.

I give Grace a heartfelt goodbye kiss and get out of the house, this house I am no longer allowed to call home. At the very moment I close the door behind me, I burst into tears and I am incapable off controlling my sobs, not even when I make it to school and enter the yard. I rush straight the restrooms to hide in one of the stalls. When class resumes and I take my seat, I have big, red puffy eyes which makes it impossible to hide that something is very wrong.

Thankfully, I only have to sit in class few minutes in that state. That is until the principal summons me to his office where he tells me he has received a phone call from Danielle informing him of my situation and asking him to make sure I am doing fine. The principal tells me I am quite brave in my attempt to hide from everyone what I am currently going through. I raise my head to look straight at him and after a short moment, I tell him I have lost my family for the fifth time. I tell him this attempt has nothing to do with being brave and everything to do with being ashamed. I just didn’t want to share with others the details of my latest failure to please. He looks at me as if a ten year old has just spoken to him like an old man tormented by the regrets accumulated during an entire lifetime.

I remain in the principal’s office until Danielle arrives earlier than planned to pick me up and instead of attending afternoon class, I spend the afternoon in her comforting company. At a time like this, it feels good to have her by my side. Her words and the sound of her voice work their magic on me as always and I gradually begin to breathe better, see more clearly ahead of me and my heart returns to a more manageable rhythm. Later, just before dinner, she drives me to my new home, makes sure I am at ease and says goodbye.

I will see Danielle again. I will see her one last time…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.