Protagitron/Protagitronne

Day 2 of Operation: Enjoy Life got off to a semi-successful start. On the plus column, my hair is shorter and makes me look like Shirley Temple cross-bred with Valerie Solanas. In a bad-ass way. Unfortunately, there was a run-in with an abrasive French customer, which has sent me on a melancholy spin. I was going to write a long post about my reflections on language and cultural identity, anxiety and belonging, but then I realized that I did not know enough to do it. I certainly don't know enough about the French experience in Quebec or in Canada. Which becomes clear enough whenever I speak it. But I don't even know enough about the English identity in Quebec either. Even when I'm in Montreal, and even after four years, I feel like a tourist. I think part of me has always known that I'm a little unmoored here; that whatever pass I'm on will expire soon. So, I'll leave it to the true natives and lovers of Montreal (wherever they may have come from, however they got there) to sort it all out. Until then I should try listening to a french TV station or two.