A Cat Named Jack

I’m looking out the window from my hostel in Shanghai, thinking about the future. I quit my job ~2 years ago to travel, not necessarily because I’m a travel addict, but rather cuz I didn’t know what else I wanted to do, I just knew I didn’t want to wake up every day and put on pants. It has been a very good two years. The world is awesome – you should see it – and I’ve never been to a place that I didn’t appreciate in some way. It is also very large, and two years is not enough. But, I know I want to go home to Ontario eventually.

I’m not homesick, like I was last year in Hokkaido. It’s just that, with money running low and 38 looming large, I’m trying to think about what the hell I want to do with my life. Full time travel is not my goal. Maybe four months per year of travel would be sufficient. That’s not asking too much, is it? I’m going to start looking for a college teaching position because that seems like the ideal fit, if I can make it work. Teach for two semesters / eight months per year, then travel for four. I don’t care too much about the money – I used to make a lot, and it didn’t change anything for the better – I just want to make enough to have a place to sleep, a few beers, and maybe a boat. Maybe I’ll sleep on the boat and cut my needs by 33.3% – I’m fiscally responsible y’know.

Other than teach, there are a few things I desire when I return to reality. I want to live in an old warehouse with foggy skylights and a shower that has no walls. I want a sailboat. I want to take up kung fu again. I want tattoos of all the places I’ve been. I want to open a bar with cheap beer and street food and communal seating and lots of people-watching space. I want to be an author. I feel like those are not unrealistic goals, nor particularly ambitious. I want the kind of life that would make a good opening scene to a movie about a guy whose life changes dramatically and maybe for the better but he’s wistful about the good old days when he just lived in a warehouse with a cat named Jack. I suppose I never want to return to reality.

It’s funny; I look at others’ social media and get jealous sometimes. I could have all that stuff, right? Big house or fast car or hot wife or beautiful kids or dream job or lakefront cottage or badass muscles. Muscles would be cool, especially, although I’d have to buy five new t-shirts. But then I reflect and realize that I already have a ridiculous life and that I’m the luckiest person I know and I don’t envy anything of anybody. You get one life and I’m not sure I would change much about mine if I could rewrite it. Maybe superpowers, but other than that, not much. My family is perfect, my friends are the best friends, and my city so pretty. What else does a boy need?

This post does not have a thesis or punch-line. I just thought I’d share what bounces through my head while I’m not sailing or hiking in flip-flops or drinking with crazies or climbing mountains. I miss you guyz, but I’ll be home soon, nah worries.