Where is my mind?

My mind is loud with thought as the French countryside flies by out the train window. It's rolling hills and stunning coastlines are a hypnotizing backdrop to my cluttered thoughts. France is a beautiful country. One I've been in for about two months. One that has been good to me..... but one that I am leaving tomorrow. 

Leaving again. I do a lot of that. I see farmers houses surrounded by rows of crops flicking by at the train's blurring speed of 300km's per hour. I think about why. Why do I leave so much?
Maybe you know the answer, but I don't.
Maybe that's why I keep going.

I leave not to run away but to try and find the reason I can't seem to stay

I'm on my way to Paris from the south of France, where I've been working. My coming here was the culmination of many months of planning. The first big step towards starting a new career at sea. An odd choice to some, out of left field perhaps, but something that I've been working towards for a while. Something that was at first a dream, but that I've begun to make a reality.
That reality began when I stepped off the plane into Paris. That first moment when I realized that this wasn't just some pipe dream or some little passing idea I had but instead a future I am making a reality. A long term, more stable plan than my occupations of previous days. A stability which I've been craving for a while and hearing that might surprise some. Many, who know me, think that I fly by the seat of my pants with no worries as to where I end up. A vagabond drifter with no cares in the world. Peter Pan personified. While I can understand why some would think that looking at my life for the last so many years, the truth is, I spend more and more time trying to see into my future. Trying to know what to do, where to go and what moves to make today. 

Sometimes tomorrow's blank canvas overwhelms today

I feel a heavy pressure to do well by this gift of life I've been given, for I truly have been blessed in more ways that I can count.

I am not worried that I am without opportunities but instead that I don't see the opportunities in front of me.

It is this fear of squandered opportunity that has sleepless in the night. Those closest to me know this well as they watch me agonize, going back and forth trying to decide just what is my next move.
This last month has been a lot of that. It's taken up my days and today, it's put me on this train.

So here's my mind in words:

I've been here trying to get a job on a yacht, which has been going well. I've been having successes and I'm on the right path, but it's a hard one.

My issue is that my old life in front of the camera has me committed to a shoot I am contractually obliged to do this coming October.......in Vancouver.... on the other side of the planet. Not exactly ideal to get to when you're on a yacht at sea. Plus a yacht crew has a very specific work rotation and you can't just take off for a week whenever you want and just swim to shore. Crew often do 5 months on and 1 off, and most captains looking to hire a new deckhand aren't keen on some guy asking to take off for some shoot.
So that sucks. Been a bit of an anchor to my smooth sailing sea plans.

It's dusk now in Paris as we walk down the cobblestone street. The setting sun beams off the apartment windows spraying gold across our long shadows. I'm flanked by old friends that I haven't seen in years and we seamlessly go back to our old ways with no missed beats.

It's a trip to see them. I haven't seen Anthony since our days spent surfing in Cape Town and Robin I haven't seen since Bangkok where we used to audition for commercials against each other. Both of them know each other well from Paris life and the three of us head into this funky little Thai restaurant whose decor brings me back to BKK nights. It has the feel of street food on Sukhumvit right down to the simplistic steel tables and stools and as they dive into a very french conversation about food, my minder wanders......


My 90 day visa has only 40 days left. I'm running out of time. Oh the joy of visas. At what point do we do away with this outdated system of neighbouring clans. People are people. End of story. I wonder how much of my time and energy has been devoted to worrying about visa's? More than I care to remember but much like my broken suitcases, it's the toll of the road that I'm willing to pay. My current issue is that with my visa running out soon, I'll have to leave Europe before the season's end leaving me with nowhere to go and nothing to do until late October. I have 40 Euro days left. Do I stay? Should I bail now and head back to Vancouver, then try my luck in the Caribbean season in November after my Vancouver commitments? Maybe I could leave now, which would pause my visa and come back to the Med for the end of season when there's more work? That one captain did say he had yard work for me later on in the season in Palma.....

What's the move? 

It's 24 hours later and our driver weaves the van down the old country road that carves through the Polish country side. We flew in early this morning and after collecting our bags, found a sign taped to the arrivals wall with our names on it. "Come outside. I am waiting for you." The small Polish man is there like the sign said sucking back cigarettes. After loading up and meeting the clients from Pakistan, we hit the road for the supposedly quick trip to the location. 
It's been hours now and our drivers terrible cough has me worried that he might just get to where he's going before he gets us to where we are going. Poor guy. 
The client asks us if we are hungry. After a hectic morning of travelling we could all use some eats and I'm looking forward to trying some traditional Polish food. I've never been to Poland before and I want to absorb as much as I can about the culture during this short work trip. Maybe I'll try some cabbage stew or maybe....."KFC!!!" the client says with too much excitement for someone who's not drunk.
I listen to Anthony and Robin start swearing in French, while my stomach wishes it could swear in Polish.

"You should go to China" Laura says. The idea comes out of left field, which seems to be where most of my life is born.... not to mention most of this post. Laura is my agent and she is pitching me on a modelling contract in Guangzhou. "You say you have to get out of Europe and have two months to kill. Why not go to China and make some bank?"

It's not the worst idea. She continues on with the details and I mull the idea over. In my head this was all supposed to be simple. Go to the Med. Get a job on a boat. Stop modelling. Start a new challenge. I need a new life education. I want to grow. I need to push myself past my comfort zone.
Life however, has a habit of not cooperating with one's well laid plans and maybe Laura is right. Quick pit stop in China to crush some catalogues for cash, then back to Van for that shoot and then I can hit the Caribbean to try again for a yachtie job.
But..... China. My love/hate affair for China is well documented and while I sometimes miss the craziness of everyday life there, I don't know if I can handle the war of attrition that is Chinese work life anymore. GZ is known as the hardest of the hard when it comes to modelling contracts.
But it's also known as the most money.

Time and money..........our ever constant worry.

"Time is money people! It's time to SHOOTSKIE!!!"" he says. The coming rain clouds have the production in full scramble mode as we are already behind on our shoot day and rain spells disaster. The AD (Assistant Director) continues on; "OK let's reset! Background back to one! First marks!!!"

I'm standing there in the middle of a Polish Pakistani picnic with a camera pointed at my face and about 50 extras patiently waiting for me to figure this shot out. The director gets up and comes over from his monitor in video village.
Not a good sign.

"Ok last time you looked like you don't really like the orange juice. This time, I really want to see you having fun with the orange juice. I want to see it in your eyes. Make sure they pop. Speed up your beats, give me more energy and REALLY drink a lot this time. Don't forget to face the label to camera Ok?!"
"Ok. I'll love the juice this time."

My eyes will pop...... from diabetic shock.

Maybe I'm coming across as fake because my life seems unreal lately. A week ago, I was a deckie living a meagre yachtie existence in the South of France... but when French Anthony called to ask if I wanted to shoot a commercial with him in Poland, cash in hand, no commission, no casting... how could I say no? I've been in this industry long enough to know that this kind of thing doesn't come along often. So, a few days later I started the trip that started this post. Fast forward 48 hours and I'm here on the set of an orange juice commercial. In Poland, by a Pakistani production for the Tunisian and Moroccan market.
Life is a funny thing. It never ceases to amaze me how random everything is. Sometimes I think that my attraction to randomness (or it's attraction to me) is my greatest strength...... and then some days I think that it's my greatest downfall.

I try to be open to everything. To everyone.... but maybe that's what pulls me away

Am I wrong to take these opportunities? Was leaving the yacht job easter egg hunt to play an orange juice drinking DJ at a Pakistani production of a picnic in Poland a mistake?
(is that sentence even real?) Should I be more consistent? Should I be more focused?
"We need you for focus." the DOP (Director Of Photography) says, asking me to raise my juice to my second mark so they can pull camera focus for the shot.
Right. I have a job to do. Even if I feel like puking up two litres of OJ. I hear action, throw back more juice and pop my eyes.

"Why don't you just come home?" my sister says. "Come see us at the cabin. Your nieces would love to see you. So would Dad!" This is her response to when I say I don't know what to do with my life. Just come home.... the thought of which hadn't crossed my mind (which is weird considering I had looked at every other option from Manila to Miami) "You need to get out of Europe. Montreal isn't Europe. It makes perfect sense!" 
She's reaching and she knows it. I love her for trying though. My sister has a way of calming me when everything seems out of control.

My ability to head off into the dark is only because I have the lighthouse that is my sister guiding me back

"No one will think you've failed if you come back now. You can always try again in November."

She's right. Even though I hate the thought of pulling the shoot on the Med, my time is running out. Too many thoughts race through my head as our van races us back through the night time Polish back roads. Back to Warsaw and back towards a much needed bed.
The next day I think about our conversation on the plane ride back. Her words mixing with the mix of everything else. 

My life. 

My life is rewarding and exhausting. It's equal parts terrifying and liberating. There are some days where I feel like I have it all figured out. Like I've hacked the system and I've found a way out of the race. Then there are other days where I feel like I'm the only guy on the dance floor and everyone else has long since went home together. 

I'm both Selma and Louise on fast forward towards my slow motion ending. 

It's 6am and the sun's warmth has the morning mist dancing on the otherwise still lake. It's just me here, me with my thoughts as I sit on the dock my dad made years back. My jet lag refused me sleep and it's benefit is the silence of morning. 

Silence. How I like silence. 

I take it all in. The fresh countryside Canadian air, the dew on the dark green leaves, the family of ducks cutting across the living painting in front of me. It's a golden moment and a long time coming. A lot of thought went into getting me here. 

Our favourite movies tell us that all stories have an ending. One that ties everything up with a cinematic bow, with our hero riding off into the sunset as the credits role by...... but that's not life. Not mine anyways. I know my life is a story worth telling but I don't know how the story ends. I don't know if I ever figure this all out and live happily ever after. I don't know if that's even for me. I don't know why I leave so much or where I'm going to be in a future that I just can't see.

But sitting here in a familiar getaway from my youth, surrounded by a family that loves and supports me, that all begins to fade away.
I let go of it all and embrace the silence.

My mind is still.