What if I Hadn't...

a prompt.

I was doing some writing exercises in my 642 things to write about book, and one that I thought was really interesting was:

Choose one decision you made/action you took and imagine a world where you hadn't made that decision. You hadn't dated that person, taken that job, chosen that car. My first thought was about my move to N Conway.

I think about this a lot, actually, because one of the things I like to do the most is to drive my car. When I am by myself and don't have any great conversation/company to keep me still, I can jump into my car, Jasper, and drive off anywhere as I blast my favorite track. Now. I didn't get my license until I was living in N Conway. And the only reason I ended up getting it was because someone who lived in N Conway let me borrow their van to take my test in. Not to mention; the fact that you don't have to parallel park to pass the New Hampshire driver's test didn't hurt. So! Since I get so much joy out of driving (you can visit anyone you want! You miss 'em? Go see 'em!), I often think back to when I didn't have one, what made me finally get one and what would've happened if I hadn't been in that specific scenario. Here we go!

I was working as a shift leader, essentially, at a retail shop (let's call it Jamie's). For one reason or another, my job was the most important thing to me at that time and I wanted to move up up up! I wanted to be manager. Of the store. Of all stores. OF THE WORLD. In order to do this, I could either wait around forever, OR take the opportunity to be part of the management team in a different building right away! A different building in a different state. And I didn't have a car. I didn't know anyone down there. I wouldn't be able to make friends down there because I would be everybody's boss (OR the people I could've been friends with were significantly older than I was at the time, so they felt weird around me). Since my job was numbero uno at the time, I said "SURE, I'll go down there somehow with my mother and 3 cats and no car, stay in a motel room the size of a matchbox with no fridge/kitchen and a shower that a grown adult cannot even fit in. But only if I can spend all of my tax returns and savings. I can? Well how about the cats - oh I'll have to pretend we don't have two of them? I'll be walking an hour and a half to and from work every day/night regardless of the ever-present local collection of bears? AND the toilet's on the fritz? I'm there!"

There were plenty of hurdles throughout my time there. More than anyone would care to read about, surely. However, there were so many great things that came out of it. Things that benefit me to this day. Very good for my long-run. If I had never gone to live there for a year, I would've probably just stayed at the original Jamie's, in town, and either become a manager person, or simply stayed in that building as a shift leader because of the fear of change. I would have never moved to Mill Town years later to work in that seasonal restaurant. I would have never met G (who also lived in NH), who I met while visiting a friend back home. He gave me the courage to travel more and do more with my life and get my license and later stay in a sweet houseboat in Florida for my 27th birthday. I would not have reconnected with the friends who came to see me while I was in NH nor the ones who missed me while I was away, one who reconnected me with the friends I live with now. I would have never met Elle, who is still a best friend and who gave me the courage to fly out to DC and stay at my first air BnB just to attend a concert. Who made me strive to be a more independent, strong, adventurous woman. I wouldn't have had a reason to work with my restaurant fam/connect with my family of hooligans. I would have not known what it was like to live away from my mother. To have a life of my own. I can even see the good in my time spent at my horrible grandmother's house after I came back from NH; it's fueling the story I am currently writing (and loving).

I would have had a safe, boring, dim, grim life. One that would not have been even half as full of love and connection as my life is now.

Time Travel

I was speaking to a coworker the other day about how the concept of time travel stresses me out. (It's funny what you end up talking about to the people you see every day.) I end up overthinking it and panicking over the influence of being my present-self in the past-world. What repercussions will this create? Will someone who was going to change the world for good not be born? I honestly hate even being the person someone is counting on for a ride somewhere. Not because I am lazy and do not want to give you a ride - I will drive you everywhere because I know how it is to not have. I just don't like the stress of importance it puts on me. What if I'm...

LATE?

Normal people would be fine with this, I am sure. "There was traffic", "I took the other way because I thought it would be quicker", "I forgot"... I am certain there would be allowances they would give to themselves. I have a hard time giving myself such allowances. And so, yes, even this is very stressful to me.

Other than horrible changes occurring (and more specifically, having them be all my fault), I wouldn't want to time travel anyway. What if you get stuck in the past? Then what? You just can't see your family anymore? Not to mention, you were expecting to be back, so maybe they don't even know where you've gone? Suppose you've gone into a past where the hygiene was not so sparkling. That would be enough to make me want to pull out my hair. And your body probably wouldn't have the wherewithal to deal with the illnesses/environment because you weren't born in that time, and as such would surely parish in no time flat. 

I also just don't really understand what the appeal would be in the first place, I guess. Why go back in time? What is it you need to see? Perhaps that's how people feel when I bring up travel. "What, you don't have the internet? You can't google Spain?" So while I do not understand it, I am certainly not picking on anyone who feels the drive to time travel. Different strokes. Godspeed. 

I suppose we have H. G. Wells to thank for popularizing/modernizing the concept. If it weren't for him, certainly it would only be a small gathering of philosophers, in a dimly lit room somewhere, building on this idea. Although, I will say, it would've likely saved me from the interaction I had at said job with a certain customer. This customer, let's call him "Ted", as I do not actually know his name. 

(the following is a bit of story time and has absolutely no point, but it's on my mind, and I feel like typing more things.)

I was at the register, handed someone their receipt and thanked them as they vanished into the Saturday afternoon. Their vanishing revealed Ted. A youngish man with an agenda. He spoke in a way that made me uneasy and his smile made me sick. I am to believe he wasn't all there, so please try to refrain from getting too offended (I told myself). Ted asked me if I had a certain book on a certain Disney Channel star who had grown up. I looked it up; no luck, old bean, my apologies. He said that it was too bad because he had plans that concerned this actor. "Plans that involve, say, time travel?" He finished. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't joking. He stuck the landing. I said oh, that is too bad, then. "Can I help you with anything else?" He proceeded to ask me if I was interested in joining him in his time-travelling escapade to "Oh, say, go back in time to when you were younger and babysit yourself?"

I am sure this was harmless. But it was also the single most creepy thing anyone had ever proposed to me. I actually shivered and felt the heat of my defensive/protective/woman-in-front-of-a-strange-scary-man anger rise from my gut. I interrupted him and loudly said:

"ALRIGHT, WELL I'M NOT INTERESTED IN TIME TRAVELLING WITH YOU, BUT THANK YOU FOR THE OFFER, HAVE A GREAT DAY. HI, I CAN HELP WHO'S NEXT."

I felt like Will Ferrell when he's being that character on SNL who cannot maintain the volume of his voice (a concept originating in the mind of Mike Myers, but let's not spill too much tea, here).

At any rate. Real or unreal, I have no intentions of choosing to time travel. Also not interested in being abducted and twirling about in space for the rest of my life. The people who are interested in these things make me curious - they really don't need family as much as I do. They can't! Why else would they intentionally speed off to another plane of existence, never to see their loved ones again?

What I Would Do

A Prompt.

Everyone has had that pondering at some point in their lives. Some grand scheme, some great illumination on what exactly they would do if they could do whatever they wanted.

That would be an incredibly broad subject to cover in one entry, and so (learning from my recent past blogs) I will be more specific on today's topic:

What would I do if I didn't have to work?

First things first; let's just say I'm getting the same amount deposited into my checking account as I currently am, working my two jobbies. So right off the bat, I know that there will be no lavish additions to my current lifestyle. This thought process will be more focused on the allowance of time. Of course there really is no telling until you're in it, but I believe I am being realistic in my thinking.

I could put my morning routine into full-swing. I could wake up every morning and find comfort and start my day with a calm root. I find that I do not need much routine throughout the rest of the day, but mornings are really a time for good habit, relaxation and accomplishment for me. And I wouldn't have my second job to mess with my late-night hours, so I would have the ability to get some sleep and ready myself properly for the next day.

breakfast
americano
lemon water
vitamins
sudoku
stretching
music

Once the apartment is cleaned, the afternoon could be designated for reading and writing. Whether it be in my home, the coffee shop down the street or somewhere in some other town I've decided to drive to. When I'd had my fill of that, I could research a good meal (old favorite or new recipe) and head off to the grocer to grab my ingredients, head home and cook (and on my most serene days, bake a little something as well).

Nighttime would be the perfect time for socializing (whether that be with friends or s/o) because you could talk about everything you had just experienced. Maybe spring some really rich conversation or big laughs over the smallest things. And in natural form, there would be nights I get sucked back into the author's universe and stay up much too late because I "can't lose this train of thought", but that's something I wouldn't mind losing a little sleep over.

There could be days where I throw my routine out the window and hop a train/plane somewhere for a bit. I reckon about a week would do it for me in most places. Just enough time to check it out and then miss it as you leave. I certainly wouldn't hate avoiding another New England winter for a few days.

I could organize. Maintain. I could learn things. I could research and/or take classes on publishing, on nutrition, on other languages. I could spend more time with loved ones and really have something to talk about. I could hear about what they would be doing with their time, given the choice. Of course things would fizzle out, but I really would find it interesting and get a kick out of it, I think.