Hi guys! Envy (from Picking up the Pieces) and I have been mixing up a guest post for quite a while now based around the theme of 'What if'. I hope you enjoy it and go check out my post over on her blog. Enjoy!
It’s a
part of everyone’s life: daydreaming during boring classes, staring out of the
windows of the bus or lying awake at night, thinking: what if…?
We think
about what could have been almost all the time, from the serious ‘what if I’d
told him what I felt for him?’ to the little things like ‘what if I hadn’t
eaten that panini?’ or the weird scenarios of
‘what if fish could talk?’. We keep thinking about these things because
life could be totally different if we went back in time and changed one little
detail. And if we changed one big detail… who knows what would have happened?
One
thing that turned my whole life around was this one sentence, spoken by my 4th
grade teacher: ‘Why don’t you write stories after finishing your work?’ Because
of these nine little words I embarked on a journey full of stories,
half-finished novels and bad poetry. And if I hadn’t done that?
Ladies
and gentlemen, get in your TARDIS and let’s find out!
October 2005
Primary school ‘the Fountain’, the Netherlands
‘Miss
Martinez? I’ve finished everything,’ nine year old Envy said. ‘I’m bored now.
Can I do the tasks on the next page?’
‘Envy,
you know you can’t. You’ve got to wait until the rest of the class is finished
with their work too.’ Those were her actual words, after which she introduced
me to the wonderful world of writing. And if she hadn’t, I’m pretty sure our
conversation would have gone on like this: ‘But I’m done and I’m bored! I want
to do something!’
‘Just be
patient, Envy. You need to learn to be patient.’
I would
have moped around for a bit. The next day I’d have refused to do my work.
‘Why
aren’t you working?,’ miss Martinez would have asked.
‘It
doesn’t matter what I do or when I do it, I’ll end up bored and annoyed
anyway.’ That remark would have made me end up in the principal’s office, which
would frustrate nine year old me even more, and within no time I would have
been marked as a problem child.
April 2010
Shrinkworth High School, the Netherlands
As I
grew older, I needed a creative outlet. Writing was perfect for this purpose.
And if miss Martinez wouldn’t have suggested writing as an extra exercise?
Without a doubt this would have happened when I couldn’t get rid of my
frustration through writing!
‘No
Envy, you’re a poop head!’ my friend Rose yelled at me during science class. In
reality I wrote a whole story on the childishness of the use of the word ‘poop
head’, but in this What If scenario I reacted differently. Instead of writing,
the thirteen year old Envy in this alternative timeline yells back: 'I am a poop head? I am the one who’s being childish? You are the one who still calls people poop head. How old are you,
three? You are the poop head here!’
The next
day I put a drawing of Rose with poo on her head on Facebook, with the words
‘poop head’ as caption. She would have complained to our mentor and I would
have ended up in the principal’s office for bullying, calling him poop head too
when he doesn’t want to listen to me.
September 2014
Erasmus University Rotterdam
Writing
made me realize that I love languages. Without this knowledge my career choice
would have been one big drama, probably resulting in an event like this.
‘Envy?
Why do you want to become a doctor?’
‘I
don’t.’
‘Why are
you in medical school then?’
‘My dean
said I couldn’t go on believing I’d make a living out of selling my art. Said I
was wasting my brains on art, that this was my best option.’ And as I’m telling
my professor this, I start drawing eyes, a nose and a mouth on my desk.
‘Why
didn’t you tell him you don’t want to be a doctor?’
‘I told
him, but he wouldn’t listen to me because I called him a poop head.’ Meanwhile
I’ve filled the desk with a portrait of my professor. He smacks on the desk, in
the middle of his portrait.
‘Miss
Fisher. I think you should reconsider your career choice. You’re a grown-up
now. You can’t draw on your desk!’
‘Fine.’
I stand up, muttering: ‘You’re a poop head too.’ Then I leave the university
and never set foot there again.
Many
high school teachers were happy with me as a student – until they found out
about my dream of becoming a writer. They thought it was a beautiful dream, but
not one that should be chased during math classes, biology, chemistry,
geography… My dean and I always got into arguments because my dream was
unrealistic and I should choose a ‘real’ career path. It caused some drama
every now and then, but when I look at the What If scenario I just wrote for
you, I think I’ve turned out pretty all right.
‘Cause
if I hadn’t been stimulated to write, things would have turned out a whole lot
worse. Lots of people would have been hurt. Lots of people would have been
called poop heads. And I would have had no clue as to what to do with my life.
So miss Martinez, I owe you a great big thank you for introducing me to the
wonders of writing!