Something that I often think about is what alternate versions of myself may be doing in parallel universes. Assuming they exist, and assuming they exist in infinite variations from slight to severe, it’s often fun – or a little depressing – to consider my own path through life, and find points of divergence where I may have chosen a different path. Of course, with low self-esteem, it’s often tempting to portray my current self as one of the least successful or meaningfully defined versions of myself in these scenarios, but that’s only because I’m characterising other potential versions of myself as the embodiment of success in one of my potential paths.
The first and most obvious consideration is often the cruellest; what if I’d succeeded in establishing myself as an author by now? I’m quick to add that this could still happen at any time; many successful authors only found success when they were well older than I am now, and I’m not about to give up. (I should probably start before I give up, right?) But a part of me always desired to be a prodigy. Probably borne of no small amount of arrogance which I held before going to university, I initially dreamed of being a successful author at a young age. But looking back on some of my earliest short stories now, I can only wonder how that would translate to a more successful, published version of my 26 year old self. Would I be looking back on my earliest novels in alarm? Or would I have failed to learn some of the most crucial lessons I learned during university, and written stories of a lower quality than I’m now able to, should I apply myself?
Here’s something different: As I approached my late teens, I became fascinated with history, and this fascination feels like untapped potential to this day. What if I’d gone to university for a historical course instead of creative writing? How would my life path have been altered? Well for one thing, I’d have a different group of friends. I don’t do a good job of keeping in touch with my uni friends, but I’d be sad to have never met them. I also find it amusing that I don’t know what the average day-to-day life of a historian is even like, so it’s a little difficult to ruminate on where my life would now be. Maybe I’d combine my love of writing with my love of history and write historical fiction.
Anyone who knows me knows that my biggest hobby by far is gaming. I’m not only interested in playing videogames, but in how they’re made. What if I’d opted to put all my eggs in the game design basket? What kind of games would I make? Well, most games are made by teams, so it’s perhaps more apt to imagine myself joining a well-known developer studio after years of working my way through the industry. But, woof, I can smell the ignorance coming off of that last sentence. By all accounts, the games industry is a cutthroat workplace with all its layoffs and contractual positions. Even in this daydream what-if scenario, it’s hard to imagine myself settling somewhere and making a name for myself. With very rare exception, that’s just not how that works. All the same, I’d like to think I’d be working on some cool collectathon platforming levels, or maybe assisting in the world-building of some grand MMORPG.
Of course, these all assume I’m going down one of the paths that still interest me. Once upon a time, though, I was interested in drumming, and while I only had a few informal lessons, I was told that I had potential. Assuming this was the truth and not merely the platitudes of my sister’s then-boyfriend to keep my interest, perhaps there’s a universe where I’m touring the country in a rock band? It’s… difficult to picture, but if the multiverse is truly infinite, as I’ve arbitrarily decided at the top of this blog post, then there’s also a universe when I’m a purple elephant tamer in the employ of the grand galactic army, so…
Grounding our feet firmly back in reality for the moment, let’s stop looking at potential presents and dive back into the past. I’ve already documented on this blog post about how cause-and-effect fascinates me, how the butterfly effect affects everything we are. So who would I be if I’d been enrolled in a different secondary school? Our teenage years are some of our most formative, and the friends we make are central to that transformation. My interest in writing was instilled from a young age, but not my interest in history. What interest might I have picked up if I’d been introduced to a different school, a different group of people? I’d be very interested to talk to that version of myself… but not to be that version of myself. I made friends at my secondary school that I wouldn’t trade any opportunity in the world for.
To finish things off, I’ll end on the reminder that yes, it’s fun to think about the different versions of myself that could be out there – assuming multiverse theory is true, which is quite the assumption. And it’s tempting to measure myself against them. But at the end of the day, they’re all me. All people I could have been, but also people I could still be, if I truly wanted. I still have time to be a novelist, and while it may be more difficult to change tracks now, I could still try to break into the field of history – although I certainly have no plans. I could be a teacher, or an artist, or a cook.
Or I could just be myself. And be a little of all these things.
But I would have to learn how to cook…
Perpetually Perturbed 