Let’s face it. I become easily consumed with doing stuff of no practical purpose that I pursue for no other reason than to become good at it….at which point I no longer do it and pick up something else.
I have repeated this cycle bunches of times. I do it with literary genres, with sports, even people occasionally. I’ve had every hobby from ping pong, to financial markets, from playing music, to illegal substances, from trying to understand theoretical physics, to photography….even to petty thievery in my younger days….thankfully the last one was a short lived hobby, otherwise I’d be in jail.
Lately I suppose my hobby has been work. I treat it like all the rest of the junk in many respects. I liked it all the more because they said I was bad at it when I started. I find that funny.
One of my favorite and most enduring hobbies is singing. My dad can’t carry a tune and my mom thinks she can sing…but really she can’t (which reminds me of someone else I know —> ME). So I kept doing it…for years really, all the while knowing I have no inborn talent. I find it comforting to know I am bad at something and have become barely proficient only through years of practice. Singing is one of the things I’m proudest of….even though certainly not one of the things I’m best at.
I also think it is strange that I call them all hobbies….even work. I don’t really DO anything it seems. Although, at any given time, I am always DOING something…..I guess sort of implying that the hobbies are part time gigs in support of the real purpose…..but if they are all hobbies then I’m not really doing them in support of anything.
I’m a full time hobbyist.
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