Hobbies are a great way of adding pleasure to the everyday. However, are they still meaningful when they are undertaken rarely? Philippa Scholz, Lundagård's student life columnist and self-proclaimed ‘poly-hobbyist’, explores her relationship with her many extracurriculars.
Like many people today, I like to keep my options open. Committing is harder than ever in an age where each day I could have an experience better and more wonderful than the next. However, my reluctance to settle down doesn’t just end with my romantic partners— I can’t seem to pick a hobby either.
I love collecting them. It’s the rush of finding something I haven’t tried before, the thrill of researching about it, and the dopamine kick I get when I buy whatever is needed for said discovery. It has become so much of a problem that my friends often ask me what my latest ‘investment’ is, my preferred way of framing my frivolous spending.
It also seems that I don’t have a fixed ‘type’. Most people lean towards a specific category like sports or crafts. Not me though! I embrace it all. From embroidery after ripping a pair of trousers, to ice skating inspired by ’I, Tonya,’ and lino carving for Christmas cards that never materialised – the list goes on.
However, once the rush fades, I become disinterested fast. All I usually have left are good memories, a half-finished project and more crap to make space for. My ego is left bruised from realising I won’t be winning any competitions with my imagined underlying talent or starting a side hustle by selling whatever craft projects I have given up.
So why, when the rose-tinted glasses come off, do I continue to fall for love at first sight at the next thing that comes my way?
Upon reflection, I believe it’s not just the activities themselves that are so appealing, but rather the opportunity for self-reinvention. As a child, each day brought new knowledge, shaping my understanding of the world and my place in it like a puzzle piece. It would feel significant, paradigm shifting. Now as I pursue my master’s degree, I have found that moments of awe are rare amidst academic complexities.
A new hobby allows me to get a glimpse into another existence. How would it feel to finish a marathon? Who would I be if I could design my own clothes? What would the world look like if I could speed it up on rollerblades? The benign once again becomes exciting. The mundane is meaningful through my new experiences.
Perhaps, then, it is not so bad that I choose to flirt with different versions of myself. A full storage unit and a few smirks from friends are a small price to pay for the adventures that have arisen from trying something new. Like past lovers, the best hobbies always stay with me in one way or another. When I pick up a project again after a bit of space, the butterflies return, and we are right back where we started.
Luckily, hobbies don’t get jealous of each other, so I can keep on being my happy, poly-hobbyist self.
