You know Linda. She's been hanging around in your head for years. She's the little voice that shows up the second you think, Hey, glassblowing looks kind of fun.
And Linda immediately says: “You? Glassblowing?”
Or you see someone making pottery and think, I'd actually love to try that.
Linda leans over: “Oh, you think you're creative now?”
Thanks, Linda. Very helpful indeed.
At AvidEnthusiast, we have decided to give this voice a name because frankly, we all have that annoying inner Linda whose negative narration ruins everything before we even start. So let's set the record straight about Linda. Linda is not your intuition. She is not wisdom. She is not protecting you from danger. Linda is mostly just feeding on your fears of failing, wasting money, or looking stupid at a beginner woodworking class. And boy does Linda have opinions about all that.
Linda Has Concerns
Suggest to Linda that you're thinking about learning pottery and she'll remind you of that hideous ash tray you made in the third grade. Mention pickleball and she'll remind you that you haven't willingly participated in organized athletics since high school gym class. Thinking about beekeeping? Suddenly Linda has become an expert in zoning ordinances, hive collapse, protective equipment, and bee aggression. She works fast, that Linda.
Because Linda's primary job is taking something that sounds vaguely enjoyable and immediately turning it into a complicated 14-step logistical nightmare. You think: Maybe I'll learn photography. Linda hears: “Excellent. First we'll need $6,800 worth of camera equipment, a Lightroom subscription, several lenses, a working knowledge of aperture, and possibly a degree from the Rochester Institute of Technology.”
No, Linda. Sometimes people just take pictures.
Linda Is Particularly Concerned About You Being Bad at Things
This is Linda's favorite argument. You shouldn't try something because you might not be good at it. Which, when you think about it, is an incredibly stupid standard. Of course you won't be good at it. You haven't done it yet. Nobody sits down at a pottery wheel for the first time and accidentally produces museum-quality ceramics. The assumption that hobbies are only enjoyable once you become proficient at them has ruined an enormous amount of perfectly good fun.
You are allowed to paint terrible paintings. You are allowed to play mediocre guitar. You are allowed to grow deeply disappointing tomatoes. You are allowed to knit something that starts as a scarf and somehow becomes a trivet. There is no hobby police. Nobody is coming to chastise you. Except for stupid Linda.
Linda Also Thinks Everything Is Too Expensive
To be fair, sometimes Linda has a point here. Some hobbies are expensive. If your new passion is collecting vintage Fabrege Eggs, Linda may deserve a seat at the table. But most hobbies do not require you to immediately purchase the professional-grade version of everything involved. You do not need the $900 sewing machine. You do not need a carbon-fiber racing bicycle. You especially do not need to convert your garage into a climate-controlled woodworking studio before determining whether you actually like woodworking.
Start cheap. Borrow things. Rent things. Buy used things. Take a class where someone else already owns the frighteningly expensive things. A hobby does not require an acquisition strategy, despite what Linda says.
“But I Don't Know Where to Start.”
Of course you don't. That's another one of Linda's little tricks. She likes to suggest that because you cannot immediately understand an entire hobby, you probably shouldn't bother entering it. You look up home brewing and suddenly there are people arguing online about specific gravity. You investigate birdwatching and somebody starts talking about primary coverts. You consider bread baking and discover there are people who have named their sourdough starter.
Ignore them for a minute. Every hobby contains people who have gone completely off the deep end. Eventually, you may become one of those people, God willing.
Buy some flour. Borrow some binoculars. Take the intro class. Download the beginner guide. Make something ugly.
Linda Is Also Very Worried About Embarrassment
This may be her strongest department. “What if everyone else is better than you?” They probably are. “What if you don't know what you're doing?” You definitely don't. “What if you ask a stupid question?” Statistically inevitable. And yet somehow you'll survive.
Most hobby communities are filled with people who are delighted that someone else has become interested in the weird little thing they love. Mention to an amateur astronomer that you're thinking about buying your first telescope and there is a reasonable chance they will talk to you for 45 uninterrupted minutes.
Ask someone who restores antique radios how to get started and you may accidentally acquire both a mentor and a hand-me-down. Enthusiasts like converts. That's why we called this place AvidEnthusiast.
The Point Isn't to Find Your One True Hobby
This is another area where Linda gets dramatic. She wants every hobby decision to become some enormous statement about who you are. “Am I really a pottery person?” Who knows? Take the class. Maybe you'll become obsessed with pottery. Or maybe you'll make three mugs, decide clay under your fingernails is unbearable, and move on to archery.
You are not choosing a spouse. You are choosing something to do on a Saturday. Trying a hobby and abandoning it is not failure. It's research. Occasionally expensive research involving a closet full of yarn, but research nonetheless.
The goal isn't necessarily to find THE thing.
The goal is to keep finding things that make life a little more interesting.
So, listen, Linda.
We appreciate your input. Really. You've raised some interesting concerns regarding our lack of talent, limited knowledge, questionable coordination, available storage space, disposable income, and likelihood of public humiliation. Your comments have been entered into the record.
But we're damn sure going to try the thing anyway.
Because life is already full of activities we have to be good at, like jobs, errands, and parallel parking. Hobbies are supposed to be the other stuff. The unnecessary, mildly ridiculous stuff. The stuff we do simply because something about it makes us think: Oh, that looks fun.
So the next time something catches your attention (like pottery, fly fishing, fencing, mushroom hunting, stained glass, salsa dancing, model trains, blacksmithing, birding, soap carving, competitive duck herding, or whatever) and Linda immediately starts listing all the reasons you probably shouldn't…
Tell that joy assassin to simmer down.
