If We Are What We Repeatedly Do, Then I’m Screwed

comments 11
Random Banter

It has recently come to my attention that a) I actually don’t have a hobby and b) I actually quite desperately need one. You see, for the past eighteen or so years I’ve been a student, and have had no time for hobbies. The most recent five years of my life were busily spent hardly attending uni and sleeping, and the thirteen before that were spent braiding my friends’ hair and crying over maths tests at school (the first five were spent as a cute little ball of booger and poo who didn’t really count). Then one recent morning, I woke as a real life adult. Most new real life adults might apply for ‘real’ jobs, but I’m not ready for that (plus, what use is my Arts Degree?). You see, I’m just as unsure about what to do with myself as I was when I graduated from high school. So that rules out growing up just yet.

Four out of seven days of my week are spent working in a beautiful shop, which I actually quite enjoy. I appreciate the routine on these days, and can go to bed content that I’ve been somewhat productive. But that leaves three days in my week, during which I have quite literally nothing to do. I repeat; nothing. You, with your full-time job, ten screaming babies and home renovations on the side are probably jealous of this freedom, but let me tell you something; it sucks. What does one do when they have nothing to do? A pretty clever guy named Aristotle once stated that “we are what we repeatedly do”. So Aristotle, what does that make me if I don’t do anything? Do I cease to exist? Crikey!

So I’ve been thinking that I need to find something to do with myself; a hobby, some might say. I’ve had a fair go at ‘hobbies’ over the years. At the age of ten I wandered down to the shops and bought a leather-bound folder to hold my valuable stamps, of which I had none. I gave up on stamp collecting some two hours later. More recently, I spent an astronomical amount of money on a carbon-framed, gold-plated road bike. During it’s christening, this million dollar bike threw me over it’s handlebars onto the bitumen road and screamed at me to “never ride me again!” So that was that.

It seems that everyone around me has hobbies. My sister rows. My mother talks to people on the phone. My father plays around on his computer and has recently taught himself how to use Adobe Illustrator (what fun!). My friends play netball, one dances. One of my cousins loves to draw, another has run two marathons and is training for a third. Whilst I admire all of these interests, none float my boat. Don’t get me wrong, I have many interests. I am very interested in the Royal Family and baby George. I am very interested to know what will happen in Season 4 of Girls. I am very interested in Jamie Oliver’s 15 Minute Meals and in drinking red wine on weekends. I am moderately interested in Twitter (although I don’t get it). None of these ‘interests’, however, are enough to be labelled ‘hobbies’.

So that leaves me with…a whole lot of spare time. At least I can blog about it.




The Author

My name is Emily and this is a place where I write about all of the things I love (and sometimes the things I don't love). These things I love include all sorts of people: strangers, friends and family alike. And writing of course! I've never liked giving descriptions of myself, so you'll have to read my random banter in order to get to know me.


  1. I am the self professed king of hobbies. I would suggest you read some of my blogs on that… and then, don’t become a hobby junkie like me. Like your road bike story, it costs a lot of money to flit between hobbies.
    I take the definition of hobby pretty liberally, so a lot can be a hobby. Blogging, which you are doing successfully is a hobby.
    Good luck finding something to invest time and energy into.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Haha I fear that a hobby junkie is exactly what I’m becoming…it seems I’m undergoing a sort of process of elimination! Thanks for your advice and luck! Am heading straight to your blog now…

      Liked by 1 person

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