hobbies
A confession: I’m also scared by the idea of the “hobby,” though for different reasons than Adorno. In my spare time I’m not off running marathons, or performing in Noh plays, or making model yachts out of popsicle sticks, or participating in tiddly-wink tournaments. So I’ve always felt at a loss when people ask me whether I have hobbies: um, reading? Watching films? Listening to music? These kinds of answers make me feel like a boring person.
Many years ago, this hobby-anxiety led me into an awkward situation. When I was 20, I applied for a summer job that required the dreaded list of hobbies. I cast around for something that would make me look like a well-rounded person, but instead came up with “vegetarian cooking.” Good grief. I cringed then and I cringe now. I like cooking, and I lived in a house that was vegetarian—we cooked and ate together—though I wasn’t. That was the logic. But clearly “vegetarian cooking” sounds like something out of a bad personal ad—the “hobby” of a person who enjoys long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners and is looking for someone with a GSOH.
And I was punished for my sins, or for my sinful lack of imagination. I got the job, and one of my bosses invited me round for dinner in the first week. He and his family sat down to roast chicken, while I was presented with—a succulent nut roast. I sat there and had to conduct a completely dishonest conversation about my life as a vegetarian and my great love for nut roasts. For the rest of the summer I periodically ran into this guy in the cafeteria, so I had to eat a lot of hummous and not much ham.
However, you’ll be pleased to hear that by now I am free from such webs of lies and deceit, as I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m really quite boring and one-dimensional, and feel no need to be well-rounded. This is the beauty of being in your thirties.
Many years ago, this hobby-anxiety led me into an awkward situation. When I was 20, I applied for a summer job that required the dreaded list of hobbies. I cast around for something that would make me look like a well-rounded person, but instead came up with “vegetarian cooking.” Good grief. I cringed then and I cringe now. I like cooking, and I lived in a house that was vegetarian—we cooked and ate together—though I wasn’t. That was the logic. But clearly “vegetarian cooking” sounds like something out of a bad personal ad—the “hobby” of a person who enjoys long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners and is looking for someone with a GSOH.
And I was punished for my sins, or for my sinful lack of imagination. I got the job, and one of my bosses invited me round for dinner in the first week. He and his family sat down to roast chicken, while I was presented with—a succulent nut roast. I sat there and had to conduct a completely dishonest conversation about my life as a vegetarian and my great love for nut roasts. For the rest of the summer I periodically ran into this guy in the cafeteria, so I had to eat a lot of hummous and not much ham.
However, you’ll be pleased to hear that by now I am free from such webs of lies and deceit, as I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m really quite boring and one-dimensional, and feel no need to be well-rounded. This is the beauty of being in your thirties.
posted by smbrook at 12:25 PM
5 Comments:
you have just articulated something i always felt uncomfortable about but never expressed quite correctly. i hate that aspect of job applications or any other document where you must list your 'hobbies' for scrutiny by those who do now know you. how awful.
i used to try and think of cool sports that i had tried once... like sea kayaking, or white water rafting. but writing them in seemed like such a lie that i opted for more plausible hobbies such as running or swimming. but let's face it, both are horrible. who enjoys such things?
what else can we say besides the fact that we like watching movies, lying in bed and listening to music, or reading [for the geeky]? what else is there that can be reduced to a one-word component of a list?
if anyone out there has hobbies, then cool. but those of us who don't will certainly thank susan for finally putting into words the unfairness of being "one-dimensional" in a world that demands that people have interesting hobbies in order to be worthy of employment or capable of producing "cactitude" [i think that was the word?].
its odd how there is such a different perception of active vs. passive hobbies as if one is better than the other because I don't think one should have to defend the fact that they do have only passive hobbies such as reading or listening to music.
I was out with friends one night and while getting to know this guy there we starting talking about books and he made a comment about how nice it was that he could have a conversation with a girl about a book we had both read. that could say something about the type of people he hangs out with, it could be the fact that people dont admit they do read because as Jocelyn said its seen as 'geeky' but I just wanted to add in that there are some pros in society for 'boring' hobbies.
Hmmm...this is probably the same reason why most of our blogger profiles are empty.
But at the same time, not only do we cringe at the thought of writing down our 'boring' hobbies, but we also cringe at the thought of not writing down anything at all. What could be more boring than presenting a complete lack of interest for anything?
In my profile, I added my favourite movies, music and books...but the only reason I did this was because I felt compelled by blogger etiquette to keep my profile from being boring.
I suppose it's a double-edged sword...either we share our boring hobbies and declare ourselves as boring, or else we don't say anything at all and declare ourselves as boring bloggers.
I suppose, like Adorno (though I ripped him to shreds on Jessica's blog), I've tended to throw myself into what could be considered hobbies. Evey author, book, band, and movie I listed in my profile changed my life to so extent and, clumped together like that, create something that is me. I was a nanny to two children for a couple of years and those kids would always bug me about how I seemed to enjoy their books and games more than they. I couldn't hide it. Come to think of it, that probably makes me less like Adorno than anyone on earth.
Jocelyn, you see into my soul. I also fall back on swimming, perhaps in an attempt to make myself appear less passive, in Ananta's terms. I actually like swimming, but I hardly ever do it—there's the exertion, and the public nakedness, and the chlorinated urine. Baths seem much more alluring.
Thor, I will go straight to your profile and get your number. Jane—I'm enjoying trying to imagine Adorno as a nanny.
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