The other day, I was at a cafe in Silver Lake, seated next to a man who could name every Pokémon species and their evolutions off the top of his head. Was I impressed? Totally. But as he sat there and listed off as many Pokémons as he could before our friends decided they had heard enough, I questioned how someone could be so good at one thing. 

Society seems to push this narrative that you need to find something that you like doing and run with it — be an exceptionally good painter, an extraordinarily talented dancer or a prolific writer. This approach never really worked for me. I don’t want to be the next best piano player or the knower of all plant facts, I want to be decent at a lot of things. 

I like to dabble. I play just enough guitar to impress my family and know just enough about Kafka to discuss poetry at a bookstore. I can bake cheesecake and then totally forget about my baker’s knowledge when I sit and start oil painting. I can identify a few bugs on a hike and then turn and forage for mushrooms and photograph the views. Some may say this makes me directionless or uncommitted, but I like to think of myself as a hobby connoisseur. 

To be clear, I’m not saying that those who are hobby specialists are any less interesting. It is also not necessarily an anomaly for people to have multiple hobbies, but rather it is an unfair expectation that out of all our hobbies, we should be exceptional at one and the others should only be there to keep things interesting. 

People who are dedicated to one passion are admirable, and I appreciate the idea of having something awe-strike you enough to cause you to commit to a lifetime of interest. But there is also a beauty in exploration and the joy of doing things just because. Both approaches are important, and one is not better than the other, but I would argue that hobby collecting comes with incomparable freedom.

There is a freeing feeling tied to not having the expectation to be extraordinary. No one refers to me as the girl who ice skates or the girl who sings; I am simply an individual who tries things. My curiosity for everything has turned me into a mosaic of mini talents and temporary interests that keep people on their toes, including myself. For instance, my last attempt at watercolors might not make it into a Roski exhibition, but it will hang on my bedroom wall and, to me, that’s enough. 

Today’s culture likes to celebrate mastery. The saying, after all, is “Jack of all trades, master of none.” However, what is often overlooked is the second half of the quote: “…but oftentimes better than a master of one.” The beauty in exploration and the broadness of abilities and knowledge may make us hobby collectors more resourceful and adaptive. 

TikTok user @monkeypants25 posted a video that outlined the importance of four core hobby requirements: a hobby that forces you to create, one to appreciate creations, one that gets you outside or active and one that encourages social interaction. 

Having these needs met through trying new things keeps life interesting and can help you feel fulfilled. Don’t get me wrong, if while in the process of finding a hobby you fall in love with an activity, by all means stick to it! Just don’t get so tunnel-visioned on one passion that you miss out on other experiences which you might like even more.

Collecting hobbies or “hobby-maxxing” is deeper than just surface-level fun. It gives me a fresh and expansive view of life, making me less afraid to tackle new things, especially as I enter the post-grad world. I sketch no matter how shaky the lines are, and I surf no matter how wobbly I am. 

While collecting a new hobby, I collect new insights too. My cooking classes have taught me detail, and my pottery classes have taught me patience. I am certain that everything I try in the future will teach me something that will shape who I am as a person as well.

So maybe I’ll never be the person my friends call to accompany them on guitar at an open mic or knit the most proportional sweater — but I’ll be the one they call when they want to try something new. And that’s okay with me. If you’re waiting to be good at something before giving yourself permission to start, stop. Begin messily. Begin with curiosity. Revel in the experiences. There’s wisdom in the trying — valuable, even if it is not quite typical.