The Hobby Industrial Complex

Every hobby has been monetized. Knitting? Sell patterns on Etsy. Photography? Do shoots for cash. Gaming? Stream on Twitch. Cooking? Start a food blog. Reading? Make a Bookstagram. The message is constant: if you are good at something, you should be selling it. If you are not selling it, you should be posting about it. If you are not posting about it, why are you even doing it?

This is exhausting. And it kills the joy.

The Value of Boring

Boring hobbies are the ones you do just because you like them. No audience. No income potential. No optimization. Maybe you collect rocks. Maybe you build model trains. Maybe you do crosswords. Maybe you just walk around your neighborhood and look at houses.

These hobbies are valuable precisely because they are useless. They exist outside the economy of attention and productivity. They are just for you. Nobody else needs to know. Nobody else needs to care.

Why We Need Them

When everything is content, nothing is just for fun. When everything is a side hustle, nothing is rest. Boring hobbies create a space where your value is not being measured. You are not trying to get better for an audience. You are not trying to build a following. You are just existing in a way that feels good.

This is especially important for our generation. We grew up online. Our instincts are to share, to document, to turn experiences into content. Breaking that pattern โ€” doing something purely private โ€” is almost revolutionary.

Permission to Be Boring

So here is your permission: do something boring. Do it badly. Do it slowly. Do it without posting about it. Let it be yours alone. Not everything needs to be optimized. Not everything needs an audience. Some things are just for the quiet joy of doing them.

That might be the most radical thing you do all year.