The Hobbyist

Welcome to the confessions of a obsessive hobbyist. I’ve tried to deny it before, but I’m coming to terms with it now. When I look around my room, it’s obvious. I have multiple floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with comic books. Last times I counted, I had 61 plants. When I went to the art store last week to start block printing, I realized I already had the supplies because block printing was last year’s hobby. It is becoming, to quote my mom, A Problem. I like to think of it as very in-depth learning. Sure, I have crazy amount of thread, concrete and musical instruments, but I also know way more about embroidering, trends in industrial design and Mozart jokes.

My mom always says I have more hobbies than I have time, or money, for. The truth is that my hobby-hoarding habits are because of them. The un-official Davison motto is, "You're a Davison. Solve a problem." You may see how I started to pick up hobbies. Self-taught hobbies are the salt of the earth. At the base, it's all about problem-solving, and at the base of problem-solving is the ability to crash and burn and get back up. Hobbies create little problems for me to solve until I have a stronger understanding of what I’m doing. As my dad pointed out over my detailed spreadsheets of plant care, I become completely engrossed in whatever I’m interested in, learn everything I can about it, and figure to how to do it. As a result, I’m a fantastic trivia partner for very, very specific pockets of information. You may be wondering what happens to past materials of study. For the projects that are not actively growing, I put in the closet for the next time.