“The books you read are sh*t!
You’re missing out on life.”
Some thoughts deserve more than disappearing into conversations. So here’s one.
A couple of years ago, someone told me, “The books you read are sh*t. You’re missing out on life.”
It wasn’t the criticism that stayed with me. It was the assumption behind it! that there is a right way to have a hobby. At the time, I hadn’t explored the literary classics or Russian literature. My reading journey simply looked different. As a child, I grew up with Barbie stories, Panchatantra, and Aesop’s Fables. They nurtured my imagination long before I ever thought about what counted as “serious” reading. During school, I found comfort in self-help books because, honestly, that was what I had access to and what resonated with me then. During COVID, I found myself drawn to non-fiction books about design, technology, people, and the future. Every phase of my life introduced me to a different shelf, and every shelf had something to offer.
Recently, as I was finishing Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, this memory suddenly came back to me. I couldn’t help but smile at the irony. Perhaps, in that person’s eyes, I was finally on the “right track.” Yet nothing about my relationship with reading had changed. I was still reading for the same reason I always had. The only thing that had changed was the title on the book’s cover.
That made me think…Why do we struggle to let hobbies remain hobbies?
Somewhere along the way, we’ve started measuring every pastime. If you read, it has to be the “right” books. If you paint, you should sell your work. If you run, train for a marathon. If you cook, start a business. If you photograph, build a portfolio.
Why?
When did enjoyment become something that constantly needs to justify itself? Not every hobby exists to make us smarter, richer, more cultured, or more productive. Sometimes we read because it slows down a noisy mind. Sometimes we sketch because it feels peaceful. Sometimes we garden, dance, collect postcards, play football with friends, or watch old cartoons simply because they make us happy. And perhaps that’s enough.
I’ve come to realize that we often evaluate other people’s hobbies through the lens of our own preferences. We mistake our taste for a universal standard, forgetting that hobbies are deeply personal. They evolve with us, comfort us, challenge us, and sometimes simply accompany us through different seasons of life.
So here’s a gentle reminder! Let people enjoy things. Not everything we love has to become an achievement, a competition, or a statement of intelligence.
Sometimes, it just needs to remain a hobby.
Let Hobbies Stay Hobbies.
By Kundavai MKS
