Hobbies

I don’t particularly enjoy work. You could call me lazy. Frankly, you could call me a lot of things. I prefer “recreationally inclined.” Not that I’m work averse. I recognize the matchless value of work. It builds character, secures society’s infrastructure, strengthens individuals, and yields an invaluable sense of satisfaction. You can’t get anything done without working. I just don’t like to.

I think I first realized my distaste for work when I was very young. I was assigned the cardinal chores that all kids born of goodly parents are given—taking out the trash, vacuuming, doing the dishes, cleaning the toilets (this was my least favorite), and so forth. I also had the blithesome opportunity to help my real estate-attached parents clean up their sordid rentals after disreputable tenants moved out. Often this occurred after a distressful eviction. Mom & Dad’s tenants often left enough trash behind to turn the apartments into something that resembled the city dump. The leftover odors alone could bring tears to the eyes and bile to the kisser. For 5-year-old me, this was a traumatizing experience.

I don’t blame my parents. In fact, I really respect them. They did their best to teach me the value of hard work. They were—and are—very hard-working people. To hear them tell it, they worked much harder than I did when they were young. They even had to walk barefoot 3 uphill miles in deep snow each day to and from child-labor sweatshops where they worked 18 hours a day for a nickel a week. This nickel could either buy a head of cabbage or a ticket to the movies. Of course, they had families to feed, so cabbage got preference. This, too, was very traumatizing for 5-year-olds, but they lived in an age when people kept stiff upper lips. I guess I’m just a wimp.

Incidentally, wimpiness is the kind of thing one has to admit to when one is exertionally challenged. If one doesn’t admit to such things, one creates more work for oneself. Allow me to explain. Imagine if you will that the lawn needs a good trim. (This is not a problem at my home, as I figure putting in a lawn is way too much work.) A recreationally inclined person, such as myself, would rather be fishing. Naturally, the novice would begin immediately by making excuses. This is a big no-no. Coming up with good excuses is hard work. What’s more, an inexperienced or careless excuse-maker might cause more work for himself by actually fulfilling the excuses. It is so much easier to simply concede, “Oh well, I guess I’m just a wimp.” Let the fishing begin! (Note: This is less effective when a wife is present.)

In all seriousness, I believe in hard work…when I have to…I guess. Sometimes, I even take work seriously—a little too seriously. This is why I have hobbies. Hobbies take the edge off (and when you have as many rough edges as I do, this is a very desirable thing). My problem is I have a few too many hobbies. (I just took up blogging.) I just love having fun too much. Ok, that was a joke; nobody can have too much fun. But my diversions divert each other, and I can’t seem to master anything. Having so many hobbies is expensive and time-consuming, but who’s complaining? I love my hobbies.

Since hobbies are a major part of who I am, I’ve decided to blog a series entitled, “pastimes.” Each blog entry in the series will highlight something I enjoy doing, or perhaps something I wish I could enjoy doing. I hope you enjoy reading.