Some people in their thirties run marathons, climb career ladders, or raise tiny humans. I, on the other hand, have chosen the noble path of… accumulating hobbies like I’m preparing for a very specific apocalypse. You know, the kind where civilization collapses and the survivors need someone who can crochet half a scarf, murder a basil plant, and hoard romance books. That’s me. I’ll be very useful. To be honest I have got a strong suspicion that Amazon has become my toxic support coping mechanism.

Let’s start with drawing. I have sketchbooks—plural. One for “serious art,” one for “casual doodles,” one that’s so pretty I can’t actually bring myself to use it, and another that I bought simply because it was on sale and I have the impulse control of a raccoon at a garbage buffet. Each sketchbook has about three lonely pages filled, usually featuring one perfectly shaded eye. Just the one eye. I cannot explain this. I am the Picasso of unfinished faces.

And then there’s gardening. I tried my best this year to be one of those people who are like “ I’m just off to the garden to pick some fresh herbs for dinner.” Spoiler alert: everything died. My coriander? Dead. My tomatoes? Dead. The only thing flourishing is one giant mutant cucumber that looks like it stole nutrients from all the others like a schoolyard bully stealing lunch money. I’m too scared to harvest it because I’m 90% sure it’s developing sentience.

That lead me to my Kindle. Oh, Kindle, you seductive little slab of lies. I bought it thinking it would cure my book-hoarding problem. Instead, I’ve evolved into a higher level of chaos: digital hoarding. At least real books sit there looking pretty while they judge me. Kindle books? They’re just floating in the cloud, gathering digital dust while I completely forget I even bought them. I own so many I could open a library for ghosts.

So yes, my hobbies are messy, sometimes abandoned, and my plants are neglected . But you know what? That’s fine. At least I’m not one of those people who “just runs for fun.” My chaos may not be productive, but it’s colorful, glitter-covered and always there waiting for me to return and try again.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to start an Etsy shop for the three misshapen coasters I made in 2019 from a make your own pottery set.