To The Things I Swear I'll Learn One Day | Medium Example Blog (500-600)

I have something deep and dark to admit, something I am not proud of; I am a chronic hobby hopper. I simply cannot bear to pick up one skill and become good at it or stick with it. This has led me to be rather mediocre at an obscene amount of things. Not only that, but I have big dreams to add even more things to my tool box. The thing is though, I don’t necessarily see it as a bad thing as some people might. I will never be an avant artist or someone who can move others to tears with music. Instead I’m able to hold a brush and pluck some chords, but I am also able to feed my desire to learn.

The Privilege of Creative Desire

It is a gift to have passion and maintain wonder as an adult. It is what drives us as human beings to connect with hobbies and learn new things. If we did not have the innate desire to create then life would be dull and many of us would lose our way to the monotony of reality. We are fortunate when that stroke of inspiration hits, visiting us like a friend that sometimes feels as if it lost its way when we crossed the bridge from childhood to adulthood. 

I am a person who is so fervently filled with the need to do everything at once and tortured with the gut wrenching impulse to gather every skill I can that sometimes I feel suffocated by it. Decision paralysis is a real thing even when it comes to exploring hobbies. I have made a million promises of things I will pursue, so here is my love letter to the things I wish to learn.

Dear...

Languages,

I forever regret that I still only have one that resides on my tongue. The language I was born with that ties me to only one culture and one group of people. I am unable to fully connect with anyone in the world in a deeply intimate and personal way. I want to change that. Language learning is one of the leading things that results in a healthy brain as you grow older, and it stimulates parts of your brain you hardly ever use otherwise.

Sewing, 

The machine I inherited from my late grandmother still collects dust under the stairs with a bin of fabrics that parts have already been used and loved. I cannot believe I allow something so beautiful to make friends with the spiders. I have not sewed since seventh grade FACs class where I in fact proved that you could royally mess up a straight stitch and break two needles in a one hour period. I have in my mind that it’s something I’ll never be good at, and in reality that's a blockade that stops me from taking the next step in learning. 

Journaling, 

I will personally fight the Pinterest girls for stamping my desire to ever want to physically journal again. I have so many lovely stationary items but how can I brave the trenches of double sided tape, aesthetically tearing paper, and writing like a font again? No matter what I did, journaling felt more like a display of my artistic abilities rather than a way to express myself. I want to be able to have a creative outlet, but for some reason I can’t let go of how beautiful everyone else can create journals. How they see the colors perfectly and can space things out in their minds.

Sincerely, 

Yours.