In Pursuit

The first thing anyone would notice upon arriving at Felicity’s studio apartment was her eclectic collection of stuff. The walls were decorated from floor to ceiling with an assortment of books, artworks, musical instruments, sports equipment, and various other objects. There was no such thing as unused real estate. 

Felicity had a designated spot in her apartment for herself and it was her bed. Her queen size mattress was multifunctional. It served as her workspace, her couch, her dining space, and of course her bed. Half of her mattress was designated as her storage place for her notebooks and her laptop. 

It wasn’t that she lived in a small space. It was just because she had a lot of stuff. She didn’t mind since it never really hindered her day to day living. If she wanted more room to move around she would just go outside. It was as easy as that. 

Recently, Felicity began entering essay contests to earn some scholarship money. She spent the last month typing away on her side of the bed with her laptop propped up against her knees. Felicity enjoyed it because she was bored and she liked writing about herself. It also served as a means to self discovery, which is a lot cheaper than traveling the world or going to a therapist. 

The most recent prompt she had come across was: Write about your favorite hobby. 

Felicity stared at the blank box beneath the prompt. My favorite hobby. She looked around and the first thing she noticed was her vast collection of books. Yes of course, reading. It’s perfect because I can come off as an intellectual. So she began to type. 

My fondest memories of childhood were always surrounded by books. My mother would take me to the library and I would spend hours searching through the book shelves for things to read. I loved the idea of heading off to far-off places and having adventures. I would always leave the library with at least five books in my arm.

But I would never end up reading them.

It was true. Felicity loved to borrow and collect books but she never got the change to read them. It was the potential of books that captured her attention. She never got around to actually reading them because she would often get distracted by other things. I cannot submit this. She was right. This would clearly ruin her chances of winning this scholarship. However, she could not find it in her to continue because if she continues to write otherwise it would be a lie and that will  constantly nag her in the back of her mind. 

She highlighted what she wrote so far and reluctantly hit delete. What else do I like to do? She wondered to herself. She searched her room for more inspiration. Hanging on her wall were her guitar and ukulele. Yes, music. Who doesn’t want to be associated with culture. She began to write again.

I bought my first guitar the summer after coming home from camp. I loved the way the music brought people together and I wanted to do the same. I wanted to be self taught just so I could say I was self taught. However, that came with difficulties because I had to manage my own progress. Slowly, I lost momentum and stopped.

Delete.

My ukulele was a present from a friend back in high school. We were getting into making covers of our favorite songs and posting them online with hopes that one day we would be discovered and sign a recorder company. That never happened. It turns out we could not sing. After recording our first cover, we were so disappointed that we never made another.

Delete. 

I started playing piano when I was a child. My mother thought it was important for a child to develop a good foundation for music at an early age. She would make me practice regularly. However, when she realized that I wasn’t going to make it to Carnegie Hall one day, the practicing stopped. 

Delete.

In elementary school, we had to learn to play the recorder. 

Delete.

I like to listen to music. 

Delete.

Frustrated, Felicity decided to take a break. She closed her laptop and went to put her shoes to go on a walk. Who doesn’t like listening to music. She thought to herself. As she crossed the street into the park, she began to make a mental list of all her hobbies.

Tv, movies, art, cooking, tennis, yoga, programming, scrapbooking, traveling, dancing, sewing, improv, vlogging, language learning, wood carving. I can’t write about watching tv or movies. That doesn’t make for an inspiring essay. Cooking? Do I actually like cooking or do I do it out of necessity. Traveling? I like to experience different cultures because it opens my eyes to the world and that makes me more empathetic. That’s too cliche. Plus, I’ve only ever been to Canada. I probably learned more about culture differences watching a video than actually being there. Why is it so hard? What am I even doing everyday? Studying and watching tv. That can’t be it. Why don’t I have an interesting hobby?

It was a frightening realization for Felicity. As a person who identified herself as being a very diverse and well-rounded person, she could not fully associate herself to anything. She had the privilege of dabbing in a variety of different things throughout her life but nothing ever stuck.

I probably just haven’t found the right hobby yet. Maybe if I keep trying things it will one day come. But I’ve tried so many things. I don’t even know what is left. Am I not disciplined enough to enjoy anything? Is it because I have commitment issues?

What she did have were the remnants of her pursuits which decorated her home. 

As Felicity's thoughts spiraled, she returned home and took a nap. A few hours later she opened her laptop and stared at the blank box on her screen.