I admit, I’m a bit envious of people that have hobbies. The idea of tinkering on a project or scouting antique shops in search of collectables is intriguing. I have dabbled in such tasks as making beer and collecting rare pink elephant bar supplies. This of course seemed more like a means to an end. I have tried to relax and do crossword puzzles but that lasted as long as my vacations did. Boating or collecting cars seems like it would be a nice hobby if you had the money. I really don’t think watching TV counts as a hobby.
After some unscientific research observing friends and family, I jumped to the conclusion that hobbies are related to the amount of time spent at their work. Sometimes a hobby can lead to work. After all wouldn’t we all enjoy what we doing what we love and get paid for it. This is where my hobby, work, passion comes in. I enjoy, No I love to paint and create art. Making ideas come to fruition seems to be my hobby.
The work part comes when I convert those ideas into artwork. Some days the paintings seem to paint themselves with little or no effort. This I consider a good workday. Then there are the nine-hour days of moving paint around hoping to capture the likeness of something. This is a bad day at work. The problem with these days are that they cut into my nights making them sleepless. Looking at that daunting painting of misplaced brush strokes and thinking, if I place a few of those strokes in the right place I’d have a recognizable image instead of a deconstructed potato head.