Some people seem to get by with a bunch of different hobbies. I know I seemed to for a long time, but all but one failed to maintain my interest.

I tried the few sports I found compelling. I know how to ride a bike in some very rough conditions. Maybe it will come in handy some day.

I tried getting interested in cars. I know the systems inside and out, and that’s very useful when communicating with my mechanic, but that’s as far as it goes.

I tried music. I know scales and stuff, and can usually understand why I like or don’t like something. Couldn’t stick with it though.

Art! I like doodling sometimes, but I could never charge though a serious piece.

I thought I was a “gamer” for a while, but I realize I only enjoy a few world-changing franchises and a smattering of indie games. I also actively dislike vast swathes of self-identifying gamers.

I’ve always been surrounded by words. For a time, I thought my hobby was writing. I seem to do well enough when I have something to write about, but that’s where it ends. Not that I mind the small income my few ebooks bring in, but it’s a random collection of things, and I can’t produce worthwhile text on demand, no matter how much I force myself to write regularly. Everything unspontaneous comes out forced and boring. Most spontaneous stuff is best shared on Twitter where I don’t feel compelled to surround the spontaneous bit with hundreds of words worth of filler.

You probably noticed all these pictures. I made an effort to take good pictures. My pictures improve constantly. But I don’t mind if those facts aren’t true in some situations. I don’t mind taking a shameless snapshot, and I don’t mind if a picture is worse than the one before it. I have fun doing it. I can’t say the same for all the other hobbies I tried.

So I’m going to double down on photography. And fortunately for me, flickr just gave me a terabyte of free storage.