Does Everything We Enjoy Eventually Have to Become Productive?

Today’s kind of a funny problem to have, and definitely a “first world” problem. I’m not sure I know how to enjoy a hobby without eventually building a spreadsheet for it.

My most recent example is collecting Pokémon cards; I genuinely love the cards, artwork, nostalgia, and the thrill of opening packs without knowing what is inside and hitting a top chase card. Each set has its own cards that I love to search for, as well as going back through history to find cards I’ve wanted for years, visiting TCG shops while abroad, and engaging in a community that is also passionate about it like me. Given the rise in popularity of these cards, I’ve also started to track the values, compare prices, calculate potential grading outcomes, and constantly research which products are worth opening vs. keeping sealed. On top of collecting, I’ve turned part of my collection into a small business on eBay, which means something that began as entertainment back in 2023 now includes inventory, shipping supplies, customer service messages, insurance claims, sales data, and tax implications.

Nothing says childhood nostalgia like calculating your profit & loss.

Listen, this isn’t a bad thing. Learning more about an interest definitely makes it more rewarding. My TCG collection has introduced me to new friends, funded other purchases, created meaningful value, and given me something else to focus on during the roller coaster of the last few years. I’ve enjoyed learning about the market and making smart decisions that have grown my collection, but I sometimes wonder whether I am actually experiencing the hobby or just managing it at this point.

A lot of my cards are nostalgic and personally meaningful, but it doesn’t stop part of my brain wanting to know their value. Opening a box is fun, but I’m calculating in the back of my head whether the pulls justified the price. Overall, my collection brings me a lot of joy, but it now represents a decent amount of money; it becomes difficult to treat it like something that only exists for my enjoyment.

Honestly, this has happened to other parts of my life, including the blog you’re currently reading. Writing began as a way to process what I was experiencing, but lately it’s become a website that monitors traffic, an upcoming newsletter that will require subscribers, a potential book, and a small piece of my public identity. It’s impacted my travel; every trip is now an itinerary to optimize. Exercise has become a streak to maintain. My personal website has become an ongoing development project. Even relaxing with gaming can sometimes become something I feel I should finish quickly for the sake of saying I beat the game rather than just enjoying it slowly. I think with all of us, adulthood at some point teaches us that the time we spend on things needs to justify itself.

Are you good at something? Maybe you need to monetize it then. Do you have a lot of knowledge about something specific? You should create content for it. I feel like nowadays if we enjoy a hobby, there’s this underlying pressure (whether internal or from others) that we should be building an audience and find a way to turn that hobby into revenue generation. Enjoyment alone begins to feel like an insufficient return on the hours we spend enjoying it. Maybe it’s not all societal pressure of why we need to monetize our hobbies, as the world has become quite expensive and a lot of people’s careers just don’t pay enough. Especially for those who feel their jobs are unstable, these hobbies provide income potential that can feel responsible vs. excessive. It’s appealing to think that your skill or interests could become a side hustle that opens up new ways of making money. It also creates a lot of pressure when you see everybody else’s hobbies online.

Nowadays, we don’t simply cook; we document the entire meal process. We don’t just collect cards; we display, grade, and financially evaluate them. We don’t just travel; we produce recommendations and try to position ourselves as influencers. Hobbies are now another place where we compare our effort, knowledge, results, and progress against everybody else. This is a double-edged sword, as turning something into more work can make it both more meaningful but also less enjoyable. For me, selling cards online gave me a reason to learn more and helped justify the amount of money I’ve tied up in my collection. Unrelated, writing for an audience has pushed me to think more carefully and helped create connections I wouldn’t have made otherwise.

What’s hard though is that once these hobbies start to produce money, attention, or expectations, it’s impossible to return to the version of it that existed before it did all of these things. And that’s the problem. I’m not saying there shouldn’t be an opportunity to make hobbies more productive, but whether every part of the hobby needs to be optimized once one part of it becomes valuable. What does this look like? Let me give some examples that could apply to me:

• Can I own a card because I like it even if I do not believe it will increase in value?
• Can I write something that does not rank well, attract a large audience, or fit into a content calendar?
• Can I play a video game without needing to finish it?
• Can I travel somewhere without making sure I saw the most impressive version of everything?

I’d love to believe that the answer is yes to these questions, but I’d also argue that my behaviour suggests otherwise. Instead, I’ve tried to make it a goal to protect parts of each hobby from feeling like work. Regarding TCG, some of my cards are inventory, but others go to my personal collection because I truly want them. With writing, I’m trying to write more pieces that grow this blog, but I’m also still writing certain essays as a form of therapy for me. You know what an even wilder idea I’m trying to accept? There might be value in being mediocre at something.

At this stage in life, we never really give ourselves permission to be beginners again. A lot of us look for hobbies that reinforce an identity we’ve already created so that it provides visible evidence of improving in that lane. Why? Well my guess is because it can be really uncomfortable to do something badly, especially when there’s no career or personal benefit waiting at the end. The thing is, whether we do something well or not, simply participating in the activity sometimes adds to our lives because it’s not responsible for anything but that. The value is just doing the hobby itself.

So here’s a reminder that not everything you enjoy needs to become income, expertise, content, or validation that you used your time wisely. Enjoying it is the entire point.