Not everything you love needs to pay the rent
Why every passion doesn’t need to be a side hustle
Welcome to issue #005 of Untroubled 🤩. Twice a week I send an essay that is free to read + comment & chat. You can join me in building this publication by liking this post, commenting and/or sharing this post with anyone who might enjoy it.
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I almost ruined my favorite hobby by trying to make it “productive”.
About a year and a half ago, my dad gave me his old film camera, a Praktica TL1000. He bought it when I was born, planning to document me growing up with it. And oh did he.
My parents have a ton of old-fashioned photo books filled with memories. Birthday parties. Random afternoons in the park. Me and my friends, cleaning our bikes. Well, let’s be honest. It became a party of us throwing water around and running and giggling. You can’t help but get happy when you look at those photos.
They are so fun to look back on. The film photos have somehow a lot more character than the ones stored on your phone. Grainy, some are faded. All beautiful in thei
r age and imperfection. You can feel that time has passed when you look at them. It’s also the intent behind documenting, before everyone had a camera in their pocket. Just amazing.
With that same camera in my hands, I feel something light up. It’s not just nostalgia, but a pull. To start documenting my life again, slowly and intentionally. To see the world differently. And at first, I did.
Should I share this? Make money even?
It does not take long for another thought to creep in. Maybe I should share this? Instagram, YouTube, TikTok? Maybe I should start filming my photo walks. Turn it into a little reels or shorts series? Maybe I could even build an audience, Monetize it, eventually. Shooting photos on film is going through this huge revival right now. Would be super trendy to do so. Then collaborate with camera brands, sponsorships… money!
What follows are deadlines, plans, targets and having every photo to be shareable. Only worthy topics need to be photographed but also a lot of them. So I can share a lot. That’s what you do when you’re trying to grow something online. Package everything with a catchy hook. Make it digestible. Marketable.
Immediately, the vibes around taking photos shifts. What started as a joyful, analogue escape began to feel like a job. Catching myself rushing to just fill the roll. Skipping the interesting moments that don’t match the audience. Second-guessing whether a photo is worth a pause or a quick swipe.
The point of a hobby
The whole reason I picked up that camera in the first place is to reconnect with something slower and less digital. A hobby that grounds me in the real world. But now I’m obsessing over how to digitize the images fast enough to post them online. It’s wild how fast the internet and the urge to make money can turn something sacred into something strategic.
When I was fourteen years old we had a photography class in school. We’d go out for photo walks with our clunky cameras and then spend the next day in the darkroom developing our rolls. It was simply amazing, the way the image would slowly appear on the paper seemingly out of nowhere.
I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I wasn’t thinking about composition or likes or what filter would make it pop. I was just playing. Just enjoying the act of seeing something and capturing it. I even kept shooting with single-use cameras well into the digital era. Not because they were better, just because I liked them.
That’s the feeling I am chasing when I pick up the Praktica again. That quiet kind of joy. The analog rhythm. And I almost lost it completely by trying to make it “worth something.”
Here’s the truth I’m slowly learning:
Not everything you love needs to pay rent.
Some things are only valuable because they’re yours.
Let hobbies be hobbies
We’re in a cultural moment where turning your passion into your paycheck is the norm “Do what you love and monetize it” has become the modern mantra. And sure, for some people, it works. But it’s not a universal truth. In fact, trying to profit from every joy can backfire in ways that are hard to undo.
Because the moment money enters the picture, expectations show up too. You start thinking about performance. Metrics. Growth. Approval. Suddenly, you’re not doing the thing for its own sake anymore. You’re doing it to prove something. To someone.
Hobbies, real, unproductive, offline hobbies remind us how to be curious again. How to explore without a deadline. How to make ugly things without judgment. That’s where creative confidence starts to grow. Not in perfection, but in freedom.
And ironically, the more we protect our non-monetized creativity, the more fuel we have for the things we do choose to monetize. The positive vibes spill over. It makes us better thinkers, better makers. It lets us approach our work with less pressure and more perspective.
I think we all need at least one thing that’s just ours.
Something that doesn’t need to scale or impress or sell.
Something that doesn’t perform.
So maybe the next time you find yourself loving something, really loving it, don’t rush to share it. Let it live in your notebook. Or your kitchen. Or the messy corner of your closet where your supplies live.
My photos live in photobooks. Much like the ones my parents have. Just for me.
Let it be playful. Private. Pointless.
If this spoke to you, share it with a friend who might feel the same. Or you could restack it so others can find their way here too 🤗