By Lexie Rodenbaugh | Arts & Life Writer
College culture — especially at a school like Baylor – frames every hobby and pastime as a way to ‘get ahead’ in the workplace. Nothing can be just for fun anymore. Reading fiction turns into reading self-help novels, scrapbooking your college memories turns into posting your every move on LinkedIn and even playing or watching sports turns into a networking opportunity.
We can’t just let a hobby be what it is — a chance to wind down after a long day or preserve our sanity when we only have 30 minutes of alone time. We’re stuck in a web of performative productivity.
Turning hobbies into a way to hustle is a gateway to a toxic workplace environment. The job market rewards endless achievement, and social media rewards the performance of it. We’ve internalized the idea that hobbies are only valuable if they can be posted, monetized or listed on a resume.
It’s difficult to remember that we have 40-50 years to devote our lives to our careers, and college is not the time to waste the little bit of independence we have left. College should be a time to test passions, but it should also be a time to rest. We deserve spaces where no one asks if we’ll “do something” with our art or our playlists. A hobby doesn’t have to be content — it can simply be comfort.
A Gallup poll surveyed 6,000 college students enrolled in October 2024 and stated that “about 1/3 said they considered dropping out during that fall semester, citing emotional stress and mental health struggles as the main reasons.”
If this feels inevitable, that’s because the system is built to make it so. Universities market “career readiness” as a selling point, measuring success in internships and LinkedIn connections rather than student joy. Social media algorithms reward the same thing, amplifying videos about morning routines and productivity hacks while burying anything that isn’t optimized for engagement.
Add in the pressure of rising tuition and a shaky job market, and it starts to feel irresponsible to do something purely for pleasure. We’ve been taught that every hour has to pay rent.
I recently fell victim to this system, specifically with painting banners. I used to paint banners for free, as a gift to my friends and family — no questions asked. People were constantly asking me if they could pay me, what my business Instagram handle was and how I could waste this time without making an income from it. I got pressured into selling them, making an Instagram and promoting my business to my friends instead of simply gifting my talents.
Although it’s definitely helping my bank account, it’s taken a hit on my mental health. Adding money into the picture has made me anxious, and I’ve even skipped classes to finish a banner so that I don’t upset any customers. It took the joy and relaxation out of the hobby, leaving only a small weekly income and a huge stressor.
I’m slowly learning that hobbies don’t owe me anything — not content, not income and not a line on my resume. They’re supposed to give, not take. I don’t want to stop painting banners, but I do want to stop believing that every brushstroke has to earn its keep. Maybe the best thing a college student can do right now is to keep something private and useless — read a book you’ll never post about, dance in a dorm room with no camera on, paint a banner that no one pays for. Joy doesn’t need a price tag to matter.
