October is a sticky month for me, and not because of its glut of Halloween candy. There’s something about the transition out of summer and into fall that puts me into tension — a push of creative inspiration pitted against the opposite pull of mental exhaustion. When these two forces get into full swing, I know my only hope is to batten down the hatches and brace myself for rough seas.

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So Long, Summer

Summer is, I’ve always felt, an overrated season. When I was in school, I rightly loved it, since summer break represented much-needed relief from the stress of education. But as an adult, I’ve never quite understood why it ranks as the preferred season. It’s hot. It’s crowded. My summers are busy. 

I concede that the “busy” part is self-inflicted. As a neurodivergent introvert, I’ve based my social circle off of activities surrounding a slew of summer festivals. These events provide me with an important sense of connection and prime the exhausted wells of my creative inspiration. But on the flip side, the two-month barrage of every-other-weekend travel is admittedly a huge drain on my limited social battery. By the time the leaves change and temperatures dip, I’m ready for a shift in pace.

Fall feels like peace to me. Cool rain. Soft, quiet mornings. Out of the chill air, I feel a call to create. It’s time to settle in with a cup of tea (earl grey, hot) and make some sort of contribution to the universe. Doesn’t much matter what kind; I’ve got plenty of hobbies to choose from.

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No Time for Hobbies

I’m not a huge fan of the way we term non-commercial passions as mere “hobbies.” Capitalist society prioritizes marketable skills; if it can’t be sold or leveraged by capital into surplus labor value, our system doesn’t have much use for it. People who ignore this setup do so at the peril of poverty, and as someone whose parents created a difficult life for themselves due to bohemian and entrepreneurial mindsets, I’ve been careful to follow the pattern of sensibility. I work my 40 hours a week in the corporate salt mine, but while that gig keeps my bank account from going empty, I’ve written about how it does anything but feed my soul.

My hobbies are my passions. Frankly, they’re what I’d much rather be spending my life doing, if I only had the time. Time, though — that’s the problem. Every weekday, my job robs me of the time and energy to make meaningful strides with my soul activities, the ones I’d rather measure my life by. It seems I’m not alone. A recent (albeit limited) survey by a consumer response company found 62% of respondents wished they could devote more time to their hobbies. People are time-starved in general; in 2019, the Harvard Business Review published a piece on the issue, citing a Gallup poll that reported 80% of Americans felt pressed for time, unable to accomplish what they intended for the day. While this was likely improved by world circumstances in 2020, I highly doubt any decrease in that figure held for long. In fact, life seems to have accelerated after the pandemic. My work might be done from home now, but that doesn’t mean I’m not doing more of it than ever.

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Satisfaction: In the Dumps

The 2019 Harvard Business Review article also correlated a greater wealth of time with higher levels of happiness. This seems like a no-brainer; my experience certainly supports it. And yet, companies won’t even get on board with a 4-day work week despite workers’ desire to the contrary. Is it any wonder, then, that Americans’ level of life satisfaction is near the record low of the past 45 years?

Monday through Friday, I log into my work computer and piddle away eight hours of my life. Ideally, my hour of lunch should be spent eating and exercising, but many days all I can do is sit back in my chair and scroll social media. By the time five o’clock comes around, my brain is mush. There’s nothing left in my tank, but I must continue on. Chores need to be done. Dinner must be made. Sometimes, I try to get something done with a hobby, but it’s usually a poor effort that leaves me feeling hollow. True progress requires a sustained effort, and that’s just something I can’t muster.

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A Job and a Hard Place

And so here I am again, rolling through October and stuck, stuck, stuck. I wish I could whip out a solution to tie up this post with a neat, little bow, but reality is too messy for that. My answer, early retirement, is hardly within immediate reach (if at all). After admitting total burnout following a slip in performance at work, I finally scheduled some time off next week, but I fear the reprieve will be short-lived. The next Monday after? Well, I’ll be back on that corporate flypaper.