Look, I’ve accepted that I’m never going to be “cool” in the way Gen Z influencers with disposable film cameras and vague existential captions are. I’m not trying to be mysterious. I’m trying to not scream when my Amazon package says “out for delivery” and then vanishes into the abyss for four business days.
I’ve come to treasure the things that bring me joy—not the curated kind, not the performative kind, but the real-deal, deep-sigh, serotonin-sparking kind. Some of them are weird. Some of them are aggressively “uncool.” All of them are mine.
So here it is. A love letter to the untrendy, offbeat, joy-giving nonsense that keeps me sane.
1. Watching YouTube Cleaning Videos I’ll Never Replicate
There is something deeply satisfying about watching a woman named Cheryl deep-clean her baseboards with vinegar and a toothbrush while explaining her entire life story in a calm Midwest accent.
Will I ever clean my own baseboards? Probably not. But watching her do it feels like therapy. It’s soothing. It’s aspirational. And I get to pretend I’m the kind of person who organizes their pantry by color without ever having to touch a label maker.
10/10, no notes.
2. Reading Product Reviews Like They’re Personal Essays
I’m not kidding—I’ve spent more time reading the reviews on a $22 shower curtain than I have deciding whether or not to move cities.
People treat Amazon reviews like confessionals. “This blanket saved my marriage.” “This lamp gave me hives.” “This air fryer brought me closer to God.” I devour every word. I don’t even care if I buy the thing. I’m here for the drama. The storytelling. The emotion.
It’s the modern-day version of people-watching. Only now, I can do it while lying down and eating string cheese.
3. Playing Board Games Alone Like a Sad Genius
I love a good board game night with friends. But you know what I really love? Playing Scattergories by myself, yelling at my own answers like I’m competing on Jeopardy and my livelihood depends on it.
Yes, I keep score. Yes, I get mad when I lose. Yes, I argue with the invisible judge in my head about whether “Lasagna” counts as a Thanksgiving dish. (It doesn’t. But I stand by it.)
It’s nerdy. It’s solitary. It’s borderline unhinged. But it’s mine.
4. Rearranging My Bookshelf for No Real Reason
There is no practical reason for me to keep reorganizing the same three shelves of books. But does it stop me? Absolutely not.
Do I alphabetize by author? By genre? By emotional impact? One time, I organized them by which ex I was dating when I first read each one. (Spoiler: Never do that.)
There’s something calming about touching familiar spines, revisiting old favorites, and pretending I’m Belle from Beauty and the Beast—just without the Stockholm Syndrome.
5. Naming Inanimate Objects Like They’re Roommates
I’ve named every car I’ve ever owned. My Roomba is named Dolores. My blender is named Chad (he’s loud and gets the job done, but you wouldn’t trust him with your emotions). My body pillow is affectionately called Matthew Jr. (and yes, my real-life Matthew is aware and only slightly disturbed).
Is it childish? Maybe. Is it comforting? You bet your ass.
There’s something oddly delightful about imbuing ordinary objects with personality. It makes the mundane feel personal. Plus, when something breaks, you get to say things like “Dolores betrayed me” instead of just being mad about a vacuum.
So yeah—maybe none of this will land me a sponsorship deal or get me invited to any rooftop influencer events. But these quirky little joys keep me afloat. They ground me. They make me laugh when things feel heavy. They remind me that peace doesn’t have to be aspirational. Sometimes, it’s just Cheryl scrubbing grout while I eat crackers in bed.
If you’ve got an “uncool” hobby that lights you up, lean into it. The world is on fire. We’re allowed our weirdness.