The Case for 'Side Quests': Finding Joy in Adulthood's Unproductive Pursuits

Adulthood has transformed into a landscape of relentless goals, productivity demands, and monetized hobbies. In response, a call is emerging for more "side quests"—activities pursued for their own sake, offering an escape from the pressure to achieve measurable outcomes.

In Los Angeles, a city often associated with ambition and career-driven endeavors, the concept of a "side quest" is gaining traction as a way to inject novelty and enjoyment into daily life. Unlike goals, which require plans and measurable results, side quests are defined by their lack of sensible purpose beyond sparking interest and encouraging engagement with the outside world. Examples include learning pottery, taking a line-dancing class, or joining a chess night, regardless of proficiency.

The author suggests that modern adulthood has blurred the lines between personal time and work, with even hobbies becoming avenues for building personal brands or generating income. This trend is seen as diminishing the simple pleasure of occupying an afternoon without the need for a quantifiable outcome. The embrace of mediocrity and the acceptance of being a beginner are presented as key to rediscovering this lost joy.

Los Angeles itself is highlighted as a fertile ground for discovering these "side quests." The advice offered is to look beyond typical tourist attractions and instead search for specific skills. Public libraries and recreation centers are identified as potential hubs for such activities, offering classes in everything from sewing and woodworking to martial arts and art. The Museum of Neon Art, for instance, offers workshops in neon bending, a pursuit that, while potentially costly, fulfills the "side quest" criteria of being something one might not normally consider.

Finding "weird people"—those engaged in niche hobbies—is also encouraged. Los Angeles is home to groups dedicated to activities as varied as chess, roller skating, junk journaling, kaleidoscopes, circus history, and even fancy rats and mice. Following these individuals and their pursuits can lead to unexpected discoveries and introduce people to parts of the city and themselves they might not otherwise encounter.

The author shares personal experiences with "side quests," including motorcycle safety classes, line dancing, and Community Emergency Response Team training. While some were more successful than others, the act of engaging in something new and potentially outside one's comfort zone is framed as a form of progress.

The guiding principles for choosing a side quest are simple: it should not benefit one's career, and there is no requirement to excel at it. Ideally, the activity should lead to unfamiliar environments or introduce new social connections. The ultimate test of a successful side quest might be a friend asking, "Wait. Why?"

The piece argues that childhood friendships often formed organically through structured activities like sports or dance classes. In adulthood, the shift towards intentional "friendship mixers" and apps designed for social connection may be less effective than rediscovering activities that naturally foster connection through shared, often unproductive, experiences. The conclusion suggests that instead of striving too hard to make friends, one might find more fulfillment by simply learning a new, imperfect skill, embracing the story that comes with it, however questionable the outcome.