Turns Out, There Was a Pattern All Along: Why Your Interests Aren't Random
Apparently, at almost 49 years old, I'm still learning things about myself, which feels a little rude, honestly. I would've thought my personality had finished downloading by now, but apparently there are still patches being released.
This particular update arrived in the shower. Naturally.
(If my best ideas could start showing up while I was fully dressed and within arm's reach of a notebook, that'd be fantastic. But no. Apparently they prefer shampoo.)
I was thinking about my career, which has looked completely random from the outside. I spent years as a university professor, then wandered into corporate leadership, and now I spend my days making delightfully specific printables for writers, readers, board gamers, and people whose brains have approximately 247 tabs open at any given moment.
Reasonable progression. No notes.
For the longest time, I assumed the common denominator was teaching. It made sense. I like explaining things. I built courses. I stood in front of classrooms. Case closed.
Except... I don't think that was ever it.
I think I've been doing the exact same job under increasingly weird job titles.
If you've ever asked me to “take a quick look” at something, first of all, thank you for your bravery.
Second, I hope you weren't in a hurry.
Because there is absolutely no universe where I'm sending back three bullet points and calling it a day. Somewhere along the way, “a quick look” turns into, “Okay, here's what's already working. Here's what's getting in your way. And here are three things I’d try next.”
Then I disappear into an enthusiastic tangent involving follow-up questions, unexpected connections, and at least one sentence that begins with, “Okay... but hear me out.”
I genuinely can't help myself.
For years, I assumed everyone's brain worked like that. Lately, I'm beginning to suspect... maybe it doesn't.
That realization sent me down a completely different rabbit hole. Because once I noticed the pattern in my work, I started seeing it everywhere else, too.
Suddenly my hobbies didn't look random.
Neither did the books I keep recommending.
Or the Steam games I binge.
Or the rabbit holes I disappear into at 11:30 at night because I just wanted to “look one thing up.”
They were all pointing in the same direction.
I just hadn't realized they were speaking the same language.
I think we spend an awful lot of time trying to figure out what our one thing is. What's our passion? Our purpose? The lane we're supposed to pick?
Meanwhile, our actual lives are over here waving both arms in the air going, “Hi. We've been leaving clues for years.”
If you only look at the nouns, my interests make no sense.
Board games. Memoirs. Plants. Curriculum design. Cozy office supplies. Reality competition shows. Writing. Data. Psychology. Shopkeeping games. Tracking things for no apparent reason.
It sounds less like a career path and more like someone wandered through Barnes & Noble blindfolded.
But the verbs? The verbs tell a completely different story.
I like noticing patterns. Connecting ideas. Organizing information. Helping people see what they can't quite see yet. Optimizing systems. Building things that make complicated stuff feel approachable.
Suddenly the games and books and research rabbit holes don't seem so random anymore.
These days, when I stumble into a new hobby or disappear down another deeply unnecessary research rabbit hole, I’m less likely to accuse myself of wasting time. I’m more likely to wonder what evidence my brain is collecting now.
Because apparently, the goal was never to narrow my interests until I became easy to summarize at networking events. It was to notice that the same handful of verbs had been showing up all along.
Also, if my next shower downloads another major personality update, I’d appreciate it if future releases included patch notes.
If your immediate reaction to this post was, “Hang on... does this explain my inexplicable fascination with vintage maps, houseplants, true crime podcasts, urban planning, and competitive Sudoku?” ...first of all, amazing.
Second, I'll Just Look It Up Real Quick was made for exactly this kind of delightful overthinking. It’s for curious brains that have stopped treating every new interest like evidence for the prosecution and started looking for the thread connecting them.
