COLUMN

Chris Parker, Comedian fb.com/itschrisparker | @chrisparker11

I’ve always relished any opportunity to perform. My fourth birthday party, which was obviously a dress-up, was broken up into two acts. Act One starred me as Batman, then dying halfway through the party, leaving to have a costume change, and returning for Act Two dressed as an angel. While my juvenile audience was more interested in the exploded Cheerios that my mum was serving, that didn’t get in the way of my enjoyment of it. It was never about the crowd; my passion for drama originated from an authentic desire to perform. To perform brought me joy, and it was my hobby. Well, a very loud, in your face hobby.

Cut to 15 years later, and I am studying at Toi Whakaari: NZ Drama School, chasing my dream of becoming a professional actor and facing the bleak reality that I might be spending the rest of my life working as Santa at Harvey Norman on Moorhouse Ave (that’s a story for another column). While there should have been a part of me that was overjoyed that I was getting to do the thing I loved for the rest of my life and be paid (in Prezzy Cards and petrol vouchers) for that, there was a small part of me that mourned the loss of my hobby. Acting became my job, the thing I complained about at the weekends to my friends. It had lost the joyful sparkle and pleasure one gets from their hobby. So, the quest for a new hobby began.

Much like a millennial joining Tiktok, starting a new hobby in your 30s feels clumsy and cringeworthy. Hobbies usually arrive in our lives in unforeseen ways. We hear tales of grannies teaching us how to knit and weird uncles teaching us how to binge drink. I never thought my new hobby would arrive in my life during a global pandemic. Yet here we are (again). Needle felting is the tedious, useless craft of stabbing unspun wool enough times that it begins to mat and shift its shape. You may have seen needle felting creations used as Christmas ornaments, and well, honestly, I’ve only ever seen them used as Christmas ornaments. It is easily the most unhelpful of all the crafts in this world. But as the proverbial saying goes, “You don’t get to choose what hobby you like; the hobby chooses you”.

Since taking up the hobby of needle felting, I’ve created a crown, which was purchased off me for the permanent collection at Te Papa, a little Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, a dinosaur for my nephew, and thousands of little woodland animals which I made during my live comedy felting shows. And there lies my latest dilemma. Once again, I’ve found myself commodifying the only thing that brings me joy in the world and turning it into my profession. For the last year, I’ve toured the country, performing live felting to sell-out crowds. And like any job, I’ve found myself complaining about it at the weekends to my friends and looking for time off from it as it’s not sparking joy.

So, I guess I’m saying I’m in the market for a new hobby. Should I try aqua jogging?