Last weekend, I tried to fix a squeaky hinge on my front door. I had no real tools, no YouTube tutorial, just an old screwdriver and stubbornness. It took 45 minutes. I scratched the paint. The squeak turned into a groan. But when I finished, I stood there grinning like an idiot. Because I did it.
Scroll through any feed, and you’ll see the highlight reel: the perfectly poured latte art, the immaculately edited hiking vlog, the “quick sketch” that looks like it belongs in a gallery. We’ve confused amateur with amateurish — as if the only work worth doing is professional-grade. real amateur
But I’ve been thinking about the real amateur. The original meaning. Last weekend, I tried to fix a squeaky
So here’s to the real amateurs. The Sunday painters. The garage bands. The sourdough burners. The sticky-fingered hinge-fixers. I scratched the paint
The word amateur comes from the Latin amator — lover. Someone who does something for the love of it, not for a paycheck or a blue checkmark.
There’s a quiet pressure these days to be good at everything we share.