Welcome to my Candy Shop
By: Taryn Boyes
The kitchen looked like a warzone. It was June 2020, and I had time to kill—lots of it. I had decided it was the perfect time to launch a business that would definitely make me millions: a line of coffee-inspired candy.
On one section of the counter, I had jelly-bean-shaped candy molds that my mom had dug up from her archives in the pantry, with my brown, rubbery concoction (coffee extract, gelatin, vanilla, and sugar) solidifying inside of them. While I waited for the candy to cool, I brainstormed name ideas for my company: Sugarbuzz, Buzzi, Sweet Bean… I could already see my candy being featured on the hit Food Network show, Unwrapped.
The candy had cooled, and it was time to take my first bite. As I sank my teeth into the goods—the texture of which slightly resembled an eraser—my delusions of grandeur came crashing back to earth. The candy was disgusting. I promptly chucked the entire batch into the trash.
Forget coffee-inspired candy! What was I thinking? It didn’t take me long to alight on a new business idea, one that would really make me my millions…coffee-flavored kombucha!
I’ll spoil the story for you now and let you know that I never even started on the coffee kombucha recipe, having been diverted by a sudden burning interest in macramé. After one macramé project, I abandoned ship to compose an album of lofi music on Garage Band. I think I made two songs.
In many ways, the candy “episode” was and is a metaphor for my personality as a whole: my brain is a candy shop, in which every moment I’m distracted by some new sweet confection (a hobby, interest, or business idea), thinking this is truly “the one” that will command my life’s attention and passion. I’ve never been the type of person to stick with hobbies or interests for very long, and in some ways, this has become an insecurity. I have friends that can confidently identify as musicians, artists, writers, etc., but I’ve never persisted in one area long enough to earn a categorical title. This may not seem like a big deal, but it can feel oddly isolating to watch your friends and peers pursue the calling or passion that has captivated them for years, while you sit by with your new knitting supplies knowing they’ll soon be collecting dust in the closet.
Does my eternal drift from one hobby to the next mean that I’m lazy and undisciplined, or does it make me interesting, complex, and multi-talented?
I’m still in the process of answering that question, but for those dabblers out there like me, I’ve come up with a few takeaways that I hope will serve as encouragement and exhortation:
1. My diverse interests make me able to relate to so many more people than I might have otherwise. Sure, I might have only tried ballet for a year or played intramural soccer one season, but now I’m able to reference those experiences and engage in deeper onversation with people who have potentially dedicated their lives to them. That mutual connection can go a long way in helping someone feel comfortable or appreciated or sparking a conversation that leads to friendship.
2. The concept of one’s identity lying in a specific skill or hobby may sound appealing (kind of like a VIP ticket into a special club), but it’s fundamentally flawed. Even my friends who are professional artists or lifelong academics would never want to be boxed into one interest, nor are they limited to having one interest. It’s both misguided and flat-out inaccurate to believe that achieving the title of “candy maker” or “music composer” would be the pinnacle of my life’s accomplishments. The candy makers and music composers of the world are also homemakers, athletes, and philanthropists.
3. Acknowledging the afore-mentioned benefits of my haphazard interests, it would behoove me to learn to stick with a hobby for more than a week, even if it has lost its appeal. It might sound contradictory to “practice” or “work on” a hobby when it’s intended for leisure, but I’ll admit that a creative activity can oftentimes seem like a chore compared to laying on my couch and scrolling through Instagram reels. I’ve come to realize it’s crucial that I develop self-discipline and consistency so I can cultivate good and beautiful habits (looking at you, Aristotle!) that ultimately nourish my soul.
I may never end up on a Food Network episode demoing my delicious line of candies, but this doesn’t diminish my value or uniqueness as a human being. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll open a kombucha café where customers can enjoy the soothing sounds of my lofi music while gazing at intricate displays of macramé on the walls. But until then, I’ll stick with what I’m good at—flirting with my next hobby until it sticks.
