Staff Reports
The California Post piece calling for more “side quests” in Los Angeles is a small, sensible rebellion against the modern worship of productivity. It’s not about another life coach plan or a new app to monetize your hobbies. It’s a push to do something silly or strange on a Saturday afternoon simply because it sounds fun. In a city that hoards experience like a trophy, that little idea is worth stealing — and worth arguing for, loudly and without an Instagram caption.
What is a “side quest” and why the fuss?
“Side quest” started in video games. Now Gen Z and lifestyle writers use it to mean a short, low‑pressure activity you try just for the heck of it. Pottery, line dancing, birding, welding, a chess night — none of it needs to turn into a business or a viral reel. That is the point. The trend has spread on social platforms where people like to name everything, and once something gets a name, people treat it like a new religion.
Los Angeles is perfectly set up for micro‑adventures
If you live in L.A., there’s no shortage of places to fail gloriously. Libraries run makerspace sessions. Community centers host Fix‑It Clinics. Tiny studios teach throwing clay and welding basics. Even night markets and themed music nights offer a cheap way to try a new scene. The city’s endless options mean you can be terrible at something and still come home with a memory and maybe a bruise that isn’t from a Peloton session.
The conservative case for wasting time — on purpose
Here’s something unpopular: not every hour needs to be optimized. Conservatives tend to value local community, practical skills, and self‑reliance. Side quests deliver all three. They reconnect people to neighbors, to craft, and to public institutions like libraries and community colleges. They push back against the digital hustle that insists your worth equals productivity. Try a pottery class and tell me you didn’t learn something real about patience and messy hands.
How to pick a side quest in L.A.
Start close to home. Check your local library, neighborhood makerspace, or a community college for one‑off classes. Look for bird walks, chess nights at a café, a line‑dance beginners’ evening, or a welding demo. Give yourself permission to be bad. No goals. No brand. No follow‑for‑more. Repeat as necessary.
At the end of the week, the point isn’t to collect accomplishments. It’s to collect small moments that don’t need a metric. Los Angeles could use a few more of those. So go on — try something weird. If you like it, great. If you don’t, you’ve still got a story, a laugh, and one less precious hour dictated by an app. That, frankly, sounds almost revolutionary.
