Is the "Big Event" culture killing our ability to just enjoy things?
in Random / Off-topic ·
I was sitting around yesterday thinking about how much our collective attention span has shifted toward "event-based" consumption. It’s not just about sports, though that’s a huge part of it. It’s this weird, modern pressure to only engage with things if they are part of a massive, high-stakes spectacle. If it isn't a championship game, a blockbuster movie release, or a massive headline-grabbing event, we almost act like it doesn't exist.
I see it all the time in how people talk about hobbies. You have people who can't just enjoy a casual afternoon watching a game or a low-stakes match because they are constantly looking for the "narrative." They want the underdog story, the massive payout, the statistical anomaly, or the high-drama conflict. It's like we've lost the ability to appreciate the "filler" in life. And honestly? The filler is where the soul of most things lives.
Take music, for example. There was a time when you’d just put on a record and let it play. Now, everything feels like it has to be a "moment." If a band isn't touring a massive stadium or trending on social media, people act like they aren't worth the time. We’ve commodified interest itself. We treat our leisure time like a series of high-yield investments rather than just... time spent being alive. We're constantly trying to "optimize" our fun, looking for the most intense or most profitable way to spend an hour.
I find myself craving the opposite lately. I find so much more peace in the quiet, mid-week, seemingly insignificant moments. There is something deeply grounding about watching something unfold that doesn't have a massive weight of expectation resting on it. When the stakes are low, you can actually observe the nuances. You notice the small technical details, the subtle shifts in atmosphere, and the quiet rhythms that get drowned out when everyone is screaming at a screen because a "historic" event is happening.
I think this mindset carries over into how we view our own lives, too. We feel like every weekend has to be an adventure, every meal has to be an "experience," and every social outing has to be Instagrammable. If we aren't doing something "big," we feel like we're wasting time. But I'd argue that the "ordinary" moments—the ones that don't make the news and don't drive engagement numbers—are actually the most important for our mental health. They provide the baseline.
It feels like we are living in an era of constant maximization. Maximize the profit, maximize the excitement, maximize the social clout. But when you maximize everything, you flatten the experience. You lose the texture. You lose the ability to just sit there and exist with a task or a pastime without needing it to "mean" something or "yield" something.
I'm curious to hear what you guys think about this. Do you find yourself falling into that trap of needing things to be "big" or "exciting" to be worth your time, or have you found a way to embrace the mundane, low-stakes moments of life?
I see it all the time in how people talk about hobbies. You have people who can't just enjoy a casual afternoon watching a game or a low-stakes match because they are constantly looking for the "narrative." They want the underdog story, the massive payout, the statistical anomaly, or the high-drama conflict. It's like we've lost the ability to appreciate the "filler" in life. And honestly? The filler is where the soul of most things lives.
Take music, for example. There was a time when you’d just put on a record and let it play. Now, everything feels like it has to be a "moment." If a band isn't touring a massive stadium or trending on social media, people act like they aren't worth the time. We’ve commodified interest itself. We treat our leisure time like a series of high-yield investments rather than just... time spent being alive. We're constantly trying to "optimize" our fun, looking for the most intense or most profitable way to spend an hour.
I find myself craving the opposite lately. I find so much more peace in the quiet, mid-week, seemingly insignificant moments. There is something deeply grounding about watching something unfold that doesn't have a massive weight of expectation resting on it. When the stakes are low, you can actually observe the nuances. You notice the small technical details, the subtle shifts in atmosphere, and the quiet rhythms that get drowned out when everyone is screaming at a screen because a "historic" event is happening.
I think this mindset carries over into how we view our own lives, too. We feel like every weekend has to be an adventure, every meal has to be an "experience," and every social outing has to be Instagrammable. If we aren't doing something "big," we feel like we're wasting time. But I'd argue that the "ordinary" moments—the ones that don't make the news and don't drive engagement numbers—are actually the most important for our mental health. They provide the baseline.
It feels like we are living in an era of constant maximization. Maximize the profit, maximize the excitement, maximize the social clout. But when you maximize everything, you flatten the experience. You lose the texture. You lose the ability to just sit there and exist with a task or a pastime without needing it to "mean" something or "yield" something.
I'm curious to hear what you guys think about this. Do you find yourself falling into that trap of needing things to be "big" or "exciting" to be worth your time, or have you found a way to embrace the mundane, low-stakes moments of life?