Last Sunday I had one of those moments where you realize you’re not in the same “room” as everyone else—even if you’re standing right beside them.
The Super Bowl was on. Bad Bunny was part of the conversation. People around me were genuinely having fun, feeling represented, vibing with it, posting clips, quoting lines, laughing, celebrating. And I couldn’t join them. Not because I’m “too good” for it, and not because I don’t understand entertainment.
I couldn’t join because it hit me—hard—how easy it is for the world to keep moving like everything is normal while so many ugly, heavy, documented things are happening in the background. Information is out. Stories are out. Patterns are out. And still… the crowd cheers. The show goes on.
That dissonance is a weird kind of loneliness.
The Crowd Isn’t Evil. It’s Just Busy.
I’m not writing this to insult anyone. Most people aren’t “bad.” Most people are tired. They have jobs, bills, kids, stress, relationships, anxiety, and a thousand little responsibilities that steal their attention before lunch.
So when the biggest, loudest, most polished distraction appears—sports, celebrity, spectacle—it’s not shocking that people run toward it. It’s a pressure release valve.
But what disturbed me wasn’t that people were enjoying a moment. It was how automatic it felt. Like a script.
Not a conspiracy-movie script. More like a social algorithm:
stimulus → emotion → reaction → repeat.
And the more I watched it, the more I felt something like: Are we choosing this? Or is it choosing us?
The Attention Economy Isn’t Neutral
There’s a reason spectacle works. It hijacks the most valuable currency you own: attention.
Attention becomes beliefs.
Beliefs become decisions.
Decisions become outcomes.
So when I say I felt like a lot of people were moving on autopilot, what I mean is this: many of us are trained to outsource our focus to whatever is loudest. Not because we’re stupid—because we’ve been conditioned.
When you’re constantly fed stimulation, the muscle that creates independent thinking gets weaker. Not overnight. Over years.
And here’s the uncomfortable part: that dynamic keeps people predictable. And predictability keeps people manageable.
The “Permanent Underclass” Isn’t Just Money
People hear “underclass” and think only about income. I’m talking about something deeper:
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an underclass of agency
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an underclass of critical thought
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an underclass of self-control
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an underclass of attention
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an underclass of time ownership
You can make decent money and still be mentally rented out.
And you can be broke and still be dangerously awake.
The separation line isn’t salary. It’s who controls your mind and your day.
What Hits Me
This is the exact tension I feel:
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Don’t follow crowds.
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Follow your own inner signal.
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Other people’s opinions can distract more than they inform.
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In the morning, don’t rush into the internet—sit still and let your mind be yours first.
That last one matters more than most people realize.
Because the first hour of your day is like setting the steering wheel for your mind. If the first thing you do is hand that wheel to your phone, you’re volunteering to be driven.
What I’m Choosing Instead
I’m not swearing off sports, music, or culture. I’m not pretending I’m immune. I’m not trying to be the “serious guy” in the corner.
I’m just done living like my attention is public property.
So here’s what I’m practicing:
1) Morning silence before input
No phone. No scrolling. No news. No opinions. Just stillness, prayer/meditation, breathing, journaling—anything that reminds me I’m a human, not a consumer.
2) Asking one question before I engage:
“Is this feeding me, or is it feeding on me?”
3) Entertainment with intention
If I watch, I watch knowingly. Not reflexively. I decide the dose.
4) Building the “escape plan” daily
Escaping the permanent underclass (of agency) isn’t a single big move. It’s small disciplines stacked:
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learning skills
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building assets
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strengthening focus
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choosing discomfort over dopamine
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creating leverage instead of chasing validation
A Final Thought
I don’t blame people for enjoying a show. I get it. Life is heavy.
But I also can’t ignore what I felt that night:
If you don’t choose your focus, the world will choose it for you.
And the world doesn’t choose based on what’s best for your freedom. It chooses based on what keeps you engaged.
I’m not trying to be above anyone.
I’m trying to be awake enough to not sleepwalk into a life I never intended.
And if you’ve ever sat in a room where everyone is cheering and you feel that quiet inner voice saying, “Something is off…” — you’re not crazy.
You’re just noticing.