Trends, Trains, and Tired Brains

During my sophomore year of high school, Silly Bandz exploded into popularity. Walk through the halls of the school, and you’d see kids everywhere with lots of these fun-shaped rubber bands around their wrists. They were collectible, tradeable, colorful, relatively cheap, and—to the chagrin of teachers—shootable.

I don’t remember how or when exactly they became so popular, but it seemed like everyone around me started wearing them practically overnight. For months their popularity grew. I knew some people who practically covered their wrists in these rubber novelties.

However, their popularity in my community fizzled out fairly quickly; interest in them may have lasted one semester. The same thing had happened with Heelys shoes when I was in middle school (though in fairness, I think those got banned because of how dangerous they were).

I never got in on the Silly Bandz trend. I’m not trying to toot my own train whistle here, but I never saw the point of them, and I wasn’t interested in spending my limited pocket money on fancy rubber bands (though of course, this thought process was also shaped by my parents, who thought the whole thing ridiculous).

Now, while I never bought into Silly Bandz, I have bought into other trends in my life—often to my regret.

I used to buy Funko POP! figurines because I thought they would be collectible and re-sellable. Unfortunately, the ones I bought never were valuable in any meaningful way, and I collected them before I really understood what it meant to invest money in appreciable assets like real estate and stocks. I ended up reselling most of my POP! figures at a loss when I realized they didn’t really mean anything to me outside of being trendy.

It often seems like today’s world is built on trends. Everyone wants to be “all aboard” a hype train.

The news follows trends because current event coverage gets views and sells ads.

The stock market is influenced by even the rumor of changing economic trends.

Social media has entire sub-genres like #BookTok, which advertises trending titles and helps the publishing industry market new releases (which make it simultaneously easier and harder to become a published author).

Content creators constantly output posts that comment on current events, use popular music to curry algorithmic favor, or include momentarily amusing “challenges”—because to trend on social media is to get more views, more followers, more influence, and often, more money.

Companies release new products every single year with incremental upgrades that they market as being game-changing, just to keep up with the trends they think people want to see.

But here’s the thing about trends: they don’t last.

Trends are the ultimate “here today, gone tomorrow” thing. Yesterday’s news is old news. And unfortunately, everything from toys to terrorism can be trending. There are no rules about virality, especially now that short-form video is so prevalent and smartphone use has engulfed our brains.

As I’ve watched the movement of trends in my adulthood, I’ve started to metaphorically put up my hands and slowly back away from a lot of what our internet-shaped culture has to offer. In doing so, I’ve realized something:

Following trends is exhausting.

I’ll caveat that statement by saying it’s interesting to watch trends and see how they influence our current socio-cultural moment. Trends themselves aren’t necessarily bad, either, but how we react to them can be.

It’s exhausting to keep up with and get involved in trending moments, especially when it seems like a new one starts every day.

It’s like watching a train go by versus being on the train as a passenger. Trains come and go. But while they’re a means of transport that can be fun to enjoy, they are not a destination or a place to plant roots.

Many people today—kids especially—are in mental/emotional and spiritual distress in part because they are practically enslaved to the temporary highs and constant change that trends bring. Their brains are forced to constantly shift focus and adapt, never allowed to rest. When one train stops, they hop onto another one, not even knowing where it’s going to take them.

We live in a world starved for long-term meaning, exhausted by infinite options and an ever-evolving ethos.

I once thought I could use short-form content and trends for my own artistic purposes. But the more I think about it, the less I want to participate in that. I want to spend good time making good things that last, things that make people think and feel deeply—even if such things are less in-demand.

I wouldn’t mind capitalizing on a trend by accident, but I don’t want things I do or say or make to get lost in the shuffle. And for that reason, I also care far less than ever about what’s “in” (especially when what’s “in” is absurd).

Because the nature of many trends is to be temporary, flashy, and shallow, they often cause people to get stuck in moments that do nothing but waste their precious time.

Unfortunately, following trends is easy. Living for long-form meaning is hard, because it requires more attention, intentionality, and care. But I’m convinced that we humans are much happier when we’re not blown around by the fickle whims of the world.

As I move forward in my life, I’m prioritizing things that last. I want to be present where I am rather than allowing my attention to be drawn away by bright lights and shiny objects. I’ve got a lot of work to do in this regard. But the more I focus on long-term things, the less I care about the latest trend train to enter the station.

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Navigating the Sar-Chasm