What if it Just Ain't That Deep?
pass me a corn dog and let’s ride, bitch!
A few weeks ago, I found myself at an amusement park in Copenhagen, watching adults scream their heads off on a giant swing while kids sprinted between arcade games and donut stands. The whole place was popping off. No one was too cool or pretending not to care. Everyone was just… in it. And I was there too, playing my part. Jet-lagged with my giant Diet Coke and a chicken sandwich, wondering if I, too, should get my face painted like a butterfly. It all had me thinking, when’s the last time I let myself go all in?
Sometimes in my adult life, I’ve been chasing meaning too much while low-key forgetting about fun. Or worse, treating fun like a bonus. Something to earn, or something reserved for kids and drunk people at certain times of day.
Last month, I wrote about non-attachment and creativity. About loosening your grip on how things are supposed to go so you can be more open to how they actually are. As a photographer, I’ve spent a lot of time in my life observing and analyzing things from a distance, and sometimes that’s helpful. I guess you can call that zooming out.
But let’s tighten the lens a bit and talk about another mindset that serves me creatively when the time is right. The part of us that says: yes, I care. I’m in. Not detachment, but full immersion. Not watching from the sidelines, but stepping into the scene. Zooming in.
Both mindsets have their place, and the trick is knowing when to pick up which one.
here’s the difference:
sometimes it’s: “what’s the meaning I can pull from this?”
other times it’s: “pass me a corn dog and let’s ride, bitch!”
As a photographer, I’m constantly role-switching between observer and participant. Sometimes I need to be still and quiet, watching the light shift across a room. Other times, I’m in the thick of it. Moving furniture, cracking jokes, shaping the moment. I’ve come to believe both roles are necessary. And both require presence and curiosity.
That same mindset has started showing up in other parts of my life, too. I used to think curiosity only meant analysis. Questioning everything. Pulling things apart to figure out how they work. But lately I’ve expanded this definition to embrace the playful kind of curiosity. It can sound like: “What if I just gave this a shot?” Or “What would happen if I let myself like this?”
Which is how I accidentally got back into football.
There was a season of life where I was taking things more seriously. The kind of phase where you treat the world like a puzzle to solve instead of something you get to sit back and enjoy. During that time, I found myself at a Longhorn football game with my die-hard Texas family. The crowd was electric. Someone was crying. There was face paint. And I remember sitting there, feeling so disconnected from my environment and thinking: am I missing something?
Turns out, I was. I was missing the point. And I was missing out!
It wasn’t about football. It was about letting yourself care about something that doesn’t really matter. Which might be the whole point of having a good time. It doesn’t have to matter. Nothing needs to be figured out. It just has to be real.
So at the next game, I gave it a shot. I yelled at the refs. I high-fived strangers. I sang the fight song. And somewhere between pretending and participating, I accidentally had a good time.
Fun is weird like that. Sometimes it follows the feeling. Sometimes it leads it.
The same thing happened with Taylor Swift. One day I realized everyone around me had quietly become full-blown Swifties. I didn’t totally get it. But I got curious. I started paying attention. The lyrics, the metaphors, the concert outfits, the fan theories. And somewhere along the way, I borrowed the fandom and tried it on. It wasn’t just about the music. It was about choosing to participate in joy.
Fandom is just one example. There are a million ways to immerse more deeply in life. To care more instead of less. And no, you don’t have to fake it, and you're not going to like some things that a lot of other people like, and that's OK. But if there is something that's lighting people up, sometimes it's worth zooming in. Exploring just for the fun of it. I think the choice to engage before you fully feel it is what lets the feeling catch up.
Fun and curiosity live in that space, too. The space where you’re not just analyzing life. You’re living it. Where you let yourself participate in the joy instead of standing on the edge, waiting to understand it first.
It’s the same reason I keep a camera close, even when I’m not working. Not everything has to become a perfect shot. Sometimes the point is just to be there.
Because the older I get, the more I think fun isn’t something you stumble into. It’s something you practice. Not just to enjoy life more, but for creativity, connection, and being a person in the world. Joy and community are things we build on purpose, not things we wait around for.
And at the root of it all? Curiosity. Not the kind that demands answers, but the kind that says: let’s just see where this goes.
Until next time!
Michelle
