I have friends that leave reviews constantly. Liked the restaurant we ate at? Write a review on Yelp. Hated the movie we saw? A full rant is up on Facebook that night.
The phrase “Everyone’s a Critic” has never been truer. Between Amazon and Yelp and, I dunno, MoviePoopShoot, everyone can tell you exactly what they think about everything. Especially when we hate something. Then we cannot shut up about it.
Me, I’m opting out. I am no longer leaving bad reviews.
For me, writing a bad review is bossy. It’s saying, “I’ve decided, in my infinite wisdom, that no one else should like this book/bar/movie/album because it did not please me.” But tastes are subjective, and people have every right in the whole world to enjoy Ready Player One or The Force Awakens, even if I didn’t.
2 a.m. last night found me on my couch, eating fun-sized boxes of Milk Duds and playing Lunar: Silver Star Story on the PS2 Heather left for me after we filmed the book trailer for Amber Benson’s Witches of Echo Park. I couldn’t sleep, partially because I come from a long line of insomniacs and partially because my husband has a cold, so he was snoring and carrying on. I was strangely happy in this moment, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, having taken control of my insomnia rather than freaking out, like I normally do.
About a week ago, I decided, in my ongoing quest to become a super-productive human with an awesome house who writes a novel every single morning, I started doing Buzzfeed’s “Morning Person Challenge.” Now I’m generally a pretty decent morning person; by 7 a.m. I have my coffee and am writing at my desk/kitchen table, but I occasionally get in these fits where I decide that my life could somehow be more awesome/pretty/productive and then throw everything into disarray and then break down crying. There’s a Basic Bitch inside me trying to fight her way out, like a demon.