Too often I find that I’m hesitant to tell someone I like a certain book, movie, tv-series or something else. There’s this little voice inside that tells us that we’re kind of stupid, or childish for liking certain things. This little voice makes us feel ashamed for liking what we like and for enjoying the things that make us happy.
I believe this doesn’t make any sense. Why should we be embarrassed to admit that something makes us happy? Isn’t that the best thing that a work of art or entertainment can do? Make us happy.
This exact thing is mentioned in one of my favorite movies; Liberal Arts. When they’re talking about a vampire novel Jesse tries to make Elizabeth understand that she shouldn’t like it. According to him it’s terrible, even though he hasn’t read it. Elizabeth tells Jesse ‘I liked it. It was fun and stupid. And it passed the time. And it’s not Tolstoy, but it’s also not television. And it made me happy.’