Cutting It Tight

August is almost over.

The summer blockbuster season has officially closed, and now we enter that weird in-between period where the studios roll out the “leftovers.” The stuff they don’t expect to be Oscar contenders but still need to release so audiences aren’t stuck watching Fantastic Four for the tenth time. It’s similar to the dreaded January movie season, just with much warmer weather.

We’ve also passed the halfway point of the year, and I’ll be blunt: I haven’t delivered much of what I had planned for 2025. On top of that, the coming months bring a big family shift—Emily will be off work for four to six months as she finally gets the knee surgery she’s been putting off for years. I want her to have the surgery and the space to recover, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m anxious about how well I’ll juggle everything—this site, the podcast, freelance work, household duties, and life in general—while she recuperates.

One of my hopes for the year was to return to an old tradition: ranking my top ten movies of the year. I wanted to see enough films to actually be a critic again—someone who could point readers toward the hidden gems, share strong opinions on the big blockbusters, and build credibility toward my long-term goal of joining the Online Film Critics Society and one day becoming Rotten Tomatoes–approved.

Instead, here’s the confession: I haven’t seen a single 2025 release yet. Not one.

That makes it hard to call myself a critic of any stripe right now. My neurodivergent, all-or-nothing brain keeps whispering that maybe I should just write this year off, admit it’s a wash, and start fresh in 2026. But I know that’s ridiculous. I don’t need to see 200-plus films like I did at my critic peak. If I can watch even 40 of the most acclaimed, talked-about, and conversation-driving movies of the year, that’s enough to build a meaningful list—and more importantly, enough to get momentum going again.

Which means the time to start is now.

The real challenge, though, is the same one I always face: the internal tug-of-war over what kind of writer I want to be on any given day.

I want to review movies.
I want to write novels and books.
I want to craft essays that are personal, funny, and inspiring.
I want to share my experience as a neurodivergent parent and creator.
I want to land more client work.
I want to podcast.
I want to make videos.
I want to dash off silly little pieces that make people smile.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. My brain is constantly shouting that I need to do it all. Which, of course, is impossible.

So here’s the challenge I’m setting for myself: pick a few, and do them with compassion. Accept that my brain makes things messy and scattered—but also creative, entertaining, and maybe even a little fun.

The reviews are coming. Slowly, sure, but they’re coming. And by the end of 2025, I’ll have opinions to share on the year in film. It may not be the widest scope, but it will be enough.

Time to get moving.