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I am part of the Harry Potter generation, the generation of kids for whom Harry Potter was a formative experience. Harry Potter’s influence has obviously been massive, to the point that it’s its own culture. It transcends art—reading the books isn’t really like reading a book, it’s like being in another dimension, and even watching the movies is the same just because they’re so inextricably tied to the books. Words like ‘Gryffindor’ and ‘Voldemort’ are so familiar that when I hear somebody mention them in public, I don’t think Hey, they’re mentioning my favorite books! I don’t think anything, really. They’re just words that have somehow entered the cultural canon as comfortably as any other name.

And personally, I feel totally shaped by Harry Potter. I respect so much about J.K. Rowling, personally and professionally. Somehow, she created a world. To attain her level of fame and wealth is impressive to begin with, but to attain her level of influence on children everywhere is incredible. And yes, adults love the series too—I just think it’s particularly amazing that she could shape so many young minds. I was one of those minds, and I will always love every book, every character, every word of Harry Potter.

But I’ve always believed that you can criticize the things you love, just like you can like pieces of things you hate. “Elf” was my first favorite movie, and looking back at it now, I find the climax a little problematic. Sure, the scene with Jovie singing to the crowd of people is great, and Walter Hobbs saving the Clausometer by finally joining in is brilliant. The celebration of Christmas cheer is a great thing to focus on, but isn’t it a little cheap that Michael has to get the Clausometer kick-started by blatantly revealing Santa’s list on live TV? The whole point of faith is that you have some internal compulsion to believe. It’s based on your intrinsic belief, not proof. By revealing Santa’s list, Michael isn’t asking people to believe in something they can’t see; he’s forcing them to see the truth. And that’s not as powerful.

But “Elf” still might be my favorite movie, and that thematic flaw doesn’t come anywhere close to undoing the countless laughs, the tear-jerking moments, Will Ferrell’s hilarious performance, and the overwhelming Christmas cheer it instills in me whenever I watch it.

And I feel the same way about Harry Potter. It holds a special place in my heart and can never be tarnished, but I think it has some problems. And I think it’s okay to acknowledge that.

Starting with the first book, the Sorting Hat…doesn’t make a lot of sense when you think about it. By itself, it’s a pretty cool little idea, but does it really make sense to try to categorize people that way in real life? Pretty much everyone I know would be either a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff. Maybe a Gryffindor or Slytherin every once in a while, but kindness, loyalty, and intelligence are more visible and common than bravery and cunning. It’s kind of hard to think of anyone I know as ‘brave’—I mean, yeah, there’s casual everyday bravery, but the characters in Harry Potter were able to more easily show their bravery when facing magical death every day.

And let’s be honest: as much as J.K. Rowling and many fans might defend Hufflepuff and Slytherin, they really are the boring house and the evil house, respectively. Claiming that Nymphadora Tonks is a Hufflepuff doesn’t really redeem the severe shortage of characters that the house has, and seriously, it’s hard to say that Slytherin’s defining characteristic is ‘cunning’ or ‘ambitious’ when almost all of them seem to be racist traitor Dark Lord sympathizers. J.K. had plenty of opportunities to make Slytherin more of a morally gray house (she helped a little bit by making Peter Pettigrew a Gryffindor). If Sirius Black had been a Slytherin like the rest of the Blacks, he could’ve been a great example of a good guy Slytherin. But not enough was done to make Slytherin more than the House of Dicks.

Speaking of moral relativism…let’s talk about Snape. Let’s be clear: I love the character. I think he’s the most morally gray character in the series. But J.K. does stumble a little bit at the end of The Deathly Hallows in glorifying him by having Harry name his son after him when there were many more trustworthy, loving people he could’ve chosen (Hagrid, Lupin, etc.). J.K. confirmed in a series of tweets that she was aware of Snape’s bitterness and the horrible way he projected his hatred of James onto his son, but she explained it this way: “Snape died for Harry out of love for Lily. Harry paid him tribute in forgiveness and gratitude. There’s a whole essay in why Harry gave his son Snape’s name, but the decision goes to the heart of who Harry was, post-war. In honoring Snape, Harry hoped in his heart that he too would be forgiven. The deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts would haunt him forever.” Honestly, it’s a great explanation, and explains a lot. I’d totally embrace it…if it had actually been implied in the book. Unfortunately, in the book, we never get to see Harry struggling with post-war guilt. As far as we can see, Harry is honoring two men who continually withheld information from him and behaved selfishly.

Speaking of which, that’s a thing J.K. does a lot: talk about the future for these characters. I didn’t really mind the epilogue of the last book (though it’s unnecessary) because this is the kind of series where it’s okay to skip forward and show a much-deserved happily ever after, but I’m not a fan of the way she still talks about the characters’ futures after the fact. John Green has spoken about this before—the author isn’t necessarily allowed to say what happens to the characters after the events of the book, because that’s not part of the contained story of the series. Just like John simply didn’t know whether Hazel Grace Lancaster dies after The Fault in Our Stars, J.K. isn’t necessarily allowed to just say that George grows up, has a baby with Angelina Johnson, and names him Fred. I also don’t like how she just claims that Harry is an Auror, and Hermione works for the Ministry. If it came out in the epilogue, that’s fine, but it’s unnecessary to draw out this elaborate future for every character outside of the story itself.

In fact, most of my problems have to do with the story’s conclusion. The idea of the Deathly Hallows is super cool, but if you think about it, it’s pretty unsatisfying that the villain’s inevitable demise happens because of a logical fallacy involving who a wand’s owner is. J.K. made Horcruxes feel integral to the plot by setting them up in the previous book (and laying clues throughout the series), but the Elder Wand is something we couldn’t have anticipated playing a role in Voldemort’s death.

Like I said, most of these problems barely affected my reading of it, maybe partly because I was a kid who didn’t understand narrative like I do now. Maybe if I was reading it for the first time now, I’d love it, but I’d be a little let down by the end. It’s hard to tell. But my ultimate point is that it’s okay to acknowledge that everything has flaws, even the stories you love the most. Nothing is perfect. Not even Harry Potter.

There are three things that I am exceptionally bad at: conducting, cooking and drawing. I discovered that I could not draw in middle school art class as my peers began drawing portraits while I prided myself on my ability to draw symmetrical stick figures. Conducting was a daily struggle for me this past year as I attempted to keep up with instrumentalists used to reading scores with more than 8 parts while simultaneously transposing a good number for them. Luckily, drawing and conducting are not skills which are typically required on a daily basis, however, the ability to feed yourself is.

My inability to cook delicious (or even passable) meals is not due to a lack of effort, in fact I love to cook and the creative process associated with it, rather my lack of skill or patience. It often begins well – I search the internet for “simple healthy meal” or something similar and look through twenty or so photos until I find something that looks both feasible and tempting. I set out the pans, wash the vegetables and begin following the recipe to a T until I realize I am missing an ingredient. “No worries” I think “I’ll just substitute it with some other herb”. Two minutes later the same thing happens and yet again I substitute without knowing the true accuracy of my substitution. Fast forward to when the food is on my plate and I take the first bite – odds are it did not turn out well.

Perhaps if I was a bit more patient it would turn out better. If instead of cooking everything on high (obviously that is the most efficient way!) I considered lowering the temperature so that the pot did not overflow or if I could stop myself from opening the oven every five minutes to check if it was done, things would cook more evenly and come out less like hard bricks and more like chicken. Although I am acutely aware of my cooking faux pas there is some part of me that refuses to rectify them.

My own lack of success while attempted to cook has fueled my love of cooking TV shows. The chefs that you see on shows like Chopped and Masterchef (my two personal favorites) are true artists and I have been known to play episodes while I cook to help me pretend I am preparing a meal just as impressive. So often we look at food as a means to an end, we eat for nutrition and sustenance not for the beauty of preparation or complexity of flavors, and we forget that food can be about so much more than the number of calories per serving. We forget that the chefs who work behind the scenes are more artists than skilled laborers and that what we create in the kitchen can be, and should be, about more than the number of dirty dishes we leave behind.