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Recently one of my closest friends and I had an opportunity to see what it would have been like to be roommates in college. Long story short it was everything we expected it to be: fun, easy, and full of home-cooked meals, libations, laughs, cries....and oh yeah mischief. A reasonable person would say that one weekend is enough to get the point across, but not us. Being the spoiled gals that we are, we went back for seconds and had not one super crazy fun weekend but two. It was awesome.
Ultimately, we decided that it was probably in our best interest that we weren't roommates in college because who knows the situations we would have gotten ourselves into. Among other things, we also determined that it was a good thing we both were in "serious" relationships back in those days. (Even though the only thing serious about them was how seriously doomed they were.) As a result of this conversation (and many others) came a lovely entry to the blogosphere: "A Letter to My 18-Year-Old Self" Read it. Love it. Follow it. Way to go Fitty, you nailed this one.
Naturally, this got me thinking about myself...more specificially my 18-23 year-old selves. (selves?? hmm you know what I mean.) I thought of who I was, where I wanted to go, the things that made me happy on sad days and the things that inspired me. Then I put those things next to my present day self. Who I am. Where I've been and where I want to go. The things that make me happy on sad days. The things that inspire me. Surprise surprise, a few things have changed.
Two things that hadn't changed were the "things that make me happy on sad days"....or so I thought. For as long as I could remember two things had always uplifted my spirits. 1. Music, a perfect lyric can go a long way, and 2. "Sex and the City." Yup, one of those I am...or shall I say was. Life gave me a situation, and I gave life a song or a Sex and the City episode that explained it all....until now that is. Why the change of heart? Hmmm. Let's just say that one day the skies turned gray and life happened. There. Simmer on that and make up your own story. Go ahead fill in the blanks.
Ok fine. I sat at home feeling down in the dumps because of some nonsense and instead of turning on the tunes I looked towards Samantha Jones, Charlotte York, Miranda Hobbs, and of course, Carrie Bradshaw. These were my gals. My best friends. My life and love problem-solvers. They were lot of what I wanted to be and so much more. Beautiful, smart, creative, sexy, independent, sophisticated, stylish - I can go on forever. Yes, they are all of those things still but it wasn't until my present day 26-year-old self sat and watched these ladies again did I realize a few other things they were. Samantha Jones - the PR queen and emotionless SLORE. Yep, she's a slore. Think about it. Miranda Hobbs - a workaholic with some serious issues accepting the fact that she is an emotional woman. Charlotte York - an uptight over-emotional dope living in lalaland given to her by her ex. And Carrie Bradshaw. The one that really hurts me to admit. Carrie, the one who has it all and yet has nothing at all.
Wtf, right Carrie?
Talk about a wake up call. Suddenly my eyes were opened in a way they had never been before. I felt as though my heroines has lost their super powers. Lackluster. Phony. Not so unattainable. Pretty much ordinary. Simps in the City... I was robbed.
Now if you know me (which all 5 of you do!) then you probably realize that I can't just let something pass through my mind without dissecting it. Even on my roughest day I have to figure out a way to make a negative into a positive. With that said, here is what I determined about Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte and my dear, dear Carrie: they are just ordinary women. The good, the bad, the ugly, the bold, the beautiful, the young and the restless. (Yes, I took it there. I had too, it was too easy.) They aren't super heroes, they aren't problem-solvers to the great unknown, they are just gals with a team of people to keep their eyeliner from smearing and their Jimmy Choo's unscuffed. Imagine how fabulous you'd think I was if I had all that. I mean really, think about it.
So thank you you world for opening my eyes to this truth. Even though I hated what I was seeing for a bit, it needed to be seen. And although this realization immediately took away the butterflies of inspiration I once felt just from hearing the opening score don't fret, they've fluttered back. Now I watch the show not only seeing what I want to become, but also seeing what I don't want to become.... and I realize something I knew all along but never accepted - that Sex and the City can be Sex and the Pity, but either way it's fiction....and fabulous.
Gracias bonitas.
~ A Charlie Gal
