Sex and the City...an end/beginning.

A few moments ago I watched the last episode of Sex and the City. I wept, I laughed, I mourned, and I smiled....widely. Throughout the last two episodes, and now I can't help but feel like my life is on a path. You see, I started watching Sarah Jessica Parker's show when I was 21. I was between my sophmore and junior year of College, crazy and mixed up, planning my career path in advertising, addicted to video games and diet pills, running between 4-6 miles a day. It was just after my first really emotional and hard break up with my first long term live-in boyfriend. The show was like honey to my wounded, independent, female-rebirthing soul. And it was good. OH sooooooo good. But I stopped watching the show at the end of the third season. I have no good reason why and I can't really remember anything besides maybe I got a life again or at least decided to reemerge in the world.

Now, since I quit my job and school hasn't started back up, I've had the time to watch the last three seasons. And it feels like I was meant to wait six years to finish off this gem of HBO goodness. The first three seasons are all about empowerment and loving yourself and loving all the trouble we girls put ourselves through for love, sex, and excitement. The independent girl establishing herself in the crazy world.

The last three seasons are about settling into yourself, commiting to love, and finding a path to stick to. I am now 27, in my last year of grad school, in love with a wonderful stable and great guy, and thinking about what my path to settling down would look like. The Independent yet collaborative woman choosing/commiting to a path within an option-filled existence.

Now, I'll admit that I am making a mountain out of a television show, but it's my mountain. I'm standing at the top of the snow peak waving happily, saying.....I've grown up. Oh goodie. And look, I really like this show because I watch it and feel simile. Catharsis. Cyclical Catharsis.

Hoorah!!!