Day 75: A Year (or Nine) in the Life

If you can believe it, this easy, breezy maxi dress is by the same designer as the last two ultra-glam numbers. The great thing about this type of dress is that it really is all you need. You don't need a coat, a belt, or fancy jewelry. The idea is to be and look as casual as possible. Keep shoes flat and strappy. Keep the bag casual and roomy like the dress. (Nothing does that quite like a beach tote.) Gotta have shades, as the assumption is that your going out into the sun. And maybe add one light accessory. I chose this bracelet for its natural, carefree feel. And if you happen to live by a beach, always, always carry (or, even better, wear) a bikini. Voila, the maxi dress outfit is complete. We'll call it, "Maxi-ed Out."

Okay, if you thought the last couple of episodes seemed rather intense for the four gals, you're in for even more. Carrie introduces her friends to the Russian, and the reception isn't what she hoped. Her boyfriend's intensity and desire to talk only about 'deep' subject matters conflicts with the chatty and often vulgar girl talk of her friends. But despite this, when the man asks her to ditch her New York life for a new one in Paris with him (or rather pressures her to go, since he says they'll have to break up otherwise), she says yes. She quits her writing job, tells her friends she's moving, and has a big blowout with Miranda, who thinks it's all a big mistake.

Charlotte decides to put Elizabeth Taylor, her new King Charles Spaniel, into a dog show and wins first prize. After they go to a dog park to celebrate, the in-heat female copulates with 8 or so males and ends up pregnant. Some months later, three more puppies enter Charlotte's life. Samantha beats rumors that Smith is gay by circulating a video of them having hot sex over the internet and around the city. Miranda is having to get used to life in Brooklyn, which includes a bout of no internet and a messy house under construction. She also has a very hard time dealing with the idea of her best friend moving across an ocean for a guy she hardly knows.

Okay, there is something hilarious about these episodes--well, at least ironic. Since we have started watching SATC, Hank has always pointed out how my history is closely related to Carrie's and how similarly we feel about fashion, writing, and relationships. In fact, I think he wonders if I have made life decisions in order to be more like her. I've always gotten very defensive about this, as it always seemed ridiculous that, even if I could, I would choose to do what a fictional character would do instead of what I wanted to do. While the similarities have certainly always been there, I have always held that they're just coincidences, nothing more.

But I don't really think he has ever believed me. And, up until these episodes, I'm not even sure I fully believed myself. When he first brought up the connection, it secretly worried me. Was I really living my life according to some stupid TV show? Was I constantly, even if subconsciously, asking myself at every life junction, "WWCD (What Would Carrie Do)?" These episodes set my mind at ease. Here's why: I had never seen them before a few days ago.

But I figured something out. From 2001-2007, I had only seen the first four seasons, maybe even the first three and part of four (since the fourth didn't finish until 2002, and I only watched the series until late summer of 2001). That includes some material about Aidan (maybe Travis, Jorge, or Arnold for me), but likely not even the canceling of their engagement or Carrie's ambivalence about marriage. It certainly doesn't include the latest episodes where Carrie dates a Russian guy, which I did in 2004, and moves to another country to be with an egotistical artist, which I did two years ago when I moved to Peru to be with Billy.

In fact, Carrie's latest situation in these almost final episodes and my own during my "Billy Period" (instead of "Blue Period," though it was that, too) are so closely related, I got chills watching it. Here, apparently, is the formula we both followed:

1. Background: You are tired of dreaming about taking chances but not really taking them, and you have a fantasy relationship in mind that you're dead set on making a reality. Carrie wonders if all the examining of her relationships is causing her not to really be in them, so she decides that it's time to stop analyzing and take a huge jump into something unknown. She thinks the Russian may just be the great love she's been waiting for (expensive lifestyle, life in Paris, lots of romance, etc). Two years ago, I was tired of school and pursuing a degree I didn't know how I was going to use. I was tired of dating a man I wasn't in love with. Billy seemed so full of passion and romance, and I thought a new life with him somewhere far away from everything I knew sounded magical.

2. You date an older, foreign, egotistical artist who is serious and depressive in nature and is consistently telling you how to live your life better (aka more like he lives his). Because he believes all writers should drink espresso, the Russian buys Carrie an espresso machine, even picking it out for her, saying, "I think this one is you." He refuses to let her "spoil" the espresso by adding milk. He also gets angry at Carrie for interrupting him while working to introduce her friends and cancels a dinner date because he's consumed with work.

When I was dating Billy, he would tell me what to order for breakfast and how not to cook things (yes, while standing over me in the kitchen). He wouldn't let me enter his studio while he was painting and often didn't show his face for long stretches when he was working on something "very important." If I tried to interact with him, he got angry and said I didn't respect his work enough.

3. Such man disapproves of your friends (or family) and doesn't want you to be closer to them then you are to him. Russian makes no effort to laugh at any of the gals' jokes at dinner and makes their spouses feel stupid. He doesn't understand when Carrie tells him she can't just leave her life in New York. He tells her to take a chance on a new life with him. Before I moved to Peru, Billy told me daily to forget my friends and family in the States and think of myself as having a new life with him. He even wrote a poem about stealing me away to his "world."

4. Such man expects you to live your life around his desires, no matter how many of your own you have to sacrifice. Russian refuses to stay in New York for Carrie and says they'll have to break up if she doesn't move. He encourages her art (writing), but he doesn't suggest ways she can continue it in her new life with him. He doesn't even recognize that she might miss her work. She learns French for him.

Peruvian said he couldn't come to the U.S. for visa reasons (which may or may not have been true, though I'll assume it was). If we were going to be together, I would have to move for him, giving up school and responsibilities here. While there, he encouraged my art (music) and coordinated a place for me to practice, but he didn't think about the professional aspect I was giving up (performing in ensembles, earning a degree, taking classes) in the States and didn't suggest ways to keep that up in Peru. I learned Spanish for him.

5. Such man doesn't want more children, because he already has a girl from a much earlier relationship. Enough said.

6. Friends revolt, but you're so deep into his world you can't understand why they're not all rejoicing for you. Miranda tells Carrie that she's living in a fantasy and doesn't know why she's giving up her great life to lead his life instead. Carrie counters with anger, screaming that Miranda only wants her to stay for selfish reasons and doesn't want her to be happy and move on in life. Before leaving for Peru, my sister said to me nearly exactly what Miranda said to Carrie. I replied almost exactly the way Carrie did.

7. You feel scared, wondering if the two of you even have enough in common, but decide (more out of stubbornness) to just go with it and change your life. Carrie wonders if she has anything in common with the Russian besides their relationship. He doesn't talk to her about his work, and she doesn't even understand his English much of the time. They don't enjoy the same activities or even have similar values (at least they've never discussed values). She decides companionship, adventure, and passion together could make up for their differences, and the differences would at least keep things exciting. She wonders if she even needs to have children.

When I met Billy, I knew nothing about visual art, except for what I intuitively liked and didn't. We didn't speak the same language; he had to talk to me in broken English and I talked to him in my very elementary Spanish. Not only did we not have the same values, ours were opposing. We felt passion for each other and novelty, and we both thought that would be enough. I tried to resign myself to the idea of not ever having kids.

8. After two months of dating, man promises you the world (at least in the beginning for me). You take it.

Okay, you get the idea. Maybe you got it long ago. I realize I'm not the fictional Carrie (or even Candice Bushnell, her creator and prototype), and she isn't me. We have very different backgrounds and lives. But our situations in these episodes (and some others) are so freakishly comparable that I really don't know what to say. True, the Russian is a sweeter man. In general, he treats Carrie like a queen. Billy was a complete jerk. But the order of events is the same. If I had seen the rest of the show before living the last six years of my life, maybe I would be embarrassed. As it is, I'm just a little bothered. I'm sure there's a simple explanation for our congruent life choices--maybe we're both adrenalin junkies, possess highly analytical minds, or have simply watched too many romantic comedies in our lifetimes--but right now, I've got no definitive answer.

The other part of all this is the conclusion that Carrie comes to before making the decision to move. She is tired of analyzing her relationships and wondering what to do. I'm getting to that point, too. I've been doing it for a long time, even if only in blog form for the last eight months. But is there ever a good point to stop, and, if so, how do you do it? The questions and issues in relationships don't just go away or die down long enough to give you peace, especially some of the big ones like the one Carrie asks most recently ("Do people need to share passions outside of the relationship for it to work?") They're big inquiries with no easy answers.

Maybe in order to have a peaceful, long-term love affair, the person with an analytical mind (me and yes, maybe the character of Carrie) has to retrain herself. This person has to learn to ignore the things that don't work and focus on the things that do. Ignore the doubts (at least to a large degree) and go forward confidently. Focus on the positive, even, and see the good in your partner and what he or she has to offer. Or this person can be alone. Sometimes I really think it comes down to those two options. Because I'm not sure there is a relationship under the sun that won't be riddled with paradoxes and problems, drama and questions. Relationships are made up of two people, after all, and has any single person been without these things? There isn't a logical reason they would they go away when there are two people.

And maybe that's Carrie's point. In the end, every relationship takes a leap of faith--faith that the good will outweigh the bad. At some point, a person's gotta jump. It might as well be now.

I hope you'll be back. I will. Sadly for me, not for long.

Day 74: The Dogmother

I love this hat. And I hate hats. Well, I don't hate them, but I never seem to look good in them, they smash my hair (which, because it's curly, gets completely unshaped), and they make my forehead break out. Otherwise, they're perfect. I read a few Glamour issues back that unmatched is the key to looking put together. Everything is just a slightly different shade than its counterparts. As an ode to this theory, the grays are just a bit different, the black of the bag doesn't match the shoes though stays dark (keeping with the same colored bag and shoe rule), and the pale hues of the silk tank (which, by the way, I own in two colors and adore) and hat seem similar but just different enough. (Note: since a hat is considered a major accessory, I'm adding only a delicate necklace to keep things uncluttered.) We'll call this one, "Voila, Glamour!"

Six days to go before the movie. I can already hear the tapping of the girls' stilettos on New York City concrete. As the premiere inches closer, I find myself scared that I won't get to write everything I want to write about SATC and the issues it raises. Ah! Only four more posts to go before the second film. These must be my final words on a show that has been my companion for almost eight months. Better make them good. No pressure.

So, a lot happening these days. No more casual dating for anyone and no more fluffy topics like whether to spit or swallow. Maybe it's about time. Samantha gets chemo for her breast cancer, which seems to be gone, and loses her hair. Smith shows his support by shaving his head. Miranda and Steve go on a honeymoon, leaving Brady with Carrie and Charlotte. Miranda finds herself restless and sexed out but appreciates the time with Steve. When they return, they decide to move to a much bigger house in Brooklyn, which Miranda isn't all that happy about. Carrie's still dating the Russian but discovers his not-so-gentle side when he keeps mentioning death during a discussion about Samantha's cancer. He also tells her that he has a grown child and doesn't want more children. Carrie has to decide if their relationship is worth giving up motherhood for. Charlotte's main focus is still childbearing. After she receives bad news about her most recent batch of eggs, she breaks down to a complete stranger in Central Park while cuddling the woman's dog. Some days later, she finds the same dog in a basket on her doorstep and rejoices that she finally has something to care for.

Ah, the children thing again. I've already talked about this subject a little--that a woman knows when it's right to have kids. But I feel the need to say more. At one point in this episode, Carrie mentions that she's 38 and thinks that if she wanted a baby, she would have had one by now. This is an interesting thought. Though I am ten years younger, I feel like I'm reaching a critical point as well. See, as I've said before, while I often contemplate having kids, I keep putting it off. My mother has been pressuring me for about six years now, and I keep telling her the same thing: "I'm not ready." When you're 22, that seems like a normal response. When you're 28 and a half (which, by the way, hasn't brought the success or stability I envisioned), it seems a little scarier. If give myself another six years, I'll almost be 35--the year at which a woman's fertility plummets.

Like Carrie, I have always wanted things to happen naturally: "Que sera, sera," or something like that. I always thought the timing for getting married and having kids would be like the changing of the seasons--something that happens peacefully when it happens, without really your permission or intention. But I don't know anymore. Do you have to make strong decisions at certain points in life, even if they don't feel completely natural or comfortable--like Carrie deciding between the the future possibility of motherhood and her great Russian boyfriend? My mother is always telling me there's no good time for anything (whatever that means), and if you wait for a good time you'll do nothing and be nobody. Wonderful.

Carrie also wonders if many women want to get married and have families because that's what they're told to want. In other words, do we want these things just because we should want them? Another interesting thought. I think about having my dog, Bela. Like Charlotte, I love having B mostly because I love caring for another living thing. It gives me pleasure to know that he depends on me for his life and happiness. And I spend so much time devoted to just that. Until him, I didn't really know I was capable of that kind of unselfishness (yes, he snuggles with me, so it's partly selfish, but he won't feed me like I feed him or pick up my poop, that is, if I needed him to). Every time I eat, I look to make sure he has food. Every time I go on an errand, I think about whether to take him or not. And even though he's just a dog, the thought of leaving him for five days with strangers (which I'll have to do soon for the concert in Montana) scares the crap out of me. He's my boy.

And the following thought has crossed my mind, however breifly: what if he really is? What if I'm meant to have dogs not children? Some people are very happy that way. In fact, as I recently learned on a PBS series about relationships, marital satisfaction decreases significantly when the couple has kids. It doesn't say anything about dogs. Assuming I get married someday, could dogs and my partner be enough?

Even as I ask that question, I know the answer is no. Deep down, like Carrie finally realizes for herself, I want kids. I do. I just don't know when. Maybe, just maybe, that means I won't get around to it. Maybe it means, like I always imagined, that my body, mind, and soul will know when the time is right (or at least when it's not not right, if that makes sense). Maybe I'll adopt when I'm older and more financially stable. I don't think any of us is ever meant to know the answers to these riddles of life. Time marches forward, and we march with it in one direction or another. But it's hard to know which direction that is.

As a closing comment, I had a random thought about this show the other day that made me smile. The four women are so different, and it seems I relate to parts of each of them during every episode. I started to think whether or not, all together, they could represent nearly every facet of womanhood in all its manifestations. Put another way, was every woman, at least generally speaking, a different combination of these four? Then it hit me. Four. The four elements. The four directions on a compass. Four seasons. Even the four gospels. It seems that all around us in life, balance is achieved in fours. Maybe all the book and show was ever supposed to be was a catalyst for conversation about what it means to be a woman--a conversation that, in the end, every woman must have with herself.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 73: A Day in the Sun

Here's performance dress option number two. While I like the color of this one better (I imagine it would be nicer against my ultra-pasty winter complexion), I like the shape of the other one. This dress's draping just seems a bit busy, and I worry about having to pull this up and that down all the time--issues that can't occupy the mind when you're playing difficult piano pieces in front of an auditorium full of people you've known since childhood. We'll see though. The frocks should arrive in less than a week. I also bought two from Victoria's Secret, which I might have already mentioned, you know, just in case. Sometimes a girl just needs five dresses to choose from (my sister has a blue one she's willing to loan).

So, I'm sitting outside of a coffee shop near my house. It is a gay male coffee shop, though there seems to be a healthy representation of my sex here today. I don't think I have related the story of how I found out it was such a place. One day, after having lived in Denver for mere weeks, I walked in with my laptop, thinking I would find a quite table where I could write and look for jobs. When I entered, I glanced around and froze, paralyzed. Out of a sea of thirty or people, I was the only one with breasts. I was so scared, though I can't quite explain why, that I nearly turned around an left. But I didn't. I walked sheepishly up to the man at the cash register and ordered a latte. I also asked him very, very quietly why there were no women in the place.

That was when I learned two things. The first was that I lived in Denver's gay neighborhood, and this was one of the most popular gay coffee shops around. The second was that the man sitting on the stool next to the counter was actually a woman. I haven't returned to the cafe until today. Over the months, I have seen enough straight-looking women and couples sharing coffee here that I know I won't be the only estrogen-driven mammal to sit down with a drink, take out her laptop, and soak up some vitamin D. So, that's what I'm doing.

"Imagine...being blind and not being able to see a beautiful day like today. Can you think of anything worse?" Charlotte

"Stonewash jeans with a matching jacket." Anthony, Charlotte's best gay friend

We're into the last part of season six. Carrie is officially dating the Russian and is finding his grand, romantic gestures a bit much, though she's becoming more interested in him. Samantha realizes that she misses having a same-age partner, lamenting about Smith's immaturity. Ironically, to prove her own apparent wisdom, she decides to sleep with her ex, Richard, while she's at a party with Smith. Smith takes her back, causing her to marvel at the maturity of his love for her. After a visit to a plastic surgeon to discuss a boob job, she also learns she has breast cancer. Charlotte and Harry, taking a cue from Carrie's Russian lover, decide to go out to a romantic, French dinner and end up with food poisoning. Charlotte also decides to do some volunteering until she and Harry can try for another child. Miranda has to deal with living in the same apartment building as her doctor ex. She also asks Steve to marry her, and the couple says, "I do," in a small garden with only their closest friends and family standing by. Though it's her big day, Miranda insists on keeping it normal, talking with the girls over coffee and life news.

You know you're nearing the end of a project when you find yourself detaching from the product you're supposed to be producing. In simpler terms, I don't feel like writing about SATC. Even though these are some of my favorite episodes of the show (Miranda's approach to planning a wedding is priceless for it's humor and poignancy), I just feel like I'm already preparing to say goodbye to the show and its fictional characters I (sadly) know so well. Each day, each post gets a little harder to invest in, each word I type a little more distant. It doesn't help that I am running out of things to write about (weddings? done it. cheating? yup.)

I am also a little disappointed in the result of all this writing. I don't know what I expected would result from typing a bunch of thoughts about a TV shosw--that I would, oh, I don't know, have an amazing book option or figure out what to do with my life--but I know that the ending feels a little anticlimactic. I was certain something big would happen. Sure, I can think of personal benefits of the whole experience. First and foremost, it gave me a chance to process all of the relationships I've had in the past ten years. It also did what it set out on the surface to do: help me through the often depressing task of finding a job in a new city. Since I started, I have found friends and stable work, and that's something all right. It's just not everything. And I guess I wanted everything.

But maybe I'm not seeing the whole picture. I've learned a lot of things about myself through writing this blog that I'm not sure I would have figured out otherwise. For instance, I have such an interest in fashion and style that I can have real closet and a virtual closet and still find the energy for shopping and helping other people shop as a job. Heck, I probably have the job I do partly thanks to this blog. I'm not sure I would have believed in my fashion sense enough before it to even apply for a retail position. As unglamorous as my job is, I still think it beats sitting behind a computer typing emails to people I don't care about, which is most certainly what I would now be doing before this project. It's amazing what you learn about your interests when you're forced to write about them. Writing is like your chance to have a conversation with your mind. And sometimes it says the darndest things.

I have also written about my dieting philosophy, which I had never before articulated so clearly to myself, and my personal struggles with debt. I won't say that this blog is the reason I have created a budget or cut up my credit cards and mapped out a detailed plan for paying them off (which includes giving up half of my shopping budget for two years). But there is something about putting your intentions in print that makes you feel terrible about yourself if you don't succeed with them--or at least try with all of your might.

There are probably other fringe benefits from this whole thing that I can't even see yet. For now, I'm content just finishing what I started and having some time to digest it. So there's my personal reflection moment. Back to writing about the episodes next time. I promise. But for today, I think I'm done. My arms are getting sunburnt, and I need to watch my mole accumulation. Otherwise, I won't have to worry about any of this due to being prematurely dead from skin cancer. Sometimes it's really as simple as that.

I hope you'll be back. I will.