Wednesday, September 30, 2015

A Haunting Realization

I begin this post before completing that other post I started and have yet to publish. I would have included what follows in this post in that other post, but then that other post would be far too long. You follow? Plus, doing this allows me to post, not once in a blue moon, but twice in a blue moon! The way I fill up this screen with meaningless one-way banter, one would think that I'd be posting essay-long posts all the time. Anyway. What this post will incorporate is, mostly, an analysis of myself and the journey I've went through from high school to now. There is a point relative to film/television as to why I've decided to post this. Things may get a little deep and possibly inappropriate in terms of what should (but will not) remain private. I'll try to hold back the more graphic elements, since my parents may be reading this. I apologize if they don't approve of me divulging such information, but it got me writing again so I think that's a fabulous justification. The topics discussed here may be PG-13, and even borderline R. Viewer discretion is advised.

It's honestly amazing how much I've changed over the past few years. I consider my life as of now to have begun in freshman year of high school--everything before then I consider to be childhood, and is therefore irrelevant to what I'm talking about now. (My childhood did have an effect on me, of course, but I don't want to give a bio.) I can categorize each year of high school, and I'll do it just because I'm curious to see what I come up with. Freshman Year: doe-eyed optimist, easily excited by the littlest events. Sophomore Year: loner year where next to nothing happened, spent mostly in the school library. Junior Year: rabid anorexic period where I viciously snapped at almost everyone important in my life. Senior Year: the year that that initiated the transition that has brought me to my realization stated earlier.

What I believe distinguishes the years in high school to now is my sentiment toward Miss Carrie Bradshaw. As you recall, years ago I simply despised her. Read previous posts for clarification and elaboration. Now? I identify with her. It's no joke, I sincerely find similarities between her and I, and the scary thing is that I accept these likenesses with content satisfaction. I say "satisfaction" because I am happy with who I am. Granted I have several flaws and bad habits, but I believe that hating myself will only enhance those horrid qualities. Where I stand now, I am truly content with the type of person I am. Change is guaranteed since life at every moment adds a special kind of dent in each individual. This dent may be positive or negative, but it basically tweaks a person in some form or another. Anyway....

Senior year was one where I started partying like a typical high schooler, like you see in the movies. Though the movie-type parties didn't come until very recently (i.e. this summer). In addition to my increased social presence and drinking levels, that last year of high school was when I lost my virginity. I don't know if I should be sharing this or not, but writing is indeed a form of release so write it I will. I won't get graphic or anything like that, for the sake of absolutely everybody. That pivotal moment of sexual maturity (such a grown-up clause, gross) truly sparked a change in me. Enter Carrie Bradshaw.

Aside from our shared talent (?) of writing, she and I share a similar romantic philosophy. Beyond that, we behave in very similar ways when it comes to so-called "love". That is, we've experimented with various men--I don't want to say boys because that's near pedophile territory--on our way to the ultimate goal that is finding love. Allow me to explain. She had sex with men in the city, and so have I. That's pretty much it. Have we made mistakes and done things (or guys) we've regretted? Absolutely. Are we ashamed of it? Not really. I mean, Carrie was a little humiliated when Natasha caught her sleeping with her then-husband Mr. Big. I've yet to have such an awkward encounter. Overall, though, the decisions we make are, at times, impulsive and hardly thought-out; however, we don't let our lack of judgement interfere with how we see ourselves. Note that I'll be referring to Carrie as if I know her or as if she is actually me and I know what she's going through. Many people consider this attitude to be akin to that of the "slut," and of course that is their collected opinion. I realize that I may be looked at a certain way, but I'm definitely not Bree Van De Kamp in late season 8 when she went lunatic and started sleeping with everybody. No, I keep my sexual prowess (pause for awkward giggles) under control, as does Carrie. In a sense anyway. As I'm typing this Sex and the City monologue, I'm increasingly aware of how inappropriate it is. Sorry for any awkward feelings that project from the screen and onto (unto?) you. Not really. Never apologize.

To get the juices flowing once more, I'd like to include some things I said about Carrie in previous posts. This is to perhaps gain an insight into myself--how I indeed see myself but am unwilling to admit until now. This should be fun.

As a person, if one prefers to call her that, Carrie Bradshaw is an absolutely terrible thing of nature.
This habit of blatantly interrupting people, her friends no less, really defines Carrie, as that is exactly who she is: conceited, selfish, and an overall bitch.
Not only is Carrie dim-witted in the department of love and relationships, but she has absolutely no sense--fashion or otherwise. 
She claims that he [Mr. Big] has commitment issues when she, herself, cannot commit to the supposedly ideal Aidan in later seasons; she even finds herself in bed with Mr. Big while in a relationship with Aidan. Sure, Mr. Big is married at the time also, but she is so self-righteous in her demeanor, justifying her illicit actions in the entirety of this lucid affair. 
She is the epitome of pretentious: valuing herself over others yet reaching out to them as if they were charity cases, and dressing glamorously which is actually quite tasteless. Nevertheless, I'm rather fond of the silly girl.
[taken from an unpublished post] Carrie Bradshaw is a quasi-fashion/television icon. In the eyes of millions of women, she is their idol: a beautiful, smart, witty, stylish woman. More importantly, Carrie sees herself as a beautiful, smart, witty, stylish woman. And so we begin my undying criticism. Unlike the general population of women, I view Carrie Bradshaw as an awful person. Yes, awful, in every single way. Not only is she not beautiful, but she is overall fake. She treats those around her like they are beneath her. Not in a nasty way, oh no, our Carrie would never. She treats them with excessive kindness and coos over those who buy their clothes at on-designer stores. "Aww! You buy off the rack! How adorable!" (That's just an example of her patronizing personality.) In this way, and so many others that I will get into, she is a bad person. No need to put the sugar coat on, she's a conceited bitch. But she wears some interesting clothing. Not stylish, interesting.

This quote right here, I feel, exemplifies the parallel between us:
Anyway, Carrie Bradshaw has many, many flaws, though somehow she comes off as (dare I say it) likable. Perhaps it is her self-delusion, how she convinces herself of certain things that are far from reality; perhaps her narration has inspired me to write in such a manner that pleases myself as well as you all, I am sure; or perhaps, deep within, I want to be Carrie Bradshaw. Doesn't every idealistic single girl want that? In some shape or form, maybe I strive for her life. Though I certainly hope I am not as foolish and self-absorbed as she is, or as careless with her expenses. Carrie Bradshaw is fabulous, in her convoluted, vapid sort of way, and I can only hope that I will be as lucky and successful as she is. That's all she is, really. Lucky.

As you can see, I was incredibly hateful of Carrie once upon a time. At times, I still am hateful towards her, but perhaps that is my way of redirecting judgement of myself towards another person. Psychologically speaking, I guess. The following statement(s) may sound far-fetched, but here it goes. Maybe I despised Carrie all this time because I was unhappy with myself. Maybe I directed all those criticisms at her so I could avoid addressing my own personal issues. Granted, I hated Carrie before I swiped the V card (if you know what I'm talking about, gold star for you). Maybe I had to explore my sexual "personality" before I could even make a comment about Carrie. At the time of my trek through the Sex and the City series, I was, also, going through serious health and personal issues. That was the time I had an eating disorder, when I was severely insecure about myself. I truly hated myself during that period, constantly thinking the worst of myself but never opening up to others about it. Maybe this is why I decided to hate characters in TV shows and movies. Now that I've achieved a place of complete security about myself, perhaps I've opened myself to accepting the similarities between Carrie and I. This is all very abstract and undeveloped, I know, but this blog is all about thoughts and ideas after all. I hope that wasn't too deep and contemplative. Definitely contemplative with all the "maybes". If I haven't said it already, I'm writing all this down and sharing it as my way of expressing my state of contentment and self-acceptance. I'm only sharing this with friends of mine, I'm not advertising it on social media at all. If you happen to read it and I don't know you, well now you know a little more about me. Let me know if I'm going far into Tumblr territory....

Now, it's closing time. I'm trying to limit my posts to less than a book nowadays. I feel really good about what I've said, which is something I don't outright share with you. If you care to judge me for the decisions I've vaguely explained, that's your choice. Just don't disparage me in the comments because that would make you not only judgmental but kind of an asshole too. I hope you enjoyed this change of pace. Sometimes it's nice to be a conceited bitch who shares everything about herself like Carrie. But you all love that conceited bitch, don't you? Until next time.

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