As I get older, recognize people’s repeat offenses & the unavoidable tribulations I am forced to face, I am beginning to come to terms with the fact nothing in life is comfortable no matter how hard we search for this comfort.

People come. People go. Times are hard. Times are easy. And it’s fucked up but that is precisely what life is; a fucked up cycle in which our heart breaks & our egos become bruised. We cry. We get over it. We do it again.

It’s this lack of balance that leads us to deeper understanding of ourselves.

Sometimes he won’t call you. Sometimes you will get the interview but not the job. Sometimes you won’t have enough money. But you keep trying & in the end this is what matters. Not the comfort, not the consistency but the ability to deal with the day to day imbalance.

I’m learning & becoming better at it, everyday. I am in turn, becoming more comfortable with who I am.

Extravagant dinners are a small expense in exchange for getting in your pants. Noted.

I’ve spent the majority of my Sunday watching vintage episodes of Sex and the City. Well, actually my whole day. But let’s not talk about my unhealthy obsession with the show.

After countless hours of streaming episodes on my computer I’ve come to the conclusion that whether we are a hopeless romantic, endlessly plagued by a lost love or sexually endowed we all have a little bit of Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha and Miranda in us.

We date and date in hopes of a relationship (or in the least, something that lasts more than a week) but try as we may, consistently meet the wrong guys.

And though in the moments where we are dealing with losing a guy we thought we had a chance with, we learn something about ourselves which is exactly what the women of Sex and the City did – developed a sense of self.

I should stop believing in fictional characters but, somehow I will never stop wishing to befriend Carrie Bradshaw and her posse. They keep me hopeful and slightly less disturbed by my serial dating.

I am eternally grateful for the internet and its ability to reincarnate the Sex and the City.

I survived four years of college (well, five due to my media induced anxiety of being a recession statistic — willingly stuck out an additional year). Now I’m out, in serious debt, lucky to have a well-paid full time job and managing the pitfalls of post-college life.

Yes I do the 9 to 5′er thing but I am and will forever be a writer and like most writers without the patience to write a book, I started a blog.

I’m completely inappropriate, disclose more than I should on the internet, and blame my youth for all my bad decisions. This is my blog.