Watching the end of the HBO miniseries Sex and the City is a lot like facing your final semester at Boston College. When you think of the future you become teary-eyed and scared; and when you think of the present, you want to stay in the moment, even though every moment might become a memory that causes heartache down the road. This weekend's upcoming finale of Sex and the City reminds me a lot of the series finale of Seinfeld, and even of graduation - it is an event anticipated since its announcement. It is almost like last week's 104 Days party was a sneak preview to the final episode.
Whenever I become sad about losing my four girlfriends (Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha, and Miranda), people remind me that the show encountered six solid seasons in which the characters developed, came into themselves, and taught us about living, dying, loving, and now about moving on. People tell me the same thing about my time at BC. I have had seven and a half semesters to live, to learn, to love, and now to move on. But, three months away from graduation, I am afraid to leave. However, I know if I stay I run the risk of souring my college experiences.
The Seinfeld series finale angered loyal viewers. They felt as though the final episode did not reflect any of the comedy in the previous nine seasons. For that audience, the final episode was not fun; it was a mess of producers trying too hard at the last minute. Seinfeld ended on a serious note, which was the different than the 179 episodes that came before it. Viewers felt betrayed, and then regretted sticking around until the end because their feelings of the show had become tainted by its sad attempt at a last hurrah.
On the other hand, escaping too early can leave the same anxiety that comes with leaving a party too early. Sometimes, leaving too soon means missing out on the best parts. Last Sunday I woke up after my roommates had thrown a Saturday night party. When I went to bed, only a few people were still dancing in our living room and the party was winding down. When I woke up seven hours later, I found chocolate cake smeared all over the kitchen, the walls, and the ceiling. Had I escaped too early, or gotten out in time to avoid the mess? I was happy to clean up the cake because I was not part of the cake fight, which was so bad it extended into the hallway. Did I get out in time or miss some good memories?
Spring Break
