I’ve started no less than 3 posts today, each one trying to discuss my thoughts on true love, on happenstance, on synchronicity, on happily ever afters, and how things have a way of working out for the best, whether you really believe it or not. I wanted to somehow tie into how absolutely amazing “Sex and the City” was last night, and unlike other season finales (“Jack & Jill”, “Roswell” and “Dawson’s Creek” to revisit some of my more days-gone-by juvenile tv show obsessions), this one left me fully sated, elated that Carrie ended up with “Big John” as the tears streamed down my face. (Yes, I’m a girl. A girl who had a hangover, a big fat new television where I could easily see the Tivo guide, and a dinner of Kraft Shells & Cheese and brownies. I’m ALLOWED a few tears after that delicacy.) In the midst of my never-ending workday, sending me to the very depths of my tolerance and using every iota of patience I have to not literally bang my head against the wall, the concept of true love is firmly planted in the upper-left cerebral cavity of my oh-so frazzled head. As is the notion of just how small this world really is.

On any given day, in any given city, at any given time, I somehow find myself only a few degrees separated from someone I’ve just recently met. More often than not, you’ve probably dated my old roommate, went to college with someone I had a crush on in high school, or possibly met me a few years back only to call me once but never again (an apparent hint for me to practice my phone-conversation skills.) Whether I’m in DC, San Francisco, Sydney or here in Atlanta, I invariably find myself running into someone that either knows me, knows my family, knows the first boy I kissed, knows the last boy I kissed, or something of the sort.

The problem with starting no less than 3 posts today, this one being the fourth, is that there’s a very strong chance that this one is also going to fall into the sub-par category and get deleted. In fact, if I had more brain cells that were synapsing, sleep received last night, food eaten for lunch or patience (now and ever), I’d probably hit the backspace key with a lot of furvor. But I can’t – I don’t even think I have the time to spellcheck this so please, refrain from telling me that I can’t spell or I used the word “supposebly” because, well, you’re just going to have to cut me some slack today. This is all I’ve got right now, so please, be kind.