The other day I was watching the Sex and the City movie, and it got me thinking about all the ways that my life falls short in the “happily ever after” department. I love movies, but there’s always that moment of disappointment at the end when reality washes over you again. You remember that messy breakup you’re in the midst of or the latest frustration from work, neither of which will be resolved with a couple of snappy comebacks.

For those two hours though, movies let us dream of another dimension of ourselves, in which our lives are equally charmed, our makeup doesn’t melt off in the heat and things like morning breath, bad hair days and zits are nonexistent.

In any case, any screenplay of my life would be thrown out by the director for its complete lack of coherency, consistency and sanity. I was a math and science geek in high school, and set off to Saint Louis University to become a meteorologist. So naturally, here I am now, majoring in communication and international studies, pursuing journalism at a university with no journalism program and preparing to seek a ludicrously expensive graduate degree that may be worthless when I can’t find a job in this economy anyway.

There was also my short-lived attempt at synchronized swimming, later followed by my stint as a synchronized ice skater. I dedicated eight years to competitive figure skating, the sport that taught me how to be fiercely cutthroat and ambitious while wearing an alarmingly short dress and shimmery tights. I joined the tennis team, but finishing dead last in junior varsity dampened my zeal for the sport. I dreamed of being an actress until I realized I couldn’t act, and aspired to be a famous singer until I realized I couldn’t sing either. There was even a period of time when I aspired to be Miss Teen Missouri, laughable considering my track record of walking in heels and my strong attachment to carbohydrates.

The fact of the matter is, I think there are a number of us whose lives don’t ever strike that perfect chord. The life we lead, far from any fairytale that’s ever been converted to the big screen, is anything but charmed.

But ultimately, it’s how we see it that matters. My life is no fairytale, yet I’ve learned to be happy for what it is, rather than what others say it should be. Movies would lead us to believe that there is a certain conventionality to happiness; the violins when we kiss, the perfectly-timed slap in the face when someone crosses us. But honestly, one of my favorite kisses was in a smoky concert hall of dubious safety while some guy named “Scooter” played the guitar. And as much as I’ve always wanted to dump my martini on some schmuck’s head and storm out in an elegant rage in my Manolo Blahnik stilettos when he dares upset me, I’m equally enamored of forgiveness.

As Homer Simpson once said, happiness is where ever you find it. I don’t need a perfectly timed piano solo or unrealistically witty banter or even quotes from real people instead of animated cartoon characters to feel like my life is worthy of a happy ending.

Kat Patke is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She is the managing editor for The University News.