Sex and the City

23 days and counting… my days are packed and my bags aren’t… not a very good combination.

Been sneaking episodes of Sex and the City in between, work, dates, packing and sleep…

Xinyi lent them to me after I caught the film with her. She can’t believe that I haven’t watched a single episode before. They are addictive and good, despite the fact that sometimes I so want to slap Carrie. Am I the only one who thinks she’s irritating? I liked her enough in the film, but in the TV shows, there are times when her neuroses are frankly grating on my nerves.

I think the episodes are the only thing that’s keeping me sane right now. I have a schedule that’s unbelievable and work so piled that I’m starting to run on 4 hours of sleep per day… and thinking about cutting back to 2. In fact, have cut back to 2 last night. Meals are down to 2 a day, hopefully the first isn’t simply fruits. And my temper is getting so short, that even I pity my students who are mostly getting the brunt of it as I have no patience left and snap at them almost every lesson.

And so, to survive it all. I’m turning to Sex. And the City. And yes, I know I shouldn’t! So I sneak them like I’m doing drugs. Illicitly. I watch them on the laptop with the earphones while hidden in the corner of my room. An episode here and an episode there. One after marking 10 essays. Just one after a shower while waiting for my hair to dry. One after packing a box cause I’m too tired to move anyway. One just before I sleep. And yes, occasionally, I can’t stop myself and go on a binge, especially on weekend nights where I finish 6 episodes at a go. 20 mins per episode. I’m down to only Season 5 & 6.

It’s supposed to reflect the real lives of women. But somehow, it doesn’t to me. These women. They aren’t living real lives. They have problems and dysfunctional relationships and make tons of mistakes. But that doesn’t constitute real lives… somehow… they don’t have the uncertainness that mortals have… the lost and “I have no freaking idea what the hell I’m doing” & the “I think I’m destroying my life but I’m not sure and I don’t know how the hell to be and even if I do, I don’t know how to stop myself”…

Too often, we hear the line:

“It was then that Carrie/Miranda/Charlotte/Samantha realized, that….., and she (made some whatever important decision)”

And that’s not real. We don’t have that. There isn’t a moment that we “realize” anything. And even if we do, what we “realize” probably isn’t true and just what we *think* we “realize”.

But, whatever. It’s still a fun show with lots of great lines. And, it’s playing a big part in keeping me away from tearing my hair out and running away to the states early with only my passport in my hands.

Disneyland, Oriental-Style

Took a detour through chinatown today between oral examinations and a dinner date at Clarke Quay. I can barely recognize the place. I felt like a tourist. Hell, anyone would feel like a tourist. It's like Disneyland, Oriental-style. There are pedestrian streets complete with paris-style street cafes and German wurstelstands selling kasekrainer (which I was actually tempted to buy in memory of my 04 Europe trip). Colorful swatches of fabrics reminiscence of Thai street markets gleamed with polished slabs of seals.

Never underestimate the power of commercialism.

I always knew Chinatown has turned into a tourist stop. The rainbow of colors splashed over the rows of shophouses and the overpriced hawker fare at Smith St. was hard to overlook. But, when did it totally lose its soul?

The epitome of "tourist spot". When a place exists sole for tourists. and became an oxymoron in itself.

I think about the Chinatown that was. And never would be again.

Thanks heaven for the groups of checkers-playing old men next to the brand new temple. who incidentally still spat on the floor after clearing their throat. the only identity of Chinatown.


p.s. Am I the only one who blinked at the transliteration of Temple Street, two different ones side by side? What's wrong with a direct translation of Temple?