Mandatory first: The March

My post title's a waste of words.
Necessary first. Duh.

Well, never mind that.
Decided that I can't live without airing my opinions and keeping them to a select few, being the opinionated bitch I am. Who aint? Just depends on how well we all hide it ;) let's all go awwwwww now shall we?

I happen to know a few who hide it really well. Pretty please teach me a trick or two if we ever become BFFs, okay? And that's when Singapore will become tax-free, with cheap-ass property for sale next door, coupled with free door gifts.

Enough bitching.

Why so serious? is started for my need to engage in the freedom of speech with the freedom of expresison.
Nobody who is the owner of this blog, at least for now, so I'd like to take this wondrous opportunitiy to comment about anything too serious in life and welcome all public speculation. I am friendly, you know.

That's why I got a pink layout. Cute & friendly. Right.

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For starters, let me begin with:

The mundane MMM we have to face almost daily, Monday - Friday.
The Morning MRT March:

It has been bugging me how normal people don't look normal at all when we partake in this march into the train stations, and trains; both being very separate matters altogether. For today, it will be on the March. Before I go on, let me explain the specimen that is omnipresent every morning: the Marchers and its sub-species, the Rushers.

Rushers and Marchers look exactly the same, with formal-looking clothes that are dull coloured and some times ill-fitting.  The five facial elements, namely the 2 eyes, 1 nose and 1 mouth, are almost always tightly squeezed together, like a......... tightly squeezed lemon. Ah yes, that took me a while as it was hard to place a logical understanding on how a human face can look so much like a bright yellow fruit.

Rushers are the humans who are on a tight schedule, and every second counts to them, as it would be a matter of life and death if they were to miss the Holy Train to a place, called the Holy Workplace. I know, how serious right? So, the smart Marchers rapidly give way to their kin, not wanting themselves to suffer any unnecessary commiseration and await their own entry into the next Holy Train.

It can be rather tough to differentiate a Rusher from a Marcher at first, until the discerning moment at the travellator because both look like Tightly Squeezed Lemons. I shall go into that later. For now, let me explain the transformation from a mere Human to a Marcher.

From the moment a Human's leg land on the premise of a station, I notice how the expression changes.
It is usually from one of dull boredom to one that suddenly becomes alarmingly alert as the eyes begin to scan the electronic boards for the arrival of the next train. Once the eyes become alert, the Human has offically been Marcherlised. With the timing registered in rapid seconds, the footsteps transform into a rapid, rhythmic march, going 1-2,1-2,1-2, determined and hell-bent, towards the control station. It is also here that the Marcher does a swift manoeuvre into the bag or pocket to retrieve the prized EZ-link card, that will gain it access into the Holy Train.

While marching, all obstacles, mainly other slower moving Humans, are removed with an irritated "Tsch" or sometimes, a rough shove of the hands and even bags, just so the obstacle will be made aware and siam asap to avoid imminent danger to the already short lifespan of a Human.

Upon gaining entry into the train station, the march continues in the same 1-2, 1-2,1-2 pattern up the travellator, with most Marchers keeping to the left of it, for fear of being shoved in the back by the onrush of the subspecies of marchers, the "Rushers".

The moment of discerning dawns. Rushers show their true colours by increasing their marching tempo to that of a 1-2-3,1-2-3,1-2-3 pattern, just a fraction short of running, as they are usually encumbered by really tall heels or heavy shiny shoes. Sigh, these Poor Rushers. They start the 1-2-3 march up the travellator with an intense gaze and make a rapid dash into the Holy Train before the doors zip shut on them. I congratulate the successful completion of their mission, as the Rushers must be happy, with their expression always changing to something similar of a less tightly squeezed lemon once behind the glass doors. However, it can get confusing at times, as the Rushers end up more tightly squeezed than before, by other Marchers in the Holy Train squeezing their Tightly Squeezed Lemon faces against the glass doors.

Marchers, on the other hand, would have made their way to the platform by now, and bid goodbye to their kin with a similar Tightly Squeezed Face. It must be a Marcher and Rusher culture. The Marchers, when at the platform, will start displaying a cycle of anxiety, and it always goes like this: 1) An incessant checking of the platform's Big-Faced Clock, followed by: 2) an incessant checking of their own Small-Faced watches and lastly: 3)an incessant checking of Steve Job's invention, the iPhone. The cycle usually repeats for 2-3 rounds before it ends, with each Marcher's face getting squeezed even tighter, until the Holy Train beeps its arrival.

At this euphoric moment, there is this almost synchronised inching across the yellow line on the platform, and a sudden buzz of energy as each Marcher await the opening of the Holy Train's doors excitedly. Such amazing coordination these Marchers have; they would stand a fair chance in some sort of synchronised competition.

Once the doors open, the Marchers file in solemnly, one after another, occasionally with some errant Rushers elbowing their way in, and find their places in the Holy Train. Lucky Marchers will be able to find a seat on the train, otherwise they continue standing upright and erect on their tall heels or heavy shiny shoes all the way to the Holy Workplace. For the Marchers who are able to sit down, their expression switches, almost instantenously, to the same dull expression before they stepped into the station, reverting back to a Human again. However, this human form will remain comatose all the way on the Holy Train's seat until the arrival at the Holy Workplace, so it is only Half-Human. For the remaining Marchers who are unable to sit, the same Tightly Squeezed Lemon expression stays on their faces until the arrival at the Holy Workplace.

Poor Marchers.
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I don't know which is better, to be a Marcher, Rusher or the Half-Human.
But the question is, why so serious? ;)