I don't know if it's obvious from this weblog, but I'm really having a major writer's blog. Perhaps it is because my life is boring and plain sailing and I'd rather not be blogging half truths. Injecting flashy tidbits and cool analogies. Let the tabloids do that. No let mass media do that. As i keep procrastinating, finding little interest in my own life, i figured this may be the reasons: a) I have a job... not a career, not a dream... a job. b) I have little else happening in my life other than a). Yet it appears that even the best writers start with something mundane. Oh well, i'll start with bus rides. The journey to and from work to be exact.
You see... I pick my job based on locations. When I lived in Braddell, I worked at Newton. Now that I'm residing at Dover, naturally an opening at Dempsey was brillant..(with exclaimation marks.) Anyone who knows the geographical distance of Singapore locations will tell you that I've strunk my travelling time from 30 to 25 mins one way. That's saving 10 mins a day...50 mins a week. A gazillion minutes a year!!!!
I've done the same at work. To quit my previous job, was to recover me time and even more time not spent being stressed out while away from the office. To avoid the insane hours of what I call a REAL job*, I jump right smack into the insanity of rush hour traffic, populated by people with well...jobs...uninspiring 9-5 jobs . It's not traffic jams that put me off. It's proximity to strangers and odours and all those strange things you have to endure in packed buses. When I say the word endure, please sympathise... I am barely above 5 ft tall... nose height wise where that will take me? Armpit-land. E'nuff said.
Perhaps some may say I'm snobby, seeing how taking the public bus was never the transport of choice as I was growing up. But don't be mistaken. I love bus rides. Just not at rush hour. Rush hour where you meet one too many rude sweaty people. People who don't understand basic human laws of whatever. Seats are for pregnant ladies who are straining their backs carrying extra kilos. Seats are for those old people who have endured many many bad bus rides in their lives and should now be given preferential treatment, also they don't stand too well. Seat are for those who are reasonably handicapped. The list is too long for me to explain. When all these people are seated, the rest of us with no concession can go ahead and battle it out for a butt rest. Just manner of speech... no shoving allowed. Speak about shoving...
I shoved several people on the bus the other day. I'm not proud of it. Opposed to that, I was quite repulsed. Body contact is required to actually shove someone, even if it's an elbow. It happened like this. Excuse me, I said. Person A blocking didn't move. Excuse me , I said louder, person B, apparently a moron, moved to block person A from moving anywhere. After a third 'excuse me' and a grandiose action with my flapping elbows to show that I wanted to move inward, away from the front door...I lost it. I spied a whole lot of space in the middle section of the bus and some elderly lady behind me on the front door steps. I started pushing forward with my elbows muttering a string of redundant 'excuse me'.
I don't understand what it is that makes people crowd around doors. Are they afraid that a fire might break out in the middle of the bus, and they should be standing at the nearest escape? maybe it's some secret pact to make the bus look fuller than it really is, so people will think twice about boarding and thus having to share extra oxygen.... Whatever it is, i am going to be enduring the insane bus rides till I figure what next.
If I have my way... I will probably be working down at One North (15-20 minutes by foot away from home) followed by Singapore Poly (5 mins)......
*REAL job - something i created to differentiate between doing a job you are passionate about, a career perhaps, or one that simply feeds you literally, usually 9-5 as you don't really feel a need to stay beyond the required office hours. A 9-5 job can also be something you are passionate about. but rarely happens. this is just my own terms for REAL job and just regular job...job.
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