Sup3rnality

14/6 - Just realised how this might be interpreted. It's not what you may think it means, but I wrote in this way to not say what I mean. 

The way he looks when...
The calm
The crease of inquisition
Etching trenches on his forehead
The quite murmurs
The soft exhales
Silence but a breath catching
The way he looks when...
Makes me wonder if in
That place only he knows
If he knows
That he fills
the spaces between
Heartbeats
If he knows that
Sometimes I find solace
Staring into the Fire
To melt the coldness I fear
Are building fortresses
around my heart
The way he looks when...
He may not know, but I do
This moment that is mine
I use to memorise
the character of his face

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2013

Truth be told, 
Oh, yes it must be told
You have been like a lifeline
To me.
To you, 
I must be like kite
Way up too high, cloudbound
Without you, my kitestring.
And you hold me down
No, you anchor me
Like a lost boat 
Floating out to sea
But you found me
You caught me swaying
In the Wind.
Wind me down
I'm too spun around
Tight.
Not looking to fly high
Just enough to touch the sky
And then you ground me
Heaven meets the Earth
Everytime it's like the first
Yes, you're a lifeline to me.
Me -- hold on to me.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2013

* Written in less than two minutes with a tune going with it as each line flowed.

On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
Flickering lights giving
shadows but a moment of life.
On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
Teasing, a fleeting glimpse
then the darkness once again.
On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
Strike a match in my heart
Let the fire burn and give it light.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2012

Softly tread
Let no one hear you
Pass by silently
Trying to fade softly
Into the unforgiving
Background where
All dreams stand still
Waiting to move
Ahead of feet
Dragging on these
Rocky surfaces
Heartstrings catching
On shards of broken
Promises and words
Forgotten with whispers
In the night-time
Silently searching
Blindly for the fire
To light up this darkening day.


(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2012

To you;
I whisper in the dark of night
Lying on my side,
This stranger I know so well
A Hope in the absence of light,
I ask you;
When will you be me, 
And I you?
I answer myself;
Not tomorrow I know, 
But not soon enough to soothe
This growing ache that echoes
in the silence of this hollow cave,
I think I hear you say;
Come a day, soon, Time will tell
When heartbeats share in the 
rhythm of the dark of night
And when you lie on your side
There is Hope and there is light.
When this stranger fills the empty spaces
and bridges the distance in between . * This is not a reflection of my relationship :)

I admit, my headlines are not as interesting as this one.

Thought: To become a sub-editor, is a formal education on the English language necessary?

That was a topic of discussion, or rather, argument between Ash and me a few minutes ago before he dropped me off at work. Yes, we are both hard-headed and will keep on arguing to prove a point :-P Don't worry, it's my favourite part of being in the car with him, we always have some kinda something to talk or argue about.

Now I'm not trying to prove a point, but just using myself as a case study to explain why I think the education itself is not necessary. Instead, I think it all boils down to talent.

Big headed kan? But hear me out.

I've spoken English all my life. It's my first language, as in the first language I started speaking and the language I prefer and choose to converse in. I only started speaking Malay later around the age of seven or so. Until now, I have not been able to master it.

I read a lot. Not so much now as before I started working, but I definitely read more than the average Malaysian. And yes, I read almost only books written in English. I started reading at a young age, and spent a large amount of my time burying my head in a book while growing up.

On top of that, I love literature and pop culture. References and allusions don't go by me unnoticed.

I grew up being entertained by tv shows and movies. I was the only child and my father did not encourage me to go out, so besides books, tv was a constant companion.

Mix those key ingredients together and you have my brain, a non-stop pot of words boiling and mixing and absorbing each other. Granted, I'm not very creative, but my lifetime love affair with words and how they work has brought me right here at this desk at Setar.

Words have a certain flavour, you can tell when they don't mix or have been placed in the wrong order or combination. Sometimes I make mistakes, yes, no one is free from mistakes, okay? But the point is, I know if I'm wrong and know how to correct it. And in the face of my job, I know when words don't flow right or have a better way to be worded. I can switch them around and put them together again. And to top it off, I'll try to give it an extra punch with a catchy headline. It's not always possible due to space, but when the occasion calls for it, I can provide a noticeable punch.


Now, my argument with my significant other was somewhere along the lines of whether or not education enables a person to have my job or do my job.


For me, the answer is 'no'.

My job: Read. Edit. Layout. Write headline.

Reason? For one, I think I got this on talent. I may not be the best they've seen, but I'm one of the best they've got.

(Yeah yeah, perasannye)

Well, I'm not great at this, maybe not yet, but I can do this. I think this kind of work takes years of experience to get those creative juices on tap.

Two - At the end of the day, my degree is really just a piece of paper. Yes, I have a degree in English Language and Literature. I took it because that is what I have dreamt of studying since I was 12. I wanted to learn more, be among people who appreciated the English language and its literature (well, not quite), I wanted to soak in the ambience and discuss theories and lines out of poetry and research the history from when the words were written. Tough luck, my expectations were not entirely met, but in any case, I enjoyed IIUM. But...

In terms of learning about language and literature that I would later use in my career, that didn't happen -- much.

No, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying IIUM did not play a role in making me the sub-editor I am today. My literature classes and  sociolinguistics etc helped a lot in understanding the role of language in attracting readers. I learned quite a bit from Discourse Analysis about making words sound good but I hardly absorbed much from all that pure linguistics and have never applied anything I learned in my work (applied linguistics, however, I enjoyed).

Truthfully, at the end of the day, I just wanted that piece of paper saying I graduated so that I could get out and get a decent job to earn a living. I learned a lot in IIUM, but not really of the academic variety. More in the experience sense, I would think.

But...in spite of that, I do believe that I am here for what I already was before I started my degree. It was part of my personality, not education.

I mean, if that were the case, all my colleagues would be from an English degree background. Really, it's not just English majors who are in this line of duty. We have lawyers, engineers, scientists....all who, despite what they studied, found their calling in words.

And, if I were to ask any of my fellow undergrads from my course to join me in my sub-editor-ness, I can hardly even provide you a handful of names who would be interested.

So there you have it. That is why I feel I was not chosen for my qualifications, nor did I choose this job because of it. I was all in my innate nature.

My writing poetry by the age of 7, keeping a journal since I was 8, collecting newspaper articles to read over and over at about the same age, and correcting grammar, even my own teachers', as soon as I entered school..It was all part of my tightly-wound nature of wanting things to be in order.

Yes, I admit it, I'm anal like that. But that's just what I am.

We played footsie over guitar and coffee
But just a cuppa tea for me
Smiled across the metal table
We didn't think, ignored the warning label
Backseat laughter in the early morning
Made way for tentative lips in meeting
Window talked over confused minds
Bought tickets, wondering what we'll find
We took a ride, untangling riddles on the train
And given the chance, I'd do it all again
--- exactly the same.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2012

*Written after the word "footsie" made itself present in a comment about runaway shoes (I like to walk barefoot in the office). The word brings sweet memories to my mind, like it only happened yesterday.

The coffee call
Riding the bullet train
For the morning paper
Like the fire in the stairwell
Looking for right stage exits
Bedroom firelights dancing
With urgency rising
Cornered shadows dying
For sunlight to yawn louder
They burn butterless toast
With sugar on the side
But then I drink tea instead.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2011

Freedom

#26

These spaces feel
like open oceans
Waiting
Just waiting for
the ship to sail in
the waves to break
my heart to un-ache
to reignite this flame.
The wind whispers
your name, a teasing
tickle at the edge
of my seeping
drowning
conciousness.
Anchor me with
the weight of you
And never leave
me drifting again.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2011

food has lost its taste
there is always too much space
heart beats with much haste
false smiles etched on my face
feel like sleeping for days
and dream dreams i cannot chase

Bobbing to nobody's beat
A solitary island
Standing still
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
For the ship to sail in
And remind it again
That these spaces between
Is for the rush
When the tide comes in.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2010

Baby, come close this space between us. I miss you.
Disclaimer: Beautiful photo of a lone boat, titled "Lone shark" is by a.kay47 from Flickr.

Aku keliru dan buntu
Tidak tahu siapa yang silap
Is it me or you?
Tell me because my heart
Feels like it's split in two.

I've got my own, my mirror in hand. And what's glass but only sand?

What's sand but the infinite time? Little pebbles of moments never quantified. Only a fleeting glance of a breaking wave. Washes up to shore then back again.

Mine is the infinity of time. The reflection from the sea. The strength of the crashing waves.

I don't need your facade, your fickle heart.
My footsteps are in the sand, and with it I make art.

Come rest your
Tired limbs
Weary eyes
Ragged heart
Let's sleep off tonight
Take a break from the fight
First light is another 'morrow
Let me take your
Battle scars
Aches and breaks
Your worries at the gate
And cast all the world 
To outside our door
I'll rush them to the fore
These only hands will
Mend breaks
Soothe aches
Smooth dregs
And bring you to your rest
Reining in the beast
For a sweet release
As the gathering dawn breaks
And another battle awakes.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2010

A sleepless night watching the peace of the slumbering dawn, breathing in the seconds til it rises.

Disclaimer: Picture taken from "The Shape of Things..."

oh hush
serpent tongue
preaching choir
horse's mouth
swim not
shallow pond
holed sieve
holds no water
mind you
flipped coin
different sides
reverse lies.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2010

Well, I think this speaks for itself. 

Love,
Linzy

Disclaimer: Picture entitled "Serpent's Tongue" is by elainedori from DevintArt.

 
Watch the slow decline
The steeping edge
This fall from grace
A downward spiral
I'm losing face.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2010

Disclaimer: Picture by bucz from deviantart.
 

In conjunction with Valentine's Day (yadda yadda yadda...I don't really care about it in any angle you wanna take it, but it's a perfect time to get mushy and have an excuse for it...so screw everything else.), I'm gonna share with you a poem that I love very much.

This poem was one of the first I read that made me fall in love with Atwood's poetry. It's a morbid love story, but touching nonetheless. A sorta fairytale, only in a different setting. In another story, in another time, he would have been the gallant knight, and she the grateful lady.

It is a true story, a fairytale and a metaphor to reality all at once. The stark contrast and the glaring similarities make for a heartfelt read, complete with sharp intake of breath, climax and denouement. And when you get to the end, you feel it all come together. What is a man, without a woman, and what is a woman without her man. At the end of the day, their roles are the very same as any other man and woman in a relationship, whatever the circumstance.