Sup3rnality

XXVII

My own Beloved, who hast lifted me
From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,
And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown
A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully
Shines out again, as all the angels see,
Before thy saving kiss! My own, my own,
Who camest to me when the world was gone,
And I who looked for only God, found thee!
I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad.
As one who stands in dewless asphodel,
Looks backward on the tedious time he had
In the upper life,--so I, with bosom-swell,
Make witness, here, between the good and bad,
That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sonnets from the Portuguese

Ok, I know I'm not cool. Damn, never tried to be anyway. I've always known I would be somewhat of a social outcast. Well, not outcast per se, but not entirely built to fit into a mould either. I just manage to contort myself into a social circle if I need to, albeit reluctantly sometimes.

But as usual, I digress. I'm not talking about being 'cool' as in walking the walk and talking the talk. No, I'm talking about being cool under pressure. But even that kinda cool, is something I have yet to master; because anyone who knows me knows that I sweat copiously, til I am drenched. And so, despite my placid expression or my non-panicky demeanor, a telltale sign that I am pressed, worried, rushed or desperately scared, is the sweat that drips of me like I just got out of the shower.

Last week on Tuesday night, I was put in a situation that left me sweating like I was in a sauna. I had decided to lepak for a few hours at Oldtown around 8.30 pm so that I could use the wireless net access, since my new place has yet to have an internet connection. And so I drove, and when I got there, I saw that the carwash place was still open; and thought it'd be good to have my car washed and vacuumed since it's just really dirty. So I drove to under the tent, parked, handed my keys over and went to Oldtown.

I got quite carried away surfing and uploading pictures, so it was already around 10.30++ pm when I rememebered to check the time. Deciding that I should probably get home and get ready for work the next day, I packed up and then walked towards the carwash. My heart leapt into my mouth when I saw the carwash closed. But I saw my car parked in the corner, so the immediate thought that my car was stolen was cancelled out. But then I started thinking about where my carkeys could possibly be...and that's when I noticed the note on my car. It said:

Okay, finally I got the first one finished.

This is the actual first one that I first composed in my head, and as I was in the shower yesterday :p

I sometimes wonder how you could
love the person that I am when
the voices in my head make me
feel like nothing, like the sands
of time that seep through forgotten. And yet,
your love feels like the second
skin that covers my insides, transparent
on the surface. You let yourself be
mine to wrap around myself.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2009

Love,
N.e-Q

Yes, this is version 2. I was in the middle of version one when I got the inspiration for version 2, and decided to write it before I lost my train of thoughts. I ended up finishing the second one first.

A piece that I just decided to write one night as I was about to fall asleep.

I enjoy the blatant indiscretion, this impudent flaunting,
love the elaborate attempt to hide in the open
the secrets we both keep to ourselves to
feel as though we are in a secret world
of our own in which we consist of only
your own self and my own self, comfortable in our own
skin, in our ownselves without having to paint
on these masks of indifference. You can just be
mine, and I'll just be yours. And that is all there is.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2009

Love,
N.e-Q

P/s: Sayang, thank you for teaching me acrostic poetry :)

This is going to be a quickie.

I've been quiet for a while. That's mostly because:

• I've been busy moving to my new place
• I have moved in and kemasing my new place.
• My new place doesn't have internet access.
• I have so many products to juggle that I can't even blog at work.
• The firewall is back up at the office and cannot surf some sites, ie Facebook
• I've been moving about that I've hardly had the time to properly catch up with anything.

I've been working here for what, four months now?

Four months and my review never gets any better. There was one glimmer of light once, but the lightbulb got smashed just as soon as it sparked.

I'm tired of this. It brings me down to such a low that makes me feel like an idiot child. Like my knowledge is all for naught. As if I am not good enough. It takes away all my smiles for the day and replaces it with a expression of worry, anger and frustration.

Working here has been absolutely wonderful. I've said it many times before, and I have no regrets being here. But this...this seemingly (to me) elaborate attempt to make me look like a fool is driving me to feel agonizingly incompetent.

I seem to never be able to please the guy. Whatever I send his way always comes back with snide, and almost bitchy remarks. Hazlin noticed this but she didn't notice that. Is she reading with understanding? She is careless and does not pay enough attention. Why did she suggest this here but didn't suggest it there? More effort has to be put in. Blah de blah de blah.

What I hate about these reports are that his comments are mostly assumptions on the possible reasons for mistakes or what he thinks are mistakes. He assumes that I did not read carefully, but in truth is that since it has happened once and I've highlighted it, I need not have to retype another comment all over again. It's redundant. I mean, I mentioned that it once and made a note of it, so there's no need for him to put in the report is an all too definite tone that Hazlin did not understand what she was reading or was not paying attention.

It's embarassing to have people other than you read that report and they'd think that you cannot get the job done. It's bad enough to read a very critical review on your work. But it's much much worse when it is read by my superiors whom I am trying so hard to prove myself to. I seem to be capable to them, but if I keep getting these reviews, what are they really thinking of me? It drives me mad thinking that it doesn't really reflect what happened or who I am. And that those who read it will be lead to think I am probably more of a liability than an assett to the company.

I wish the review reports were made by the other guy.

Screw it. I hate this. I feel like my day has been ruined.

And I feel incredibly stupid.

I really need a pick-me-up.

Maybe I'll go to Alamanda, Putrajaya later with Ayus and get me some donuts.

Love,
Hazlin

P/s: I wish my Sayang was here :(

It's one of those nights again; and I can't sleep.

Thoughts of you fill every space of my consciousness.
Behind closed eyelids, a myriad of memories play over and over, distracting me from attempting to slumber...but then, that is so typical of you. A constant distraction. But a blissful, wonderful distraction. A distraction when I'm working. Or when I'm driving. Or when I am simply just being. You distract me. But in ways that render me weak-kneed. So much so that you often lull me into complacency, made helpless from your attention.

Even when you're not here I am distracted by just thinking of you.

And if I'm going to have to go through this tonight, I might as well have you here.

I wish you were.

Because I miss you.

Yours,
N.e-Q