Sup3rnality

I think anyone who has known me for a good long while knows that I am picky when it comes to music and movies and books. I would often say that having loved language and words eversince I could remember, I do not settle for any run of the mill use of words and recycled phrases.

Many people who would have come to know me long enough would have had that awkward moment when they ask "Can I have a look at your song list/movie collection?" only to find out they can find hardly anything that they would like to hear or have heard of/have seen or would like to see more than once. I get that often! Haha.

So if you have been through my DVD album, you'd notice I have a special stack which consists of war movies. Particularly movies about the Holocaust. I have Imagining Argentina, The Last Samurai, Braveheart, The Patriot, Saving Private Ryan, The Pianist, The Wind that Shakes the Barley...you get my drift.

Besides the beauty of the movie itself, the sacrifice, the power of love and pride, strength and all that depicted in the movie, I love battle scenes, in particular when it comes to the battle speech...which is the point of this entry in the first place.

Battle speeches gives me that lump in my throat and sets my heart racing, as if I am in battle and the words are setting me for the rage of the battle. Often I'd shed a tear or two at the words, feeling my spirit rise to face the impending battle, even if that fight is for naught.

So here are my top three battle speeches. The ones that made my heart stop. The ones that gave me chills. The ones I can still hear playing over and over in my mind. (Click on the quotes/character/movie for more info).

Aye, fight and you may die, run and you'll live. At least a while. And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one chance to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!

- William Wallace, Braveheart

Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world, and you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. Mankind. That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom… Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution… but from annihilation. We're fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day! 

- President Thomas J. Whitmore, Independence Day

Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails When we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Man comes crashing down. But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth. I bid you stand, Men of the West!

- Aragorn, LotR: Return of the King

By the way, [this blog] agrees with me.

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.

I was tagged by Sarah Elizabeth @Nomadic Soul.

I'm supposed to list seven things about me, and here I chose to put what's been on my mind; those thoughts that have been clouding up my noggin.  So here goes...

Seven things that has been on my mind:

1.  I've been having a case of baby envy these past months. Seeing friends I've grown up with getting married and having children is hitting me very hard. I'm feeling that longing and ache for my own children, so much so that I am green with envy seeing others with children. It's not a bad thing, I adore children and I am happy for friends/relatives over their bundle of joy... but I feel a little left out and wistful. I can't wait for my turn :)
2. I am needing and anticipating a career change. I'm at the end of my tether and just am constantly on edge. The knot of tension in my head and heart is threatening my health and sanity. I desperately want to get out. I am just waiting for that one good offer, then I'm out the door. I'll be sad to leave this team that I have come to think of as family, but for my sake, I would need to go.
3. I am angry at myself for letting myself put on so much weight in the past few months. Another reason why I should get out of this desk job. Sitting in front of the pc all day is making all that energy turn into unwanted bulges. If only I had the time to go walking in the park or something.
4. I'm working on two short stories. Don't know whether they'll ever see the light of day, but I'm hoping to get them finished at least, cos I'm not a fiction writer, I don't really have it in me to write about someone else. But every now and then, the inspiration strikes, it's just that often they just stay as beginnings and unfinished paragraphs. I hope these two would make it through. One is a rewrite of "Usually" the other is inspired by Tori Amos' Comic Book Tattoo. I'm writing a story based on A Sorta Fairytale.
5. I know this is mighty racist to say, but it's just been on my mind and it's pretty grating, so bear with me. Eversince my hellish nightmare of an experience living with my previous housemates who took my things, swindled me out of cash, who were insensitive and immature, who were careless and did not lock the doors/close the windows which caused my laptop to get stolen (lest they themselves took it), I've been hating hearing people speak in, well, the language they speak. The sound of it plummets me to a sorta rage that makes my blood boil. I know that their attitude and ignorance has nothing to do with where they come from or the language they speak, it is their character that makes them so, but hearing that same language just brings back bad bad memories. 
6. I am planning the launch of Project Reconnect. What is that? Well, it's my own personal project and goal to reconnect with friends that I have been out of touch with. Particularly Hamzah, Alfred, Suneetha, Ajan/Sya/Nadiah, Elwyn, the BENDits, the Twisties and many many more. I feel like I have been distancing myself too much and need to get back to my roots.
7. Having been to weddings and hearing/reading/finding out that more and more friends are getting married, I'm starting to feel the pressure. This day and age, the age I am now is considered somewhat too early to wed; so maybe it's still too early to get worried, but that doesn't mean I don't want it or don't think about it. But pressure aside, I want to, even if not now then sooner or later. And I can hardly wait. But it'll come when it does. Some things are worth waiting for, and when it happens, it'll be awesome :) *No pressure Sayang, you know my heart already belongs to you.

Who to tag?

• Encik Sedil
• Fidzy
• Sarah
• Ayus
• Bella
• Yanna
• Idzaid

Hope you enjoyed those little insights into my twisted mind.

Love,
Linzy

Coincidentally, I've had three of these happen within 12 hours. The first being a conversation I had with Ash last night regarding how we grew up, socializing and language preference, the second being a conversation with my teammate Saiful (he too graduated with a degree in English) about the usage of the English language in schools/unis and its stigma, and the last was a talk show which had "Mat Salleh Celup" (loosely translated as "wannabe Westerner") as a topic of discussion.

In a nutshell, these three centered around speaking English (in Malaysia) and its repercussions.

For myself, this is not a new piece of thought to chew on. It has been one of the many banes of my existence eversince the day I discovered the hard way that not many approve of the language I speak, and that dear people, was when I was only 3 or perhaps younger.

There are of course, many ways to look at this. Factors to be brought in would be one's upbringing, social factor, surroundings, exposure, thinking and a myriad more. But since this is my blog, let me have my say in the way I see and experience it. Like everyone else, I have my reasons for being what I am and nothing anyone could say will ever change that.

Let's lay down the basic facts first:

• My first language is English, and I only started understanding Malay when I was about 4 or 5, and only grasped my Malay conversational skills when I was about 6.
• Reason? My parents were concerned that if they did not start me young in practicing English, I would miss out and not catch on. However, as it turned out, English developed to be my first language and Malay faded into the background. 
• I grew up very very sheltered and hardly socialized. My closest friends all spoke English. I was only exposed to other people when I entered kindergarten. *I hate it when people say I'm a spoilt brat who don't want to leave home and socialize. Truth is, I could not. I did not have a choice. So shut the hell up and don't criticize my upbringing. I didn't turn out judgmental, insensitive and rude, so I think I'm alright.
• Hence, I never really developed my Malay speaking skills and I cannot carry on a full and proper conversation in Malay without feeling awkward and conscious. 

My personal experience regarding my speaking in English:

• Socializing was difficult. Not only did I have limited exposure to other kids, I spoke in a different language altogether. And on top of that, having grown up with books and all sorts of educational material, I never had much interest in talking about boys, gossip and who's who. 
• When I speak in English, well, there are the positive reactions, and then there are the bad. And the bad? Everything from oh-my-God-who-do-you-think-you-are-you-must-think-you're-so-much-better-than-everyone-else-cos-you're-speaking-the-language-of-the-West, or you must have no self-respect and patriotism because you're speaking the language of our colonizers, or even, you must have very low morals because you speak the language of the immoral devils of the West. 
• People talk down to me or not talk to me at all because I'm not like them. Or they offend me by refusing to speak Malay to me even when I do thinking that I would not accept someone who speak to me in Malay.

My thoughts on the matter:

• The talk show I watched had valid points, and the guests they invited put forth some interesting outlooks. They invited a couple of Malay guys who grew up overseas, and a caucasian guy who grew up in Malaysia; and they gave some very good point of views and experiences. But I still feel this need that this has to be reiterated and drilled into the minds of people. First of all, language cannot be associated with a culture. Like how once learning German was banned thinking that it might spread Nazi ideology; learning and speaking English does not mean you adopt the lifestyle of people who started speaking English in the first place, so why the fuss about learning it and speaking it?
• Maybe my parents are at fault for not balancing those two languages, but so what? That doesn't make this matter any less a point. Why is speaking English so wrong?
• I can be patriotic in any language I speak. I understand that our own national language is an identity that we should be proud of and I don't deny that. But to think that not preferring to speak Malay undermines what I am offends me. Of course, the fact that language itself has been politicized doesn't help any, ie literature written in any other language than Malay is not considered to be valid to be called Malaysian literature. And here I thought the concept of a multiracial and multilingual country meant something. One Malaysia my arse.
• Speaking English means I'm immoral? I am emulating Western girls? First off, you are generalizing people from the Western hemisphere to be evil. That alone has me putting your name down for future avoidance. Second, you are judging me from the way I speak only. What happened to not jumping to conclusions? 

I say wake up and smell the identity. Malaysians are so hung up on "identity" but could hardly even agree on it. We are first and foremost people. Human beings. That's the way God sees us anyway. We are not race, or colour, or language. We are people. Why so much fuss on the language I speak? Melayu akan pupus? Malays will grow extinct? BS la. It's this so many restrictions on definition that is eroding our sense of self. We do not know how what we are because we are constantly at fight of what should and should not be, which widens the possibilities and narrows the term Malaysian.

It's not that I don't speak Malay at all. I do. When situation and company calls for it. But in situations where I have a choice, I choose English. Why? Because I express myself better. Those listening get what I'm saying and reads me loud and clear. And I feel comfortable that way. And even then, often I mix both languages at once for the benefit of others and myself, especially when I get that sidelong glance like I'm a disease.

This issue goes much deeper than just what I'm saying, and if I were to really go in depth, I'd be better off writing a paper. There is just too many angles to look at this. And I know some people will not understand or agree with what I say...but like I said, these are my thoughts on it and this based on what I have endured in my lifetime. I'm not saying that this is what should be, but this is the ignorance that I think we are suffering from.

Language is the words we choose to use pass a message on to another. It is a choice. It is a preference. It should not matter what language you choose to speak. You are what you are.

And I?

I'm a gorram Mat Salleh Celup, so sue me!

Linzy~

I stumbled across some old, unpublished blog entries of mine in my old laptop. The entries that never saw the light of day due to it being redundant or irrelevant by the time I got around to finishing it, or it just never was finished. For the most part, it's the second situation I often find myself in.

But redundant or not, forever unfinished or will be completed some day, one phrase caught my attention in an unpublished entry sometime in early April 2008. It went somewhere along these lines: "...I've never met Linzy in Love, I'm sure she's someone I would love to meet".

Reading that put a smile on my face, because, almost two years on, and Linzy in Love is still standing here loving more and more, and I'm still getting to know her mysterious ways.

I'll tell you a little story:

Linzy in Love was at the beginning an elusive shadow. She came in the night and whispered words like secrets and gave visions of contentment. She enticed me with dreams of warmth and smiles and a fullness beyond anything I understood. And amongst the haze of happiness, a familiar face, a comforting smile held out his arms.

I knew him. And I felt the familiar tug at the heartstrings wanting to play. But I held back to ask myself if I could play this tune? Was it mine to take to the stage? And so I toyed with doubt. Let questions play its broken record. And I continued singing out of tune.

But Fate has her way with things. She orchestrates time and places to come together and make something happen. And in my story, it has something to do with a botched trip to the sungai, Yumi's backseat, and a lone pin embedded somewhere in Yumi's car. A weird combination to say the least, but it's one helluva story to tell the kids one day :)

And it happened. The pieces of bolts and wheels put in place ran like clockwork and played on. Oh how it played on. And who else be playing at the strings but Linzy in Love.

I've met Linzy in Love, and she redefined my life.

And my Asdil, the man whom Linzy in Love gave that love to, is the reason to why Linzy is in Love. No one makes me smile all the more than having him in my life. My days are wonderful, and stormy weather never stays all that long. His arms are promises of safety and comfort. Thoughts of him are accompanied by a tingling ache somewhere in the region of my heart. A lump gets caught in my throat as my emotions overwhelm me. And in my mind's eye, all my thoughts of the future has him as the feature attraction. And who am I to deny that? :p

This is Linzy in Love signing off. Off for more lovin'...

Love,
Linzy in Love

Maybe lakes will run
Break ranks and banks
Seep through the cracks
Bleeds dry and cries.
Maybe nightingales'll sing
Breaking dawns and dusks
Sirens beg and plead
Traction bends and gives.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2010.

* A shorter, edited version of the original I wrote which had a slightly more comedic ring, although the purpose of this is far from it. This is the tip of the iceberg of emotions that is waiting for that ship to come. Not altogether complete, but will have to do for now.

Disclaimer: "The Lily Pond" by Lynn Andrews was taken from Fine Art America.

When I got out of my car this morning to walk up to my office, after parking it by the roadside, I saw in the morning's sunlight a chip in the paint of the car somewhere to the right side of the hood. Argh. This is the third one. And I hate it when I don't know how it got there.

If I know why a scratch is there, I could reconcile with the fact that I was careless. But if it's just suddenly there, then I get a mite tetchy on the origins of that offensive mar in the smooth exterior of my Sylvie (the Silver Viva). Yes, I can actually see your eyes rolling when I say this, Sayang, cos you know how dusty and dirty my car is at this point of time. I swear, I don't have the time to clean it.

Anyhow, all this fuss about car colours and paintjobs gave reminded me of arguments I often have with my father. Arguments that often leave me huffing in frustration. Why? Because he loves saying this:

"Alah, colour tu seasonal!"

Meaning: "Alah (said as negative exclamation that expresses disagreement or dismissal), that colour is seasonal".

Operative word: "Seasonal"

This is my father's most favourite word. And when he says it like above, that's pretty much the end of the argument. No buts, no ifs. That's it. And why does he say what he says? Ah, this is where I give you a little backstory.

My father is not the kind of person you'd request things like clothing, handbags, accessories from. First of all, he doesn't like buying them. Rather than buying those, he'd rather buy you a Nintendo DS. No, seriously. He will. And while some might think that that is fantabulously awesome, it's not when all you really want is a nice t-shirt. Or maybe, he will get you what you asked for, but in a really boring colour.

Okay, scenario: Say he goes to Japan, and you tell him: I want a t-shirt with nice cherry blossoms on them.
Likely end result(s): (a) He buys a Nintendo DS with cherry blossoms decorating it, or (b) he'll get what you want, but in a safe, and often drabby colour.

My father, for the most part, likes to play the safe card when buying something that he'd be owning for a long time. Like clothes, he'd rather get grey or black or white or brown. He'll never buy red or green or yellow. Unless someone gave it to him and he'd have to wear it. But even then, he'd probably only wear it once.

Same goes for cars. He'll only buy a black or silver or grey car. Which is fine if those were the only options. But cars come in so many wonderful colours now, but would he want to get a nice vibrant colour that shines beautifully in the sun. No. Simple as that.

I have argued with him way too often, and my anger has never been assuaged. It's just that I got so tired of his adamant reply. It's a seasonal colour. What I would very much like to say, but never will is: So what?

Come on, think about it. I would think that anyone would be excited about getting their first car. I know I was. Other than type, model and brand of car, almost certainly you'd have an ideal colour in mind. It's your first car after all. You'd want it to be something that reflects what you like.

I knew that when I started working, a car was in the cards. And there I was fantasizing about a beautiful blue car. Okay, so I wasn't really particular on what car it was. Just like a woman, you might think. But it's not like I had oodles of money to have the luxury to choose, so whatever that moves would have done me just fine. I just wanted a blue car. I've loved the colour blue since forever. It always made me think of skies. Also, I think that would save Ash from having to dump Chelsea-blue paint on my Sylvie likes he's been wanting to do :p

But you guessed it, my dad got me a silver Perodua Viva. Thing is, he didn't even consult me when he bought it. I didn't even know he was buying a new car. Next thing my mom knew there was a Viva in the garage. No one knew. He just got it.

Now you might say that my dad got it, I should be thankful. Yeah, I am. But, he could have at least asked what colour I liked. And besides, yes, he paid for the downpayment; but I'm paying for the monthly installments.

I'm not saying I don't love my Sylvie. I do. She serves me well and I take care of her the best I can. But when I see a nice blue Viva on the road. I get envious. Not just the blue, in fact. The red is nice, too. And the jade is also real eye-catching. Sometimes I wish I could have gotten another colour instead.

And when I ask my father why didn't he get another colour, I'd always get his typical reply: Buat apa, Ayin? Colour tu semua seasonal. Sekarang ni cantik la, lepas ni dah bosan tengok sebab semua orang pon ada colour tu. Baik beli colour macam ni. Original. Colour lain tu semua lama-lama nanti bukan trend dia dah. Lepas tu semua nanti nak tukar balik. Kereta nak simpan lama, nak ke tengok colour boring macam tu lama-lama? Ah, seasonal je tu.

Translation: What for, Ayin? All those other colours are seasonal. Now it may look nice, but soon it will be terribly common because everyone else will have the same colours. It's better to have a colour like this (silver). It's classic. Those other colours will soon be out of style. Then soon everybody would want to change back to normal colours. Cars are meant to be kept for a long time; do you really want to look at a common, seasonal colour like that for that long? They're all just seasonal.

Queue seething anger. But --- I like blue! Whether or not it is in "season", I will always like blue. Blue has always been my favourite colour. Everybody knows that. I was easily spotted in campus cos I was almost always in a blue tudung. Ask me this year, and the next year or next decade, or go back in time by another decade, I would still say I want blue. What really is the problem? I'll be the one driving it anyway.

But then, it's no use. My father is not the kind of person you'd argue with. You cannot argue with him. You will never win. And he is too intimidating and can get quite angry, so you cease argument at a certain point. And that is that.

I love my father. But sometimes his stubbornness and hard-headedness really grates me. But then again, now you see where I got it from, eh?

Love,
Linzy