2015 in a Bottle

Gazing blankly into the ghostly sky with its morning star hidden right behind the thick, heavy clouds, I downed my cup of espresso.  I tried to shut my thoughts and listen to the sounds around me.  I sat still in my wooden chair trying to capture some form of hope for my trusty pen to thrust its wildest dreams on.

If I could, I would.  Definitely.  I would part this sheet of paper from the book, roll it up, and then put it in a bottle – and set it free.  Well, what if I actually did?

My thoughts would have the freedom to linger off through the water surface, forever encased in its protective covering.  Hopefully it would seek refuge from raging storms, and finally meet with amicable weather in the Atlantic, before sailing smoothly into the Indian Ocean.  Perhaps, thousands of years later someone would be lucky enough to stumble upon it when it gets itself stuck in the soggy sand.

Parts of the lines are quite cheesy, and I do have to apologize, Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber, for borrowing the words in your lyrics to vent my dissatisfaction.

Thank you for calling me a bitch.  Thank you for assumming that I am a slut.  Thank you for piercing through my heart all your sharp arrows, of setting my soul to flames.  Thank you for calling me stupid, and whatever other names you felt befitting.  I have never once been that, and I shall show you that I mean it.

The players are going to play, play, play.  The haters, on the other hand, they are just going to hate, hate, hate.  What can I possibly do about that anyway.  I sort of knew you were trouble when you walked in to my life, so maybe shame on me now?  Hmmm.  All too often I was just left in blank space, baby; because all boys only want love if it’s torture, if it’s pain, if it’s hurt, and if blood oozes out from their hearts.  What do you really, really mean?  You were, in the end, the reason for the teardrops on my guitar (well, ok; it was really your guitar, but I held it with my dainty fingers sometimes).  Finally, your friends talked to my friends talked to your friends talked to me, and so we are never ever getting back together.  Not like I actually cared even.  I only have to shake it all off my head.  Yeah.  Loving you was so red, in fact forgetting you was like trying to know someone I never met.

Nevertheless, from the ashes rose a phoenix with wings so large they carried it away from the consuming fire.  I started showing gratitude and showering my appreciation on people, sometimes even people I do not even know who helped me in doing something.  I allowed myself to be as genuine as possible in dealing with the different kinds of people I have to meet everyday.  These things cannot go wrong.  As a result, I am proud of myself for having grown emotionally stronger and bolder than before.  It could be that my feelings have been numbed from the constant hurt, but my chains have been broken, and my soul has been set free.  I hope.

A few more months – just one more semester – I will be graduating!!!!  (I do wish I could insert a love icon here.)  I shall be done with my degree after a long, long time.  I should be so excited right?  Yes I am, but no, I am also not.  Oh gosh, my mind is wandering to so many places!  Life is an exciting venture, a beautiful journey bestowed upon Man.  There is no other gift more amazing than the gift of life.

This year also I am chasing time to kick off my positive psychology start-up as well.  While I am working on one SBU (strategic business unit, that is) now, I will directly after I graduate, start-up the other SBU.  Currently I am looking for sponsors and venues for investors.  It has been a crazy six months running about to widen social networks and contact suppliers, and so on, whilst studying final year.  I still have not mentioned that I am also doing sales.  Haha.  Crazy times.

I have of course had my fair share of repeating heartbreaks, but yet I did all I could to keep pushing on and on.  Whether it has got to be love, wealth, fame, or self-fulfillment, I wanted it to work out this year.  I probably went a wee bit overboard, pushing myself dangerously over the edge.  But I had already decided from early this year that I am not going to let things happen to me just like that.  I am going to make things happen to me instead.

So I just want you to know: I am fiercely fighting for whatever that is meant to be mine – my degree, my start-up, and HIM!!!!!

Never say never.  All I need to do is be patient. Perseverant.  Positive!!!!  The 3Ps!!!  Oooh – how sweet.

Red Scarlet

Birthday

November rains are back.  Everyday it is raining, raining, raining.  The skies are crying, weeping tears of bittersweet joy.  Massive clouds of whitish-grey matter cover the sky, creating a reflecting gloom that shrouds the earth.  Some twists must be taken, must they not?

Even the air is set with a dewy mist.  Winds blow, though not too hard.  The ground is moist; in some places it is damp and soggy from all the wetness.

The wisps of mists fill the air as it evaporates, awakening the senses – perhaps with a start – and the soul, with a renewed vigor, skips along the sidewalks in merriment.  For through pain, through jagged maps, through persistence it came through it all, and is still coming, on its way.  One day soon it shall be no less obvious, because its dear heart would thump with powerful beats along to the tune of the music whispering in its ears.

An dizzling afternoon in downtown KL. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

November is a beautiful month, the time of the year when Mars and Pluto cross paths and stars collide.  It is the time of the year of every other year when little baby scorpions emerge from their eggs and take their very first crawl.

Oh!  The clock is ticking, and I am running out of time.  I must put on my birthday suit.  For in a few minutes I am turning 24.  How old can I be?

I am in oh-so-deeeeep love with the month of November.

Red Scarlet

PS:  This post was written a few days prior to the author’s 24th birthday.

Only Human

Tonight I am going to speak out my heart. I am going to pour out every single thought that is trying to fight for space in my head.  Tonight I just want to cry out and forget.  I am going to climb up the rooftops, stand by the edge, spread my arms wide apart, my back facing the cold, dark night air… and fall.

Fall all the way down.  As I descend through the wind, I shall look into the beauty of the skies, perhaps for the very last time.  The sack of questions slam me further down, but no, I would not budge.

I breathe in, and out, in, and out; the raw air fill my one and only lung (I lost the other a decade ago), bringing oxygen to my blood.  One by one statement after statement surface into my concious.

“My name is Alicia Ai Leng, turning 24 very, very soon, and I study psychology.  This does not mean I have answers to your every question.  I too have questions myself – many of them used to be unanswered, but more and more are getting clarified.  I daresay I know a lot more than some people, but I feel too.  I also break down and cry.  I need a hug as well every now and then.  I have the breaking point, just like everybody else, where the limits are pushed to the maximum.  But just how far are these limits?”

For the most part, my life at this time seems like an endless struggle.  If you have heard of the saying:  She stoops to conquer.  Well, I have stooped so many, many times.  I was nearly killed in an accident.  I nearly killed myself.  I nearly  lost myself to insanity., the complex of Nature and the supernatural.

My old soul is slowly fading away into the past.  Now is now, and I have to act very swiftly.  I have drowned myself completely  into positivity, completely into work, and studies, and business, and enterpreneurship.  And wallahi, for all of heaven’s sake, love!  Oh god, what is going on?  Why is this happening?

The answer is because people change.  With time, people deviate from the norms of tradition – I know this might sound sad, but it is not the time to shed tears now.  I change.  You change.  We change.  All of us change.  Like all other humans I have blood running through my veins.  I breathe the air just like everyone does.  My heart pumps life into my body just like other living being.  I eat.  I pee.  I poo.  I cry real tears too.  I am definitely not a Bobo doll, a punchbag everyone hits mercilessly.  I laugh so loud you would have thought I were out of my mind, so long you could have thought that I were out of my mind.  There are occasions of burnout too everyone experiences that I also experience.  Of course in reality I am only literally meaning what I say.  Whether there are ups and downs, I acknowledge that I am imperfect as I am; I cannot please everybody.

Ich schwore, that is just me.  I could probably use a hand sometimes.

Tik Tok

The time has not arrived yet.

And when it comes, the butler shall open the huge oak doors.  The Lady shall step out in her five-inch gold heels, and glide across the path to the Mercedes Benz waiting at the other end, her beautiful dark red hair brushing against the wind, and the satin ruffles of her long black dress sweeping lightly along. The chauffeur shall step out and open the car doors for her, and usher her in.

And then the Lady shall go on a journey deep into the unknown, but she shall not be worried, for she knows she is in safe hands.

Not every Tom, Dick, and Harry is capable of comprehending my writings;  it takes one of considerable wisdom, I suppose.

Does Time wait for you, or do you wait for time, I wonder? (Photo credits to Ekamil Razali)

Yes, I am aware time is ticking by.  The minute hands are sweeping away by the day, and at each forward move rocks of obstacles are hurled my way.  Yet it is only the code by which this intangible thing called time works.

The effort spent – time itself, and energy as well – it shall not go to waste.  When I wrote The Blitzkreig, I meant it.  When I wrote all the other posts after that, I meant them too.  Whilst I have been busy sharpening my swords of authenticity, I have been through nightmares too, where pots kept clanking and alarms kept ringing perpetuously.  Probably I was faced with a paradigm shift, but no, not that I deny it, however it absolutely is not so!  It has been like this until someone came over and shook me tlll he woke me from my bad dreams.  Just saying.

Tragedy befell the poor, pretty mind, and it purged out a loud: “Oh!”  Nonetheless, the neurons still decided to head on to the party instead together with the protons and the electrons.  Together, they downed high doses of whisky, zapping all the way up and down through the cranium, and left with empty bottles lying on the dance floor.

And emerged as one from the doors more silent, solemn, and whatever else, with their minds readied for mental combat.  The thing is that every time after something bad occurs, a bigger, brighter thing is churned out.  At least, that is the general idea most people think happen.

Time to jump in the ship, and start flying!! Woo-hoo!!!

Red Scarlet

P.S.: Turn up the music loud, please. o.0

I Feel Like

The night is calling, and the fleecy clouds that adorn the stark sky are soon closing in over the round moon.  Out in the marsh, I see a dark horse galloping steadily toward me.  There on his leather saddle lies a little sack of maybe heroine.  Should I climb him up, and ride with him, and ingest all the substance in that sack?  Or should I not?

I need answers fast.

Dehydrated of – what? (Photo Credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

I feel like giving my baby (my site, really!) a complete makeover – sort of.  I feel like emblazoning all over her critical reviews of movies, and drama, and whatever else that has to do with performance and the eclectic arts.  There are two actions here involved – not only reviewing, but also writing on those reviews.  I do not have any intentions of discontinuing other topics that are currently in progress.  I feel like adding other subjects into the cocktail, things like feminity, and fashion, and dancing, and music, and dreaming, and the science of happiness and all things positive.  If it were dancing, I definitely would write on hip-hop. Or any kind of dance.  It does not really matter, does it?

It was dear old Socrates who had once upon a time mentioned that the unexamined life is not worth living.  Life is a never-ending piece of examination, isn’t it.  It is never static, for life is but a winding river gushing with water.  It overflows into a whirlpool of information – and overpowered by the enormous strength of the currents one is swirled in together, consumed in all, for once, of its magnificient omnipotence.

Oh well.  That is because I am doing it too.  Question is, should I divert my attention to another site, or should I just remain here zapping my Bazooka thoughts, under the pseudonym Red Scarlet?

My brains have been dehydrated of words like a burning desert in dire need of water, the brown earth caked hard in the excruciating heat.  It is extremely thirsty of whatever that quenches its – what?  I feel like grabbing firm hold of a shovel, losing control like a crazy word-o-maniac, and continuously digging all the way down, and down, and down, until it reaches the intoxicated id.  I feel like revealing its naked, provocative truths to the surface of the superego, out of the frontal lobe – where dreams meet reality.

Oh.  I just feel like.  I hope you hold your horses.

Red Scarlet

Halfway There

Charon, Pluto’s beloved son – he rowed the fragile boat through the dark blue waters of the Styx.  It was all pitch black except for the little oil-lamp which had been lit before they began their journey.

Lovely Athene sat below him, silent as a child, unbeknownst of their final destination.  The vagueness of the mist which had so far enshrouded the air (if it were air they were breathin’)  was nothing to her beautiful grey eyes; in all her purity, her vision pierced through every bit of haze, thick and thin.  Her ivory white skin reflected on the murky waters as if they were but glass.  And her ears – she listened to hear, but she heard nothing.  Nothing could be heard.  Nothing spoke of life itself; except for the swishing of Charon’s oars through the mystical river.  She was all alone in this journey.  Or was she?

For out of the whitish-grey fog, something big and dangerous (at least, it appeared so) scooted away from the back of a huge boulder to another.  Just what was that?  Athene asked herself. More importantly, should she proceed?  Or should she turn back?

Going back where I come from is decidedly an incredibly long way.   Much time has been consumed – it must have been years, in fact; no, decades, that I have lost count.  Now I am so deeply entangled within the web of myelineated axons and dendrites, like Athene who is so deeply lost in the surreal gloom, and yet steadily emerges out of the Valleys from Charon’s boat.

Athene knows she is very close to the surface of the Darkness, where Artemis the Goddess of Light shall triumph in all her glory.

I presume I am more than halfway there, too, that the answers are going to sprout up sooner or later.  Which is so because I have noticed.  It is as if I am wiping clean an old window pane that has not been dusted for centuries, and it gets clearer with every swipe.

This is of course quite exciting, in all events.  The eyes capture a glimpse of hope shimmering from the East; Dawn breaks and dew from the midnight rain cools the air with a magical mist.  I must leave, and go ahead on my journey.

If You Looked at Love Hard Enough

Could you name me a certain film that does not have any love theme?  Kind of hard, isn’t it?

Films and music videos and dramas – stage art, as a matter of fact – really have a sort of influence over the complex ideologies of love.  It just crossed my choo-choo train of thoughts these very words from a song of a 90’s band The Corrs that goes along the lines of: “I will run away, I will run away with you.”

Oh, how sweet that would be.  But it is a little too idealistic, is it not?  Because love, no matter how gentle or how vulgar – love sells.

I told a playwright friend I will turn up with a post on the very same subject, with the very same title, If You Look At Love Hard Enough by Mat Atahari.  And in the state of meshiness (pardon the pun) my mind is caught up in, I shall write this little prose, regardless of what you presume. Hopefully it will give a little insight into my understanding of the subject matter at hand.

Is love for real, or is it void? (Photograph courtesy                          of Alicia Ai Leng)

If you looked at love hard enough

You will find a way

Even when the going gets tough

If you looked at love hard enough

You will cherish each day

Oh, and never once let out a gruff

If you looked at love hard enough

You will do what you can

Forgive me, and look pass

If you looked at love hard enough

All the pain sheds away

Grace befalls everyday

Leave the trivial stuff 

Oh, yeah.  Period.

The Write Project

My mind has been loitering on a wandering trail for the past few months.  Not that my lips cried, but my brains could not keep their silence.  It was as if life edged by a rocking boat in turbulent waters, and all the soul could possibly do was sit and watch.  And think, too.  Perhaps.  If it were possible.

In the joyous reunion of the family, I felt my essence sui generis slipping away, bit by bit, into the stark madness of reality. More and more I was drowning away in a plenitude of data, most nothing but cold hard facts, and facts, and facts.  And then came the time where I was asked to ask myself: What am I doing?  Where am I heading?  Is this what I want to do? For the last question, of course, the answer is undoubtedly clear – yes, of course!  But how?  What?  Why? Where would I lose myself to?

It is agonizing, considering the workload I am facing, and yet it is simply a part of the process. Which path was I walking?  Whose path?  What did I want, inherently, in the end?  I was always in the have-to, but no-time situation.  But I shall not deny that worklife has absorbed a great deal of me, so now I am hard at play retrieving it.  It was as if I been prancing about in a drunken stupor, but nevertheless the questions kept on pressing endlessly.

Stop, stop, stop.  Please!  This echoed through my head.  It had to, correct?  It is probably my identity crisis as a psychopathic writer, where I let go of all responsibilities and allow myself to explore.  And explore I have – I am still at it, to be frank.  Anyway, it is safe to say that I have been hanging around the wrong loop, and therefore it necessitates me to make a reverse turn to continue the walk.  Or the run, rather.  I have been using much time.  This year, however, my writing has brought me to another level, and I am required to prepare write-ups for website content.  It is not exactly what I want – for I really, really do want to grab hold of a drama director by the wrist, and demand that he allow me to screen-write.  JS (which stand for just saying).  But my emotions speak for themselves.  I have been waiting much too long.

Slowly, though. All the exploring and traveling has made me immensely sleepy.  It is necessary that I listen closely to my heartbeat – no distractions!  Ihrer haben ein solch guten tag.  Und ich liebe dich.

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Best of Both Worlds

Should have, could have, might have – but did not.  I must smack myself in the face.  The daydreaming I have plunged myself into with all the diving through the deepest depths… it is still going to continue.

This is the 21st century we are now experiencing at the forefront of conciousness.  Yet I choose to submerge a bit further through the id and out the superego as I search through the shelves of my memory for those materials I need to put to good use, specifically.

At times it takes me to a particular point in my life when I do know absolutely what I want to write about, but the hand churns up something else.  Which is quite astounding, because till now, I had expected the hand to obey the mind.

But now I shall shut my hand with orders of persecution and open my mind instead.  My love for drama shall be a little more pronounced in all my studies and research.  It is a personal attempt to bridge a conjuction between the subject of the Sciences and the Arts.  That combined with the philosophies if the ancient Grecian fathers and the rich culture of the past… ooh la la; I could have almost orgasm.

     But of course I do not.

Have you tried mixing vodka with a little berry juice?  Or, perhaps, whisky?  It is approximately similar, only that you put your drunken thoughts to print for all to read and ponder and laugh about.

The Masai warriors are stomping their sharply-carved spears onto the ground, their loincloths waving slightly in the hot, airy climate.  Let the leprachauns dance along the rhythm with pretty little green shemrocks under their cute little feet.

Gah!  Add a bit of rum; switch on the music.  Come dance with me.

Red Scarlet

On Being a Little Selfish

They fight.  Argue.  Yell.  Scream at you, even.  On another note, they clamor for your attention because you are prone to letting them have something they know they cannot get elsewhere.  At least they know you are kind enough to give them what they want.  (Wink-wink, ha-ha).  Period.

Photo Credits to Alicia Ai Leng

On a regular basis, however, there is nothing wiser than simply putting a stop, albeit temporary, to every single source of distraction and leave oneself to the luxury of being alone.  Forget the rest of the world, everyone else included; and enjoy the air breath by breath.  Keep away from human contact – if possible, go on a trip to some place and spend a little time in indulging in the self.

One of my favorite activities these days involve taking my hat down and tipping off at strangers I bump into British-style.  I love how I am given the opportunity to act like a m************ tourist.  Which I actually am.  JS.  It is kind of fun pretending to not know the local language and watch them struggle in my mother tongue.  Ok, I admit I am being a little too evil.

Forgetting the world for awhile would not hurt. (Photo Credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

Well, this is just a part of life where you discover and rediscover yourself, constantly.

Expend on a journey to get to know yourself better.  For the world must keep itself silent for a moment so you are able to examine your own thoughts. Plan out your life at your own will.

Get crazy.  Get wild.  Get started.

Red Scarlet

PS.: Do not forget the quid.