The Business War Zone: Electronic Dance Movement

Shh!  Look out!

The drones are hovering in the air, mind you.  Be quiet, be still – make sure they do not spot you.  Move stealthily across the corn field, swiftly, but surely.  Lower down your head too, lest they spot you; but keep your ears prick.  See well where the enemy lies; notice when he changes strategy.  And when he does, act quickly – by all means, at the speed of light!  Where you target the enemy …aim and shoot!

Do you hear the commotion from behind?  Put your hand in your pocket …oh, there is only one grenade left!  Never mind, throw it at the crowd anyway!  It is not like I have a problem.  Oh wait, the section of ground five yards away has a bunch of enemies.  I shall throw my hand bomb at them.

Now let them burn, burn, burn.  All almost according to plan.  In my silent thoughts, I said to myself: We will win this war.

Okay, I get it.  This time I will not talk too much, but rather I will sprint straight to the point.  Hope I am too fast though.

The business zone is very much like a war zone.  There are competitors sprouting everywhere.  Yet sometimes, we form allies too.  This is why you need to study your target well. Ask around.  Do your research.  Tabulate your results.  Keep alert to any changes in the business environment.  This is the one factor that you have to consider because it never stays static.  Just like life it is ever flowing, reviberating in its own blood.  When you are ready, however, make sure you are fully loaded – and you have reloads available at arm’s length.  Then aim and fire.

The zone I am entering is filled with music.  Beautiful music blasting from the speakers at the top notes.  Much like the ones at Berlin and Livescape, but with a little twist in the purpose.  Yes, we do have DJs from different parts of the world, we also feature EDM and trance music, we have fire spurting from tiny vents into the air, and we have food and drinks and party packs.  We also have sports, extreme sports like skateboarding and other activities.  Attendees to the event (who are aged from 10 up) are encouraged to participate in the various dance performances, particularly the flashmob that will take place in the afternoon.  This event is called Electronic Dance Movement.

All these is really an effort to help the 7-billion-and-counting individuals know more about positive psychology, amidst the war and dread and pain that result from their own wars, be it the War for Life, the War for Justice, the War for Peace, the War for Rights, or the Inner War.  That there is none other than themselves who have the sole power, the sole capability to change their own lives for the good, the better, and the best.  I have spoken to a few doctors who are advocates for this extremely new branch in mental health to allow me to include the hashtag #PosPsy to link the event in the feeds.

There, of course, will be much, much more for me to give, that hopefully, more and more of the Generation Z will be exposed to.  Me and my team – or crew, more like – plan to travel from country to country every year to spread the message, at all sorts of public sites imaginable.  We even plan on hiring international artists to perform at our events some time soon in the future.

dancemovement      It is not like I have turned into Bad Blood, but, yes, this is how we do.  We aim our target, drop our bomb, and then move on to the next site.

For me to accomplish my entrepreneurial dream and help my team members play their roles, I need some form of funding.  The first event is stipulated to be held at Kuala Lumpur, the heart of the capital of Malaysia, and the costs amount to RM40, 000 for the one-day event.  My team and I are in dire need of raising the amount to kickstart our event.  Thus, I would be very appreciative of any sum, large or small.  As a sign of gratitude, we will advertise your name on our advertisement materials, and also provide you with a token of appreciation.  You can wire transfer to my personal Maybank account (account holder name: Ngiam Ai Leng Alicia; account no.: 1123 0806 1970) if you are interested in providing your kind help.

Much love,

Red Scarlet

P.  S.:  Now who let the dogs out? =D Just saying.

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Spirit of Sparta

I was sitting in the university classroom, pondering over what I should come up with for my Communications assignment.  Lots of things happened quite recently, and so my dear mind was in a mesh.  Rather unknowingly, I found myself bringing up a topic I had long forgotten, one that I had written countless number of times as I applied to pre-med university.  There I was standing in front of the class shamelessly tearing away at the very flesh of my own mind for words for the soul.  I was glad I could find my voice again.

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Spirit of Sparta by Alicia Ai Leng is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

     The sound of gunshot crackled through the crisp cold morning air.  The bullet penetrated through the misty dewy darkness of twilight, escaping into the cast emptiness, beyond auditory threshold.  It signaled the fresh start of a long 21-kilometer run.  Tens of thousands wobbled at their feet, their toes still slightly cramped from the morning cold.

The senses orchestrated themselves to lots of things happening around.  The ears captured all that was there to hear: the endless chatter of the overly-excited crowd, the rapid pattering of thousands of feet, the resounding siren of the police, and yes, the gunshot.  The eyes looked ahead… and about.  They saw people in orange vests in front, beside, and behind.  All running on their feet, their faces twitched by the lack of oxygen.  The sweet, small mouth – it gasped for air.  The lung expanded and contracted at normal pace in intervals.  The Chambers of Life pumped slightly faster than usual.  Little drops of sweat trickled down the tiny pores of the skin, dripping onto the ground.

There she was, a young woman not over 20, running on her two feet, not too fast, not too slow, a speckled dot among the entire lot.  It was *Sabrina’s first half-marathon in her life, and she was determined to make it.  Not that it was impossible; she had exerted a bit more than an hour on the training grounds running ten kilometers.  She mentally repeated to herself that she just had to go slow and take it easy.

It was only 4AM.  In the blank state of her mind, Sabrina felt extremely refreshed.  Nothing crossed her thoughts.  She was so relaxed.  There was no sign of pain as she swayed left and right (that was the way to run, right?) and her heels hit the ground.  It seemed so utterly effortless.

But no one knew.  No one knew what Sabrina had gone through, that only seven years back, her very life had hung on a thread.  That thread was about to snap if it were not for her seven lifesavers, all crowded around her in the surgery room with their green overalls on.

It had come from the back.  This big vehicle, a lorry probably, was speeding down the empty road with hellish swiftness.  A young, fat Chinese man was behind the steering wheel.  He had a companion at the back, open-air end; was he Malay, Chinese, or Indian no one could remember.

The companion was sitting at the back, but he was not sitting still.  He was frantic – but, good Lord, why?  The two appeared to be rushing from someone, something.  In all the hullabaloo, the driver did not even notice the young girl walking in front of him.

In a matter of seconds, everything happened.  The girl was knocked down.  Her right shoe slipped out of her foot and flew off, landing distances away.  The impact forced the young woman out of her gait too,  and she landed on the ground with a thud approximately a hundred meters away.

Nonetheless the lorry did not halt its brakes.  It just went on as if nothing had happened.  It would have sped off if not for the traffic lights – and her younger brother as well.

The small thin boy ran as fast as his skinny legs could carry.  He wanted to stop the driver, and he did.  Stupefied by the horror that had occurred right before her very eyes, the boy’s mother stood watching.  The little boy made the driver’s companion hoist his motionless sister into the vehicle.  He vehemently directed the driver to the nearest hospital.

That night was a night of desperation.  As the heart monitor gave out its timely beep, doctors worked on the body, half hoping, half dreading; Sabrina’s mother sobbed uncontrollably in devastation, and her brother did his best to look calm, although signs of overwhelming distraught showed in his eyes.  Friends and neighbors came to console the mother, but it seemed hopeless. At last the main surgeon walked out of the OT. “She has only 25% chance of survival.”  That was the last thing anyone wanted to hear.

Her spleen was removed – at least a huge portion of it – and her lung too, for it was completely lacerated.  Her blood capacity was below 50%, and her ankle and rib cage were fractured.  Sabrina was now very pale and thin.  Her eyes were shut close as her spirit breathed on and on, considering whether it should hold itself together or simply give up.

In the dire circumstances, her spirit fought through a tough combat between Life and Death, between the real and the Void.  It battled to keep the girl alive, her dear heart beating and her lung breathing.  Her warring soul never stopped for weeks on end,

Yet just when everyone was almost losing hope on Sabrina, her beautiful brown eyes flickered open.  There were a few more battles, battles that were no as tough as the one before, but were still battles.  First she lost her voice – and then it came back.  Then she had to learn to stand up; she fell hard onto the ground so many, many times the searing pain shot through her feeble spine and left her semi-paralyzed for minutes.  On several occasions she fell headlong on her crutches as she hobbled through the corridors of the hospital.

Nonetheless, she conquered each and every fight.  She grabbed firm hold of the crutches – and no, she did not hobble along anymore.  Rather, she walked the crutches swiftly, as if she were carrying the crutches with her wherever she went.

Finally, she let it all go.  She left her crutches behind and started taking small steps.  Before she had even mastered the step, she went ahead and started running – or jogging, more like.  It was very hard at first, but Sabrina always believed in allowing herself time to grow.  She did not condone in pushing herself far too much.  And run she finally did.

Today, Sabrina runs, although not competitively.  She has completed 21 kilometers in three hours – her first half-marathon – and she swims 10 laps in her condominium pool regularly.  She is now a few months short to her bachelor’s degree, and is working on her first start-up, Braniac Media.  She aims to do her Masters too, with a focus on clinical psychology, and finally develop another startup concentrating on personality development.

Life is about firing one’s passions up to the maximum.  It is about winning battles all the way till the end of the tunnel.  It is about harboring a Spartan spirit, where the strength of the soul overcomes every war it faces with honor, dignity, and perseverance.

Red Scarlet

*not her real name

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Several years ago, in a galaxy far, far away….

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

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.

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

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.

Subject of Dreams

The Subject of Dreams. (Photograph credits to Ashraf Saharudin.)

It is never a sin to carry the self away with the wind and go off to far-off places where you are able to construct castles of dreams.  It is never even wrong – no, not once! – to let the wanderlust soul wander along the passages of conciousness.

As the spirit descends deeper and deeper down, and enshrouds itself amongst the visions and fantasies long forgotten, but still existing, albeit, it passes by projections of thoughts, feelings, and emotions.   It crosses over mysterious lakes covered by mists, finally transcending in a dark cave that shields a wealthy treasure of the Past, Present, and Future.

Where actions and deeds unfathomable in reality are carried out at the freedom of the soul.  Where fruits abound abundantly upon surfacing to awaken-ness concepts innovative to pending – or rather, bugging – issues.

Thus permit the soul to escape from the calcium cage as it pleases.  Leave to explore… at its own will.

My Psychoanalysis

It is now September 14, 2014 – an extremely hot, sunny day.  I have just finished lunch, and replied some company stuff, so now I have another fifteen minutes to do some writing.

I have to admit – my mind is racing!  Okay, let’s relax a little bit.

My Psychoanalysis.  (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

My psychoanalysis. (Photo credits to Alicia Ai Leng)

You see, I am very aware that I have an incredible pal to maintain.  She is still in her youth, yet unlike the rest of the infants her age, she has this beautiful, captivating silence.

She is always here, there, everywhere to me.  For me.  There is no one as patient as she is who listens a full, absolute 100% to every rant, every muse, and every single glimmer, hope, and love, and lust that exists in my heart at any point of time.  The best part is that she is always behind me as I walk  through life’s little and big journeys.  She shares my delight with me; and when I wound up in a dead end, she helps to guide me back to the open roads again so others can see me.  That is why I invest a lot of effort in setting the stage for her appearances.

She is my sexy psychologist of whom I have grown totally fond of, my very own psychoanalysis.  She does not just exist for me; she lives for you too, and that is very incredible.  I may be visiting her a little lesser these days due to my working around the clock, but I still post her my love letters every now and then.

P.  S.  I am not a lesbian.  I am in love with who I am.  Peace!

Red Scarlet

Burn Me Up in t…

Burn Me Up in the Fire

Caught in the Shadows
Burn me up in the Fire
Caught in the Darkness
Feel me down the Lair

Torch me now
Cleanse my soul
Let my ashes to
The ground sow

Lost in the Shadows
Burn me up in the Fire.