I am progressing well these few weeks on writing the sequel that it is consuming most of my mental energy. I hardly could do anything else except focus, watch videos and do research. I am almost like a scientist holed up in a cubicle at this point, except that my specimens are humans.
When I was a child I used to think that one day I would grow up to be a writer of fiction as I loved reading and spent most of my childhood reading in the library and bookstores. It’s great that I am pursuing this full time at the moment as it was once a far away dream, and now I am actually an author!
I am averaging about 700 – 1300 words a day on average, and I spend about four hours a day writing, and the remaining time reading and doing research. I still have my dance itch and I had been going to the gym regularly as a way to detox from the mental process. After a few months of cross fit training, I think I am rather fit right now with defined lines appearing on skin. Not a bad thing for an author to have the body a dancer.
The problem with writing a novel is that everything else “worldly” seems trivia. It’s like everything I am doing right now is meaningless in the bigger scale of things, putting into perspective that the earth is billions of years old and we humans live only for about 80 years in the grand scale of the universe. It seems that even writing a book, out of hundreds of thousands of books being published each year, is just a book among millions of books.
I think it requires us to go beyond ourselves and start thinking about the wider implications and community than our individualistic needs to see the big picture of what is really happening and how it affects us daily. When I use this perspective of looking at the bigger picture and transforming it to something better instead of focusing on instant gratification (fame, money etc), I feel quite powerful. With this new perspective, I think I had regained clarity on what is really happening vs what I think is happening.
Back to writing… here is my video list research for the novel consisting on a very interesting video I found about elite female bodyguards.
The smell of freshly ground coffee beans beckoned me towards the coffee store, there, I broke my caffeine chastity. It’s much too much of an addiction. My grandmother never drank water and made a flask of coffee every morning. From the time I was a child, I was drinking coffee like water.
Filming Cheryl and Risque two days in a row has disorientated me a little. I slept for 12 hours straight to recover. My body feels like it is burning although I am not at the gym. Circuit training is torture with no limits on the threshold of after-pain. I am quite satisfied with my newly acquired four pack, but when I have to walk up the stairs I feel like cursing the shit outa my aching muscles.
Not sure how some novelists write for 34 hours a week, when I am struggling with 20 hours a week of writing before falling asleep at my desk to daydream (the cleaner would walk past and laugh at me) or having an incredible itch to exercise and get out of my chair. My average word count is now about 1000 per session, I still have no clue how to get to 2000 words per session. Move to the countryside and forsake city living perhaps?
I had been much more focused after attending the Landmark Forum. The key exercise of cutting my internal dialogue to get things done, is starting to show quite incredible results. I am no longer as stuck as I used to be, I am just moving and moving forward. Next, next and next. Life becomes a crazy roller coaster on maximum speed. I no longer really care what people think and I keep moving with the flow.
Whilst I am running a high fever, a long wait at the doctor led me to a visit to an electronics store. In my minds eye, I pieced the equipment I would like to purchase and what I have existing. I beautified my apartment by placing the equipment for my dream kitchen in my vision.
First, I would have a Samsung fridge with different compartments for different types of food storage with an ice twister. Then, a coffee maker where I can put two spoonfuls of coffee power to be filtered with hot water for a thick delicious roasted coffee. I would purchase a steamer for the size of two people with three different compartments for soups, steamed vegetables and yam. A toaster is essential, but more so is a oven grill to bake my daily salmon.
I imagined these things as I sighed. Not long ago, I lived in a dream apartment with a lover, with swimming pools and sky gyms but we parted ways. Living with him was like playing a daily match of poker, I never knew what he was thinking.
No matter what I did, he seemed not physically interested in me. There were no cuddles or holding hands, no deep conversations nor loving words. At night I would walk around the apartment grounds, wondering what part of me was an abomination. Day by day, I felt more and more like a monster instead of a woman. My confidence hit rock bottom and I left him.
Maybe the reason I started the scarlet queen channel was a result of feeling unwomanly and undesired. Now, fan mails flood my inbox daily but yet, why do I feel like I am still a monster ?
When I was in college on the humanities track that involved in-depth studies into history, literature, geography and economics, my teachers used to photocopy my essays and pass them around. My history teacher would exchange my essays with my literature teacher, and so on. The teachers had an “internal trade” going on with my writings. They told me to write a book as my ideas were way ahead of my time and maybe, not what a 17 year old would normally write about.
I was the lead actress in our school’s Shakespeare play and had a spot in the highly competitive dance team. However, I took a fond liking of economics and leadership training so much that I dropped out of pursuing an arts education for a hardcore intensive business studies accelerated pathway that involved taking modules every summer.
In view of the change in educational pathway, I gave up a political and government career for an unconventional route that is rarely threaded on – running an IT business that involved automating processes, novel writing and a bdsm themed YouTube Channel.
Fast forward, this blog which I started in 2009 has over 600 articles in a span of 8 years. Instead of having my essays photocopied they are now public and available to view freely online. My intention from the onset is to share my insightful views from my perspective on what I feel about social issues.
I have no regrets taking a back seat in life and instead, using my works to push others forward. I had a recurring dream that I was the Dark Lady behind a masked man sitting in front of a boardroom table. If Carla Bruni wanted “a man with nuclear power”, I want a man with the ability to change the world.
Now, I finally felt unleashed to my fullest potential as my definition and choices in life have materialized to fruition. I will continue to produce quality works till my death, with I hope in turn, will benefit the future generations.
A usual question posed to me by westerners: Why are the Chinese so smart and studious? It as to do with the philosophy of Confucianism that governs our daily actions. The cultivation of our soul lies with artistic merit. A scholar-official was expected to be proficient in four arts – strategy, music, painting and calligraphy.
If translated to contemporary settings, the four arts would mean:
Strategy: Business and investment decisions Music: Playing a musical instrument, dance, performance art Painting: Drawing, painting, visual arts Calligraphy: Writing articles, poetry and prose
Sons and daughters of scholar-officials were expected to be proficient in all four areas and continue their family legacy to serve the government as a official. They were expected to be role models of the society by the cultivation of virtue by studying and living their lives in accordance to classical Confucian texts. For thousands of years, families of scholar-officials intermarried and kept their lineage and status in the society. There was not much social mobility and one was born into a particular social class.
One of the ways that a merchant or farmer can move upwards in society to gain the prestige of a scholar was to pass the imperial examinations. Unfortunately, the imperial examinations was abolished in 1905. Soon after, the monarchy was overthrown and the scholar-official class system was dissolved overnight.
Subsequently, the Communist government massacred millions of intellectuals and landowners who could read or write during the Cultural Revolution. They burned thousands of books and closed schools. Traditional arts such as the traditional Chinese tea ceremony, erotic paintings and masters of knowledge disappeared during the turmoil.
My maternal great grandfather was the son of a scholar-official who was the provincial governor of a district in China. He escaped on a one way junk boat to Nanyang. In doing so, he left his family, connections and landholdings behind. If he did not escape, he would most likely be eliminated.
In Nanyang, he joined the clan association which helped him secure a job in a bank. During the early 1900s, most people could not read or write and literary skill was highly valued. Our family prospered as a result of his decision to depart China.
Still sticking to ancient traditions, my grandfather married my grandmother, whom he met in college. They were both considered scholars at that time as most of the population were uneducated. My mother married my father, who was a scholar from a British school, which subsequently led to me being more proficient in English than Mandarin. My extended family members are mainly in occupations as white collared workers/teachers/administrators. The tradition still lives on but in a different contemporary setting.
Maybe there is a sense of truth that my displays of talent is the result of thousands of years of cultivation that I am still subconsciously following today. It may be that the Chinese ideal of a Renaissance Man, is a person who displays scholar-gentry traits.
As a result of which, most Chinese aspire to be proficient in the four arts to maintain their status in the society. Ever since publishing my first book, my status as been somewhat elevated to a “maker of works”, which is a very prestigious and flattering title in mandarin.
Traditionally, the Chinese has been very liberal in expressing eroticism in their literature and paintings, similar to the Greeks, but this part of history has been erased with the Cultural Revolution. I am reverting back to what was formerly censored and erased to create a new consciousness that we need not be so prude and stifled in the 21st century.
This week, I will enroll in Aikido Class to write the sequel to the Red Hourglass. It is a decision I had been contemplating for some time, and the minimum commitment is a few months without traveling. I am scared but I will do it to write fighting scenes better.
My parents had never enrolled me in any extreme physical sports for the very reason that they do not want me to get injured. As their only daughter, I was a spoilt princess who was accompanied by a maid since I was born. I made friends with another princess in my school, she also had a maid who carried her school bags to fetch her home after our remedial lessons.
She always had cookies in her lunchbox. Or stickers, or pens. Like me, she was the only daughter. We both attended an elite school that was inaccessible unless one had connections or money. The difference is that, her endless gifts and cookies were the result of her parents fighting for custody of her.
Her skin was as white as snow. I had a tan as I liked running and cycling outdoors. She avoided the sun at all costs by walking in the shade as we shared cookies out of her lunchbox as we walked to the bus stop with our maids tagging behind us.
My mother always warned me to not talk to strangers or they would “kidnap” me to another country. With my newly found best friend, I never worried about getting kidnapped on the way home. I grew out of thinking everyone was out to “get me”. There were so many princesses who were prettier and more desirable than I was – a rough tomboyish girl.
Towards my teenage years, a friend noticed my unconventional nature to talk to and befriend anyone from any social class, which was not the norm. I challenged myself to make friends from a different ethnic group by sitting beside someone of a different ethnicity, which to the astonishment of my classmates, who preferred to pair themselves up in homogeneous groups.
The Australian concept of “fair go” appealed to me, along with the lack of hierarchy and informal business settings lead to a reconstruction of my belief system. As a result of which, I had much deeper conversations than I was formerly used to while in Melbourne. And also, I managed to get myself in the right project teams by observing which type of personalities would complement my skill sets (which of course, I would naturally collaborate with someone who is structured, organised and detailed orientated). I tried to carry forward this attitude of openness wherever I went, even with resistance.
I believe the world is leveling with globalisation and open collaborative opportunities exist widely. Watching the latest Star Wars movie made me realise that the movie is an accurate reflection of open collaborative work environments in this era using project management software. We will randomly chance across someone, form a team, operate a space ship and accomplish a goal, before the group breaks up and we form another group again. It is random, and a diversity of skill sets allows us to accomplish goals faster.
I believe there are other princesses out there trying to build their kingdoms and I am just one of the many. The limitation of my success is the limitation of finding the “right” teams. Which, I intend to explore more on this area the next few years.
I could be so cold when making business decisions. A simple calculation equates to a yes or no answer.
My predictions are usually accurate, unless there is a factor of the unknown, which means, there was a drastic change in the rules of the game. I attribute that unknown factor to be the 5% error of my judgement. This is based on the trust I have on the provided information is accurate. But if the provided information is inaccurate, than my forecast becomes 0% accurate as its unverifiable. That’s when I drastically fail.
I am failing big time in my relationships as the information provided to me is inaccurate. My reads are off, as the information is not consistent. This is unsettling as my plans can only work when I have true information on hand, which in this case, I no longer have any. Thus, my depression stems from the inability to make plans as I move in circles once again.
Yesterday, I met a friend by the waterway promenade. We walked through the artificially constructed waterway surrounded by apartments on both sides. It was futuristic yet alienating to be part of that newly constructed environment. We talked like we knew each other for years although we barely knew each other for a week. The affinity we had was even closer to friends I had for more then ten years.
In our one week of online correspondence, I applied all the concepts at the landmark I am actively enacting on my daily life while communicating with him. First, I was very honest and upfront about my life, dreams and my work. That opened up a deeper level of communication that I did not experience with others before. We had similar interests and we had heart to heart conversations about our past, present and future. Then, I realised that this level of affinity I feel when communicating with others is when they know that I am openly kinky.
I wonder if suppressing my kinky nature in the past had lead to me feeling inauthentic as I conformed to being vanilla in the society, and lead to a distance I feel towards others and myself. I had a feeling I was “different” and I have to admit I was socially awkward in most social situations by acting like a goth chick till I effectively covered it up by putting on a friendly deposition.
We parted ways wishing the best for each other. That clearing opened up the possibility that I can learn how to be more authentic in my communication by not suppressing my kinky nature in front of my vanilla friends to deepen my relationship with them.
I used to subconsciously give off kinky advice in my teenage years like, “oh, you should spank him!” “Put a collar on him and make him crawl.” They took it rather humourously and thought I was just a goth chick with japanese fetishes with a twist on how to date and get a boyfriend. I have to admit that I would be approached on the street with strangers asking for my phone number every weekend. In the arcades, they would hit on me as well. I was probably much more free and authentic as a teenager who was trying to find her identity.
That abruptly stopped when I stopped displaying my kinky sides openly as I put on a cold persona that distanced herself from all other beings. Now, I had resumed being quite honest and openly kinky and I find that more old friends from my past teenage years are chatting up with me again. I can’t believe I lost myself for so long to fit into vanilla society.
I wonder how many others out there who feels the same way and are still suppressed. I wonder.
My once naive ambitions was to be a lady of letters. I wanted to walk in the footsteps of Pauline Réage and Voltaire. I wanted to live in a chateau with my lover. I wanted to see change and transformation in communities that I reside in. I wanted to be the next Annabel Chong. Or to sleep with my lover’s enemy to test his wild passions for my love.
I wanted to push my ideals to the extreme limits and come back, transformed. I wanted M to love me, to believe the Scarlet Queen is real and not a fantasy. I wanted him to whisper, “I see you.” I wanted these things from him, but they never came.
I wanted my life to be like a movie, a daring adventure without limits. I will be pushing past each breaking point, to emerge stronger on the other side.
Till you killed my freedom and love for life.
But I won’t let you stop me from living out my naive ambitions.
The black dog is keeping me company as my outward productivity falls. This black dog never seems to disappear. As much as I want it to, it comes back again and again. First, it was a large hound that was hungry and desperate for food. It chewed on my intestines and stomach. It chewed my brains. It chewed everything and split it out, leaving me in pieces. To escape, I fell into a deep hole so it can no longer get me.
In the deep hole I recuperated in my sleep. Flashes of demons and large shadowy monsters permeated my dreams as I ran and ran. However, the presence of magical star dust under the moonlight healed my wounds. Very slowly, I climbed out of the deep hole, whole again. The earth was green, the rainbow filled the skies. Life was full of beauty and magic.
Then, the black dog came back, this time not as a large hound, but a tiny chihuahua that keep nibbling on my ankle. I shook it off, but it bit harder and harder till my ankle gave way and I knelt on the ground. I struggled with the tiny black chihuahua, hammering it head first onto the ground. “Bam!” it’s small skull cracked. What I thought would be a bloodied chihuahua became a zombie chihuahua. It bit my fingers, it bit my toes, it bit my ears. I pushed it away as it’s barks became louder and louder as it turned into a ghostly howl. I grabbed the chihuahua by it’s tail and hung it upside down. It struggled wildly as it howled. I flung it into the ocean. All was silent.
I went back to my life, but I lost the strength in my ankle. Soon, I realised that I had lost the strength in my fingers. My body was weakened by the little terror. I pushed on, thinking it was just a small incident, but now, I am defeated. I have to go back to the black hole to rest. Hopefully, the star dust will heal my wounds again.
