Scarlet Risque's Blog, page 12

The False Victory

The biggest contribution Shakespeare made to the literature world is the Three Act Structure. It is fundamental to the plot of any narrative piece. The Three Act Structure mirrors real life. However, the fundamental difference that in real life, most people only arrive at a state of False Victory, the end of Act 2. They never have the courage to move to Act 3, to explore what is the Real Victory. The real ending.

In the movie, A Perfect Man, an aspiring writer who works as a cleaner falls in love with a university professor. He is tasked to clean out an old dead man apartment. He finds a finished manuscript written by the reclusive man about his biography on the Algerian war. He takes the manuscript, types it out in his computer and burns the hard copy. He sends the manuscript to a publishing house, and he receives a call to sign a contract. He starts rehearsing how to answer interview questions by the press by following identically to what other famous writers say through videos on YouTube. The university professor turns up at his book launch, she is impressed by his book. They start dating.

This is a false victory. He got the fame, he got the book published, he got the girl he liked. But all these are false because he never wrote the book. He was an imposter. In real life, we see many imposters like him. There are people like Paris Hilton who are famous when they have absolutely no talents. We have CEOs who hog the limelight when all they do is destroy the environment to increase corporate profits. We know an imposter when we see one. They are everywhere around us. Most people live in false victories, in imposed lives.

For a second, I was about to give up and disappear as you fell into your false victory. I did not know how to explain this in a format that made sense to you. I just couldn’t bear to see that happen to you. I am sorry, I freaked out. I should have stayed calm and try to explain it in a logical fashion that I meant. It was devastating to me as I see it so clearly that you are falling into the false victory.

There is nothing wrong with living in this mode like 99% of the others out there living out imposter lives. They work as a journalist when all they want to do is to write a novel. They work as lawyers but under the desks are half-completed manuscripts. They know who they love, but due to a parental objection, they give up on love.

Living life in the 1% is extremely hard. Moving from the false victory to the real victory is difficult and not achievable for most people. I had lived my shadow life writing business reports for years when all I want to do in my life to write my books and communicate my artistic ideas. Till today, I face the daily opposition of self-doubt of my own abilities.

What happened at the end of the movie, A Perfect Man was tragic. A friend of the old dead man threatened to blackmail the imposed to the press that he wasn’t the real author of the war biography. The author killed the blackmailer. He killed his brother in law who suspected he was an imposter.

Ridden with guilt and unable to produce the sequel to the war biography as publishers were haunting him daily for the next book, he placed the dead body of the blackmailer on his car seat and set it in flames. The next day, the newspapers reported that the famous author was dead, mistaking the blackmailer body for his. His girlfriend was pregnant and devastated.

At the ending scene, the writer lived a vagabond life without an identity working in ad-hoc jobs that paid in cash. He walked past a bookstore and saw his girlfriend. She was reading aloud the rejected manuscript that was originally what he wrote as an aspiring author. The audience gave a round of applause. A baby was handed to her arms. It was their child. She kissed the baby while looking at the clapping crowd. The rejected manuscript he originally wrote is now displayed prominently on the front display of the bookstore.

He wore his hood and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

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The Fox Lover 2013 Movie Interpretation and Analysis

Chinese love stories mostly end in tragedy. Such is the nature and taboo of romantic love in Ancient China, that it is elusive and not attainable by mortals and belonged to the realm of fantasy and one has to be prepared to face death in the face of love. This is a recurring theme in classical love stories originating from Ancient China. Couples did not choose their marriage partners but they are matched by their parents based on social class and debt payment.

In The Fox Lover Movie, the debt payment marriage was arranged for the magistrate son. The magistrate had saved a fox in the woods, who happens to be the mother spirit fox of nine lovely daughter foxes and one earthly girl. The son could choose any girl that he liked. however, he is mentally handicapped after suffering from an illness. He chooses all the girls blindly. The mother fox said he could only choose one girl, and if he can’t make a choice, she will fly a kite to the girls and the girl who catches the kite will be the one who he will marry. The kite landed on the most mischevious daughter called Willow. She refuses to marry an idiot and wants to seek true love, but it is the wish of her mother that she does.

The movie proceeds to go through the levels of love, by exploring the nature of what true love is about.

Level 1 – Obligatory Love

The first scene is obligatory love one’s parents wishes, that the magistrate son marries Willow. However, Willow opposes the match, wanting to seek true undying love and is willing to die for love instead of marrying an idiot. She attempts to commit suicide after a humiliating realisation that the magistrate son could not tell the difference if he loved her sisters or her. Willow is stopped by her mother.

Level 2 – Sisterly Love

Ling, Willow’s sister sees Willow’s plight and would want to take her place as the bride to the son. Ling tells Willow that she would marry the son because it serves two purpose – to appease their mother’s wishes and to save mankind once the marriage is consummated and the son’s inner powers will be unleashed. She would marry sacrifice herself to save people’s lives, and make things right. Willow does not agree to Ling’s proposal and walks away. Willow tries to sacrifice herself instead to consummate the marriage with the son. Willow and the magistrate son enters the bedchamber. They remove their clothes but she tricks him into believing that consummation is about watching the clouds and rain. They fail to consummate the marriage.

Level 3 – Motherly Love

The fox mother upon seeing Willow being so upset about the forced marriage agrees to get a legendary physician to heal the magistrate son ailment so he can make a wise decision on who he wants to marry. Once he regains consciousnesses and restores his mental capacity, he will choose another bride from the remaining girls. Willow should not attend the choosing of bride ceremony. Willow is overjoyed and thanks her mother profusely.

Level 4 – Infatuation Love

The magistrate son talks about Willow in his sleep. When Ling tries to seduce the son into sleeping with her, the son says no, he loves Willow and will only enter the bedchamber with her. Ling is moved and touched, and shares this with Willow, that the son, although appearing as an idiot, truly loves Willow only. Willow has a change of heart towards the magistrate son.

Level 5 – Kindred Love

The demon returns to kill the magistrate’s son after receiving news that the son has superpowers that will be unlocked once he consummates a marriage. Although Willow failed to consummate with the magistrate’s son, they merge powers together and fend off the demon. This is a kind of kindred friendship love, that friends would do for each other but it is still not at the level of true love – which is what Willow wants.

Level 6 – Foolish Love

The magistrate’s son and Willow fall unconscious after the demon attack. The physician rescues the both of them. The physician proposes that Willow fuses her 1000-year-old fox spirit with the magistrate’s son so that he will wake up in one day, instead of one year. There are villagers dying daily from the demon’s demands for fresh victims. Willow agrees to the fusion. The physician warns that Willow will lose her memory and become foolish, so foolish that she will not remember her name. Willow is not deterred. She says this is what she wants to do, and even if it means dying for him, she is willing to do so for love. The physician executes the fusion. Willow will only have 14 hours of consciousness before losing her memory. She says that’s enough for her.

Level 7 – Sacrificial Love

The son wakes up fully conscious and mentally sound from the coma and is given the choice to choose a bride again. This time he chooses Ling, but upon smelling Willow, he remembers her from the past. He chooses to marry Willow. A fairy visits Willow and advises her that he needs to marry an earthly girl to unleash his powers, and being with a fox spirit will not do that. Willow decides to give him up completely to Ling. Willow tells Ling that she is losing her mind, that her mind is blank and empty. Please marry him for me, please replace me and please love him. Ling is moved and touched. She cries and smiles at the same time in agreement. Willow does a dance of love while Ling consummates the marriage with the son.

Level 8 – True Love

The demon attacks the foxes hide out while the marriage was being consummated. The fox daughters defend the territory but they perish one by one. The demons were too strong and they could not fend off their attack. Willow stumbles and falls after being hit. The son emerges from the bedchamber with superpowers and defeats the demon. He sees Willow lying on the ground, almost unconscious. He declares his love for her, that he will hold her in his heart no matter what came in the way. Willow finally experiences true love. She closes her eyes and perished into the wind.

Level 9 – Love Lives On

Ling and the son has a child. The child writes calligraphy and proceeds to tear the paper up like what Willow used to do. Ling reminds him that Willow’s spirit lives in him, and it has been transferred to the child. It is no surprise the child resembles Willow.

In conclusion, this movie explores the aspects of love deeply, and it is profound on many levels. This is one of the best movies I had watched on exploring the themes on love. I was moved to tears at the ending. True love is a kind of love that most people will never experience in their lifetime, and as the prophecy unfolds – one must be prepared to die for it, which resulted in Willow’s sacrifice and death at the end.

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Two Distinct States

I learned not to relate to someone with what they say, but by their intention and invention of what they want to be.

There are two distinct states, no one means what they say most of the time unless they are consciously creating their reality.

Most people are unconscious.

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Dreamscape & Beauty

In my dreamscape, there is an upside down world. Utopia and chaos in one. When I flip it around it becomes a bending world. The marble stairs go up to the skies and beyond.

As a creator of worlds, I am completely used up by the day’s end. I could not watch a movie or read a book. My mind is on an overdrive of stimulation. I would take a walk or do a workout and have a meal to be in touch with my surroundings. The texture of a table. The taste of cuisine. Simple sensations are a heightened when writing a novel.

But I know I must destroy my past based identity to reinvent my new way of being. The universalism of my words will shine through once that happens. I am not a master at disappearing. I will work on it to elevate my art.

I am finally able to express love in my writings. It was an area I wasn’t previously able to pull through. I had been dreaming about my parents and their love for me. The times they spent with me when I was a child. My dad taught me how to write and was particular in grammar. He taught me how to write a check. He imparted to me his knowledge as his child and it did not matter to him I was a boy or girl. He treated me like a son.

My mother played the piano daily to rehearse for concert performances. Her music was calm and angsty but it resonates with beauty. I spent my weekends at the theatre watching her perform. I knew every nook and cranny in the theater and played hide and seek behind the red velvet curtains. She never taught me how to play the piano but I realise it now that it was not of my interest to be a musician and it was a wise choice she made.

I am not expressive in real life. Not as expressive as I am on my blog or videos. I am reserved, muddle-headed and quiet. Being expressive is an invention I had to create for myself. It is not a natural act. Most people are surprised when I tell them I used to not be able to speak well but write well.

It was through practice that I developed eloquence in speaking. I write and speak the same way as I do today, but still, it is not my natural way of being. It is a conscious effort to be connected, relatable and communicative.

I wished I had a sibling to love and care for. There is a deep desire somewhere within me to nurture. But these are my regressive childhood wants and now, my invention of self is to fulfill on love, beauty, and knowledge to the world.

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Clearing and Disappearing

It is not easy to write 1500 words a day. To achieve that, I have to listen to music on loop. I have to clear all unspoken communications before writing. I have to set a date and time to do something to get it out of my head, no matter how trivial it is like doing the laundry. There is a level of performance required to concentrate with being intentional. But I am not always successful in my clearing, sometimes I do hit the word count goal, sometimes I get derailed.

I learnt a distinction that has a tremendous impact on my writings: disappearing. When I write not as myself, and disappear my identity, a new self emerges on page. That self is the universal self, and it no longer contains any of my fears or my wants. It contains universality in the form of a language that speaks to all and not only me. If I write as myself, it would be corrupted and disjointed and non linear. It makes total no sense and it is nonsensical. The moment I disappear myself – my fears are gone. My writings are clear. It contains a new found clarity and freedom of expression on page.

When I write not as myself, but as the universal self that connects to all – there is a flow of words that I would otherwise be unable to materialize. I am expressing myself not as my identity, but who I am. There is a difference between my identity and who I am. My identity contains past based experiences and it will come up to survive or protect me. But who I am as my word is a different way of being – it is about holding myself to my word and not allowing my identity to survive what I truly stand and believe in.

“Authenticity is being and acting consistent with who you hold yourself out to be for others, and who you hold yourself to be for yourself. When leading, being authentic leaves you grounded, and able to be straight with yourself, and straight with others without using force.” Being a Leader and The Effective Exercise of Leadership (https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.c...)

When I am who I am as my word the self that emerges is a new way of being and acting that is consistent on who I hold myself out to be. To be a world renowned author in 2021 is my word. This is what I am holding myself out to be as my word, and the self that is emerging right now is to be authentic about my relationships. I am keeping myself accountable to my family and friends and them, keeping me accountable to what I am aspiring to be as my word. There is a new found power and freedom of my self expression in this “holding out to be” phenomenon.

In the face of no agreement, I can create new possibilities by being authentic about what is working and not working. I can create new contexts by being an architect of my reality and dreams. I can live anywhere in the world and even if I am physically handicapped, I will still be my word.

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Inception Ending Conclusion

It does not matter if we are in a dream or reality. Even the reality we live in could be a hologram. Or we could be in a dream, dreaming of reality itself. Reality and dreams are both constituted by us, and we are the architect of both worlds. We can create worlds in any form or space. The human imagination is how we create life to be. The moment we give in to our fears it destroys our creations (Mal). The moment we believe and trust in others and their belief in us, it brings out something bigger than ourselves than our limited construct of what we think it is (inauthentic unreal fears that sabotages our creations).

From analyzing inception I tried to take actions to end the night terrors. I took three actions – call three friends and tell share with them about my inauthentic fears of death and of an apocalypse that will wipe out the world. Before I slept, I called my mum and dad and listened to them for who they are and what they are doing in life. I finally had a beautiful dream.

In this beautiful dream, I am with my family and we are in a park. I was a child running around freely. They are laughing and smiling. My grandparents appeared in the foreground. My grandfather picked me up and said, “Ting, you are beautiful. You will do the family proud.” The dream goes fast forward. I am now in front of a world stage and speaking to an audience about a world government. From this construct radiating outwards, the governments of the world started to melt and converge into one universal government with one universal language. There is no more war or poverty or homelessness. There is an abundance of resources for the human population. At the highest level of civilization – we had achieved utopia.

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The Decay

The decay has been happening. There is a place within me that aspires to be but is not nourished. There is a decay of my soul as it sings it’s last song on love. There is a decay of unwanted wants. There is a decay of a lost song bird. 

The decay is a broken door that can’t be shut. The decay is what it is and what it isn’t. 

When the clock strikes thirteen, it’s evident there is no more real world. The decay is in the dream world. 

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Calling forth powerfully into being

When I am in my daily life, daily routines, daily clothes. I am just one of the many people in their usual lives. There is no calling forth, or purpose. There is just an emptiness, a void vacant state of aimlessness.

Today I discovered, after listening to Time by Hans Zimmer, that my being has been called forth powerfully to write for the world and I had been inauthentic by running away from this purpose. I had been inauthentic about myself by enrolling into business school instead of pursuing humanities. I had been inauthentic in my business dealings, and I had closed my consultancy firm as of last year. Although I was a high performing business consultant, it bought me no fulfillment. Although I could travel with no abandon, it bought me no answers. Although I had visited most of the museums of the world, I am not closer to creating my legacy.

As of now, I will write daily with no excuses, reasons or justifications on why I am running from this path of creative self-expression. Eventually, my physical self will decay and what is left is my writings as my sole contribution to the world. There is no one who is committedly listening to the importance of my books, but I will be creating that this is of a high importance to humanity that I pass on my knowledge to the world before my time is an end. My relationships are not working the way it could be, and I am causing through being honest about it to create love, affinity, joy and happiness.

The cause bigger than myself is creating a new context of sexuality for the world. My writings communicate that sexuality should be open and not censored the way it is in the modern world. The new possibility I am bringing forth is an openness in sexuality will result in a decline in violence, war, and depression. My intention will be clearly communicated in my short stories with these themes that I will release by this year.

To achieve this goal, I will write daily with no excuses and work on my books to completion. I will find distribution channels and be open to publicity although I am shy and I have a bodily sensation of running away from the public view. I will do this as my stand for the greater community. Through my leadership, I am the direct cause of others around me taking up positions of leadership to end suffering in this world.

This is my word and declaration as who I am for the world.

 

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Descendence

There is an anguish within. A descodance of a sound that is twirling in an echo of a black hole. I had hid the pain beneath a pretense that it is all okay. The reality of which is that the decay is taking place and rotting into a mountainous heap of waste. 

Ever so once in a while I find my creations in a demolition mode. In deconstructing, the pieces are flying out of the window and landing onto the cement floor in broken pieces of glass. 

I had been breaking glasses and cutting my fingers by accident. When blood pools on the surface wound of my skin, I know the decay is no longer metaphysical but it is happening. My internal descondence state had taken over my being and is on a rampage to self destruct. 

In the échos I tried to scream his name. But there are no saviours. I am trapped in a tower with spiral stairs that lead to the grey clouds.

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Who Am I As My Word

There is an advice that I hold close to my heart, which is – “the path of a great performer is to know thyself.”

I am terrible at knowing myself. I make many mistakes when it comes my own life. I say what I don’t mean, and I am just bad with communicating with humans. After all, I only had books as my friends and I grew up almost like a mute. I had no one to talk to as an only child. My maid accompanied me everywhere but she hardly spoke to me. She told me to keep quiet and not ask too much questions. I could only find answers in books.

Teachers could not answer my questions. My classmates thought I was weird. In between my textbooks I would scribble poetry and stories I had invented. I spent hours in the library, consoled my sadness in the joy of reading. I could get lost in faraway worlds and places that I would never have the opportunity to go to.

In high school, my essays were passed around and read out aloud by teachers. They loved my writings. So much so they got them duplicated to be read by the teachers in the humanities department. When I dropped out of completing arts college, I buried in my old identity and renamed myself to prevent anyone from recognizing who I was. For years I kept this blog and did not wish for people to find it. I continued to write, publish and submit my essays for circulation under different pen names. I went by different names in social settings till I lost who I was. I took the most unordothox route to study business and abandoned my education in humanities to seek a different path of redemption. Maybe I am not a writer, I a business person. Maybe I am not a starving artist, but an independent artist. These conflicts plagued my soul and I was further and further away from who I was.

Still I did not know myself, and I am so afraid to say it but actually I hardly have a clue who am I. I had tried all sorts of ways to try to find out my family ancestry, travel, spend time with my grandparents. But this is something I could not get. To me, I am a shadow of myself. There is a blankness when I try to dig out who I really am. My visions turns blank and my voice is silent. In my dreams there is a shadow self that tries to kill me every night and it ends in bloodshed. Sometimes I am drowning in a deep sea with a rock tied on my ankle. Sometimes I am in a dark alley way and attacked by multiple shadows.

On sweet blissful nights I am on the beach with my lover under the stars. The waves are crashing on our feet. We are rolling in the sand, our tongues entwined. The sea sweeps us in under and we are submerged in the ocean depths. No one knows who we are. No one knows where we were. It was just the two of us in this embrace. The next moment, he is torn away from me by the forces of gravity that sinks him into the abyss. He disappears and I am left alone in this universe. I was not defined by having a lover, and having a lover did not allow me to know who I was. He had to leave me for me to discover I am whole and complete as I am.

Why am I tearing at this point? In my realisation it is true. I am born alone, and I will die alone. I will never be understood no matter how much I wanted to be understood. I will never be who I want to be, time will consume me before I could accomplish my life work. I will never know who I am. I am evolving each day and the person whom I knew I was yesterday is gone today. Like a butterfly that takes flight, I am flying without a clue of what I was in the past.

It struck me today – there is no fixed way of being. Who we are each day changes and grows and evolves as experiences colour and coats our actions and speech. Who am I today is determined by one thing only – a declaration of who I am to the world.

 

 

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