Month: April 2026

BLOG: Are You Okay?

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Monday. Is it Monday? I have lost all of April. Where did the time go?

How am I?

Not great. I definitely feel like I got the “Hong Kong Sevens Experience,” and by that I mean literally getting beaten up while playing the game on the field. Unfortunately, I was not injured during play. I was injured because I got too drunk and blacked out.

Based on my injuries, I’m pretty sure I fell down the stairs. And by that I mean the very steep 100+-year old stone stairs around the corner from my apartment that are literally carved into the hillside, leading up to next street.

Yeah. Ouch.

This is my theory. I don’t know for sure what happened. But whatever it was, it was bad. I have scrapes and cuts on my knees and elbows, cuts and scratches on my back, a very sore neck/shoulder combination, and a large bump on my head. Oh, and my favourite flower hair clip from Thailand that I was wearing was found completely smashed up, as if it had broken my fall.

Lovely!

How am I doing now? Well, my head is killing me. I’m very sore. I feel pretty disoriented. I’m not loving life at the moment. Yet somehow, I am awake and clean and dressed and sitting at the coffee shop with a smile on my face, writing to you all.

So this is the part where we say we are not drinking anymore, right? Right.

That.

We’ll see how that goes.

In the meantime, I’ll confine myself to bed with a large ice pack to the head. Lovely wake up call, is it not? Not exactly the junk boat party I was hoping for!

Well, Ireland might be expensive, but the weather also sucks. It rains all the time! At least I will be confined to my house reading and writing and doing research by the fireside wrapped in a cozy blanket and wearing fuzzy slippers instead of running around Hong Kong at night in a state of pure blackout.

Right…

My head definitely went to a strange place last night when I was laying down resting it upon a giant bag of ice. I kept thinking, “What if I die tonight? What if I do this again and I die next time? What if the injuries are worse? What if something truly terrible happens that I have absolutely no memory of? Is this the life you really want to lead? Of course it’s not! You need be serious and get your shit together now!”

In that moment, my whole life flashed before my eyes. I hate it when that happens. So much of it has been so sad. I want something completely new and different now. I want to change. I feel like I still have so much more left to give. I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of my real potential. I’m just floating around out here in SEA in this weird limbo land, stuck somewhere between the past and the future.

I liked it better in Bangkok where the wine selection was terrible and alcohol was hard to get because 7-11 only sells it for like, four hours a day, and it’s always at a different time, and then there’s always a holiday so they’re not selling at all on those days, and yeah, guess what, you’re only option is to go to the American Bar and hang out with all the riff-raff. At least you’ll get a story out of it!

I do love Hong Kong. I really do. I just think I would like it better if I had a professional job or was a professional housewife to some Finance Bro.

I’m feeling very lost right now. Self-esteem in the toilet. The Russian said, “Be more kind to yourself.” So what do I turn around and do? Get drunk and fall down the stairs. Awesome. And we wonder why he ghosted us… lol. Not exactly a glowing candidate for the “40 Under 40 List,” am I?

It’s okay. As previously stated, I’m here. I got out of bed. I showered and dressed up and made myself look all pretty. I walked into the coffee shop with a smile on my face and chatted with the baristas just the same as always. I’m still feeling optimistic about life. I still believe in Love. I still think things will get better for me someday. I still believe I can manifest all of my dreams into coming true.

I think I have to go lie down soon. My head really hurts…

BLOG: This Is Not Right

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I just need this recorded on my blog right now.

Something is not right here. I know myself, I know my habits, I know something isn’t right.

I can’t find my recipes from today. That is not right. I always keep the receipts. Where are the receipts?

I know this isn’t right. I know I ate a meal, had some wine. It was not very good wine. It could not have been more than 4 glasses at the most?

I know my limit with wine. It cannot have possibly been more than that. I know what time that restaurant closes. I know what time I left. Where is my receipt?

Suddenly I woke up and I was up on my rooftop alone wearing a different outfit. Last recorded story was 6 hours ago. Where did the time go?

That’s not right. I know that is not right.

I know that isn’t right.

I remember things. I remember so many things. Like when I was with The Russian. I remember all of that. We were drinking wine. The amount of drinks did not matter. I remember all of that.

I always go to the same place. I always order the same thing. But then I went to a different place today and I had so much less to drink, yet I can’t remember anything, and I lost my receipt. That doesn’t make sense.

I was day drinking. I ate a meal first. I was writing most of the day. I know I did not drink that much. I know I did not. I was timing it by the hour. I know it’s not right.

That’s not like me. I know it’s not. I know I left around 9pm. That is my habit. I know my habit. I know how much I had. I know because I keep the receipts. I always keep track. But I can’t find the receipt. And now six hours are lost.

Something is not right here. I know it’s not. I know it’s not. I know myself. I know my habits. I always keep the receipts. I can’t find my receipt. I lost six hours. This is the third time this has happened to me in the same neighborhood in the last month.

Something is not right here.

I know it’s not right.

I know it’s not right.

I know it. I know it. I know it. I know it.

BLOG: Craic Dat Whip

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Saturday.

It’s Hong Kong Sevens weekend, which is one of the biggest rugby events in the world. I am not there because I am super lame and don’t have the right connections. Maybe I will be going out to people-watch with a friend later. We will see how it goes.

It’s okay. It’s just a lot of expats getting drunk and rowdy. I am… definitely not in the mood to deal with that energy right now. Instead, I am sitting in a random cafe somewhere in Central, stressing out over my finances and my life.

The situation is pretty stressful at the moment. Staying in Hong Kong is a huge risk. Going to Ireland is an even bigger risk. Going back to the States is not currently possible. Returning to Bangkok feels like a step backwards.

How do I make this work?

No idea. All I know is that first rule of finance is to just take the bull by the horns. Take control of the situation before it takes control of you. This much I have learned from living in Hong Kong. So here I am, taking control of the situation. I am not a victim. I am a strong, independent, financially responsible woman with options. I can find a way out of this mess.

If only The Russian had given stock tips during our pillow talk instead of lecturing me about my ovaries. My situation might look different right now. Okay, lesson learned, Betsey. Next time you bang a Finance Bro, shake them down for information before they get on a plane back to Switzerland and ghost you forever.

Fuck smarter, not harder.

Okay.

Let me try to reason my way through this.

Obviously, Ireland is the most desirable location due to family history and the massive potential to write a beautiful story about self-discovery, finding family, and falling in love. I can see this Netflix movie/show in my head. The creative potential is unmatched. I have to go to Ireland. I just have to!

However, the current financial situation there is not quite so desirable. Yes, I was accepted into a short- term program in Galway that could potentially lead to something longer-term. However, the price of tuition & fees, room & board, and general cost of living for 6 weeks alone would actually destroy me financially and leave me with nothing.

The only way I would be able to *maybe* survive it is by getting a long-term student visa, getting a loan for school, and finding a job at a random cafe/pub. Then I would still be in debt, but it would be student loan debt instead of credit card debt.

It feels like there is a better way to accomplish what I want to accomplish by going to Ireland that doesn’t require me to completely nuke my bank account.

For roughly the same amount as this summer program in Galway, I could pay off all of my current debt and float myself through a few more months in SEA while I continue my job hunt. It’s still a risk, but it’s a known entity at this point.

Ireland is very much an unknown entity. The housing crisis, the fuel crisis, the general economic situation, the visa process, everything. SEA is known in terms of cost potential, budget, cultural differences, etc.

Assuming I finally find a job here, I can apply for graduate school next year, after taking the time to do some real research and put together a quality application. The potential for finding scholarships and better financial solutions is higher if I delay school for another year.

Truthfully speaking, I am not hustling hard enough in regards to finding work. I am living my life on permanent vacation mode. It’s time to put an end to this. It cannot go on like this forever.

Either way, the job market is fucked. The world is fucked. Everything is fucked. I know that I want to go back to school. I know that. But I also know that I don’t want to completely fuck myself over financially by doing so. There is a better way.

Think smarter, not harder.

As I’ve said many times over the course of the last year, be careful who you mix your energies with. Well, now I’ve absorbed the powers of a very organized and highly controlled Finance Bro. My bad financial habits don’t stand a chance now! We are going to crack that whip and dominate this situation today!

Hahahaha.

Hahahahahahahaha!

That’s too funny.

He may not be the character we wanted to create, but he is the character we needed to create.

Oh, I’m loving this. I’ve got my GAA coach character to motivate me to get out of bed and my financial advisor character to motivate me to fix my mess of a bank account and lack of a real career. And here I thought men were so useless. Turns out it was always South Dakota that was the problem, not me.

Mad Dog was right all along. He always said that a single lady should always have a man to fix the plumbing, one to fix the roof, and one to chop the wood. Such wisdom my adopted Grandfather had…

That reminds me. I started watching the Netflix show “Sitting Bull” yesterday. It’s a two-part documentary about Sitting Bull and the history of the Lakota people. It’s been awhile since I listened to spoken Lakota. It’s strange how familiar it all sounded to me. I know the story so well, but hearing it again for the hundredth time brought me some comfort I’ve been missing.

I remembered it all. Working in the Oral History Center, researching Wounded Knee, going to The Rez, spending time with the Natives, going to ceremony, and following around Mad Dog. All of that was the highlight of my time in South Dakota. It made the entire experience worth it for me. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world can EVER come close to the value of that experience. It’s very important that I continue to remember and acknowledge it wherever I go in this life.

I hope someday I can finally get into a headspace where I’m healthy enough to have a more positive attitude about my time living in SD. Right now all I can remember is the dark times…

Time to take some space from this issue for the rest of the day. I must let this stew marinate a little more before serving it up…

BLOG: Climbing The Peak, Round 3

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Friday. Where has April gone? It’s going by so fast. I can’t believe it’s halfway over already.

Yesterday I woke up and decided to take back control of my life. I did the only thing I could think of: packed up my yoga mat and a notebook in my backpack, picked up 2 liters of water from 7-11, and headed straight for The Peak.

As previously stated, I love to use the metaphor of working my way to top as my meditation when I climb The Peak. The first time I took the tram up to the halfway point, walked halfway downhill, turned around and walked back uphill, then around the mid-point, then up to the top. Took the entire day.

The second time, I was stewing too much over everything, so I started at the very bottom of the hill (my apartment) and worked my way through the Mid-Levels all the way to the highest point of The Peak. As per usual, I got lost, somehow, which added an extra hour to my time.

I was desperate, so I enlisted the help of the character version of the Hot Beef Stew to coach me all the way to the top. There was a lot of complaining on my end. I was very much out-of-shape. I needed to be bribed the entire way with an imaginary Five Guys bag. I kept stopping to write the story about him. It took forever! But I got my Five Guys in the end, so it was worth it.

Yesterday, I did not enlist the help of my imaginary GAA coach to assist me in my mission of walking up this very big hill. Instead, I used the time to alternate between trying to sweat The Russian out of my system and reflecting on my time in SEA.

Where have I been? Where am I now? Where will I be in the future?

It was a very good day. I didn’t got lost. I got my walk time down, even on the second section of the walk, aka Old Peak Road. Old Peak Road is a bitch! It’s soooooo steep. There are times when it’s actually easier to turn around and walk backwards up the hill. I have to stop every 5 minutes on that section. That section alone tests my grit and determination in ways I didn’t know could be tested. I can’t even tell you how cathartic it is to finally reach the mid-point.

The mid-point trail is easy; you’re basically just cruising around in a circle on flat ground, enjoying the view. The climb to the top is much, much easier because it’s less steep and there are different scenic trails you can take. But Old Peak Road? No. Fuck Old Peak Road. Old Peak Road SUCKS! That’s why it feels so good when I get to the top of it.

There is a beautiful little park up at the top of the Peak filled with birds and butterflies and flowers and plants. There are little pagodas everywhere to sit in. It’s the perfect place to have an outdoor wedding. For my purposes, I turned one of the little pagodas into a yoga shala and went full yogi meditation mode. It was so quiet, so peaceful. Exactly what I needed yesterday. Lots of sweat, lots of meditation.

Forget this guy! Onto the next one, onto the next one!

Well, it’s not that easy. I am so tired of dating. I’m tired of the constant revolving door of men. I just want to be with one person for awhile. Very hard to find these days! Everyone is in constant swipe-right mode. One little imperfection and it’s onto the next one! It’s almost as hard to be optimistic about finding a relationship as it is to be optimistic about finding a job in this hilariously bad job market.

I am trying, though. That is why I went to The Peak. I took time to appreciate the views of the city. I took time to express gratitude to the universe for bringing me to Hong Kong. I reflected on all of the good things, the bad things, the messy things. I thought about the fact that I am generally much happier here than I ever was in South Dakota, even on the days when I don’t feel the best.

I cleared it all out, sent it all away on a cloud, and focused in on the specific vision of my life I want to manifest. It comes in bits and pieces. Right now I am focused on the most important piece, which is stability. Oh, god, do I crave stability. No more packing up to move every few months. No more revolving door of men. No more job hopping. I just want to go back to school and write, write, write, and find a partner who will actually stick around and support my various creative endeavors. And then in return he gets lots of hot sex and a beautifully decorated apartment to come home to every night. They say this is what they want, and yet…

Obviously, I have no control over that aspect. I do have control over the school thing though, so I just need to find a way to go back to school and acquire the financial aid I need to pay for it. It’s not impossible. People do it all the time. I can definitely make this happen.

In the meantime, I am focused on being grateful that I no longer live in South Dakota. No one makes fun of my outfits (because here the way I dress is considered “normal”). I can go to a coffee shop or bar and be welcomed in by the friendly staff and owners who know me personally. I get to go out on dates with sexy, attractive men who dress nice and smell good. There is no small town drama, no cruelty, no bullying, no gossip, no fake nice two-faced bullshit, no targeted smear campaign created for the sole purpose of protecting rapists and predators. Everyone is busy with their own lives and it shows.

I especially look forward to the idea of going to a university where people don’t talk shit about me behind my back because I actually raised my hand to answer the professor’s questions instead of sitting there blankly staring at the wall. I dream of a place where I can make friends and join clubs and participate in activities without being shunned for being different. A place where I can meet people from all over the world and take the classes I want to take and learn the things I want to learn and no one will be there to sabotage any of it.

Very idealistic and optimistic, I know. But I think it’s possible. True, there are a lot of assholes in the world. There are definitely assholes here in Hong Kong. I’ve seen them. I’ve met them. I left my job because I had no tolerance for the racism, bullying, and generally toxic attitudes and behaviors of the South Africans. I refuse to go back to The Wolf or The Sketchy Place because of the assholes I met there.

The world is not a perfect place. Hong Kong is not a perfect place. It has its negatives for sure, but the negatives are still better than the negatives of living in a small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, South Dakota, where everyone acts like they’re in a cult and outsiders of all kinds are considered “bad.” Sometimes I look back on it all and think to myself, “I can’t believe I tolerated that much bad treatment for so long.”

At the end of my date with The Russian, he decided to lecture me about three things. I hate being lectured, by the way, especially by strangers, and especially by men. So you can imagine that being lectured by someone in the middle of some weird roleplay game I didn’t exactly understand was really fucking annoying, and honestly broke me out of the entire scenario. I was like, “Fuck this shit.” I didn’t want to listen to anything he was saying at all. I just wanted to whack him with the pillow and tell him to shut the fuck up and take his stupid nap while I go get in the giant tub.

That being said, he was right about his first point, which is that I should be kinder to myself. This is a very bold statement from someone who took me to a bar that looks like an old timey opium den/brothel/sex dungeon for a date! Oh, so, this is the vibe you’re generally going for, yet you are sitting here judging me for participating? That’s so not cool, bro! Someone needs to be a little more woke when it comes to their sexuality, lol.

Anyway, that criticism aside, he is right. I should be kinder to myself. It’s just that my self-esteem has been chipped away over the years by my abusive family, the cult-like attitude of the small town I was trapped in for way too long, and the questionable relationships I’ve had with men. So now I’m in a place where I have to make up for that deficiency. I’m trying to figure out who I am and who I want to be and how to accept my life for what it is. Radical self-acceptance is the key.

His other two pieces of advice were less inspiring. He told me I need to call my grandmother and that I need to go freeze my eggs ASAP. Dude, the egg-freezing thing was so weird. Why does this random man care so much about MY ovaries when he’s just going to get on a plane and block me as soon as he sets foot back in Switzerland? That’s so annoying! So annoying. What game are we playing here, again? How did we go from Pretty Woman to Fertility Doctor in the span of five minutes? What the fuck is going on here?

As for the advice about calling my grandmother… meh. There’s no point. We have nothing to talk about. She thinks life should be lived one way and one way only, and I do not live my life that way. She’ll tell me to stop writing, and I’ll say, “No.” She will ask me to change everything about who I am as a person, and I will say, “Why can’t you just accept me for who I am? That’s what Jesus would do!” Then she’ll get upset and blame me for her mood without ever taking any accountability whatsoever.

In my family, the problem is ALWAYS me. No one ever has to take accountability for the shitty things they say and do to hurt me. It’s always my reaction to their behavior that is the problem. I am not supposed to stand up for myself, set clear boundaries, or communicate how I feel about anything, ever. I’m just supposed to sit still, stay quiet, and do whatever I’m told. Keep sweet, pray and obey, god’s love is everything, blah blah blah, just kill me now.

Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, bro. But thanks for the “advice,” I guess?

I’ll just stick with the whole “being kinder to myself” thing. Guess that means saying NO to dates with guys like him, right? Right.

Congratulations, bro, you played yourself. No more old timey opium den-inspired sex dungeon fantasies for you! Next time, you’ll actually have to pay a professional for that!

Anyway, forget him. He sucks.

Had to pause my writing to chat with one of the baristas at my favourite coffee shop. It is her day off today so she came in to load up on snacks before she goes to class. She is studying filmmaking. She wants to be a producer. We have a lot in common.

She was saying she doesn’t feel confident with her English, so I was encouraging her to practice with me. She’s way better than she thinks she is. She explained that she lacks confidence because her family taught her to be quiet and introverted. Same, same! I was just writing about that same exact topic! I definitely feel less alone after that conversation.

She was surprised that I was struggling with the same confidence issue. She was like, “But you’re American! Americans are SO confident! You’re so friendly and open. You don’t have any problem talking to anyone! I wish I could be as confident as you are!”

True, but I have to work really hard on that. If you see me around my family, I am NOT the same person, like… at all. They even said to me in Bangkok, “It’s crazy how different you are now than when we first met you. You were sitting in the corner alone, all curled up, terrified to talk to anyone. Now you just waltz right in like this entire room full of men isn’t absolutely terrified of YOU.”

True, true, true.

And obviously confident enough to be going on dates to old timey opium dens with sexy Russians dressed in leather. And then write it about all with ZERO shame whatsoever!

It is what it is!

Off now. Gotta go back and clean up my studio, again. Sadly, I will probably not be attending the Hong Kong Sevens rugby tournament this weekend, even though it’s one of HK’s biggest events. No one to go with, no tickets, not the kind of party one can simply just attend on their own.

Or maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will extend a last minute invite to a junk boat party! Looking at you, Neighbor Guy!

Alas. Maybe next year…

BLOG: Stories from SEA

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Thursday. Where does the time go? I have no idea.

What am I doing? I have no idea. Making a mess of my life and my finances in pursuit of my insane dream to become a professional writer. Seriously, what am I doing right now?

I should have just gone to Africa.

Well, I guess I kinda did when I was working for the South African company. That was a very eye-opening experience about the realities of the world we live in.

No regrets. Only adventures and misadventures of all kinds.

Besides, I really do love living in Hong Kong. What a special experience I get to have! I just don’t know how to play the hand I have. I’m working on it, though.

At the end of the day, I’m happy I came here. I just could not live in South Dakota anymore. It’s such a dark memory for me. I see reminders on Instagram and get these terrible flashbacks. I just want to forget about it forever.

New stories! Always new stories!

This year has just been… the time I needed to figure out who I am and what kind of person I want to be moving into the future.

What I’ve learned is that I am tired of dating. I don’t want to have any more one night stands. I definitely want to be in a relationship with someone stable for awhile. No more sadists dressed in leather riding on motorcycles, if you know what I’m saying.

How did I let myself get roped into that one? Ugh.

My friend says it’s “giving whips and chains vibes.” I don’t know what that means. I mean, I do know what it means, but umm… like… how do I explain this?

I’ve only seen that represented in fiction, like books or movies. I hate to admit this, but I’ve seen all three 50 Shades movies and all three 365 Days movies. I know what this is. I’m not wearing a silk blindfold over here.

I just have never encountered someone in real life who was like that. It was really intense. And then they just up and disappear on me like that? That’s not something you casually do with a stranger you just met last night. I know this because I spent several hours researching the topic the other day once I realized exactly what I was dealing with. You would be surprised by how many peer-reviewed academic sources exist on the subject.

It’s just like my encounter with the finance bro doing coke off the toilet seat. I’m not totally naive that this is something normal in this world. I know what’s happening when people constantly disappear to the bathroom. It’s just never been right up in my face like that before.

So to me, a person who has generally been living a very sheltered life out in South Dakota for the last 17 years, things like Russian men casually doing BDSM and finance bros snorting coke off a toilet seat in broad daylight are somewhat shocking to me. I just didn’t expect people to behave that way IRL. Well, I did, just not in front of me. If I was cool enough to be invited to the party, I would have gotten over this stuff in my early 20’s.

And I hear I thought some of the people I met in Thailand were shocking. No, no, Thailand is where these guys go when they want to retire on a beach somewhere with some chick who is 30 years younger than them. Hong Kong is where they get the money to fund their Sick Water Buffalo Farm.

Anyway, circling back, I am now pretty upset about The Russian thing. I feel like I was duped into doing something that I don’t really understand and now it’s hurting me. I don’t think I really understood the psychological implications of whatever we were doing. I told you it felt like some kind of weird scorpion mating/bonding ritual. Now he has completely withdrawn, as is the way this ritual apparently goes, and I don’t like it. At all.

I’m looking back on it with regret because this is just not something you do casually with a stranger. I mean I guess some people are into that, but I am definitely not. I feel like the whole thing is about communication and you need to be with someone long-term to develop the trust you need for something like that. There is no trust with a random stranger.

There is also the aspect that he was in that bar because he had already been there earlier in the day and decided to come back to see the bartender. Then he saw me instead. So he was in there “hunting” and would have gone after her had I not been there. This makes the entire situation worse for me. Like, so he just completely glamoured me and then roped me into this weird sexual fetish he has without my consent? What the fuck!

And then he says I can’t write about it? Yeah, no, screw that. I’m writing about it, bro. This is what I live for. This is what I do. I document the crazy shit that I see in the SEA. Now we have a new story to add to the collection. This collection that is full of stories about sex workers in Dubai, racist South Africans, sick water buffalo, Latin Lovers, Irish gangsters on the run from the law, kratom-induced hallucinations of the Loch Ness Monster, weird wannabe spiritual guru grifters in Bali, hot GAA players, mean immigration officials, old Pattaya boys zapping off tasers, finance bros doing coke and K, crazy Hong Kong Taxi Mafia drivers, wise Filipina aunties, unattractive throuples, Aussies and Canadians conspiring to make Trump their King, and now a Russian who apparently just casually does BDSM with random strangers in his free time on work trips.

Grand! Just grand!

Nope, wouldn’t trade this for the world!

You know what I need to add to this list? We’re all thinking it: boat party. Yes. Put me on that Junk Boat. Put me on the yacht, mini, mega, supersize, whatever. I don’t care what it is. I just want to go party on a boat and watch the shit go down, preferably under a full moon. Powers of manifestation: go!

I think as of right now, Hermès is probably my favourite character. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of that baby face, but I’ve got a soft spot for him. Don’t want to bang him or date him or even really see him, to be honest, but I appreciate the complexity of his character. I could write like seven movies just about his life alone, and all of them would feature a different beautiful brunette as his leading lady. That’s valuable. That’s my little pot o’ gold right there.

It’s been a good year. I’m grateful to have such a crazy story to tell. This is what I live for! This is all I’ve ever wanted to do. I believe in the story that is unfolding, even if I don’t quite know where it’s leading me yet.

Today is definitely a good day to climb The Peak. As Kim Kardashian once said, “Get up off your ass and WORK!”

Okay, okay, let’s get to WERK.

BLOG: This Playlist is Too Personal

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Wednesday evening.

Sitting in some random empty restaurant in Central. I chose this one because they’re still serving food late and because there is literally no one else here. I wanted to get some writing done since I didn’t get any done this morning. Plus, I am not at the mood to sit at the bar in case some random man decides to bother me and mess with my life.

My sleep schedule was very off today. I don’t know if I’m sick or recovering from being sick, but I have just been so tired the last few days. I slept most of yesterday and today.

The good news is that I managed to be somewhat productive today in regards to my job hunt. I followed some of my friend’s more practical advice and felt somewhat better about the situation. Hopefully I will sleep better tonight and be more productive.

Spent some time meditating today and reflecting on some things. Really making the effort to settle everything from my old life and make peace with all of it. That was then, this is now. Now I live in Hong Kong. Now I have an opportunity to set things right. Everything is going to be okay now.

The most important thing is to be proactive instead of falling into despair. Don’t worry about The Island of Lost Guys. It’s just material for your TV show. Just wake up every day and figure out your way forward. You’ve failed this far already, so you’re all grand, fam!

Here I thought I had so much to say and it’s a big nothingburger instead. Figures. Well, at least I got out of bed, showered, got dressed, and left the house today. That is a big deal!

I love that I came all the way to Hong Kong to start my new life and instead I’m just sleeping at odd hours and writing about random people I meet in bars. Love that for me!

It is what it is.

Okay, now I do have a funny anecdote for you all: here I am, alone in this restaurant, trying to tell myself not to think about The Russian, and then Pony by Ginuwine comes on the radio. Now I’m looking around like, “Is he about to ride in here on his motorcycle dressed all in leather? Because I cannot handle that right now. I’m just trying to eat my pasta.”

Sir, this is a restaurant.

Upon reflection, this season’s selection of characters from The Island of Lost Guys is even more ridiculous than I thought. I couldn’t make any of shit up if I tried.

When I first invented it, it was like a place I made up where I could compartmentalize my trauma. Now it’s like a comedy show featuring engineers who fix canals in Panama and Russians decked out in leather riding on motorcycles and sexy Irishmen kicking a ball around a field in short shorts. I love it. I’m so here for it.

I LOVE MEN!

I can’t handle this playlist right now. This is definitely the personal playlist of the Uncle running the shop right now. It’s a weird mix of the Greatest Sensual Seduction Hits of the 80’s and Pony by Ginuwine. Like, what even?

The Uncle is sitting over there in his glasses doing paperwork, giving off a vibe like these are all the songs he used to dance to with the mop and broom back in the good old days when he still lived with his grandmother in Greece. I can’t even.

One of his Uncle friends came in and was asking him about booking a table for his birthday party this weekend. Of course they are all planning to go down to Wan Chai afterward. Of course they are.

Obviously, my curiosity is getting the better of me when it comes to Wan Chai. However, I also feel very strongly that I should not go alone. I need a witness for this. Unfortunately, everyone I know in Hong Kong is very serious and not exactly down for an experimental trip out to Wan Chai to document the rich old white male degeneracy in real time. Alas!

OMG, ya’ll, what the fuck is this playlist right now? I swear to you… I literally was like… I do not want to think about anything tonight, and instead we literally get Old Timey Songs to Get Down To.

I cannot.

Yes, please, universe, set me free from this Crazy Love…

OMG NOOOOO NOT TIME AFTER TIME!

My face is melting off, ya’ll. I am alone in this restaurant right now with this playlist and this Uncle and I literally cannot even.

This is a comedy routine.

Pure comedy right here, right now. I wish ya’ll could see this right now. It’s just… comedy.

Yeahhhh.

Okay, I need to get out of here before I actually melt into a puddle.

Too much, too much.

BLOG: Fresh Eyes

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Tuesday. New Day.

Still not feeling 100%, but I am feeling better after having dinner with my friend last night. We went to a restaurant in Kowloon on the top floor of a skyscraper with the most incredible views of the city. Kowloon on one side, the harbor and Hong Kong Island on the other. The food wasn’t great! We were definitely paying for the views. Either way, it was one of those moments that reminded me how lucky I am to be living in Hong Kong.

I was happy to see my friend after the unfortunate incident in the Mid-Levels last week. We had a chat about it. I apologized for putting her in unsafe situation. She expressed concern about my habit of going to random bars looking for stories. I cannot help but agree with her. It is becoming a problem at this point. We agreed I would not to return to The Wolf or The Sketchy Place in the Mid-Levels.

The conversation turned from this unfortunate event to The Russian. I was happy to finally dish out the story to a trusted girlfriend. It felt like I wasn’t carrying such a heavy weight anymore. I could just laugh about it and move on. He certainly did.

Onto the next one, onto the next one…

Then the conversation shifted towards careers. Obviously, I respect her privacy so I am not going to tell you what she does for a living. I will only say that she is in the market for a new job, so we were discussing the process of job hunting in the modern era. It’s not great! She has a whole professional career with years of experience and even she’s having problems with the crappy job market. Depressing to think about.

Anyway, she had a lot of good advice that I’ve decided to follow. Sometimes a fresh set of eyes is all you need to change your perspective. The main thing is really just to work on my confidence. Also, stop doing the same thing I was doing before because it’s not working. Take a risk and try something new. Good plan.

I should go climb the Peak now to reset and reset. Always remember why you came to Hong Kong, Betsey. You could have stayed in Bangkok and lived life on easy mode forever. But you didn’t. You chose to come to Hong Kong, where everything is difficult, expensive, and competitive, and you chose to climb to the top of the Peak, no matter how much time it takes or how many breaks you have to take. You can do this. You just have to try.

Oh, the things I tell myself to survive in this ridiculous world we live in.

I have no idea how long it’s been since I did yoga. Oh wait, yes I do. I did a very intense routine before my date with the Russian. I definitely had to warm up for that one, if you know what I’m saying.

I am so disconnected from my yoga practice these days. Maybe that is why I feel so scattered. I’m just holding everything inside instead of sweating it out on the mat and then clearing my mind during meditation. It really does make a difference.

Motivating myself to do anything but get out of bed is hard these days. Yet somehow I wake up every morning, shower, get dressed up, and walk down to the coffee shop to write. That’s better than most people with depression. Why do I not just go up onto my rooftop and add the yoga in? Why do I not go to the studio around the corner, or any of the 20+ other studios in Central? Why am I not doing yoga?

I could be healthier. I should be healthier. I can’t keep living my life this way. I need to get my shit together. That’s why I came here. I wanted to get my shit together. Hong Kong standards are high. I must hold myself accountable here. Ok, ok, I know, I know.

I’m just… really struggling to find my way on my own.

I’m not feeling well today. I just want to go home and get back in bed and curl up and just… sleep.

BLOG: All Over The Place

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Here we are. Monday, again.

Still nothing to show for my efforts but some blog posts. I like to think it’s okay because I’m getting funnier, in spite of my occasional brush with darkness out here in SEA.

I applied for another crop of jobs last week. Nothing. It’s all the same recycled job postings that were there in January. So I am basically applying to be rejected by the same companies all over again. Fun.

I wish I knew how to do what I do all day and make money from it. All of my problems would be solved. No more pretending I like people. No more “networking.” No more masking. No more exhaustion that actively prevents me from writing and creating art. Just this, all day every day, for the rest of my life. I would be fine with that.

I thought about throwing in a random application for a Masters program at HKU. They would need to pay for literally everything though because I have no money for anything. Not school fees, not an apartment, nothing. I’m in the same position no matter where I move my piece on the board. Sucks.

I was feeling more motivated about it on Saturday morning. Now I don’t feel any motivation to do anything at all. I thought my depression would go away if I moved to the opposite side of the world, but it hasn’t gone anywhere. Some days I just get so lonely and overwhelmed here. I feel so lost. I don’t know who I am or what I want. I am just at the whim on the universe. I am not taking an active role in my own life at all. Honestly, I don’t think I even know how.

In the meantime, I am trying to make peace with things as they are. As I said the other day, I finally made peace with Bloody Mary’s. As we always knew, I was right and all of them were wrong. South Dakota people just enjoy being cruel for the sake of being cruel. They see someone out there doing something different and their first instinct is to burn the witch at the stake. That has literally nothing to do with me or my book. That state is just all bad vibes, all the time. It’s not about me.

I got rid of Andrew months ago, so that’s not an issue anymore. I’ve replaced him with true stories of ridiculous dates I’ve been out on with real men. Made peace with the deaths of Mad Dog, my dad, my aunt, my uncle, and my grandmother.

One thing I cannot make peace with is my living family. There is no peace to be made. It’s a source of constant struggle for me. I want to make peace with it, but I really struggle to accept how fucked up the situation is. It doesn’t help that my mom, grandmother, sisters and aunts basically stonewall me whenever I try to communicate. They really think they can just pretend nothing bad ever happened. They literally refuse to take any kind of accountability for anything. It is IMPOSSIBLE to communicate ANYTHING to them, at all. They will always DARVO me.

They still act like me moving abroad is the gravest crime ever to be committed on earth, which again, makes absolutely zero sense because my aunt literally lived here in Hong Kong for a year. You would think she would be happy for me or asking for pictures or checking in. But she doesn’t. It’s just… radio fucking silence from all of them. It’s so weird.

I swear it feels like leaving a cult, but I don’t know what cult it is or understand how it operates. I can only say that my cousins on my mom’s side are all also in the same situation where their parents are extremely controlling and keep them contained close to home in spite of the fact that they are all fully-grown adults. It’s weird. That whole family is weird. It’s only now that I am on the other side of the world, watching other people post pictures of their families visiting them, that I realize… that shit ain’t right.

I never speak to my dad’s side anymore. After he died, my aunt went full mask off and basically said, “You’re not my family anymore. I don’t want to spend time around you or invite you to things. I don’t want to deal with you at all.” Okay, crazy. I’m sure my Irish grandmother would love to see you treating your own blood relatives like that. I bet she’s really proud.

So yeah, I am definitely having a lot of trouble moving past the family stuff. As I’ve mentioned previously, I am the Family Scapegoat, which means everyone treats me like a punching bag they can take out all their negative emotions on. This is why nobody is happy for me and why they refuse to acknowledge my writing career. They don’t want me to succeed. They want me to fail so they can continue beating up on me. I refuse to accept that kind of treatment anymore, so they are vilifying me for walking away from it and setting up boundaries. It’s all very textbook for people with undiagnosed personality disorders.

I think it’s really hard knowing that they feel this way and act this way. I think I did something really brave by accepting a job on the other side of the world, getting on a plane to come here, and then sticking it out for the rest of the year when the job didn’t work out. I think it’s amazing that I’ve visited 12 countries, studied yoga in India and Bali, and lived in Bangkok and Hong Kong. I never, ever thought in a million years my life would look like this. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. And my family, the people who are supposed to be supportive and provide unconditional love, all hate me for it.

Why?

I have so much weighing on my mind right now. My date with the Russian was merely a distraction from all of this. Men are always just a distraction from all of this. They come and they go and, if we are lucky, they provide some entertainment along the way. That’s all we can hope for in this life. There’s no point in expecting anything more from any of them. Just get the story and leave. Don’t get attached. Don’t get hung up. Just take the story and leave.

I know I have this fantasy that if I go to Ireland to research my family history that I will find a new family that loves me and accepts me for who I am. I think this is very unrealistic. I should not go because I expect to find something or receive something in return. I should go because I want to spend my days unraveling old scrolls in the library just for the sake of learning and education. I’m setting myself up to fail by going there “for the people.” I should go for me, to find me, to learn to love me and understand who I am outside of my overly-controlling family.

Anyway, it’s not a good time right now. In addition to the housing crisis, now there is a fuel crisis affecting the entire country. All weekend my feed was dominated by footage of the protests across Ireland. I just felt like… maybe it’s not my time yet. Maybe I have more to learn out here in SEA before I go there.

I don’t know. I am so lost right now. I can’t pick a road to travel down. Some days I just want to go back to India to study more yoga. Some days I want to hop a flight to Vietnam or Cambodia. Some days I want to go to Ireland. Some days I want to dump off all my stuff at my brother’s apartment and just take a backpack all around Africa. Some days I just want to get married and have a nice apartment/condo/house/whatever to decorate. Some days I want to go to graduate school. I really am, as my AI-generated google search results say, “All Over The Place.”

Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel today: All Over the Place.

BLOG: What’s With All the Leather, Bro?

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Sunday.

Sitting at a random cafe in my neighborhood waiting on a Bloody Mary. I don’t even want to talk about how much I drank yesterday. I just couldn’t stand to think about anything anymore. I didn’t go out anywhere. I just stayed at home and drank alone, which is sad. Then I went out on my rooftop and danced for awhile because that’s what I do.

I woke up today and all of my problems were still there. I just felt worse about all of them. I decided to take back control of my life. So I did the only thing I could think of in my power to do: I went online and I hunted down The Russian.

At first, I could not find any record of him anywhere, which was strange and concerning. Then I switched my VPN to the city he lives in. Voilà! There he was in his leather jacket, sitting astride a motorcycle. Yeah, I might have a type…

I got his Facebook, his Instagram, his LinkedIn, and the official website for his business he owns. Oh, I got it ALL, fam. Then I went on a deep dive into Creepsville.

Good news: There was no wife to be found anywhere, which is great news for me. So maybe he actually was being honest with me about that. It appears that he was being honest about everything else he told me, which is also good. However, we all know how men are. Just because he was honest about his work life doesn’t mean he was being honest about his love life.

What else did I find? Oh nothing terribly interesting, really. Just a couple of pre-pandemic posts subletting his old apartment. The apartment was… well… it definitely looked like it belonged to someone who spends his entire life at the office and/or traveling. What even was that furniture selection, bro? Did that ugly brown leather couch come with the apartment or did you pick it out yourself? Jesus, no wonder this guy is so obsessed with the idea of “having a woman to make a home.” He has absolutely no idea how to decorate!

Otherwise it was mostly just posts of him wearing leather jackets and standing next to motorcycles in various exotic locations around the world. I was relieved to discover that I probably would have swiped right for him on Tinder had we met that way. Like, okay, yeah, the math is mathing here.

I was also somewhat amused to see the leather is a running theme for him. That seems… very on-brand somehow. I’m not kidding. The entire reason he was obsessed with the bar at the Mandarin Oriental was because of the red leather couches. It’s definitely A Thing. He’s got a Leather Thing. I feel like that means something but I’m too naive to understand exactly what.

In addition to the ugly brown leather couch (which I have a feeling he will soon be replacing with a red one) in his apartment, he also had a clothing rack that was just all leather jackets in various colors. Black, brown, tan, blue, he’s got ‘em all! I was left to wonder… does he have the pants to match?

Not sure. I can only say for certain that he has two looks: business and leather. So now we all know what kind of person we are dealing with over here. I was wondering what it was about him that drew me in. Yeah, I think we all know what dynamic is at play here.

It’s so amazing what you can learn about people from what they post on the internet, lol. I zoomed all the way in on all of those pics. I looked at every tiny little detail of that apartment. You can tell a lot about a person by the items they own, and believe me when I say I judged him by every single one. Right down to his choice of espresso machine.

Yes, I know, I admit it. I am a shameless, SHAMELESS creeper. I don’t care. Somehow finding all of this information about this man who rocked my world and then promptly ghosted me right after made me feel powerful. Like I was somehow back in control of the situation. I can’t explain that. I just know it felt good in the moment to sit there and mock his furniture selection from afar.

Once I had satisfied my curiosity, I went on about my day. This is where things took a turn for the hilarious. I was unpacking my laundry I picked up from the shop yesterday and pulled out my darks. This bag contained all the items that were in my overnight bag that I took on the date. I was sorting through them when, very suddenly, there they were: a pair of men’s underwear. A pair of men’s underwear neatly pressed and folded up right between my kimono and nightgown.

I don’t want to jump to conclusions here, but…

Let’s think logically first: it could be that this is just some random man’s underwear that got mixed in with mine accidentally at the laundry. That is the most rational explanation. Horrifying, but rational.

Or it could be that this is a pair of his underwear that got mixed in with my stuff when I was packing up to leave. I’m not gonna lie to you: the vibe this pair of underwear was giving was 100% him. The only way they could give more of his vibe is if they were made of leather. I’m pretty sure I actually remember him taking off this specific pair of underwear. So now I have a souvenir, I guess? Something I can always remember him by?

It’s kind of horrifying to think I accidentally walked off with some random man’s dirty underwear in my bag and unknowingly carried it around Hong Kong Island for an hour afterward. That’s crazy, and also kind of gross. Also kind of hilarious. Like… okay. There’s definitely going to be a process of Acceptance that needs to happen here.

Like what do I even do with some random man’s underwear? Frame them and mount them on the wall like they’re a big game hunting trophy? Oh god, we truly have jumped the shark now with this whole dating thing, haven’t we? I have no choice but to get married now. I’ve taken this as far as it can go. It’s reached its natural conclusion.

So that’s how my day is going today. I am left thinking to myself, “It’s too bad I won’t see him again. I think we are both looking for the same thing.”

Well, apparently not if he stuffed his dirty underwear in my bag, got on a plane back to Switzerland, and then ghosted me, never to be seen or heard from ever again. Is this some kind of weird Scorpio love test? God even knows. Wait, do you think he thinks I stole them and that’s why he ghosted me? Oh god. No. Why? That idea is even worse! What kind of person intentionally steals some random man’s dirty underwear?

And this is how I invented my new catchphrase: “You can’t ghost me; I have your underwear!”

Hahahahaha! I really didn’t think I could top the Hot Beef Stew and his little collection of action shots from his sport of choice, but here we are. We have topped them all. And all it took was one misplaced pair of underwear.

Anyway, I’m going to eat something now. Not that I have much of an appetite after writing this post. It’s been a long day so far, and to think it’s only 1:15pm.

Love that for me.

BLOG: To Market, To Market

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Saturday. At the coffee shop.

The last few days haven’t been great, to be honest. I was feeling pretty low after what happened in the Mid-Levels earlier this week. Who wouldn’t be, right?

You get on a plane, you fly to the other side of the world expecting to live your dream life, and then it all keeps going hilariously wrong instead. Good thing I’m a writer, or I would be crying to my family and begging them to let me come home. I’m not about that life. I will survive.

Instead I made a decision to be pro-active and not cave into the inevitable bed rot. I spent the whole of yesterday deep cleaning my apartment. Just dropped off another load of laundry at the Chinese Laundry Service on the corner so everything will be clean. Made some spicy noodles, drank some tea, ate some snacks. Slept in my freshly-laundered sheets and blankets. Definitely feeling somewhat better about life today.

I know it’s okay because the song on the delivery’s guy street speaker is Linger by the Cranberries. LOL. It’s… a long story, LOL. This is actually a South Dakota moment, not an Irish moment. It’s a “I’m finally at peace with my book about Bloody Mary’s Bar” moment. We have waited many years for this. Let’s soak it up while it lasts.

Anyway, back to the present. We don’t live that sad little small town life anymore. We live the Big SEA life, which is much more exciting. I get to do things like go to yoga school in Bali and spend the night in Thai airport jail and go on dates to the Mandarin Oriental with crazy hot Russian guys and receive late invitations to the fabulous Emerald Ball in Bangkok.

As for the Bloody Mary’s Krewe? Well, I guess they’ll always have the oh-so-fond memory of Mad Dog and I smoking pot on the back patio while Sam the bar owner yells at us over whatever he’s in a bad mood about that day.

Hahahaha!

Okay, but for real, back to the present.

What is my plan for the day? Well, it’s market day, which means grocery shopping! Yay!

Get this: So I kept seeing memes about Hong Kong neighborhoods, and apparently my neighborhood is the Frenchiest neighborhood in HK. I did not know this. I kinda knew because I hear people on the street speaking French just as much as I hear English and Cantonese. I’ve seen some French spots around. I just didn’t realize my neighborhood was “The Spot” until last night when I typed in the word “French” into Google maps and my neighborhood lit up like the Fourth of July.

I discovered a new imported goods shop that deals exclusively in French products, including cheese, deli meats, and bakery items. Ummm, yes please!

Screw the bougie grocery store in the Mid-Levels! On top of everything else ridiculous that happened to me there, they also had the nerve to sell me not one, but two packages of moldy, rotten cheese, both of which were extremely overpriced. We are officially done with them forever. That is definitely a sign from the universe saying, “Stay away from the place! It’s no good for you!”

So today I’m going to check out the French shop instead. I’m very excited about it. In addition to fancy ramen noodles, I survive almost exclusively off of “snack trays” that usually incorporate a variety of fruit, cheese, nuts, and crackers. I checked out the prices online and the deals on some of my preferred items are much better than at the other Western grocery stores. I’ve tried three of them now and they are okay, just overpriced. I still prefer to buy some things at the Chinese shops, like fresh fruit,large packages of water, and household goods. But there are certain things that only the Western grocery stores have (such as the deli and bakery sections), and the quality is vastly different.

Otherwise, I have decided to make peace with the rats who have recently moved into the rooftop garden. They came with the change of the season. They did not used to be there. Now every night I go up there for a cigarette and I see them lurkin’ in the shadows, watching my every move, creeping around so they can grab some rice out of the communal food bowl the building owners leave out every day for the birds.

At first, I was freaked out. It’s not that I am afraid of rats, it’s just that I’ve never forgotten about the time they wiped out 2/3rds of Europe’s population with the Black Plague. I also haven’t forgotten my encounters with the GIANT rats of New Orleans (locally known as “Quarter Cats” because they are so well-fed), nor my encounters with the New York City rats, who are aggressive enough to run straight at you in an effort to try to scare you enough to drop your pizza on the ground. Luckily, Hong Kong rats are neither scarily large, nor scarily aggressive. It seems like they prefer to sneak around unnoticed and hide in plain sight.

Last night I was out there smoking and I caught one of the rats watching me from the safety of one of the plants. It was actually kind of cute. I realized it was more afraid of me than I am of it, and we should be okay as long as we keep a safe distance of six feet of space from each other at all times.

As I made peace with the rooftop rats, I stood up to go back inside. I could smell a very familiar scent coming from the entry way, signaling to me that my cute neighbor was there. So I knew he was there, and I expected to see him standing there, and he still scared the shit out of me anyway! I swear to you, he did it on purpose!

It used to be that he and I would startle each other by accident, but now I think he is doing it intentionally for a laugh. I mean… it was kind of funny. I literally knew he was there and he still got me! Like, bro, why didn’t you just come out into the garden and say hello like you usually do?

I realized then… I gotta watch out more for this guy than I do for the rats. He’s the one that’s gonna get me when I least expect it. Not that I would really mind if he randomly backed me into the elevator and started making out with me… he is a sexy beefcake, after all! And he’s got the sexy British-Hong Konger accent.

Last night he was making fun of the way I say “laundry.” Prior to this jump scare incident, I ran into him in the hallway and told him I was on my way to pick up my laundry. He laughed as he walked away and kept repeating “LAN-dree, LAN-dree” with like some weird Southern drawl on the end of it. Like maybe he was trying to do a Texas accent or something. He just thought it was the funniest thing how I said “laundry.”

I don’t get it, but okay. And then we get the jump-scare a couple hours later. Okay, okay, let’s just makeout on the rooftop already and get it out of your system. Then you can pull a Russian guy and just go back to your real life while pretending literally none of it ever happened.

He also came out of a different apartment than the one I’ve seen him coming out of before. Did he switch apartments? Is that why I keep seeing that random Chinese girl walk into the one that I thought was his? Does this Airbnb host just play musical chairs with their studios and keep moving us around at their convenience? What is happening over here?

Anyway, I was annoyed with him because I actually wanted to ask him a legitimate question and I forgot. I want to ask him what he knows about The Wolf and The Sketchy Place. Surely he has some information I need. I will make sure I remember to ask next time he jumps out of the stairwell and scares the crap out of me.

Well, that’s about all I have to say for now. Off to the market. Have a good day!