Monday morning. Currently sitting by the pool alone because my social battery is dead. I have no energy to interact with anyone right now. I just want to sit here and enjoy my coffee and listen to the sounds of the jungle and just not deal with anyone. So here I am.

I constantly worry that people take it personally, but I don’t think they do. Usually if anyone asks me if I’m okay, I just say I’m taking space to be alone to deal with my personal stuff. They’re pretty understanding here. Everyone needs it sometimes. I don’t take it personally when other people do it. No one should take it personally when I do it.

Anyway, I’m used to being alone and having my quiet mornings to myself. I love a big community meal, but not every single day, multiple times a day. It’s too much for me. I need a certain amount of time alone to function. I am very overwhelmed by the amount of socializing I’ve done in the last week. I’m not used to being around this many people all the time. It’s too much for me. I really like my alone time.

It’s like… sometimes I think I want to have a family, but then I realize that if I have one, I will never get to be alone again. So… that’s hard to navigate. I’m not worrying about it right now. Find me a man who isn’t a total fuckboy and I will show you a unicorn.

For now, I am content to sit here alone with my coffee and write. Yesterday something happened to me that could change my life forever if I follow up. No pressure, of course. Just a writing thing.

Let’s just say a guest was here who overheard me standing up for the Indonesians and was impressed enough to come over for a chat. They revealed themselves to be a fellow writer with big connections who could open some doors for me professionally. After hearing my life story, they wanted to read some of my written stories. I gave them my blog and they actually liked it! They gave me their card and told me to follow up and now they’ve disappeared back into the void.

Needless to say, I was very shocked. Five minutes prior, I was alone in the universe, frustrated and angry that I couldn’t do more, and then this person appeared out of thin air and offered me the opportunity of a lifetime. I still can’t believe it’s real. I’m convinced it was actually a ghost. It’s crazy. I still can’t believe it’s real.

Well, now I’m motivated AF to get back into writing mode. I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen for years. Now it’s happed and I’m like… omg, my shit is a mess, I need to mine this blog fast and fix some of these stories up. I’ve been stuck in the same way of doing things for so long. I’m ready to get out of website mode and into real professional writer mode.

Motivated AF. Definitely going to max out my visa here and find a little flat to set up shop in and get to writing. I already have my title for this book: “From Barfly to Bali: How I Quit My Shitty Life and Became the Writer Extraordinaire.”

We might have to change the word shitty so we can put it on display in the store front, lol. It’s okay. I’m open. I already know people will be lining up to read it. They’ll see it on display and be like, “BETSEY HORTON?! Omg I know her! I want to see what she has to say about me!” Then they’ll get halfway through before they realize it’s not the same crap I was writing 10 years ago and get on the internet to write me hate mail.

“First I hated you for writing about me, so I told you to write about something else. Now you’re writing about something else and I hate you for not writing about me. Where am I going to get my soap opera drama now? This book is useless! I can’t take it to the bar and read it aloud and listen to everyone in the room collectively shit all over it. It’s actually pretty good. You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Just to spite haters like me? Well, shut up and take my money, because I’m ordering a whole box of these books just to throw them into the fire next week. Ban this book today!”

Haha, love it. You can try to troll me, but what you don’t know about me is that I am a bigger troll than you are. I just know how to cleverly disguise myself as a pretty lady on the outside so you’ll never know what I really am deep, down inside. And what I am is F$&#ing Melvin, as depicted here in this 15-year-old meme:

This is probably the most relatable thing I’ve ever seen on the internet, so this day. This is me. This is my life. I am Melvin, passing my geography test without cheating because I studied, while everyone else in the class is pissed off because they’re too lazy and apathetic to care. This is how I ended up on the other side of the planet interacting with people who don’t know anything about the world. I am the nerd they all hated in school for exactly this reason. it is what it is.

Okay, so, two more weeks of yoga school and then back to being the Writer Extraordinaire. I’m excited to write without the distractions of Bangkok or the ridiculousness of 1880 Town interfering. Very much so. Hopefully it will all work out. I can work on my manuscript, finish my Peace Corps application, and bang out a few clips to send to this person. Everything is aligning for me, which is nice considering what a shitshow this entire summer has been.

Well, I said I wanted to be a writer, and the universe heard me, so that’s why it’s serving up a triple serving of messiness to inspire. I’ve seen everything from immigration fraud schemes to sex workers and pimps to IRA gangsters and beyond. Let us not forgot our terrible experience at the safari park in Thailand full of tortured, exploited animals. Now I’m seeing flyers for what could be a toxic masculinity cult around and I just have to see it for myself.

How lucky am I to have an adventure such as this? The universe is listening and offering me up stories with open arms. I must receive this gift and be grateful for it. I must use my talents to do some good in this world. That is my purpose and my responsibility.

There’s no one here to stop me this time. I will become the Writer Extraordinaire, just as I’ve always dreamed! Mwa hahahaha!

Okay, I should probably go snack on some fruit or something. I didn’t want to eat the breakfast because it’s more rice and my system gets wonky if I eat too much rice, which I’ve definitely been doing since I got to Asia. My system is already wonky. It feels uncomfortable already. So when I see a plate of rice, the last thing I want to do is eat more of it. It makes me sad because I fucking love rice, especially fried rice. Alas. My body does not love rice and much as my taste buds do. It is what it is.

Off now. Have a lovely day!