Thursday. Here we are in BKK.

I still have not resolved my housing situation in Hong Kong, though not for lack of trying. It’s very stressful. It’s insanity. I don’t know why I’m determined to make it work. It’s… exhausting.

I guess I have something to prove to everyone, I guess. Maybe prove to myself? I don’t know. I’m pretty relaxed with myself these days. I have forgiven myself for the foolish mistakes of my youth. I am much kinder to myself. I do not hurt myself if I fail.

I think I’m doing pretty well for being out on my own in Southeast Asia for 8 months. I didn’t know it was possible to be happy on a regular basis. It’s like a fog has finally lifted off of me after all these years.

In an effort to forget my housing crisis, I wandered on down to the American Bar to check out the side show. Unfortunately, standing out front was Mr. Antony’s Friend. We exchanged not-so-friendly looks and I walked by him with my head held up high and didn’t speak to him.

He followed me in shortly after and said, “I was going to leave, but now that you’re here, I’m going to stay for another one and watch the show.” He pretended like he was talking to someone else, but he was looking at me right when he said it. I continued ignoring him the entire time I was there. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

Unfortunately, trouble was already brewing elsewhere in the bar. A pair of dirty backpackers came in and started getting rowdy. I realized too late that I was sitting right in the middle of the stand-off between the backpackers and the regulars, all of whom are ex-military in some form or another.

I managed to slip through the crowd and sit by my friend from Oklahoma at the end of the bar. We watched the fight go down as he sat there calmly eating his pancake. The regulars chased the backpackers out and crisis was averted. And so went another exciting adventure down at the American Bar…

After the atmosphere calmed down, they turned their talk to the St. Patrick’s Day Emerald Ball. It drove me, a Bridgerton fan, absolutely crazy to listen to them talk about it. You see, I want to go oh-so-badly, and I could because I can prove my Irish ancestry, but here is the thing: the person who distributes the tickets is my friend Hermes, and he is currently mad at me because I referred to him as a “child soldier.”

Right.

Oops!

It’s kind of funny when you think about it. I think it’s funny. I mean, it’s not funny, but it kind of is pretty funny, actually. I mean, it’s not like it’s his fault. I’m just saying it is what it is. And anyway, why does it matter so much?

His character helpfully pointed out that I also called him “a little messenger boy” and attacked his masculinity and strong sense of Irish national pride.

Right, well I guess there’s that. To which I say, “You were literally stalking me. You are a gangster. What was I supposed to do? Cower in fear? Or tell you to fuck off?”

He would say, “I was just doing my job.”

“Doesn’t matter. You invaded my privacy and stole my data. You compromised my personal space. Everything you did was a total boundary violation.”

I had to make sure you were who you said you were.”

“I am. Now you know me. Now you can stop.”

“Okay.”

All right, guess we’ll call it even then. Good thing I am oh-so-diplomatic. I’ll take that invitation, please and thank you. Have a nice day!

Gotta love the impromptu daydream fantasies about telling various people to go fuck themselves, lol.

Anyway, back at the bar… the night pretty much died after that. One of the bartender’s friends sat down to chat with me. She shared some of her salty squid snacks with me. I ate them out of politeness, but became violently ill as a result very shortly after and had to leave. I have no tolerance for seafood. It was an extremely unpleasant experience. Never again.

Now I am here, still not feeling too great, but made it out of bed anyway. I am all the way up on the 25th floor and I could still hear the ceremonial drum session outside this morning. It woke me up pretty early, which is unfortunate as I need the sleep.

Worrying about my entire situation right now. Worry, worry, worry. Lots to worry about. No wonder my brain wants to escape into a magical fantasy land with a masquerade ball. Much better than dealing with the pains of reality.

Haha, yeahhhh….