Friday.

At the coffee shop.

I brought in a screenshot of the SCMP article about the crazy Aussie who was here harassing myself and the staff. The staff were all thrilled to see it, but they don’t think the punishment is harsh enough. The guy went to court and had to pay a $3000 HKD fine. They say it’s not enough. He was only charged on three counts when, in fact, we all know there have been dozens of incidents in the last two months. I guess only two places had enough cojones to charge him.

One of the places was apparently a massage parlor. Not paying for a massage in SEA will screw you over every time. Massage therapists don’t play, especially if they are Thai women. You will be paying for that happy ending, whether your want to or not.

Anyone who grew up in NOVA will tell you that a massage parlor is never just a massage parlor. Most of the time, it’s just a front for shady activities. You don’t know who owns that place or what’s really going on in those back rooms. It’s very easy to draw the attention of the wrong person in a place like that. That’s why I tend to avoid them like the plague. I don’t do massages unless I’m at a fancy luxury 5-star spa. I pay extra for the illusion of safety from any potential gangster activity. It’s a real thing.

So as I said, zero surprise over here that it was the massage parlor that took him down. Nobody in this world gets jerked off for free. There’s always a price to pay.

I didn’t do much yesterday. I was feeling sad about missing out on drinks with the journalists. Then I looked up the place they went to on Instagram and discovered it was closed that night anyway. That explains why they all disappeared so suddenly. Oh well. It wasn’t meant to be.

I’m not worried about it. It’s a small island and there aren’t very many Americans on it. There is no doubt in my mind that I will run into them again eventually. I’ll just go to that bar they named by myself on a random night and see what’s up.

It’s an American place. A real American place. It’s so American, the only thing they have on their dessert menu is deep-fried Oreos. OMG hallelujah praise da lord! My salvation has come, y’all! Me want cookie! Om nom nom nom! Maybe someone will catch me in the middle of my binge and be like, “Wow, she’s so relatable to me, an American person who also lives in Asia and survives exclusively on noodles, rice, and a variety of brightly-colored fruits. Let’s give her a job!”

I still haven’t made a decision about Cambodia. I did, however, get another offer to interview with a local studio owner here in HK. I should go for it, just to see how the pay/visa situation works out.

It’s the visa thing I’m worried about. I feel like I don’t *exactly* understand my situation? I have an HKID card, so I am a resident and I can get a new job, but it’s still tied to my old visa, which was never canceled but does expire in a month and a half. So I will still need a new visa to legally work here. I think? It’s just 1000x easier for companies to hire me now because I already have the HKID card and I’m in their system. I think. I think that’s how it works. I’m like 98% sure this is my situation.

So the thing with the yoga studio that concerns me is that they cannot sponsor a visa, nor can they offer me full-time employment that will pay my rent. Teaching yoga is, unfortunately, a highly-glorified side-gig (unless you go full Cult Leader in order to turn a significant profit). I need something more substantial to pay the bills if I’m going to stay in HK.

As I said, the gig in Cambodia doesn’t come with a paycheck, but it does come with a house, a scooter, a dog, and two meals a day. So it would basically just be cheap, easy living for two and a half months, and then… nothing, again. Dead-end. Everything is a dead-end. Literally every road I travel down leads me to a dead-end. I just want to stay on the highway for a bit and hit cruise control. I don’t know how to accomplish that goal.

I’m not very good at being an adult. I have no idea how I survive most days. I still feel like I’m mentally 20 years old and out experiencing the real world for the first time like I was supposed to do in college. Unfortunately, my parents decided to drag me out to the middle of fucking nowhere and say, “You don’t get to experience real life. You have to stay in prison out on the lone prairie forever. You don’t get to make friends or date age-appropriate men or succeed in school or have a career. The only purpose for your existence is so we can have someone there to scream at every day and project our shitty, miserable marriage problems onto. Sure, I guess we could acknowledge that our children are grown adults capable of making their own choices, or we could just force them to do things our way and then act shocked and surprise when we don’t turn out to be functional human beings.”

I think if my parents could have, they would have just given me a lobotomy and let me rot in an asylum somewhere while using the story to garner sympathy from others. So gross. I really do hate them. Like, actually. I legitimately hate my parents.

I am legitimately happy my father is dead. I know I’m not supposed to say that, but wow, yes, I am so grateful that man is finally dead. Now I can live my life the way I always wanted to live it without being screamed at on a daily basis. Hurray!

I’m also grateful I never have to see or speak to my mother or any of her ridiculous family. I hate them too! I don’t care who knows it! I hate my family! I’ve always hated my family! I’m finally free of them forever now! Hurray!

I really wish there were more Grief resources out there specifically designed for people who were extremely relieved when their first parent died and now go around telling people their other, still living parent is also dead, simply because it’s easier to explain. People get judgy when you say you cut off your family because they are abusive, but they completely stop talking when you say they are dead. Silence is golden!

Oh, I feel so much better after saying that. Such a cathartic release! That yin yoga session I did on the rooftop yesterday really did make me feel so much better. I also haven’t thought about The Russian at all since, so it was extra good. Instead I decided to put on “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” By Rod Stewart and pretend my Irish Family was there dancing around the room with me. Much happier memory, I think.

Life Lesson: When in doubt, channel the Irish Fam. Works every time!

What should I do today? More yoga? I think it would be nice. Find somewhere new to sit and people-watch? Write? Make new CVs on Canva? Apply for jobs? Watch Netflix? Climb The Peak? Clean my apartment, which I still haven’t done because I’ve been living in an isolated bubble of depression and loneliness?

No idea. I will figure it out later. I think more yoga is a good solution for today. I can really get into Yin now that it’s not destroying me emotionally. Before, I would do it and just break down for like 3 hours afterward. Yesterday I did a Yin sesh and I felt really calm and relaxed afterward. I went to the little health food shop down the street, got a fancy juice, got a wrap/fry/brownie combo, took a shower, did a face mask, and just relaxed. Let it all go.

It took YEARS for me to be able to do that. That’s new. That’s a brand new experience for me, and I’ve been doing yoga for like 12 years at this point. Wild. This is why I don’t concern myself with fancy tricks like Handstands and Side Crows. It’s not about the performance for me. It’s about finding peace with the universe and unifying my body, mind, and spirit. It’s about fixing myself after decades of compounding trauma broke me apart.

Handstand? Pshh! Who gives a fuck about your stupid little handstand? Any idiot off the street can do a handstand. It’s just a little parlour trick. The question is… can you actually do YOGA?

Off now. I need to get out into the world. I live in fricken Hong Kong! What am I doing with my life? UGH!

This is what happens when you hold your children hostage until their mid-30’s and never let them make their own choices. If I ever have children, I will never do this to them. No shrinks, no “therapy” for issues your parents are projecting onto you instead of getting help for themselves, no pharmaceutical drugs, no shitty schools, no “Troubled Teen Industry,” no living in isolation in the middle of fucking nowhere far away from any real opportunities, no forcing them into doing things they don’t want to do (especially as adults) or being people they don’t want to be, and no screaming meltdowns.

And probably no screens, either. No iPads for you, child. That shit will destroy your brain before you have a chance to use it. Books, pencils, pens, and paper only. You’ll speak three languages by the time you’re 7 and surpass all of your idiot peers in school who are still going to be drooling over their phones, staring off into space, and totally and completely incapable of face-to-face human interaction when they’re adults.

If there’s one thing that brings me peace in this life, it’s that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would make a good wife and mother. But I don’t have to do that shit anymore because I am a free woman living in the 21st century and I can do whatever the fuck I want! It’s these guys that are missing out, not me! I’m not worried about it. It’s always been my dream to be carried around on a golden throne and fanned with giant palm leaves by hot beefcakes dressed in loincloths. Now I’m basically doing that. It’s grand.

Off now. Have a lovely day!