Category: Blog

Writing progress, stuff I do, books I read, movies I watch, etc

BLOG: Gonna Have A Good Day

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Tuesday afternoon.

I am having a good day so far. Looking good, feeling fly. Ain’t nobody dope as me, I’m just so fresh, so clean (so fresh and so clean, clean)!

Did yoga on the rooftop, then showered and got all dolled up for no other reason than just because I can. I set my intention for today to just feel good and be happy and have a nice day.

Luckily for me, my neighbor decided against sneaking up on me during my yoga session. I sensed he was out there at some point because that’s a real thing you can do when you’re real deep into your mind. My guess is that he caught me when I was deep in meditation and realized it’s actually not cool to disrupt someone when they’re in the middle of their yoga practice.

I still got startled by a pigeon afterword, thinking it was him. I’m super paranoid he is going to jump out at me now at any moment and scare the absolute crap out of me. It’s so funny to me how easily I startle. It’s definitely a trauma response, lol. I appreciate the fact that my neighbor and I have made a little inside joke out of it. As I have learned, anything on the Trauma Spectrum is best dealt with humor.

I had a very nice vision while I was meditating today. Much to my surprise, I received a visit from Lord Ganesha himself, which was very unexpected and pleasantly surprising.

In case you need a reminder, Lord Ganesha is the Hindu Elephant God who, amongst many other things, invented writing and the alphabet. He is the god I chose to devote myself to when I was at the Yoga Shala in India. He hasn’t let me down so far!

He was holding pens in all four of his hands with different names on them representing all the different places I’ve been. He handed me the pens and said, “You are doing well, Betsey. I am very pleased with your progress on your story so far. You will be a great writer someday.”

He grew two more arms and held up two choices in his hands. In one hand was a fireball representing anger and in the other hand was a bag of ca$$$h money, baby!

He said, “You must let go of your anger now. It’s holding you back. You must choose. You can stay angry, or you can make money. What do you want?”

Obviously I chose the money because duh, who wouldn’t? He handed me the bag and disappeared. I found myself walking down Agonda Beach back in India all alone, as I usually do when I’m meditating.

The Russian appeared and looked at me really sadly. He stopped me and took me in his arms and started dancing with me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I forgive you,” I answered.

I kissed him goodbye and let him go. Then I got on my horse and rode off alone into the sunset, just as any good American cowgirl would do. The last thing I saw in my vision was myself dressed in white, dancing all alone, looking happy and free.

I came back to reality and felt the sun shining down on me, warming me, soothing me, recharging my battery, bringing me back to life. I said my final prayer, then got up to wash my mat. I felt so good in that moment. I’m still feeling pretty good. I feel extra sparkly today.

After I finished washing my mat, I went back down to my apartment to transform myself from Sweaty Betty mode to Princess mode. I put on my “Self-Esteem Booster” playlist and sang along to it while I showered and got dressed.

It wasn’t until I was packing up to leave that I realized my neighbor could probably hear my fabulously musical rendition of “P.I.M.P.” By 50 Cent. I imagined him sitting on the other side of the wall, looking confused and thinking, “What in the fuck? WHO is this woman?!”

Hilarious, truly, lol.

I guess I just wanted to warn him. I don’t know what ya heard about me, but a bitch can’t get a dollar outta me, lolololol!

Too funny.

Hmm, what should I do today? I don’t know. I just wanted to do something simple and easy that will make me happy, like ride the ding-ding from one end of the island to the other. The weather is perfect for it. Honestly it’s so fun. I don’t care how lame and touristy it is.

Next stop: Kennedy Town!

Oooh, I should stop by HKU campus even though it’s completely unaffordable for me! I just want to see the campus. It’s very historic.

The barista says I should go to the beach. Could be an option. I’m not really in sand mode since I just did yoga and showered. I’m wearing a really pretty dress and I’ve already done my hair and makeup. I’m like, more in… “find a nice cafe overlooking the fragrant harbor and eat lunch there” mode. You know me. My idea of being outdoorsy is sitting on a patio. I already did my workout today. I have zero desire to go on a hike.

LOL these two guys are standing outside the coffee shop talking about how attractive I am in French. They have no idea I can understand everything they are saying. Classic comedy material right here.

Hmmm… what else can I say about today? Well, last night I watched the Netflix documentary “Should I Marry A Murderer?” Girl, damn. It’s scary how easily that could be me. Watching her mental breakdown in real time was pretty distressing.

I do respect and admire the fact that she put in the work of getting the confession and the location of the body. The way the police treated her was really shitty. They didn’t help her at all.

The comments online are even worse. It’s so depressing how many people in the world completely lack empathy. They’re lucky in a way because they have clearly never been in a situation where they themselves or someone they know has seriously struggled with mental health and addition issues. Still… just… sad to read. People are so fucking shitty. They just don’t get it.

She ends it by saying “When you love yourself, you attract healthy love.” This was my inspiration to love myself today. Yes, I will love myself enough not to end up in bed with another sociopath, lololol. We can only hope…

Off now.

All aboard the ding-ding!

Ding ding, ding ding, ding ding…

BLOG: The Weekend Update

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Monday.

It was quite the weekend, wasn’t it? You know shit’s going down when I don’t post for two days in a row. So much to document. This is why I have to write daily or I will forget.

Friday night was… the most interesting. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be since the vast majority was pretty lame. I watched Remarkably Bright Creatures, which made me cry my eyes out. I think I may have watched something else before that which also made me cry, but I can’t fully remember. Whatever it was also made me cry. I actually spent most of my night crying. That’s what I remember about it, lol.

It’s not a good weekend for me. It was my dead dad’s birthday and Mother’s Day. Not so fun for me. So I just planned to stay in and cry about it because I didn’t want to put that energy onto anyone else by going out in public.

Sometime around 3am, I decided to go up to the rooftop for a smoke. As I was coming back to the stairway, I heard someone coming up the stairs. I looked down to confirm it was my hot beefcake neighbor. I noticed he was staring at his phone and had his earbuds in. I decided to use the opportunity to scare him since that’s our little inside joke now. We are always startling each other unexpectedly, though I suspect he’s done it on purpose now at least once or twice. The last time was definitely intentional.

I decided to take revenge. I hid behind the door so he couldn’t see me. When he reached the top, I jumped out at him and yelled “Boo!” I got the full movie jump scare out of him. He genuinely looked terrified! I was laughing so hard! It was so funny! Just what I needed after a long night of crying…

It took him a minute or two to recover. Once he had regained his composure, he gave me a look I can only describe as “smoldering” and said, “Ohhh, you’re in trouble now. I’m gonna get you back. I am going to wreck you. Just absolutely wreck you. One of these days, I’m gonna come out here when you’re doing yoga and sneak up on you and absolutely ruin you.”

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Ummm… okay. Why does that sound less like a threat and more like a sexual innuendo? Is this one of these British English vs American English kind of situations? What’s going on here? What’s he actually saying? Am I supposed to be turned on right now? Because I’m actually kind of turned on right now.

As I was relaying this part of the story to my friend later, she raised her eyebrow and smirked at me.

“I think your neighbor has a thing for you,” she said.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Does saying ‘I’m going to wreck you’ mean something different in British? Because in America, that’s a very strong, very sexually-charged statement to make.”

My friend just laughed at me.

“Yeah, it means the same thing in British.”

“So he’s saying he wants to bang me?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

Back to the rooftop. We ended up sitting out there chatting for like an hour and a half. He said to me, “You know, you are the strangest person I have ever met. I can’t figure you out at all. You’re such a little weirdo. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Well, you know us Americans. We’re all very strange and exotic to properly uptight British lads like yourself. It’s A Thing. They’re all into Asian girls until the moment they meet an American, and then it’s like, “Ooooooh, an American. I’m obsessed with Americans and America. I love America! I want to be American! If I put my penis inside of you, will I absorb your magical powers of Freedom, Liberty, and Justice for All?”

My British Guy in Bangkok was like this as well. He was utterly obsessed with my Americanness. Then he ran off with some Thai girl to an island and was never seen or heard from again. I don’t think he knows what he wants, tbh.

Anyway, so, back to my neighbor. He started asking me all these questions about South Dakota. This is also A Thing I’ve noticed with people who have fascinations with Americans. They hear me say “South Dakota” and they think Ye Olde Western Frontier. Cowboy boots. Gunslingers. Old-timey dive bars with a piano player and bathtub bourbon. Aces and Eights! The whole thing!

Truly, not that far off from reality, if you want my professional opinion.

So obviously the last thing I want to talk about to anyone ever is motherfucking South Dakota. Unfortunately, it turns out there is a whole untapped international market that is obsessed with it and wants to know everything there is to know about it. It is what it is. I could be angry, or I could exploit my 17 years of experience and knowledge for ca$$$h money, baby! What do you think I’ll end up choosing in the end?

As I mentioned previously, my neighbor is an Actor. He says he usually plays bad guys in Chinese movies. I told him he could also play bad guys in Bollywood movies since he’s British. He said, “No, I want to play a gunslinger in a movie about the American West.” Okay, okay, I can see it, I can see it. Let’s just sit here on the rooftop and work through this concept together until we have a decent script.

The story we ultimately worked out is basically just the male version of The Holiday. I have a friend back in SD who has the same name as my neighbor. We’ll use a fake name here to protect their identities: Dave. So this movie is temporarily titled “Dave vs. Dave.” Still working that one out.

In this movie, Hong Kong Dave and South Dakota Dave are both bored with their lives and looking for a change. They meet on an Internet forum and decide to trade lives. HK Dave goes to South Dakota, where he lives in SD Dave’s tiny house, drives his big pick-up truck, works at a dive bar on the edge of town, wears cowboy boots every day, and carries a gun around on his hip for absolutely no reason other than the fact that it looks cool.

Meanwhile, SD Dave goes to Hong Kong, where he lives in HK Dave’s tiny shoebox apartment and works as an actor. We get to see him scaling the bamboo scaffolding and doing kung fu and going on crazy car chases across the bridge to Kowloon and fighting off the Triads.

I sent this pitch to SD Dave and he absolutely LOVED it. He was like, “Can we make this actually happen?” IDK, maybe. I suppose anything is possible, right?

Right.

Sometime around 4:30am, we decided to call it a night. I was slightly disappointed that he did not make a move, but again, I suspect he has a girlfriend even though he says, “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a girl I see sometimes.” Sooooo basically… she’s your girlfriend, lol.

Men. Lol.

So that was Friday.

On Saturday, I went out with my girl friend, whose identity I prefer to protect by not “making her into a character.” We have talked about this. I told her that I mention in my blog that we frequently go out to different places together, but she’s not a “character” and I don’t write about her life. She’s cool with it.

So we went out for lunch, then we went up to The Sketchy Place. It was actually her suggestion. I had my doubts, but I mulled it over during lunch and decided it was a good idea to check in again after a month to see what’s up. As we were walking up, both of us had some doubts, but we decided to go through with it in the end.

Several mysteries were solved on this occasion. First, I figured out how I got “lost” and “separated” from her the last time we were there. It turns out, the bathroom is in a weird location. You have to walk back through the kitchen to get to it. If you come out and turn left immediately, there is an open door to the alleyway outside that splits into two directions. If you turn right, you go back through the kitchen and out into the bar. As soon as I saw this, I realized that what had happened before was that I was really drunk and confused and somehow got “lost” in this alleyway. I get lost in the dumbest ways in HK. It’s a real thing.

The second mystery we solved was the question of whether or not this place is frequented by drug dealers. The answer is yes. I saw the same guy from The Wolf who had given the coke to the Finance Bro I was with at the time. I observed him for some time. He kept going in and out, making phone calls, and “shaking hands” with randoms on the street. It appeared to be an open secret among the regulars there. Everyone knew what he was doing and nobody cared. It’s like… yeah, duh, that’s why he’s here.

The group of people he was with were the same sketchy crew of long-term expats as before. Once I sat in observation of their dynamic without involving myself, I understood exactly what was going on.

Somehow, our tab was mysteriously “taken care of,” even though we did not actually socialize much with anyone else that night. I don’t know who paid it. Was it the MAusGA guy? Was it my Irish friend? Was it someone else? We have no idea. All we know is that we didn’t have to pay for jack shit.

Hmm… I see your bribe for what it is and willingly accept it. I will no longer be reporting on The Sketchy Place. Really, what else is there to say? Everyone knows the daily consumption of Coke & Special K are an open secret in the Finance World. It is what it is. What else is there to say?

So at this point, I was pretty wasted. I know better than to daydrink with wine, but I was daydrinking wine. Questionable choices were made! All I can say is: Nothing good ever happens at the 7/11 by Peel Street. It is what it is!!!!

I made a deal not to write about what happened with the other person involved. We agreed it was a mistake and to just hit reset and move on. I am open to making deals with people not to use them as characters in my writing. You just have to approach it the right way. You’ll get much further by being respectful than you will by going on the attack. Going into Attack Mode against me will make it 1000x more likely that I’ll write about you. I reserve the right to defend myself at all times. My way of defending myself is with a Pen, not a Sword. It is what it is.

This is part of the reason why I ignored the Russian when he said he didn’t want to me to write about him. Okay, well, maybe you should have thought about that more before you used me for cheap work trip sex, tossed me aside like I was nothing, and then blocked me as soon as you got off the plane in Switzerland.

All of that says, “I have no respect for you as a human being.” So why would I have any respect for you in return? Fuck you, bro. I’ll write a story about you fighting a bear with your shirt off if I want to. What are you going to do? Cancel me for being a big, strong, alpha female?

*blows raspberry in his general direction*

Anyway, I was soooo hungover yesterday. It was not a good thing. I can’t live my life this way anymore. I am getting too old for this. My body absolutely fucking hates me right now. I need to do a cleanse. I need to do yoga. I need to drink some water and eat some fruit. Just… ugh.

I still have not made a decision about Cambodia. I need to do that like, today. I can’t just ghost this person. It’s been almost a week. I need to send them a response.

It’s hard. I love Hong Kong. I really want to make it work. I can see myself living here long-term. But I also feel like… this work trade in Cambodia is a rare opportunity and I should take it just for the experience. Cambodia is so beautiful. It has such a tragic backstory. It’s complicated. I want the chance to explore it. Isn’t that the point of coming to SEA? I gotta See the SEA! That’s why I’m here!

Plus, it might be good for me to go teach yoga and be out of the city and just do a little reset/detox to figure out my next steps. This year has been stressful and confusing. I’m so grateful to have left SD behind, but it’s been a lot.

I don’t know. I have to decide. I’m gonna do yoga on my rooftop and figure it out from there. I’ll just make sure my neighbor isn’t home first so he can’t sneak up on me and scare me, lol!

I told him this morning that he missed out on his revenge. I was walking down the stairs in my building and a GIGANTIC cockroach fell from the sky and bounced off my shoulder. I SCREAMED so loud that the entire building heard me.

I messaged him to tell him this story and he said, “Ah yes, I heard your shriek. I suspected that’s what happened. This is why I told you not to use the stairs.”

I was just trying to get my steps in, bro. Jesus. I hate cockroaches. They’re so gross. So gross! EWWWWW!!!!!

Phew! What a long post! What a weekend! What a life!

I really do love it. Even on the days when I’m sad and struggling and lost and confused. I love my life. I love Hong Kong. I love SEA. I feel so incredibly lucky to be here. I am grateful every single day. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, for better or for worse. I never, ever thought I would live in Hong Kong (or Bangkok, for that matter). I wouldn’t trade this adventure for anything in the world.

Off now. I need to tidy up my studio and run errands and do all the boring stuff now. Not every day can be an adventure. Most days are very routine and boring. But still… I can’t help but find myself falling more in love with Hong Kong every day…

Have a good day!

BLOG: Erotic Thriller Inspiration

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Friday afternoon.

Post-yoga vibes. Waiting on my lunch at the healthy place. I am trying to be kinder to myself and embrace the whole “healthy yogi” thing. I like cheeseburgers far too much to ever go full crunchy, but a side of granola every now and then isn’t a bad thing.

The other thing preventing me from going full crunchy is the whole anti-vaxx thing. It’s just not compatible with my world view. Like, at all. Anyway, let’s not get into that. Let’s just say I met way too many people in India and Bali who did not get vaxxed before traveling to a tropical destination and could not understand how they got sick.

My yoga session today was more like a meditation session. I did a little bit of stretching, but mostly I sat still and meditated. It felt like the more natural thing to do on this specific occasion. I wasn’t sure why until I pictured myself sitting on a beach and suddenly my dad’s spirit appeared in front of me. He wanted to talk to me. It was very difficult, but I let him speak. He says that he is sorry and he’s watching out for me, blah blah blah, all that lame cheesy shit. Cue the waterworks! Wahhh!

Yeah, it is what it is.

Now I am sitting here at the healthy place, eavesdropping on two Western businessmen having a meeting behind me. One is French and the other one is Italian. Neither of them are living up to the stereotype of Handsome or Sexy. They are doing business in English, so I can understand them. Sort of. I actually have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about. Assets and funds and investments. Snoozefest! Talk about blah blah blah. Is there any subject in this world more boring than finance? Honestly!

Sometimes I think I should just give in to my grandmother’s demands and be boring and go to business school and become a banker/accountant like everyone else on my mom’s side of the family. Then I actually sit here and listen to these Finance Bros talk and I’m like… there’s no way I’m staying awake through an entire semester of this shit. It’s just not for me.

Oh boy. The Italian just started a story with, “Long story short: back in Italy during World War II…”

We’re gonna be here all afternoon at this rate.

Ooh, now it’s finally getting interesting. Apparently this is some kind of Art Deal. Juicy. Show me the good stuff! I need inspiration for my erotic thriller movie starring The Russian. “Shady Art Deal Gone Wrong in Hong Kong” could be just the thing we’re looking for to prop up this otherwise plotless smut!

“Are you going to cancel me for being a big, strong, alpha male?”

No, but I am going to turn you into a character in the sort of 90’s cheesy erotic thriller bored finance bros like you watch alone on a Tuesday night and jerk off to before falling asleep on your ugly leather couch.

“She’s an American secret agent sent to Hong Kong to stop the Triads from a planned heist to steal a valuable, priceless work of ancient Chinese art that definitely belongs in a museum. He’s the Russian agent sent in to see the deal through. How many explicit sex scenes can we put in this film before it gets slapped with an NC-17 rating? Is that even a thing anymore? Find out when we see this big, strong, alpha Scorpio male go full-frontal!”

*giggles*

“I do not consent, Liz.” Ohhh, lighten up already! What’s wrong with using your Hyrox stats to speculate whether or not you can fight a bear without a shirt on? Seriously! I think you need more of this energy in your life, personally. You seem really uptight once that mask comes off.

HAHAHAHAHA

Sorry, I can’t help myself. I live for this shit. What good are men if not to use for inspiration for fictional characters?

Hehehehehehe.

So hilarious. LOL!

Definitely feeling better about life now. This is how I cope with my life. I just wave my magic wand and turn them into fiction. 🙂 🙂 🙂

Oooh, this conversation is getting SUPER juicy! They’re talking about rich art collectors in HK who own all these big businesses in Switzerland. Yaaaassssss this is the material I came here to find! GIVE IT TO ME!!!!

Wow, they own a chocolate factory in Switzerland? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I never would have come up with that on my own! Never saw this Willa Wonka-ass shit coming. Crazy.

Name dropping JP Morgan. Oooooooh gurrrrrrrlllllll this is JUICY!

Hmm, I think it would be funnier if The Russian’s character was just the nerdy Finance Guy sent in from Switzerland to deliver the briefcase full of cash and she mistakes him for The Russian Spy. The Russian Spy is actually an American double agent backed by MAGA with a completely different agenda. She just bangs the Russian Guy because she catches him in the middle of his Hyrox routine without his glasses on and discovers he has practical skills beyond crunching numbers and doing paperwork. Practical skills like wrestling bears without a shirt on and riding on a motorcycle! That’s hot!

OMG! What the fuck is this movie and why do I want to write it so bad?

Lol at this conversation. Shoutout to the great nations of Italy and France! Thank you for coming together to collaborate on this amazing post today! I am soooo here for it!

Yes, and then we can get my hot neighbor to play the Double Agent and give him his first starring role! YES! I love this movie! It’s going to be the kind of trash you cancel plans to stay in bed to watch alone with your pets and a bottle of wine!!!

14/10, would watch.

Amazing. Love the French. Love the Italians. If only they knew of the literary genius they’re actively inspiring with their conversation right now. I’m sure they would be very proud. They would be like, “Well, of course we have inspired you. We are French/Italian. That is what we do. We invented art!” And then they would have an argument over who actually “invented” art and we’ll all be stuck here all day.

Lol so funny. The French guy said, “Hmm, this is an interesting concept, but I do not think I will be an investor.”

The Italian guy immediately replied, “Well, fuck you.”

They are still sitting here arguing over it 20 minutes later. Now I understand why both teams wear confusingly similar shades of red and blue in the Six Nations tournament. This argument was never actually resolved, ever. Right. Got it.

They’ve changed the subject now. Boring. Off to find a different conversation to eavesdrop on to fuel the creativity now! Ta ta!

BLOG: Me Want Deep-Fried Oreo Cookie!

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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!

BLOG: So Hollywood

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Wednesday evening.

At the Cantina. I came here to distract myself from stewing over the Russian. This proved to be a good idea. For one, it’s very busy. Two, the owner is here. He greeted me by asking how my book is going. He, like every man I know, asked if he has a part in it. I told him his restaurant has a part in it. He suggested I throw my book release party here, then told me to go get to work.

So here I am.

Definitely trying not to stew over The Russian right now. How many times can we beat this dead horse, seriously? This is a very Russian thing to do, maybe? How many times did they have to kill Rasputin before he actually died? It’s exactly like that.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” he said.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. This isn’t love. This is just some sick, twisted obsession I’ve developed in the vacuum of your absence. It’s definitely not “love.” It’s a psychological condition I have.

You see, oxytocin is basically like heroin to me. I don’t get it very often, so when I do, it’s like getting super duper high, and then when the guy inevitably disappears, it’s like coming down really hard and crashing and then going into withdrawal.

Think of the scene in Trainspotting when Ewan McGregor locks himself in a room with a couple of buckets, a TV, and some canned goods. That’s basically what I’m doing right now by writing about you.

Who knows how long it could take to get this out of my system? I heard those fancy Russian designer drugs are pretty intense. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Some other guy will come along soon enough and then I’ll switch my focus to him. And so on and so forth, forever and ever. As one of my expat friends in Bangkok said, “They come, they go, you cum, they go.”

Anyway, here I am, at a random place in Hong Kong, surrounded by people socializing and talking to each other as I sit on my iPad alone in the corner typing away as if no one else is here. Wonderful. Sometimes I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing here. I love it, but I feel like I’m not doing anything. I guess I’m writing a book. A book about traveling across the world to start over and finding yourself instead. Something like that, something like that. I think.

I’m not actually writing anything important right now. I’m just typing intensely to make myself look busy and important in order to disguise the fact that I am depressed and alone. Classic. At least I’m pulling it off. Everyone in here is definitely not paying attention to me, but if they were, they would definitely think I’m busy with something. Grand.

I do wish I had not met him here. Now this place is ruined for me, which is unfair because it’s my favourite place. Now I look over and I just see him there in his ridiculous blue leather jacket. So annoying! Men are the worst, truly. Why did you have to ruin my fav neighborhood bar for me?

Oh, I guess we have a Hollywood type sitting over in the corner here. He’s talking about some show he made and name-dropped HBO. Everyone he’s with is surrounding him in a circle and hanging off every word. Very Hollywood.

As someone who aspires to be a Hollywood type, I am treating him like he doesn’t exist and he’s not the most important person in the world. Someone has to do the grunt work of writing the script while the fans are fawning over Mr. Rockstar over there. This attitude is essential in this industry. You can’t get starstruck. You have to treat these people like they’re your equals or they’ll steamroll right over you. Ask me how I know!

Oh, I guess this is the big media gathering here tonight. Apparently there is an American who works for CNN standing behind me right now. Fun! I would introduce myself, but I have no idea what to say.

“Hi, I’m an American writer living in HK with a legal residency permit and no employment. May I trouble you for a job?”

I don’t think so.

I’ll settle for eavesdropping for now. And, of course, typing away on my keyboard in a room full of media execs, looking very busy and important, ignoring them all as if they are not here in my bar when I am trying to stew over meaningless, irrelevant bullshit.

Networking success, obviously.

This CNN guy isn’t very observant. Otherwise he would notice me eavesdropping. I could very easily transcribe his conversation right now without him noticing. Hilarious, truly. Definitely living my best spy life over here right now. 😉

I forgot for a moment that I hold the ultimate card in this world when it comes to magically becoming invisible on demand: I am a single, childfree woman over the age of 35. I might as well be wearing an invisibility cloak right now.

Mwa hahahaha!

This is such a weird power move for me. I know exactly what I’m doing by intentionally choosing to eavesdrop on this group of media professionals instead of directly introducing myself.

These are very interesting conversations to overhear. I can’t believe I didn’t tune in sooner. Damn this Russian! Look at him, distracting me from things that are actually important and relevant to my career. The worst.

Just kidding. It’s not interesting at all. They’re just talking about the World Cup. Snooze. Who even uses the word “soccer” on this side of the world?

And to think, I was going to stay at home alone and throw myself a pity party. Now I get to overhear a Hollywood conversation. Lucky me. When in doubt, wear the lucky red scarf. Works every time.

There you have it: it’s my sign from the Universe. Keep working hard and someday your dream will come true, even if the odds seem stacked against you.

Okay, I’m over this now. I’m going to eat some food and watch people for awhile. But I’m not going to act like I’m watching people. I’ve learned the hard way I have to be careful of sitting in observation of people in public like this in Hong Kong. It is what it is.

Have a good night!

UPDATE: At the end of the night, the room cleared out and I was left alone with Mr. Hollywood, Mr. CNN, and what remained of their company. Mr. Hollywood approached me and asked me what I was reading on my iPad. He was very nosy about it because I was on Reddit and shut off my screen before he could see what I was looking at. He asked me why I wouldn’t just admit to being on Reddit when asked.

I said, “It’s because I’m not really on Reddit. I’ve actually been eavesdropping on your conversation the entire night. I’m a writer and an American. We all have a lot in common.”

He smiled at me and told me they’re all journalists. He invited me to join them at the next bar. I said okay, then turned to pay my tab. When I walked outside to meet them, they were all gone. I wasn’t sure where they went because I’d never been to that place before, so I decided to just let it go for now.

If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.

Besides, I am not in the mood tonight. For now, I just want to sit on this bench under this tree and be alone.

Before I left, I asked my bartender friend if she knew him. She said, “Well, he’s just spent $8000 HKD in here, so he must be the Big Boss.”

Called it!

BLOG: Cinco de Drinko

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Wednesday.

Went out with my friend last night for dinner in honor of Cinco de Mayo. We went to a place in Central that was running a “Free Flow” deal on tacos, margs, and Coronas. That means “All You Can Eat and Drink in 90 minutes.” Challenge Accepted.

I ate six tacos (one of every flavor they had) and drank approximately one million margs. Somehow, it did not affect me, probably because I am quite accustomed to partying Latinx style. Back in my NOVA days, we used to play beer pong with solo cups full of Corona and shots of Patron while bumping to reggaeton.

Ahhh, those were the good old days…

My friend, on the other hand, is a serious corporate professional who is not quite as accustomed to putting on a sombrero and throwing back tequila shots like there’s no tomorrow while screaming, “DAME MÁS GASOLINA!” She went out last night looking like Bad Bunny at the Super Bowl and woke up this morning looking like Bad Bunny at the Met Gala. She has now aged 9000 years on the Mayan calendar. She may never physically recover from this.

Oh, we had a grand ole time, though. I’m sure everyone at the restaurant really enjoyed my drunken rendition of “Oye Mi Canto” by Nina Sky that I mastered on my Costa Rica trip back in 2006. That song is such a banger. Their whole playlist was *FIRE!* I couldn’t have chosen better myself.

Anyway, it was fun, and somehow I am magically not hungover. I can’t explain that! Like I said, I guess I just have a lot of experience. I guess you could say I’m a professional.

Yeah, that Russian Guy is really missing out right now. I am The Most Fun. He can suffer all alone in his sad little apartment on his ugly leather couch. He wishes he could watch me put on a sombrero and drunkenly dance around the room to Pitbull. In his dreams! He would be like, “This is too woke for me!” and then go back to all his boring piles of paperwork, or whatever it is he does all day that affords him the opportunity to waste a perfectly good stay at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Hong Kong.

Anyway, forget him. I have to decide if I want to take this Yoga Work Trade opportunity I was offered in Cambodia. I’ve been doing a lot of research. The visa is pretty easy to get and extend. The town itself is very expat-friendly and a surprisingly big yogi haven. There are other opportunities to teach both yoga and English, as well as the option to take the CELTA course in-person for cheap to level up my teaching skillset and boost my CV.

It seems like a good temporary situation to get some more experience under my belt. Then maybe my job hunt will be easier because I have something recent to put on my resume. Plus, it’s Cambodia, and I really, really, really want to go to Cambodia. It’s definitely a challenging situation there, but that’s why I want to go. I’ve studied the history and I want to go.

I can always come back to Hong Kong. As they say, once you’re in, you’re in. And I am definitely in…

It’s hard. I’m caught between my desire for stability and my desire to collect new experiences. I think right now it’s probably better to use the opportunity I have to collect more experiences. I can be stable when I’m 40. Let’s spend the last few years of my 30’s checking off items on my bucket list instead! It’s not like I’m going to get married or have children. I can’t be tamed. No man can tie me down, nor do they want to. They all flee the scene in fear of me once the night is through. It is what it is.

Hmmm… what should I do today while I mull over my decision? Perhaps finish cleaning my apartment since I “took a break” yesterday that led to me sitting in bed watching Netflix for several hours and never finished? Go to an actual yoga class instead of lying in bed doing meditation? Run errands? Watch more Netflix?

Who knows? Let’s find out.

BLOG: Man vs Bear vs Crocodile vs Lion

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Tuesday.

Rainy day. Stayed at home today. I am obsessed with this new instant coffee I bought. Indocafe. So good. Best instant coffee I’ve had in Asia so far, except for that rare mocha brand I got in Thailand once and then never saw ever again. Tragic. Truly tragic.

I need to clean my studio again today. I live in a very tiny little box. Things get disorganized quickly. I am not cleaning, however. I am writing and watching Pretty Woman on Netflix. LOL!

I’m definitely using this movie to measure my date with The Russian. So far, he has failed on multiple accounts. Obviously, there was the bathtub situation. In addition, he did not take me to dinner. He convinced me to skip dinner and go straight to the Red Room with him. How did I allow this man to completely steamroll over my boundaries? Ugh. Can you even believe that shit? How did I let him convince me to skip dinner?

Stingy.

Maybe we thought there would be food at the MO? Then there wasn’t. They gave us some pathetically small snack tray with olives and three cashews and salt & vinegar crisps. Then he wouldn’t let me raid the mini bar. Again, stingy.

What is the point of staying at a luxury hotel if you’re not going to raid the mini bar? Hello! They have room service and champagne and fancy chocolate and a gigantic bathtub with a speciality bath salt & oil mix and extra terry cloth robes and super soft towels.

And now you’re telling me you don’t want to actually take advantage of all of this after luring me in here with the promise of enjoying all of this? Do you even know how to have fun, bro, or do you only know how to suffer?

Ridiculous.

I’m never going to psychologically recover from this date. Ugh. Why did I do this to myself? Oh, right, so I could spend the next three months stewing over it and picking every little detail apart on the page so I would have material to write about on a rainy day.

He said, “Don’t fall in love with me.” He did not say, “Don’t obsess over me and turn me into a literary character.”

Anyway, the hotel room in the movie is actually pretty tacky. Pink carpet in the bathroom? Ew! All of it is just… yikes. Tacky. How much is he paying per night to stay in that penthouse suite? And it looks like that? I would change hotels right away, especially if I caught the staff talking about me like that.

That pink carpet is so distracting. It’s like… it’s trying to go for the “Oriental” theme, but the pink carpet is just… it’s so distracting. It doesn’t look right at all. Why? Can you even imagine how gross that carpet is? I can’t focus on anything else in this movie right now.

Hates it! Good balcony, tho. Love a good balcony. Essential real estate wishlist item.

There’s also a gigantic reddish pink velvet couch that matches the carpet. Oh my god! It’s awful. This is the perfect distraction right now. I literally can’t even.

Don’t even get me started on the outfits. I can’t. I just can’t.

I am also distracted by the fact that Julia Roberts has been living with this guy at a fancy hotel, presumably with a spa, for an entire week and still hasn’t had her eyebrows waxed. Was that just the style back then? Or is that done on purpose to show she’s low-class? Girl, what is you doing? Go get those cleaned up. Just put it on his tab!

LOL at these blue velvet drum chairs at the bar. What is this room? Why is the bedroom powder pink with pink bedding that matches the couch and the carpet?

Oh, I’m not watching this movie at all. I am fully focused on the hotel decor in the background. It’s definitely giving “Mandarin Oriental x Barbie” LOL. I think maybe this guy really did watch this movie on the plane…

I’m pretty sure all of the furniture came from Hong Kong. I see tables and chairs like that in store fronts all the time. That is definitely the style. The plants, the paintings, the lamps, the vases, the cabinets, all of it. It’s all Hong Kong. Wild.

I looked up the filming locations. It says the hotel lobby and exterior are from the Regent Beverly Wilshire in Beverly Hills and the hotel room is a set. That explains everything.

Aww, they’re so cute together.

Anyway, I also re-watched 365 Days the other night, which was hilarious. I laughed the entire time. That movie is just really funny. I don’t know why. It’s probably because the first I watched it, I was on magic mushrooms. Now I just laugh at how absurd it is. Like when they go down into the dungeon where he has that big portrait of himself with the lion head. I just laugh at that image alone for like 20 minutes. Men are so ridiculous! I think it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Like, who does that?

I have so many questions. First and most important: was this a commission? Is it a photograph? Is it a painting? Did he sit for that portrait? Was there a live lion there with him at the time? Was it added in later at his request? Was that part of the original concept? Did he come up with that idea all by himself? Was it a suggestion? Even worse, was it a gift from someone else?

Do you think The Russian has a giant picture of himself wrestling a lion on his wall? Maybe. He might. Those guys do stuff like that. That’s why Vladimir Putin is always posting pictures of himself fighting lions and tigers and bears, oh my! The whole point is to show off how big and strong and manly they are.

Do you think my Russian has ever wrestled a bear? He is very tall and I found his Hyrox stats on Google. I think he could probably take on a bear. I have full confidence he would win. No problem. I would watch this fight on TV.

He’s really missing out right now by not reading this, don’t you think? He’s giving new life to our Feminist Man vs. Bear debate. I pose to you a new question: why not both?

Hey, wait, didn’t I say I wanted a guy on my Island who could wrestle a crocodile? Yes! Yes, I did say that! And whadayaknow? Along comes this Russian guy who actually does literally have a photograph of himself on his Facebook sitting on top of a crocodile with a harness, riding it as if it is a horse. This is real. I am not making this up. He really did wrestle the crocodile into submission.

Okay, I guess I don’t need an Aussie guy anymore. My Island is complete after all. In hindsight, I do think a Russian is better. They’re pretty tough. They know how to survive the Siberian winters. Very useful skillset, as I learned when I lived in the frozen tundra that is South Dakota.

I’m sure he would appreciate the fact that I actually took the time look over his CV and evaluate his skillset before going out on a real date with him. I didn’t “cancel him for being a big strong alpha male.” I gave him a real chance. Mostly because he fulfills the following very shallow list of requirements:

—Must be able to wrestle large, wild, exotic animals.

—Must be able to drive a motorcycle. You know, in case we need to make a quick escape from said large, wild, exotic animals.

—Must be able to afford a stay in 5-star luxury hotels once we have left the dangers of the jungle behind us on the motorcycle.

—Must look good in a leather jacket while doing it all.

Grand.

Yes, yes, I see how this all unfolded now. The heart wants what it wants. Sometimes the universe puts it in front of us, only to snatch it away again. Such is the lesson of the Russian: life is pain and sadness and cold. Love is temporary. Pain is forever. That is why we drink all the pain away, preferably with vodka. The end.

Hahahahaha!

Oh, I live for this. I could do this all day. Let’s see what they have on Netflix for Russian Love Stories, LOL! Spoiler Alert: They all end with someone dead in the snow and their lover left all alone in the cold.

Ugh, the algorithm didn’t give me anything. Netflix search is so useless lately. You can type in literally anything and it will give you the same 10 movies it’s already recommending on the main feed. Why am I paying so much money for this?

Alas, there is nothing to feed the obsession. I have no choice but to abandon this post and tidy up my studio. I see what they did there. Pain. More pain. All pain. Everything in this life is pain. Whyyyyy!!!!

All of this is just to distract me from reality right now. I was waitlisted for the professional conference I applied for here in HK, but offered a work-trade yoga gig in Cambodia, of all the places. It is not “paid,” but it does come with my own tiny house, two meals a day, a doggo friend, a scooter to ride to the yoga studio, and an exciting adventure in a brand new place I’ve never been to before.

So now I have a decision to make. Take a gamble and stay in HK, or pack my bags and head out on my own solo jungle adventure?

Hmmm… what to do, what to do?

Decisions, decisions.

The only decision I’m making right now is the decision to have a snack. I’m not eating enough, I know it. I need something more substantial than crackers and cheese, lol.

Off now. Hope you enjoyed this post. Have a nice day!

BLOG: Immigrant Life

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Monday. Here we are, back at the cafe. The barista said I was late today and asked me if I’m hungover after partying over the holiday weekend. Unfortunately, I am not hungover, but I think I would prefer to be over what I was actually doing this morning that caused me to be late: paperwork.

Sometimes people will find out I’m American and ask me what my opinion is about immigration. My opinion is that I immigrated to another country so I could get the hell away from America. It is what it is.

There’s a lot of paperwork involved. It sucks, but it’s worth it. At least, I hope it will be. What I’ve learned from all of this is that if I ever get married, I need to find someone who knows how to do the paperwork and isn’t afraid to tackle it all head-on. If he can’t do the paperwork, he’s not the one for me.

Speaking of potential husbands… there’s a hot GAA player at 10:00 with a Celtic tribal armband tattoo. Hardcore. Very Braveheart. Love it. I really get the vibe this guy is going to sweep me up in his big strong arms and rescue me from the English.

Excuse me, sir? Can I potentially schedule a time with you later to watch you take your shirt off? Grand. I just want to see any other Celtic-inspired tattoos you have that perhaps cannot be seen. You know, for academic research purposes only, of course.

Amazing how I have the confidence to charm the pants off a random beefcake, but not the confidence to properly take on the job market. Two completely different beasts.

Picking up men is generally pretty easy. I don’t actually have to try. These guys are all coming to me. Getting a job, on the other hand, is generally much harder. I suppose the solution is the same either way: develop the deluded level of confidence exclusively possessed by mediocre white guys and go after what you want.

Easier said than done.

Okay, Betsey, just pretend the job market is some random hot guy in a bar with a sexy accent and just go for it!

Do we need another hike to the top of the Peak? I think we need another hike to the top of the Peak. Get that motivation level up. Come on, Betsey. You can do it. You got this far. You’ve already metaphorically made it to The Tower. Old Peak Road is behind you now. This is the part where you get to cruise around in a circle on flat ground for an hour. Enjoy it! Don’t stress. Just make it happen.

No pressure or anything, of course.

My problem is my own perception of my worth and capabilities. Obviously I am a very intelligent, confident person. I mean, Jesus, how many people have you actually met in your life who just woke up one day and moved to Hong Kong? Not many, I imagine. Yet, here I am. I did it and I’m here. That’s pretty fucking impressive.

That should be enough on its own, but it’s not. Probably because my family acts like I’ve committed a crime against humanity by doing what I’ve always said I wanted to do for as long as I can remember: move to the opposite side of the planet to get as far away from them as humanly possible. It’s hard to recognize your own success and be proud of yourself when everyone in your life actively punishes you every time you do anything in alignment with your true self.

Anyway, forget them. This is Hong Kong. Everyone here lives to serve the Highly Controlled Family System. How many Asian people do you know who get to live their lives the way they actually want to, especially if they are immigrants in the US? Not many. The choices are: doctor, lawyer, accountant, engineer, CEO. That’s it. You get to pick one. You don’t get to be a writer or actor or comedian unless you’re really, really, really lucky. I am not alone in my struggle. In fact, I am just one of many BILLIONS who struggles with their desire to please their very traditional family and their desire to live a life true to themselves.

It is what it is.

I am not alone!

So get over and quit whining and get back to that job hunt.

Right, got it.

No more whining.

The next time I start whining, my Irish ancestors are going to send the faeries to kidnap me in the Dream Realm and force me to spend the whole night slaving away down by the docks. Here’s your reality check, Betsey. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Ugh.

I suppose if I had to choose one of those options, it would be lawyer. I would make a pretty good lawyer. I’m very good at arguing. Plus, genetics. My dad is the one who actually steered me away from law school in favor of being a penniless, perpetually unemployed writer who never leaves home. Thanks for nothing, dad. It’s very clear in hindsight that you all conspired to ruin my life so you would always a have a free, live-in helper to clean your house and take care of your other kids and pets. Awesome. Thanks again! This has served me so well in life.

Honestly, I think he was just a narcissist who could not understand his family outside of his personal utility. He was the main character and we all just exist to serve his needs. It doesn’t matter what the rest of us want or need. We are just little dolls to be trotted out in public and propped up as accessories whenever need be. Just smile for the photo and pretend everything is perfect even though you’re dying inside. Let’s just say I relate a little too well to Kate Winslet trying to jump off the ship at the beginning of Titanic.

Sometimes I ask myself: Am I actually a real writer, or am I only doing this because it was my only option after my parents decided to lock me up in the house forever and never allow me to leave? It’s not like I’ve ever had the opportunity to explore any other options. Everything was always chosen for me. No wonder I have no idea who the fuck I am at age 37.

Well, I suppose I have to be a real writer now. I’ve come this far. Can’t just abandon it now. Plus, I don’t think I could stop if I tried. I had the worst writer’s block during the pandemic and it was literally PAINFUL. It was PAINFUL! It hurt so much inside to stare at that blank page for hours, tortured by the lack of inspiration, forced into resurrecting Andrew over and over again because I had no other material to work with.

It’s soooooo much easier to write every day now that I live in Asia. Every day I wake up and write. Just like that. Endless material. Something new and different every day. So many amazing, unique characters. I love my characters. I love all of the people I’ve met over here, even the people I don’t actually like. I love writing, they inspire to write simply by existing as themselves, therefore I love them.

I think I’ll be okay. I’ve done my ancestry research. I come from a long line of people who were brave enough to leave the only world they knew behind to get on a boat and sail off into the sunset in search of better opportunities. If all of them can do it, so can I.

So can I…

BLOG: The Cure for Loneliness

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Sunday afternoon. Chillin’ in my apartment on a rainy day. There is something very cozy about rainy days in Hong Kong. The thunder is rolling in, the lightning is flashing, the rain is pounding against the pavement, the streets are slowly filling up with water and flooding. It’s the perfect day to stay inside and cozy up with a cup of tea and Netflix.

I feel much better after this weekend. I was very depressed last week. However, I went out and socialized. Hung out with my neighbor on the rooftop on Friday, went out for dinner with my girl friend last night, had brunch with my Irish friend today. Chatted with my best friend on Instagram. It turns out the cure for loneliness is, in fact, friendship!

My friend and I went to a Lebanese restaurant last night for dinner. The food was delicious! I love Lebanese. My friend is a great person to go out to eat with because she has strong opinions about the subject of food. As a foodie, I personally feel this is the best kind of friend to have.

I asked her if she wanted to go to this French place I’ve been dying to try. She said, “No, I want Lebanese.” I sent her suggestions for four different restaurants. She sent me a voice note back with strong opinions about all of them. The one she chose was really good. I officially trust her judgement on this matter.

We went to the French place afterward for dessert and drinks. They have the most fabulous patio! The design of the whole place was soooooooo Parisian! It was straight outta France! The best part was that all of the waiters were extremely good-looking men. All of them. They were wearing the little suits and everything. It was incredible. I was really hoping they would all form a kickline and break out into a Beauty and the Beast style musical number.

After they closed, we walked down to the 7-11 on Peel Street to pick up some cigs and sat outside watching the crowd. At that point, it was about 1am, so everyone was pretty messy. The crowd was mostly skewing very young. Big “spring semester internship abroad” energy, if you know what I’m saying. More fun to watch from afar than be part of. I was watching a live feed of the crowd on Peel Street last weekend and thinking I was missing out on a vital Hong Kong experience. Now I know it’s just the Hong Kong version of Char Thirty, lol.

This morning, I went out to brunch with my Irish friend. He’s pretty chill. I don’t know how to explain the vibe there. It’s very… familiar. It’s like hanging around with a cousin. I am learning a lot from him. Brunch vibes. It’s definitely the same feeling that I felt when I was with my Irish Family in Bangkok. Friends come in all forms. That’s one of the lessons I’m learning here in SEA.

He asked me how I was feeling about The Russian. I said it was still bothering me a lot. He said, “You must have really liked him.” No, I did not, actually. Somehow I remain frustrated about the entire situation. I think maybe what both of us really wanted was an actual emotional connection and it just wasn’t possible in that specific situation, so it’s just upsetting me and annoying me that I did that when I should have just held out for something deeper and more meaningful. It’s less about the man himself and more about my frustration with the entire situation.

We changed the subject after that. He was telling me about the trip he took to Hanoi, Vietnam. He stayed in this old French colonial palace. Sooo jealous. I want to go to Vietnam so bad. Everyone just raves about it! But I have to wait. I need to get my career shit together. No more running off on adventures until I get my job/career/income situation together. Once I have income and stability, I can run off to Vietnam or Cambodia later.

As I am constantly reminding myself every day, I did not just come to Hong Kong on a whim. My life dream has always been to live in a big international city and have a successful career and live in a fabulous apartment. I am here now. I can succeed at this if I just give it the old college try. I can do this. I have friends who are supporting me on my journey. I can ask for help whenever I need it. It’s going to be okay.

I can do this.

I think it’s really easy for me to fall down into a pit of despair and spiral into anxiety mode. I’m grateful that I had so many friends around me this weekend to raise me back up and knock some sense back into my head. I think the biggest lesson I’m learning as an Expat is that we are never really alone. We all have to be there for each other and support each other. I’m not the only one who experiences these feelings of sadness and loneliness or being lost and faraway from home. There’s a whole community. I can’t be afraid to put myself out there and be part of it just because I’ve had a few weird interactions. There will always be some who to help you out when you need it.

After this weekend, I felt a sense of renewed hope. I’ve just been feeling so down. Now it’s like… okay, I can do this. They call it the Hong Kong Hustle for a reason. Get up off your ass and work!

Going to make a cup of tea and re-watch Eat Pray Love for the billionth time now. The main character is really annoying, but I’ve noticed over several re-watches that she’s sort of written in a way that makes it easy to project yourself onto the character and imagine your own journey unfolding across Italy, India, and Bali instead.

I remember I used to watch it and just dream and dream and dream of traveling. I could have never, ever have conceived of myself going to India or Bali, but now I’ve been to both. Now I live in fricking Hong Kong! And before that, I was living in Thailand! Amazing! I am doing The Thing. I am doing The Eat Pray Love Thing. Go me!

Maybe not every day is a good day, but all that matters is that I did it. I’ve done it. I’m out here doing it. I am Living the Dream. Now let’s keep the dream alive and find ourselves an income!

We’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, it’s time to curl up in my blanket with a tea and enjoy reflecting upon my journey.

Happy Sunday!

BLOG: Rooftop Rumble

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Here we are. Saturday morning. Up on my rooftop, which is unusual for me. I had to come here to clean up the mess I made last night, so I decided to stay for a coffee, a smoke, and a blog.

Somehow still fully intact after I ran into Hot Neighbor Guy on the roof last night. He had already been out, so he was very drunk, and very chatty, and very friendly. He wanted to show me the trailer for the new movie he’s in that just came out yesterday. Turns out he’s an Actor AND Athlete, and that’s why he’s such a sexy beefcake!

Dear god, help us all.

Not what I expected, tbh. I thought he was some kind of day-trader or something and that’s why he keeps such strange hours. Wrong. As he said to me last night, “Just because I’m from Hong Kong doesn’t mean I work in Finance. Not everyone here is born with a pile of money in their hands and an investment account automatically set up for them.”

Oh yeah, just like how not everyone in the UAE owns a private jet, right?

LOL.

He told me he gets nervous around me because I’m a writer. He said, “I’m always careful about what I say around you because I know you’re going to go write everything I say down for later. Every time I walk away from you think I think to myself that I’ve said too much or said the wrong thing and I wonder how I’m going to look on the page.”

Hmm… he’s good. He must have some sort of prior experience with this. Oh really, an Actor is concerned about how his character will appear on the page? You don’t say.

I said, “Yes, I have written about you. I wrote ‘Dear Diary, My neighbor is sooooooooo hot! He is such a sexy beefcake! He has the cutest little British accent. I have such a big fat crush on him!’”

He just laughed at me and said, “You didn’t really write that!”

Oh, but I did.

Then he told me that I’m cool and he likes me, but I need to chill out because I’m too angry and high-strung all the time. He suggested I go to a rave-themed junk boat party to level myself out. LOL, okay.

Uh, sure, yeah, I’d love to pay $1000 HKD (~$128 USD) to go drink and do drugs with strangers in a place I can’t escape from for at least seven hours. That sounds like so much fun. I’m sure that would totally chill me out and not be a potentially traumatic event that could go horribly, horribly wrong, especially with my mental health history.

…

Okay, I’ll think about it, but I’m taking this guy with me. I’m not getting on any boats or going to any parties alone. I said as much to him and he said, “Okay, I know a good bar around the corner. My buddy is the manager there. I’ll take you to the neighborhood spot and introduce you to some people.”

He continued his brutally honest monologue full of hot takes, delivering the bad news to me with extreme levels of politeness, as only a British person can:

“You need to be more direct and ask for what you want. You can’t just stomp around screaming and passive-aggressively demanding things. I heard you ranting about me one time and I thought to myself, ‘Why didn’t you just come knock on the door and politely introduce yourself? I would have helped you out. I’m a friendly guy.’ But you didn’t do that. It was so strange. What is wrong with you? Were you always like this? Usually Americans are much nicer and more straightforward than this.”

Siiiiiiiiiigh.

I have forgotten how to communicate in a polite, direct manner. I definitely need a British person to teach me how to do that again. I think the snappy, hostile, passive-aggressive, indirectness of South Dakota has rubbed off on me too much. My family also does not communicate directly. Nobody in my life communicates directly. If I communicate directly to people, they usually shut down or stop communication or run away. Clearly I need a new tactic.

He continued on: “What are you even doing here anyway? You can literally do anything you want to do here. Anything in the world. Your view is so limited. You need to get out and be around more people. I don’t think you know what Hong Kong is really like.”

Okay, teach me your ways, Master Yoda. Let’s pre-game at your friend’s place and hop on this junk boat. Show me The Real Hong Kong!

He imparted me with some advice for job hunting that I had never thought of before. Then he reminded me to knock on his door and ask him politely for whatever I need and he will do his best to assist me. He followed this up by going down to his apartment and bringing me back a little stuffed animal he won at a fair or got out of a vending machine or something.

I know what you’re thinking : does this guy have a girlfriend?

Well… first he referred to her as “the missus.” Then he said she’s “not his girlfriend, just a girl he’s seeing.” LOL, okay. Then he explained that he doesn’t want to bring her over here because he doesn’t want her to see how shitty his apartment is.

Uh huh… We’ve all heard this shit before. A likely tale. One minute, he’s saying she’s not his girlfriend, the next minute you find out they’re married and have a baby together. How many times has this happened to me now? I’ve lost count.

Anyway, it’s good I ran into him. We were hanging out for quite awhile. He definitely cheered me up. His energy was much brighter and happier than usual.

Truth be told, I was feeling pretty down last night. Very lonely, very depressed. Also still stewing over The Russian, which is not good. I’m just replaying the highlight reel of moments where I went wrong so I don’t fall for that same shit next time.

Seriously, that Russian guy just needs to call the number in the executive escort ad at the back of the in-flight magazine and leave normal everyday women like me alone. Ridiculous. Pretty sure at a place like the Mandarin Oriental, you can just call ahead and they’ll arrange it for you. They’ll have a whole line of girls lined up waiting for you when you arrive! Why do you have to leave the hotel and go out in public and bother women like me, who are busy trying to write articles about real, serious things like Art Basel? You can’t just pick me up and carry me out of the bar and hold me hostage at a luxury hotel for two days! You have to actually pay someone for that service! So pay someone for that fucking service! You know why you’re paying them for that service? So that they will LEAVE! So they will be discreet and disappear once you’re gone. Not me. I’m not going to leave and disappear just like that! You don’t get off that easily! I’m gonna be a pain in your ass! And screw you for even thinking for one second that it’s even remotely acceptable for you to treat a Lady in this undignified manner!

So annoying!

I’ve had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!

“You should forget about that Russian Guy,” my neighbor said. “You don’t want to get involved with him, trust me. Nothing good comes from dealing with the Russians.”

SO. TRUE! That’s why I called the story “Sleeping with the Enemy.”

Anyway, what was I talking about again? Oh yes, my Island of Lost Guys. What a truly ridiculous place this is.

It’s okay. Now I have a leading actor to cast for the role of Andrew when the time comes. I’m sure the real person Andrew is based on will be thrilled to see himself played by a hot sexy beefcake imitating a slightly-off Minnesota accent. Not sure he can pull off the red plaid flannel shirt and beanie cap as well, tbh…

And that’s the story of how I befriended my neighbor. Chill, platonic vibes, for certain. Show me the Island, friend! Take me to a real party! Introduce me to some real people. Teach me how to be properly Britishly snobby instead of messy emotional trainwreck! Let’s go!

For now, I need to go get brunch. I need brunch friends. Bottomless mimosa and avocado toast friends. Girl talk and LOL friends. There’s only so many times one can watch Sex and the City repeats before they think to themselves, “I want that.”

I definitely need a Bloody Mary and avocado toast today. Ughh…