Tag: Hong Kong

BLOG: I Need New Friends

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Wednesday.

It’s been a rough week. Both of the people I invited out for 4th of July bailed on me. So annoying!

I’m kind of over my one friend. We only ever seem to do whatever she wants to do. When it’s something I want to do, she either tries to get me to go somewhere else or she just bails. Then we end up doing exactly what I didn’t want to do, which is go out to a random bar and drink. Then she says all I ever want to do is drink at bars.

Like, actually, no. I wanted to go to brunch somewhere with a nice view of the harbor and a healthy menu. I wanted to go to Aerial Yoga. I wanted to go to a wine tasting. I wanted to go to a midnight painting session at the art studio around the corner. I wanted to go to HK Sevens. I wanted to go to Reggae Fest. I wanted to go to the Latin Carnival. I wanted to go to Quiz Night at the new expat club I joined. I wanted to go to Macau. I wanted to go to a junk boat party. I wanted to go to Lantau Island and go to the beach and ride on the air tram thingy. I wanted to go for real New York-style pizza before the stand-up comedy open mic so we could get into the right headspace.

You did not want to do any of those things. You cancelled on me, then hit me up way late to go get drinks at the bar and talk to random men. Then you complain about how that’s all I ever want to do? What is that? I get that you’ve been here forever and you’ve done all the things, but it’s weird that you complain about me never leaving Central when you’re the one who bails on me every single time I try to leave Central.

She is ten years younger than me, btw. It’s starting to get a little annoying. It is like she is in the beginning stages of the epic journey I went on at her age to find myself, which is great. The problem is that I’ve already been on that journey for ten years. I’m not trying to be someone’s free spiritual advisor. I’m trying to find someone on my level who wants to go out and do interesting shit. Instead, this person is constantly canceling on the fun stuff, then dragging me right back into the same scenery I’ve been trying to escape, all while simultaneously judging me for being there in the first place.

It’s giving big sister-little sister energy. I think sometimes maybe I am doing it because my little sister is out of the picture at the moment. She is dating some old creep and refuses to speak to me because she thinks she knows more about life than I do. I wish she would come to me with questions about this kind of stuff, but she doesn’t. She’s just mean to me, like everyone else in my family is. So yeah, probably subconsciously ended up hanging out with this chick because of that. It’s just like… meh. I really would rather go to a boat party or lay on a beach all day. I don’t get the judging, making alternative plans, bailing on said plans, then judging me again. It’s starting to get weird. It’s been long enough that a pattern has been established, and I just… don’t like the pattern I am seeing. I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone, not stay in it.

The other person who is acting ridiculous is my neighbor. He has gone full diva mode on me. I have no idea what happened. After his meltdown the Saturday night before, he proceeded to have another meltdown at me on the 4th of July. This time it was on Instagram, which he blocked me on shortly thereafter.

What are we fighting over? I have no idea. He’s being super judgy of me and yelling at me about how I need to fix my life. Meanwhile, he barely tells me anything about himself, then he randomly explodes at me via IG messenger about his personal issues that I didn’t know he had, then accuses me of judging him when in reality I was not judging him at all.

He’s the one who is British! They can’t help themselves. They are just naturally judgy and condescending like that. Like, I get it. He looked at me and saw a mess. He literally could not help himself. He had to try to sort out the mess. This is their way. This is what they do. I get it! And me being American, I just accept him for what he is and say, “I support your right to be whoever the fuck you want to be, and if this is it, then by god man, I will let you be this next-level Diva who hides out in his trailer all day long, Mr. Actor Extraordinaire!”

I guess I’m not really sure what happened over there. I actually was listening to him and taking most of his advice. I thought of him as a trustworthy, platonic friend. So yeah, I don’t know why he lost his shit at me and accused me of not listening to him. Maybe he has a new girlfriend or something and needed to make up some bullshit reason to stop talking to me. Yeah, that’s probably it. Otherwise, his behavior makes zero sense whatsoever. There’s probably a girl involved. There’s always another girl involved. Why wouldn’t there be another girl involved? Ha.

I need new friends. Ugh.

Is the social thing going well? No. Is the job thing going well? Also no. But is the writing going well? Actually yes, yes it is. I finally found a plot to go with my Russian! A real plot. A good, juicy thriller plot! A plot which involves shady dealings in Hong Kong and friends who appear to be enemies and enemies who appear to be friends and the international trafficking of illegal things and yassss it’s so good!

He would like it. He gets to be the good guy. I know deep in my heart that’s what he would want. At first he seems like the bad guy because he’s Russian and I’m not woke enough to understand that not all Russians are cartoon villains from Ye Olde Red Scare Era. But as the movie goes on, we find out he’s actually the good guy, and it’s the British guy pretending to be my concerned friend who is actually the bad guy!

And then they have sex in the high-rise! Bow chicka wow wow! Somebody give me an Oscar! I’ve already got my speech prepared! Wait, not really sure which one I’m talking about there. Maybe both? Probably not at the same time though. Not sure the Eiffel Tower needs to make a cameo in this picture. But, you know, we have time. Maybe it still could! Maybe they go to the Paris in Macau and…

Bahahahahahahahahaha!

I’m totally kidding. The joke was there. The opportunity presented itself and I took it. What do you want from me? Sometimes I make jokes just for me!

See? I got it. It just took me some time to get there. I really had to suffer for it first. As is the Russian Way…

Speaking of suffering, I had to suffer through another meeting with this random Irish guy I met a few months ago. He is ridiculous. Dude is married, obviously, which I’m so tired of. He is not happy in this marriage, as is evidenced by the fact that he literally took a job in Hong Kong to escape from it. Now he thinks he is in love with me because I let him dish out his whole Irish Spring Soap Opera of a life story to me while drunk. Sigh.

I had to sit there the other day and explain to him that he is not in love with me. He is avoiding an inevitable confrontation with his wife and using all manner of things to do it. He’s trying to use me as an excuse to kick the can further down the road, and I am not here for it. I am not interested in him, like, at all. The story… sure. Yes. Here for it. Him, himself? No. Not even a little.

I told him again I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to spend time together anymore. I do not return these imaginary feelings he has invented because he doesn’t want to deal with reality. I’ve been through this before. I’m over it. I’m tired. I just want to meet a guy who isn’t married or constantly lying and cheating or randomly melting down at me or planning to disappear after sticking their dick inside me one whole time. Impossible, I know. A woman can dream.

Like I just said, I need new friends. In the meantime, I’ll continue indulging in all the free entertainment this city has to offer in the form of crazy expats and their lifestyles of the bougie and unhinged. Ridiculous. At least I am deriving inspiration from it…

One good thing that came out of this past week: my grandmother called me. At first I was hesitant to pick up the phone, as I have not spoken to her since December and it did not go well. Still, I picked up the phone, mostly out of obligation and guilt. Much to my surprise, the conversation went much better than it has in many years. There was an element of respect there that was not there before. Like, “Oh, okay, you lasted the whole year out in Asia. You’ve survived 7 months on your own in Hong Kong. Maybe there is something there none of us knew about you before because we were too busy trying to control you to actually give you a chance to explore your own identity.”

Maybe! Who knew?!

Shock and awe!

Anyway, at least I am getting something done, even if it isn’t in-line with more traditional paths. I’ve decided not to worry about it. The Law of Attraction will take care of the job thing. I trust the universe to deliver the right employment situation for ME. That situation is clearly not F & B, retail, or teaching yoga/English. I do not know what it is, but a stable source of income is well on its way to me! I trust in the process. I just have to file the papers to get me there.

Alright, it’s about noon, so it’s time to run off and do any of the other 12 million things on my To Do list. May your day be better than mine!

BLOG: Wild Wednesday

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Thursday night.

At the pizza place. Not eating pizza for once.

I am actually on my way to a stand-up comedy open mic that this random Irish guy invited me to last night. I don’t know if I will actually get up there and do a set. I just feel like I should go and do a vibe check. I did prepare some material just in case I do get brave. We’ll see what happens.

Otherwise, last night was ridiculous, as per usual. Yesterday in general was pretty bad for me. My friend and I made plans to go to the beach, but she cancelled, which was really disappointing to me. I didn’t want to go alone, so I stayed home and watched The Darjeeling Limited again and cried about my Dead Daddy Issues. What a great way to spend a holiday! LOL!

I thought maybe it was better to sit with the grief for once instead of trying to drown it out with substances. Painful but necessary.

After a very long nap, I woke up and decided to go out instead of staying home and feeling sorry for myself. I went up to the Secret Society, which was DEAD AF! It was awesome. I was sitting there writing, keeping to myself, enjoying the fact that the playlist on deck was literally all of my mix CDs from when I was a teenager, and that’s when it happened.

Some random older man came in, looked right at me, sat down next to me, and immediately started talking to me. Ugh. First he tried to guess where I’m from. He guessed every country except the US before finally deciding I was Polish. He said he couldn’t figure me out because I wear Pumas and heavy winged eyeliner like they do in the Middle East? Whatever. Finally, I revealed I was American. Then he tried to guess what part of the US I’m from. Then he tried to guess my age. I just sat there messing with him for awhile. It was funny!

He told me he’s from Denmark. Some kind of shipping magnate or something. He didn’t say exactly what he does. I don’t really care anyway. We chatted for awhile about Brazil, which was a pleasant surprise. Then he asked me to come home with him to his gigantic two-story apartment up in the Mid-Levels. He was like, “I promise we’ll just hang out in the kitchen and drink wine.”

Obviously, I said no. As soon as I said no, he was like, “You’re so angry! Why are you angry?” IDK because I was just crying over my dead dad all day and now some creepy old man is trying to lure me back to his apartment so he can Weinstein me? Gee, I wonder!

He followed me on Instagram and the first thing I saw on his page were pictures of his wife and children. Like… really confused about your plan right now, bro. Do you keep your family on the first floor and you mistresses on the first floor? What is happening here?

It gets worse. He wanted my WhatsApp number and when I looked at his picture, he was using a picture of himself from when he was 22! This man is in his 50’s! He has white hair and a giant beer belly! That is literally catfishing! I just can’t with these men and their delusions. How do you even take yourself seriously right now?

Insanity.

Finally, he left, so I went back down the escalator to the Cantina to visit my friend as she closed down the bar. After a brief chat, I set off to walk home. This is when the night finally got interesting.

As I was walking home, I passed the corner bar on Peel Street and saw my favourite “Auntie” standing out front. Everyone knows this lady. I don’t know exactly what she “does.” I always see her working in different places along the escalator. After last night, I’m officially convinced she is some kind of local Gangster Boss who keeps the neighborhood bar scene in line. I love it. Low-key obsessed. Legendary.

I chatted with her for a bit. She got me a beer and went off to do her business, whatever that may be. Right at that moment, a very tall, sexy Aussie beefcake walked across the street, looked at me, looked at her, and immediately came inside to say hello to her and introduce himself to me.

Naturally, the first question I asked him was, “So, you are Aussie, huh? Can you wrestle a crocodile?”

He laughed at me and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Actually, I can,” he said.

“Great, then you can definitely handle me!”

He kept laughing at me. He thought I was a riot! We sat for a bit talking and then two Irishmen came into the bar. They knew the Aussie, so we all started talking together. They invited us to go to another bar to watch whatever World Cup game was on TV, so we followed them to the next location. Keep in mind it was like… 1am at this point.

So we get there and everyone is all into their soccer. I don’t personally give a fuck about soccer. I just like the part at the end when they score the winning goal and take their shirts off and run around the field. What can I say? Objectifying beautiful men is its own sport.

I just watched the room instead. There were three die-hard DRC fans wearing jerseys, singing the Congolese National Anthem in French. Lots of people who were there specifically to see England lose and a handful of people who were there to see England win. I guess England won? I don’t really care.

The Aussie guy ordered a beer, didn’t drink any of it, and then just got up and left the table to disappear into the night. Guess he didn’t want to wrestle this crocodile after all.

I started chatting with the Irishmen instead. They told me the place where I traced my Irish ancestry to (County Cavan) is known as the biggest shithole in all of Ireland. I said, “Well, that’s why my family got on a boat and left.” They thought that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

As it turns out, one of them does stand-up comedy. He invited me to a comedy open mic night he is hosting in my neighborhood tonight. My friend was THRILLED! She has been pushing me to do it for MONTHS! I don’t know if I will do it. I’m just going for the vibe check.

I prepared something just in case. It’s my “Six Nations” routine, lol. I don’t think it will fit into 3 minutes though. I don’t even know what I could fit into three minutes. That’s why I’m just going to watch for now. I gotta watch how they do it so I can learn. TV comedy specials are great, but you’re seeing a professional, polished product. You’re not seeing them at amateur hour working the crowd and testing out material. That’s where the real learning happens.

Anyway, I used the incident to tell my neighbor to go fuck himself. Like, see? I do more than just get drunk and make out with random guys in elevators! He’s just jealous that he is not one of the guys in the elevator with me. That’s on him.

I still invited him to the 4th of July party in spite of his weird behavior last Saturday night. He doesn’t know I plan on imitating his British accent all night and calling him a “dirty old bird.” I don’t even know what that means. I just saw it in an old British movie this week and now I’m going to call him that forever. Just a bit o’ cheeky banter. Nothing serious. Just gotta give it back to him.

We’ll see if he doesn’t chicken out on 4th of July. In the meantime, I am off to the comedy club now. Let’s see what happens!

Ugh, I know, my site has been offline for two weeks. I need to get back on there and fix it up. I’m all out of sorts right now. It’s just like… ugh.

Okay, okay, I really have to go now. Will update on how it went tomorrow. Ta ta!

BLOG: Black Narcissus

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Taco Tuesday.

I am not in a good writing habit lately. My routine has been messed up since I got back from Macau. I haven’t been going to the coffee shop at all. Instead I’ve been spending the morning doing yoga and meditating on the rooftop with a side of instant coffee. So not bad, just not writing.

I decided to shut down my Facebook again. Why? Because I hate it. Also, I happen to be in possession of a video taken of myself in Bangkok without my knowledge or consent by some jerk wearing Meta Glasses. We were just at dinner at some random place with another friend, but it doesn’t matter. It’s still creepy, weird, and gross. Also, I know for a fact that guy was out filming other situations that night that he should not have been filming. The people he was filming definitely were not aware of what he was doing at all.

Fuck that gross, creepy shit. I’m just so over it. I’ve never liked Facebook anyway. It’s just causes problems I don’t need in my life anymore. So, we are done now. IG and WhatsApp are much harder to let go of, of course, but neither are Facebook, which is what I really care about.

Otherwise, I had a much better day today than I’ve been having all weekend. I meditated for a really long time this morning and gave my mat a nice scrub down. Then I just sort of sat in my apartment calmly and quietly for awhile.

For some reason I had the random urge to watch an old movie called Black Narcissus. No idea where the fuck this came from. In case you don’t know, it’s a movie about a group of nuns who attempt to set up a convent in the Himalayan Mountains. It was all filmed in Pinewood Studios, which is in England. No one ever set foot in India for this movie. Yet somehow… so beautiful. The cinematography is just stunning!

The movie was pretty entertaining. As someone who has been to India, it was fun to watch them all slowly melt down in real time. Like, girl, been there! LOL!

My favourite was the nun who was so inspired by the views she forgot to plant the vegetable garden and planted a bunch of beautiful flowers instead. I was like, “Welcome to the Yoga Lifestyle.”

My second favourite was the Guru sitting on the mountaintop. Love that for him! What a sage! I would offer him a wreath of flowers, for sure.

Also loved the British dude who went Native and spent the whole movie wandering around in shorts and a scarecrow cap. The funny part was that I saw some random meme on Instagram the other day about advertisements for “Military Shorts.” I was like… wtf? Then I watched this movie and I was like, “Oh.”

Cool story, bro! Can you tell it again? Do you have time?

So I sat on that one for awhile, then decided to see if there was anything on the news besides Dump TV. Much to my surprise, Al Jazeera English was running a special feature on Native Americans going up against ICE in Minnesota.

It was grand until all of sudden we’re back on Pine Ridge, right at Wounded Knee. At least we were in the better part of South Dakota, but still… I was caught off-guard because I was trying to avoid letting my mind wander back there today. And yet… there I was… standing right back at the mass grave, right where I started this journey from.

Trauma-bonded for life.

So right as the shot of Wounded Knee came up, I felt something crawling up my arm. No idea what it was, but it was an insect of some sort and it was in bed with me. Freaked out, of course. Caught it and took it outside. Yelled at it to stay out of my safe space and went back downstairs.

I had just started shaking out the sheets when I looked out the window and realized a downpour had just started. Both my (almost) dry yoga mat and sandals were out on the rooftop. I ran upstairs to rescue both, but the damage was done. The mat is now drying on the stairwell banister, but I’m not convinced it will be dry in time for me to do yoga tomorrow.

I’m not sure it matters. As far as I know, I’m supposed to go to a Junk Boat Party for July 1, which is a holiday here. We’ll see if that comes to fruition. I’ve had no luck with the boat party thing yet, mostly because I’m afraid of boats. It is what it is.

A little bit later, I decided to start watching some Spanish documentary about an escort service in Mexico where a bunch of sex workers were murdered. I got about 20 minutes in and it was too triggering for me. I got really upset when I was listening to them describe meeting clients in hotels. I was like, “This is EXACTLY what the Russian needs! He should have arranged this service for himself in advance. That’s what it’s there for. What gives this man the right to wander around Central and choose some random woman to carry out of the bar to service him for free? Furthermore, how dare he say he doesn’t consent to be written about? Like, bro, I didn’t consent to being used as a free escort service. Fuck you. Next time, be more careful about who you choose so you don’t get a starring role in the sequel to Promising Young Woman.”

Raging.

So yeah, I paused the doc, turned off the TV, changed my clothes, and came out alone for Taco Tuesday. Tonight is just for me. No bros of any kind. No Passport Bros, No Finance Bros, No Influencer Bros, No Diginal Nomad Bros, No Boss Bros, No Neighbor Bros, No Sports Bros, No Bros of Any Kind!

No men allowed in this space tonight.

I had a brief moment of clarity in which I realized my body has actually endured a great deal of trauma this year, in addition to the trauma it has already taken. No wonder I feel so terrible all the time. This year has been a lot! But hey, you know what? I did what I came here to do. As the Publisher said, “You didn’t go there for some stupid job. You went there to write a book. And guess what? You did it. No matter what happens now, you did it.”

It’s true. I did it. And that’s why I’m secretly beefing with my neighbor now. I’m about to drink his ass under the table this weekend. He doesn’t even see it coming! He’s British AF. Does he even drink Kentucky Bourbon, bro? I highly doubt it. He ain’t ready for this jelly!

I’m obviously still mad about Saturday night. Like… Take off the metaphorical Muay Thai gloves and fight me like a real man, bro! You can’t just be like, “All you do is drink all day and make out with random men in elevators!” That’s literally not even true! I’ll have you know, I haven’t made out with anyone in an elevator since The Russian. I did make out with anyone Irishman under a tree, but we were both shitfaced and had a conversation about it later, so it basically doesn’t even count.

Also, you are just mad that you are not in that elevator with me. You’re even madder because you’ve seen me go out of my way to avoid getting into that elevator at the same time as you! You know why! Stop lying to yourself! You know what this is really about!

All of my girl friends are like, “What’s wrong with this guy? Why does he care so much?” Literally no idea. It’s a very small space. Those walls are paper thin. It is what it is. And whatever it is will be resolved at the 4th of July Party this weekend. Come what may!

Well, I am off now. I am going to eat a very large burrito bowl and plan my holiday tomorrow. Have a good one!

BLOG: Weekend Scaries

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Monday.

I feel like absolute shit today. I’ve been feeling this way for a few days now. I started off last week strong, then suddenly dropped off again on Wednesday after leaving the waxing spa. I guess I got triggered by the experience. Again. As per usual. Another day, another random trigger, another meltdown. It never fucking ends.

Saturday was especially bad for me. It’s like I woke up and I just felt like giving up on everything completely. Went out, drank all day, got as messed up as I possibly could, and then wandered home sometime around 2am. I thought everything would be normal. It was not.

As previously noted, my neighbor has been floating around much more than usual lately. He’s always checking in on me now. I’ve been trying to write it off because he lives next door and it’s important for me to set boundaries so as not to make things worse than they already are. Apparently he does not feel the same way, because he decided to break down the wall between us as soon as I got home.

Earlier in the evening, he was messaging me on IG about something totally random. My friend looked at it and was like, “Ohhhhh he wants you to come home right now. Go home to your man, Betsey!” I’m like… no, give me more wine, I need to be as fucked up as humanly possible right now. I don’t want to feel my feelings.

Two hours later, I finally returned home. Within five minutes of me coming in the door, I received a message from him telling me to come up to the rooftop. I decided to go against my better judgment.

I went out into the hall and discovered another neighbor had left a gigantic, ridiculous mess in the trash area. There was a whole comforter there. Both of us were like, “Wow, what happened?” So I thought… oh he just wants to share the humor of this moment.

No, no. Instead we ended up having a very difficult, extremely emotionally-charged, clearly alcohol-fueled argument that ended with him storming off the roof screaming, “You better not write about this on your fucking blog!”

I was like, “Wow, this guy really does know me way better than I thought.”

What was the nature of the argument? Oh, the usual with men. He felt I “needed some tough love” and that “sometimes you have to hear things about yourself you don’t want to hear.”

Too bad I already know all of this about myself already, and the last thing I need is some random fucking man there to mansplain it back to me.

Then he said, “I bet if I called your brother right now, he and I could talk all day about how ridiculous you are!”

My response was to send him my brother’s IG account info and say, “Go ahead and call him. I know what he will say: ‘Yes, she is difficult and messy. She’s been through a lot. But she has a good heart, she’s strong, and she put her own selfish needs aside to take care of us after our dad died. She’s doing way better than she was this time last year. Be patient with her and give her some grace.’” Truth.

There was so much more to this that I’m not going to share. He got really personal, really fast. Like, he was all up in my grill. It was so annoying!

This was when I realized that I was being yelled at because he had randomly developed a sense of concern for my wellbeing after watching my life story play out right in front of him for the last seven months. I was honestly taken completely off-guard by the entire exchange.

He literally said at the end, “This has been a very emotional journey for me.” Really? Has it been that emotional for you? Really? I had no idea you were so invested, but I guess that’s what happens when all we have between us is a paper-thin wall.

The next day I woke up pissed off at him for being a douche and proceeded to send him ALL the paragraphs. Much to my surprise, he actually apologized to me for acting like a douche, and then asked me if he could take me out on Friday to make up for it.

You know what? Sure. Let’s go. Why the fuck not? I already invited him to the 4th of July party on Saturday anyway. I’m thought I’d go for the deepest cultural exchange possible and show an uptight British-HKer how we do Freedom in America! Fuck Yeah!

The irony of all of this is not lost on me, btw. I just can’t go deeper into it here.

Anyway, now I am here, recovering from my self-destructive bender and the random argument that ensued between my neighbor and I over the fact that he’s tired of listening to me be messy.

Wild.

I cannot even.

Pretty sure I started off last week with the right dose of yoga, coffee, meditation, and motivation. Instead it just went right off the rails. Again. I can’t. It’s like I keep trying to climb that hill but I just keep falling further and further down.

It’s like… bro, I know you are right, but also… I am totally alone here. It’s not like Hong Kong is internationally known for their great mental health care. Pretty sure the suicide rate is extremely high here precisely because mental healthcare is not highly valued on a widespread cultural level.

So, yeah, it is what it is. I’m trying. I’m working on it. I’m doing the best I can. As it turns out, I was so emotionally disregulated and messed up by the time I finally escaped South Dakota that I have no sense of direction or identity or purpose anymore. I’m just floating around after a series of disasters and fuck-ups, unable to get out of the headspace I’m trapped in.

I recounted this incident to a friend of mine and she said, “Maybe he’s upset because you remind him of himself and that’s why he’s being hard on you.”

Who even knows what goes on in the male mind anymore? It’s a mystery. As far as I’m concerned, they do all their thinking with their dicks. It is what it is.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say today. I’m going to go back home, eat the salad and drink the fruit juice I forced myself to get out of bed and walk down the street for, watch some TV, and play Mah Jong until my brain sorts itself out and stops giving me endless nightmares and flashbacks.

I love Mah Jong, btw. It really is true that it’s soothing for PTSD! I read some studies on it, so I’ve started playing it whenever I feel overwhelmed. It definitely calms everything down and sorts out some of the bad feelings.

Unfortunately, it seems like every time I get through one issue, another one pops up in its place. It took me a decade and a half to finally move past being raped and assaulted, and then as soon as that stopped being the issue, all the shit with my family and the Troubled Teen Industry that I never processed started popping up.

It’s just fucking endless. It’s like being trapped in a black hole and just getting sucked further and further down. You know what they say: “No one is coming to save you!” I guess I’ve tried so hard for so long to escape that I finally surrendered to the vacuum and let it turn me into spaghetti. There’s no coming back from it now.

Okay, off for real. Have a good day!

BLOG: Am I Bored, or Just Boring?

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Friday night.

Currently out at a bar. It is the Artist Formerly Known as “The Sketchy Place,” recently renamed “The Secret Society.” It’s boring AF. Nothing juicy to overhear tonight, unfortunately. I definitely feel like I walked all the way up here for no reason whatsoever.

No one actually talks to me now that I’ve joined. Figures. Oh well, at least I tried. That’s what life is about. Trying and failing, then trying again and failing again, then finally accepting failure as the default and just accepting it for what it is.

I will never be a socially gifted person. It is what it is.

Well, I had hoped to overhear at least one interesting conversation, but so far… nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a whiff of anything remotely interesting. Boring AF.

How has the week been? Well, it started out very productive. Then I got wasted on Wednesday night and everything fell apart, again. Same pattern, different week. I am such a fucking mess. It doesn’t help that I’m making zero progress on my job hunt, my personal life is a disaster, and I have completely lost all sense of self beyond “This is my Trauma Narrative and it’s the only thing I have to talk about these days because I have no real accomplishments to my name.”

Nothing changes. Everything stays the same. At least I’m trying. I guess? I don’t know.

Definitely just feeling down in general this week. I’m just really, really lonely. I am lost, wandering, and lonely, without meaning or purpose. It is what it is.

Other notable things from this week: I did schedule one job interview for next week, but it’s for teaching and I don’t know if I want to do that again. I’m doing the interview anyway, just for good measure. It’s good to get the practice.

The other major event of this week is that I got a Brazilian wax. That was… not fun. It never is. However, I learned I have a new “Pain Scale” after my date with The Russian. I used to think a Brazilian wax was one of the most painful things a person could do. As it turns out, I did not understand the true meaning of pain and suffering until I decided to hook up with a Russian. Now I will never feel pain the same way again. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. All I can say is that it all feels very on-brand for Russians.

I still don’t understand what we actually did that night. I’m left with nothing but questions. I guess I really just didn’t understand what I was asking for. Perhaps it was a mistranslation? You really gotta watch out for that when it comes to Polyglots. I mean, that dude speaks 5 languages. Who knows what the fuck he actually heard? Plus, he’s Russian, so maybe what I said means something completely different to him? Not sure. No idea.

God, this place is boring AF. It sucks to be alone in Hong Kong. I HATE going to places alone. HATE it. No one just goes out alone here. Everyone is with a group or a date or a friend and I’m just the weirdo sitting alone in the corner writing about people. Nothing ever changes. It always stays the same.

Zero ability to socialize. None whatsoever.

I couldn’t if I wanted to. I have nothing to talk about with any of these people. I don’t have a career or a family or anything. I’m just… the weirdo sitting alone in the corner writing. It is what it is.

I was thinking for awhile that I needed to get out of my bubble and go to new places and meet new people. Well, here I am, and it’s the same. Same same, same same. Always the same.

I remember suddenly why I chose “my bar” and why I keep going back there instead of going to new places. I am friends with the bartender. She talks to me. I talk to her. We have fun conversations. This doesn’t happen to me here.

I’m leaving after this drink. I’m so fucking bored. I’m tired of always being alone. It SUCKS!

Okay, I’m done writing now. I’m going to pay my tab, smoke a cigarette, and get the fuck out of here before it gets even more boring.

BLOG: Macau

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Friday.

I have returned from my visa run to Macau with much success. I survived the ferry trip back and forth in the treacherous, stormy waters. However, the blog post I wrote while I was on my way back from Macau did not have the same fate.

The reason for this is that when I returned to Hong Kong, my website server went absolutely insane. I spent about two hours troubleshooting the problem until I finally fixed it. Then I backed up my website three times just to be safe. I need to make a manual backup this weekend, just to be even safer.

Now I must try to remember the events that unfolded in Macau as I recounted them in my blog. Where is the server with my wine? No, seriously, the server has been missing for awhile now. Typical HK, lol. The service here usually isn’t that great, but it depends on where you are.

Oh, they finally brought the wine and I knew right away it was going to be bad. I asked for a rosé and they brought me something that had the color of cranberry juice. A proper rosé should have a light peachy pinkish orange color, so that is an immediate red flag. I took one sip and it tasted like rotten grapes. Disgusting! Luckily, the server saw the look on my face and immediately rushed over to offer me a Pinot Grigio instead. Much better.

Okay, now I’m settled in. Now I can write.

Okay, umm… let’s see. Where are we? Where are we? We are back on Wednesday, in my little studio, picking ourselves up off the floor after our latest meltdown. What happened after that?

I got everything cleaned up and packed my bags. I competed in first Hong Kong Hyrox event, which is where you have to carry a heavy backpack, rolling suitcase, and umbrella the very short distance to the ferry terminal, which for me is about three blocks. Now, this sounds easy, but it’s not, especially in the rain. So I had to do that in the rain, which was stressful AF. I got my ticket, some McD’s to geaux, and hopped on the ferry.

The ride to Macau was actually insane. The waters were so choppy. In true Hong Kong style, the driver of the boat did not give a fuck. He was just gunning that Turbo Jet across the bay at full fucking speed ahead. I just pictured him as some old uncle wearing a baseball hat and aviators with a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth saying, “No fear, Uncle Jimmy here! You ok, la?”

By the way, don’t take food on the ferry, especially when the weather is terrible and the boat is constantly moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I myself do not have a lot of life experience on boats. Usually I avoid them. I don’t know why. Probably some kind of intergenerational trauma passed down from my Irish ancestors. Either way, I did not get sick sick, but I also didn’t feel like I wanted to eat ever again.

Finally, after the longest hour of my life, I got to Macau. Got to my hotel, which was fancy AF yet looked so old and rundown on the outside. Luckily the interior was much, much, much nicer. I checked in, went to the little shop to get some bath bombs and a drink. I decided to try out the local Macau Beer, which is fucking amazing! Yasss!

Went back to my room, which was gigantic. It was so big. I’ve stayed in some large luxury hotel rooms before, but I really, really appreciate them now more than ever after living in such a tiny, little, cramped space in Hong Kong. My room had a balcony, which I could not use because it was raining cats and dogs. It also had a gigantic bathtub, which is all I wanted at that moment in time.

I finally, finally, FINALLY got to take my bath. It might as well have been a full-on healing ritual. Gurl, I needed it after that date with The Russian. As I was sitting there in the bathtub, all I could think as I replayed the memory of that night back in my mind was, “Wow, what was that?”

Anyway, fuck him, he’s the one who missed out on enjoying the giant fucking tub. Why are you even living your life right now, bro?

Whatever, finally over it. Literally all I needed to recover from that experience was a luxurious bubble bath. Lesson learned. No more banging randoms who will get on a plane and disappear forever. The End.

After that, it was still too rainy and gross to go out and do anything, so I just wandered around the hotel complex, then went back to my room to watch some Portuguese-language TV, just because I can! I watched the local Macau news, which was in English. The anchor was Macanese. His accent so interesting to me. It was like, a little bit Chinese with that little bit of Portuguese twang. I’ve never heard anything like it.

Fun Fact: I am obsessed with Portuguese accents. I’ve been learning Portuguese and one of the things that fascinates me the most is all of the different regional accents. I don’t think I’ve ever heard two people speak that language the same exact way. It’s wild. Obsessed.

I was generally disappointed I could not go out and explore, as the island is full of Portuguese history and culture. I’ve barely scratched the surface. I know this because the news had a feature about how China is really trying to position Macau as major Portuguese cultural hub in order to boost tourism. How do I get that job?

After the news was over, I watched some random shows in Portuguese. The first was a documentary about trench warfare in Portugal during World War I. Snoozefest! The second was some weird sketch comedy show that made no sense to me because I don’t have enough cultural references for Portugal to get the humor. Brazil, yes. Portugal, no.

Finally, sometime around 2am, I decided to turn off the TV and spread out full starfish in my gigantic king-sized bed so I could enjoy it all alone. Just as I was settling in to enjoy this intentionally man-free zone, I heard a little ding on my phone. Much to my surprise, it was a message from my neighbor!

Why is my neighbor messaging me at 2:30 in the morning when I am in Macau? That’s weird.

Apparently there was a cockroach that crawled across his chest when he was in bed. Horrifying. Why would he tell me this information right now? Is he getting off on freaking me out? What is happening here?

That was strange, for sure. When I got back, I felt like the vibe in the apartment had changed somehow. I couldn’t explain it. I could only feel that the vibe was giving “comfy, warm, and cozy” instead of horror movie classic. Was it me? Was it my neighbor? Was it the cockroaches trying to bring two lonely souls together? The world may never know.

The journey home was not without its obstacles, which might be another reason why my tiny little box studio was giving extra cozy vibes. The ferry ride back wasn’t great. As soon as we got off the boat, the HK Observatory issued a black storm warning, which sucked for me because I still had to walk the 3-5 blocks back to my building with my backpack and suitcase.

Otherwise, immigration went okay. They didn’t ask me any questions. The only thing that was weird was that my website went absolutely crazy as soon as I got back into Hong Kong. I don’t know if they took it down and went through it or what, but it was behaving in a way I have not seen it behave before. Very strange.

The rest of the week passed by without event. Mostly, it rained and rained and rained. On Friday night, my friend and I went out for dinner, drinks, and shisha. We found some cafe close to Peel Street that served shisha until 4am and sat outside on the front stoop smoking until about 3:30am.

I also got to experience the Honky Tonk Tavern for the very first time. It’s modeling like an old Western dive bar. It made me laugh. It was just like being back in South Dakota again. The worst part is… I didn’t completely hate it. Something about it felt warm, comfortable, and familiar.

I guess that’s just the vibe Hong Kong is giving me these days.

Home Sweet Home!

Now we just have to figure out how to stay…

No worries. Law of Attraction vibes only!

The week continued to pass by without incident. I’ve accomplished a few things here and there. I’ve managed to be productive every day this week, which is good. Got a lot done on the creative side of things. Gearing up to revamp everything and start a new “influencer business.” Guess we will see how it goes…

In the meantime, I’m back at The Secret Society. The vibe here has definitely changed, and for the better. It’s good to be on The List!

Off now. Not much to report, aside from the fact that I got a Brazilian wax today. It wasn’t my first time, but it was still a strange experience. I am still really struggling with “good touch” vs “bad touch” when it comes to things like beauty treatments and massages. It’s a strange experience. I had to explain to the waxing lady that it’s not the pain, it’s being touched that bothers me.

Strange.

Anyway, off now for real. Have a good one.

BLOG: Meltdown Mode

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Wednesday.

I am a mess. I was planning to leave in 30 minutes, but that is not happening now. I had a full-on meltdown this morning when I should have been cleaning and getting ready. Now I am way behind schedule. I only just now got a coffee and it’s 1:30pm. Disaster.

What am I having a meltdown about today? Just feeling really lost and frustrated after last night. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere in life. It’s a disaster.

I also had a meltdown because I broke my new rainbow umbrella on the way home last night. How? Oh, I was using it as a prop for my Singing in the Rain dance number on the staircase. I was just being silly. I just dance for fun, even if I’m not that good at it. It’s stress release. It’s also very fun to use the staircase as part of the routine.

I don’t think anyone saw me. Well, the CCTV cameras definitely did. But otherwise, the streets were totally empty because of the rain and it was way after midnight on a Tuesday, so yeah, safe to say no one is out at that time.

I’m stressing out like crazy. Just having a full on meltdown. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.

It doesn’t matter. What I’m doing with my life today is packing an overnight bag, catching the next ferry to Macau, and spending the night in a luxury hotel with a gigantic bathtub. Then I will figure out what the fuck I’m doing after that.

Just give myself a night off from everything and everyone for once. Fix my karma from The Russian not letting me use the bath tub at the Mandarin Oriental. Relax. Chill. Vibe. Have fun. What is fun? I don’t know what fun is.

I don’t know what anything is. I’m such a mess.

Okay, I need to go now. Goodbye.

BLOG: And The Balls Win Again

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Tuesday evening.

Against my better judgment, I decided to brave the rain and venture up to the Mid-Levels for the Quiz Night I was invited to. The person who invited me is not here. So now I am sitting here at the bar all alone, watching everyone else play trivia, just like I did back in SD. Wow, yeah, I know, I really feel like I’ve come so far in life, lol. Ridiculous.

I really thought my life would look different at this point. I guess it’s true what they say. Wherever you go, there you are. And here I am, alone at the bar, as always.

Damn. I’m disappointed. I was totally all about the Secret Society thing. I guess it’s not a secret if I write about it, lol. Oh well!

I’m kidding, by the way. It’s not a secret at all. It’s like when I worked at “Regal’s Club” back in Verm. It’s technically a private club for members only, but anyone can go there. I had to learn the names of all the members and their usual drinks. I completely get the concept. It’s not lost on me. I’m just make a joke about it being a “Secret Society” because I can.

The good news is that there are some very good looking men in here. There are good looking men everywhere in Hong Kong. The whole island is just crawling with them. They don’t always have the best personalities, but it’s fine. They don’t have to have a good personality. They just have to look good without a shirt on.

It is what it is.

My concern now has turned to how I am going to make it home in the pouring rain. Obviously I brought an umbrella. However, it is still a 15-20 minute walk downhill in the pouring rain. I feel stupid for venturing out on this type of night, but oh well.

Hong Kong is so wild to me. I never know what to expect from this place. I love the song that goes, “You’ll find more than you bargained for when you come to Hong Kong!” If there is one thing I’ve learned this year, it’s that this phrase is true.

I just want y’all to know that including the word “Balls” in an all-male trivia team name is, in fact, a global phenomenon. Men are so ridiculous. It is what it is.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to my mini-break to Macao tomorrow. The hotel I booked is really nice. I got it for super cheap since it’s a weekday and I have membership perks. I love the thrill of getting a good deal on something travel related. I won’t be able to use the pool since it will be raining, but I will get to take some good photos from my seaside balcony, take a luxurious bath in the gigantic tub, and get some writing done at the fancyass desk. I am in it to win it, fam.

Fun Fact: luxury hotels are, in fact, my favourite place to write. I don’t know why. The more palatial, the better. They’re just inspiring. Trust me, I’ve stayed in some real shitholes on my travels. I can’t write in a bedbug-ridden motel off the highway that looks like something straight from a horror movie. I need a terry cloth robe and slippers and room service. Why do you think I keep blowing so much money on that stupid hotel in Bangkok? It’s the perfect place to write! Which is why I always do all my writing at the little sidewalk coffee stand next door.

Oh, I miss Bangkok. I’ve been getting signs from the universe about it again. There’s just something about Thailand…

The problem is that I love it too much. That’s why we cannot be together. It’s not Thailand, it’s me. I’m not a rich old western man with a lot of money looking for a much-younger Thai wife. I don’t belong there!

I’m glad I came out anyway, even if it didn’t turn out as planned. It’s always better to be out soaking up the Hong Kong energy than to be sitting at home watching Netflix and eating ramen noodles and snacks from 7/11. Hong Kong inspires the fuck out of me. I love it here.

I was debating earlier if it was “worth it” to me to give up my dream of living in Paris to come out here to Asia instead. The answer is definitely yes. Paris was always this imaginary dream escape place for me where everything was always perfect. When I was the Paris Writing Workshop, I realized that fantasy was holding me back from exploring the rest of the world and really understanding reality.

Here in Asia, shit gets real so fast. I have no illusions about the reality of life here in Hong Kong, or in Bangkok, or in Bali, or India, or the GCC. Coming here to Asia opened my world up in ways I never expected. I always knew I would end up to be the Peace Corps type. I fully expected that someday I would live in some random little village somewhere in Africa, showering with a bucket and helping out around camp. Living in India was definitely an adjustment, but the reality is that I didn’t mind the blackouts or the monsoon or the bucket showers.

I never thought I would be fighting for my life to stay afloat in a place like Hong Kong, or living it up in a luxury loft in Bangkok, or following around a group of sex workers through the VIP lounges of Dubai, or spend a weekend in a gigantic villa in Bali, or any of the other totally crazy, completely ridiculous things I’ve done in between.

Wild.

The truth is that I don’t need this. I don’t need to write about this, whatever this is. It’s what I call “extra material.” I’ve already charted out the novel/show I have in mind two weeks ago. I got some good feedback on it. I already have an entire plan that doesn’t involve any of this.

If I’m here, it’s because I want to be Liz for a night and just forget that I am an “infamous, notorious writer.” As I always say, I’m just a traumatized woman in recovery who has no idea how to have fun, standing before a crowd of strangers on the other side of the world, asking them to teach me how to have fun.

There is no fun in my world. Only work, which for me sadly means being a prisoner of my own device all the time. I literally have no idea how else to live my life. It is what it is.

It’s too bad I’m not on someone’s trivia team right now. I am killing it with these categories. My new mantra: “You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me. But you will respect my intelligence enough to include me on your team for Quiz Night. And that’s why we will all win whatever this prize is together. Hashtag: Teamwork Makes The Dream Work.”

Lately I’ve been really caught up in reliving past moments when my goals were actively being sabotaged by my mother. Right now I am trying to be present and look at what I’ve been able to accomplish in spite of that.

I’m not comparing myself to any of these influencer types I was jealous of before. I definitely still have goals I haven’t accomplished yet, but even the fact that I got this far is still an impressive feet.

I mean…. Hong Kong. Wow. That’s big no matter how you slice it. I am truly lucky to be here right now. I know it’s complicated and all that, but I love it, and I’m learning a lot, and I don’t regret coming here for even one minute.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say tonight. I’m just sitting here pretending to look busy so it doesn’t look like I showed up for a social event that didn’t actually happen like some total fucking loser, lol.

It is what it is…

BLOG: I Am Free!

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Tuesday.

Here I am, downstairs at the deli around the corner. It’s raining cats and dogs here in Hong Kong this week. Can’t wait for my journey to Macao tomorrow through the choppy waves of the treacherous, stormy seas.

I decided to book myself a significantly discounted luxury hotel room just so I don’t have to make that journey twice in one day. The room has a giant bathtub just for me. The best part is, I don’t have to ask a man for permission to use it. No men allowed in my temporary sanctuary. Just me and my giant tub and balcony with a front row view of the storms blowing in over the sea.

Should be a good time.

I am supposed to attend the Secret Society Quiz Night tonight. I’m totally freaking out, of course. My anxiety says, “No, don’t do it, don’t go!” but my sense of etiquette and decorum says, “They already booked the table so it will be extremely rude to stand them up.”

What’s the worst that could happen? They end up hating me, it doesn’t work out, I finally just decide to give up on this venture, and then I leave Hong Kong? Meh. There are worse fates than choosing a random destination, flying there on a whim, and trying to start over once again. At least I made it this far.

I can’t believe I came to Hong Kong one year ago tomorrow. That is wild to me! I never, ever could have imagined I would live here, or in Bangkok. It’s wild. So wild. I might not always have made the best choices along the way, but at least I’m in control of my destiny now.

Do I have any regrets? Not really. I learned a lot from the mistakes I made this year. Mostly, I’m just happy to be here. I overcame a lot to make it this far.

I still can’t believe I finally escaped from my old life. Some days I just sit in my apartment in a state of freeze, just processing the fact that I never have to go back to my old life ever again.

No more South Dakota. No more overly controlling family. No mentally ill mother destroying every attempt I make to grow, change, and get better. No small-minded townies causing endless drama when all I want is a fucking paycheck. It’s all over. It’s all gone. I will never live that sad, miserable, depressing life that felt more like a prison sentence ever again.

My life is mine now. I am free to choose. I am free to be who I want to be.

I am free, I am free, I am free!

BLOG: Members Only Club

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Saturday.

I am at the brunch spot again. I don’t know why I’m here. There’s construction across the way and it’s really, really loud. I guess I am here because they do a good Bloody Mary. It’s not quite right but it is what it is.

Last night I decided to return to The Sketchy Place. I don’t know why. I felt something summon me there, so I decided to solve the mystery of this place.

As it turns out, this was a good plan. They remembered me, and I actually remembered most of them quite well. As it turns out, this is not just a neighborhood bar. This is a private expat club, which they invited me to join. They gave me a card with a QR code on it. The link took me to a membership form, which I filled out. Now I am a member of this secret expat club in Hong Kong. I get to use the Clubhouse. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.

Welcome to “networking.” I don’t have to like these people. I just have to hang out in the same rooms as they do. This is how I get a job, and maybe even an invitation to lunch at the Foreign Correspondents Club, which is insanely expensive to join, by the way. It’s basically only for rich people. I’ve already tried to attend a conference there and they rejected me. I’m not getting in there without an invitation from someone who knows someone. It is what it is.

The person who gave me the card said they had lunch at the FCC the other day. So jealous. Y’all need to look this place up. It’s insane. They brand themselves as “probably the most famous press club in the world.” Oh, the irony of it all.

This feels like a message from my dad. He used to take me to lunch and events at the National Press Club in DC all the time. I can just hear him saying, “You have to join the FCC! You can go eat lunch at the clubhouse!”

Membership is much, much cheaper in Thailand. I should have joined when I was there. Ugh.

I haven’t thought about those days in a long time. I remember now. Georgetown. K-Street. Federal Triangle. Walks up and down the Mall. Weekends at the Smithsonian. Watching the fireworks from the rooftop of the Kennedy Center on the 4th of July. What a time to be alive.

I didn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. I long to have the luxuries of those days again. I have no choice but to sell my soul for them. So here I am, selling my soul to join the secret expat club, all so I can live in a gigantic luxury apartment in the Mid-Levels and never have to shower over a toilet ever again.

I’m disappointed in how shallow I turned out to be. But, you know, once you’ve lived in a rustic yoga shala in a tiny little beach town in India and showered with a bucket, certain lifestyle choices become more essential than others.

I swear to god, if I ever get married, it will only be for money. I really am that shallow. I am. It is what it is. I’ll get a pre-nup. It’s fine.

Okay, from now on I must monitor my alcohol intake very carefully when I am there. Last night was alright. I remember the vast majority of it. Walking home is kind of a blur. Apparently my neighbor invited me out but I was already too drunk to take him up on the offer. That’s too bad. I really want to go to his friend’s bar with him, which is where he was.

It’s the wine. I can’t drink the fucking wine. No more wine.

In addition to the invitation to join this private club, I also received an invitation to join a team for “Quiz Night,” which is what they call Trivia here. How exciting. I guess the hazing ritual is over now and I’ve been deemed “cool enough” to party with the rich people.

Next stop: yacht party!

Hell yeah!

Yes, for reference, this is the place where I was having weird issues before. Looks like I was right; there is definitely something weird going on up there. As it turns out, it was some kind of initiation ritual into some private members-only club. Fun! I could not make this shit up if I tried.

I’m not really the Eyes Wide Shut type myself, but I heard the food is pretty good at those parties. At least it will give me something to write about. I’ll just be there in my mask and robe, off chillin to the side somewhere, snacking from a small plate of cocktail shrimp and deviled eggs, watching the madness unfold before me from a distance, thinking about how I’m going to write about it on my blog tomorrow.

I can already picture this in my mind. Ridiculous.

This random chick just walked by with a cat in her bag. I love Asia, lol.

I know what you’re thinking: “Betsey, what happened to the pilot guy from last week who gave you his McDonald’s bag?”

Well, he got on a plane and flew away, as I knew he would. Haven’t seen or heard from him since. This is why I didn’t bang him. I just can’t go through that again. I gotta marry some bored rich guy with a gigantic apartment in the Mid-Levels. It is what it is.

I definitely feel like I just sold my soul. It’s fine. It’s the only way to get ahead in this world. That’s why I came to Hong Kong!

It is what it is…