Tag: Hong Kong

BLOG: My Very Own Hype Beast

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Friday.

Here we are at the Brunch Spot. I promise I will fix all of these dumb placeholder names in the final version. I don’t have my vintage book of baby names with me, which I use to help me come up with new ones. Yes, I know, I could use a website, but it’s not the same.

The current scenery includes two very sexy tennis players with equally sexy accents. They sound Aussie. You know how much I love me some Thunder from Down Under, lololol! Fun times in Expat Land. Hot beefcakes everywhere, all the time, all day, every day. I love it.

Anyway, what was I going to talk about today?

Hmm…

I woke up pretty early at about 6:30am. This has been my pattern this week, which is quite nice, actually. It’s very hard to keep a proper sleep schedule here in Hong Kong. Going to bed at 10pm and waking up at 6:30-7am is an ideal scenario.

I went up on the rooftop to do Yin yoga and meditate. I think I was up there for about 2-2.5 hours this morning. It was a good session. It has taken A LOT of time, but I’m finally beginning to feel an improvement in my moods. It’s becoming much, much easier to work on my emotional regulation skills now that I’ve removed most of the factors that were throwing it into overdrive. In general, things are getting better. That’s why my meltdown on Wednesday was such a massive disappointment for us all.

Still, I persist. Maybe it just wasn’t the right thing. Okay, fine. Let’s try again with something else. No problem. I’ve done a million jobs. I’ve had a lot of different experiences. I know I can find work if I just crack the right combination on this lock.

Being in Hong Kong is really great for me at this point in my life. The city keeps me motivated AF. Like, sure, at first I came here to Hong Kong escape my old life. Then I escaped from here to go to Thailand and Bali. That’s when I discovered that I *really* came to Hong Kong to BUILD a new life.

So here I am, almost six months later, still trying to leave that old life behind and figure out how to build a new one. Right now it feels like I’m still standing in the center of a smoldering ruin. By this time next year, I hope I feel like I’m standing on top of a skyscraper. Fingers crossed…

At first I was worried about my old work visa expiring, but I stopped after my job interview with the American the other day. He said he didn’t have a job or a visa when he came here. He just got off the plane and hustled. Gotta love that Fresh Off the Boat spirit! I needed a bit of that immigration inspiration this week. Let that old, cursed visa from that cursed, terrible company die in ditch. I’m going to Macau, hitting the reset button, coming back for my 90-day tourist stay, and hustling my way into a new job.

Love this whole “One country, three systems” thing when it comes to immigration. I see what they did there, and you know what? I’m not mad about it. I’m really not. No further opinion, Your Honor.

I don’t know how I’m going to make this work. Magic, I guess. I just know that running away is not an option anymore. Going back to the US is also not an option. I came here to build, and by god, I will build. I will build that ladder all the way to the top of The Peak, in true American fashion. Inspirational AF!

Okay, hype level set. I am a Dragon. China loves Dragons! A Dragon is ALWAYS welcome in China. If I can’t make it here, I can’t make it anywhere. Therefore, I shall become my own Hype Beast, whatever that term even means.

Oh, yeah, no, I just looked it up and it definitely does not mean what I think it means. I thought it literally meant a creature that stands behind you and hypes you up when you’re down. Wrong. Way wrong. It’s a fun type of wrong, but it’s definitely wrong, lol.

It’s okay. Now I know the truth.

I suppose I could use this opportunity to visit Bangkok again, but… I think I needed an escape from my escape by the end. I’m gonna give that one a bit more space and time. Besides, it’s not a good time. The Princess just died (RIP).

Okay, all hyped up now. Time to get some lunch and work on something else, like my book or a new CV or something like that. Or maybe just take a break and enjoy a bowl of noodles stress-free while subtly checking out these sexy tennis bros.

I guess we’ll see…

BLOG: Train to Somewhere

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Thursday.

Sitting in the coffee shop. The vibe in my world today is very “Now What?”

Now what, indeed.

Okay, I’ve been gone for exactly one year now. I gone on a crazy adventure and spent most of my money. I do have the makings for a decent book manuscript, but no real job or career prospects. Yeah, it’s definitely a “Now what?” Type of situation for sure.

I admit that I am very disappointed in myself about yesterday, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. It’s like Belfast, okay? One moment everything seems fine, the next minute it’s engulfed in flames. Welcome to my life.

In my epic levels of frustration, I ripped up one of the paper copies of my resume I got from the print shop the other day and threw the pieces into my offering bowl to Ganesha. I feel like that’s a pretty universal symbol for “Please help me sort this out because it’s a fucking mess and a half.”

Looking back on where I was a year ago, I feel like an idiot now. I really thought I was just going to move to HK, keep dating my long-distance boyfriend until we got married, and then move to some other random country together. That did not happen. Instead I went to Thailand and Bali and Malaysia and Macao. I banged a bunch of random guys from all over the world and did a second YTTC and wrote a bunch of short stories about the crazy expats I met in Bangkok and HK.

Now what? Now what?

How am I going to survive? How am I going to pay rent? How am I going to get healthcare? I can’t do anything! Well, I can, I just hate it. I hate working jobs that require me to be social and smiley. I can’t do it. It will break me down every time. Even now I get anxiety just from thinking about walking into a room full of children and trying to teach them vocabulary words. I’m really not great at it. I know the bar is set really low over here and I’ve met some real idiots that can somehow do it, but I can’t. It’s just not for me.

I just don’t know what is for me.

Nothing is for me, apparently. I can’t even get one of these “Housewife who does Pilates and Brunch” gigs. You literally do not even need a brain to get that job and yet I still can’t even get that. Bare minimum! Ridiculous.

I feel very useless to society right now. I have no plan at all anymore whatsoever. Every time I try to make a plan, it all blows up in my face. It just does not come naturally to be “normal.” But going with the flow also doesn’t seem to work. I just end up stagnating. Nothing ever really changes for me except the scenery.

I feel like I don’t know who I am. What am I doing? Why am I here? Why do I have absolutely no purpose?

I have no idea. All I know right now is that I’m on the train and the train is going somewhere. I have no idea where the train is going. It’s a surprise. I can try to steer the train, but it’s just going to take me off-track. So I’ll just wait for it to stop and see where I land.

Definitely feeling really depressed today. I wish I had someone to talk to about it. But I don’t. People just try to “fix” it and I wish they would stop. It cannot be fixed, okay? Stop trying to fix it. Just let it hang in the air for a moment and let it be what it is. Then perhaps a solution will present itself on its own. The last thing I need or want at this point is another fucking lecture. What if… and this is a very radical idea, I know… what if we just went out to a party and forgot about it for a night and just had fun?

Wow! Radical! I know!

I need a fun friend. I don’t have any fun friends. They’re always working. I need to rope in one of these hot guys in his 40’s who has all the money but none of the fun. Then we can just have fun spending his money together! True love! Yay!

No plan for today. Maybe just go out for a walk around Hong Kong and let the universe dump something exciting on me randomly? Right, because that always ends so well for me!

Sad. Disappointing and sad.

Who am I? What am I doing? Why can’t I just get my shit together? Who knows?

BLOG: Failure, but with Style & Confidence!

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Wednesday.

Here we are.

How did my job thing go today?

Oh, it didn’t.

Why?

The usual, well-documented reason. I freaked out, had an anxiety attack, started crying, went into full meltdown mode, and then locked myself in my room and shut off my phone.

Sadly, this is normal for me.

I don’t understand what happened. I did everything right. I prepared. I got enough sleep. I woke up early. I had my coffee, smoked a cigarette, did yoga, wrote a blog post, showered, got dressed, gave myself two extra hours to get there… and then… somehow… I just fell totally and completely apart within the span of about 15 minutes.

Grand.

Maybe I’m just not a people person and that’s why I have an anxiety attack every time I try to force myself to put on the mask and pretend I am a people person?

Maybe I just can’t do these jobs. I can’t be a waitress or a bartender or a barista. I can’t be a yoga teacher or an English teacher. I can’t get up in a room full of people like that and act like a completely different person. I just cannot do that. I would be so much happier if I could choose when I interact with people and how. I want it to all be on my terms. I can’t have it be on their terms.

Yeah so I just… really fucked it all up today. But also… maybe it’s better this way. Maybe I’m just not meant to teach a kindergarten class, or a primary school class, or a secondary school class, or any class in general. And you know what? Honestly… like… no fucking duh!

So what can I do? Ummm… sit alone in the corner, watch people from a safe distance away, and write ridiculous made-up stories about them? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that I sit here every day watching the people go up and down the Escalator like, “Why can’t I just be normal like them?”

I finally forced myself out of the house after playing Mah Jong for an hour and half straight. I came up the escalator to my fav Greek place. Much to my surprise, my favourite Hong Kong “Auntie” was sitting in the window enjoying a glass of wine alone.

I absolutely love this lady. She has lived in Hong Kong forever! She has all the best stories from the pre-handover, post-handover, pre-Covid, and post-Covid eras of Hong Kong history. She was here for all of it. She watched this neighborhood in Central go from dark allies full of print shops and dirty restaurants to the lively, bright, crowded social scene it is today. Every restaurant and bar owner in Central and Wan Chai knows her. She is the best Auntie to have!

Seeing her instantly put a smile on my face. I was so relieved. I came over to her right away and greeted her. She was so happy to see me. She gave me a big hug. It felt really good after such a shitty, disappointing day.

I told her about my day and she nodded understandingly. “It’s good you find out now it’s not right for you,” she said. “Now you can do better! You have so much talent, so much beauty. You have the most beautiful gift for writing. I see it! Why you not do something with that instead?!”

Everyone knows but me. I’m the only one who doesn’t know it. I’m the only who doesn’t have it figured out. I’m the one who doesn’t know how to take what I have and make it work. That’s why I will always fail…

Ugh, see? Even the restaurant manager just came over to ask me how my book is going. Everyone knows but me. So why can’t I figure out how to make a career and/or money out of this?

I had the most intense vision during meditation this morning. This week I am using the visualization technique of imagining myself packing up a suitcase full of memorabilia representing my past, running to catch the train, dropping the suitcase, and leaving it all behind as I wave goodbye.

Today I took the suitcase and threw it as hard as I could off the back of the train. I watched it explode into a thousand pieces in the station behind me. Each piece turned into a beam of light and took a place on the train platform. The lights hovered in the air for just a moment before transforming into the ghosts of everyone I’ve loved who has passed on. They were all standing on the platform, smiling and waving at me as I headed off on my adventure.

I saw my dad, my grandparents, my friends, my family, my pets. Everyone was there. Even Mad Dog rolled up on his shitty old orange bicycle with a little caddy attached to bag reading “Lemonade Stand.” Each one took a moment to give me a hug and say something special to me before sending me off to Hong Kong. The last thing I saw was my dad looking at me proudly saying, “I’m so proud of you. We are all so proud of you.”

Aww… and now I’m crying in the middle of the restaurant. So embarrassing for my life and my soul. Oh well. The manager literally just told me to make it dramatic. What is more dramatic than bringing yourself to tears while penning your own memoir? Exactly.

Side Bar: This is exactly why I didn’t bother wearing make-up today. I knew I was just going to sit here and write and cry it all off anyway. Pointless. Not even the most waterproof liquid eyeliner can last through my writing process. Trust me; I’ve tried them all.

So yeah, it was a rough day. I just had to sit with myself for a time today and say to myself, “It’s okay if you don’t want to work with children, or people in general. It’s not the right job for you. Trust in the process. Trust in the journey. Trust there is something better ahead for you. You made it this far already, didn’t you?”

I really do love living in Hong Kong. I feel like there is so much here I have yet to see and explore. I’ve been so caught up in trying to be the person everyone else wants me to be or who I think I should be that I’ve forgotten who I really am. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Right now, I feel like I am more lost than ever.

Welcome to life at SEA: Drifting from one shipwreck to another, desperately trying to keep your head above water and avoid all the sharks along the way.

Speaking of sharks, a big old English one dressed in purple just rolled up. I just watched him knock an older Chinese tourist lady out of the way on the Escalator and then mutter an insult to himself on his way across the street. Naturally, he looked right at me in the window, walked in, and sat down one chair away from me. Now he’s talking to himself.

That’s my cue to GTFO! Time to go anywhere that’s not here…

Have a good one!

BLOG: The Longest Movie Ever

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Wednesday.

I have a job interview today and I don’t want to stress about it, so I am going to talk about something else instead. That something else is the film “Lawrence of Arabia,” which is a journey I went on yesterday in an attempt not to freak out. Let’s unpack this.

I decided to watch this movie because it was one of my dad’s favourite movies. He spent an exchange year in Lebanon way back “before The War” (there’s been many but he was only referring to one, which I can’t remember the dates of) so I guess this film reminds him of that. Cool. I am here to deal with my grief, and if that means watching a movie to do it, sign me up.

There’s only one problem: This movie is THREE fucking house and 47 goddamn minutes long! WHY?! Oh my god! I can’t even imagine sitting in a movie theatre for that. I need more than one Intermission. In fact, I took my first three-hour Intermission about 20 minutes before the actual Intermission. That’s how long this movie is. I still haven’t finished it. I think there’s something like 25 minutes still left? Oh my god. Somehow it literally just never ends!

So right off the bat, I noticed this guy Lawrence is neurodivergent AF. They spend the first few minutes showing how he doesn’t fit in with the other British Officers because he’s too weird. He does weird things like have an Arabic newspaper (no doubt Al Jazeera) delivered to him, which he reads aloud and forms opinions on, much to the shock of his illiterate cohort who can barely read English. He’s also way too happy and way too smiley. There’s definitely something off about this guy, so they send him upstairs to meet with the Big Guns. They’re like, “You’re too weird to be here, we’re shipping you off to Arabia so you’ll have something to do.”

He goes off to the Middle East. There, he meets a lot of white guys with spray tans. It looks like they used some kind of combination of artificial tanner with heavy bronzer mixed with charcoal. Somehow he manages to keep his golden blonde hair perfectly gelled the entire time he’s out in the desert getting his own tan. This part of the film takes approximately 17 million years. Somehow it only amounts to an hour. Not even. How?

Then we meet Sir Alec Guinness as Prince Feisel, which is basically just Obi-Wan Kenobi wearing brown face and a significantly more fabulous traditional robe. He starts babbling on about the Geneva Code, which is a total anachronism because this movie is set during World War 1, aka 1914-1918. The Geneva Convention is a post-World War II creation, having been ratified in 1949.

No one ever actually met any Bedouins, Arabs, Turks, etc etc etc before making this movie. There are also no women in this film. As I said, there’s about 25 minutes left and so far I’ve only seen women twice. The first was during a display of their colorful traveling tents, which shows a woman’s hand peaking out. She is wearing a diamond bracelet. That’s it. That’s the whole scene. Later we catch a glimpse of the women standing above the peak, waving off the men as they ride their horses and camels off to war.

Imagine a world without women! Yes, it’s true. There are no women in this world, at all. That’s when it starts to get sexy. There’s definitely a lot of homoerotic undertones going on in this movie. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then Lawrence comes out of the desert with a teenage boy, heads to Officers’ Club, and demands a bed with sheets and a glass of lemonade for the traumatized teen who just watched his friend get swallowed up by a sandpit. Everyone is giving Lawrence the side-eye like… a bed with sheets just for him, huh? Right. Sure, Jan! We totally believe you.

*wink wink, nudge nudge*

Then we have about 20 minutes of British Officers standing around shaking hands saying, “Well done, well done indeed. We sent you in there to sort things out, and you’ve done it. You’ve gotten it all sorted out. Well done, well done, well done.”

Insert small military parade through the fort here.

Now I finally understand why we’re always going to war in the Middle East. It’s so all these delusional nutjobs can live their best Lawrence of Arabia fantasy. They all really think they’re going to be this guy someday. Wild.

Then after we have an actual male rape scene, where Lawrence is taken prisoner by the Turks, I think? The Big Boss walks down the line, looks him up and down, and starts eye-fucking him like crazy. The soldiers grab Lawrence and strap him down to the bench while the Big Boss preps himself. It’s… a lot. Like, wow. And then they just cut away to his friend listening to the screams outside the prison in horror.

I couldn’t help but think to myself that if this movie had been re-made now, we would all be subjected to a graphic, uncomfortable rape scene. Well, maybe not, because it’s a man, so we can’t show that. But if it’s a woman, definitely. Show the whole graphic scene, just for funsies! UGH!

Then we meet an American journalist named Jackson Bentley. That does not sound like a writer name. That sounds like a male entertainer who comes out dressed like a cowboy for his bit in the Magic Mike Live show. He’s asking all these questions and making comments about how fucked up everyone outside of America is. I finally understand where he’s coming from after moving around Asia for a year. Sometimes I see people doing batshit insane stuff that’s clearly leftover from some five century-old beef and I’m like, “Why?”

Anyway, he turns Lawrence into a celebrity. The parallels with certain political leaders are scary and undeniable. We get subjected to all sorts of crazy photo ops showing Lawrence is crazy AF. Then maybe he gets taken to the Turkish prison? I can’t remember which one happened first. I had to turn the movie off after the rape scene. That was too much for me. Where was the trigger warning, y’all?!

So after they finish, they throw Lawrence outside into the mud and leave him to die. Luckily, his bestie is there to pick him up and say, “Been there, girl. Let’s take you home and get you cleaned up.” After this he is only ever seen wearing freshly-laundered, pure white robes, because he’s an angel, or Jesus, or maybe just a White Savior dressed up in brown face pretending to be a celebrity.

Yep, so, somehow I was watching this movie for like 8 hours and I’m still not finished with it. Wild. I can’t even.

And you know what I didn’t think about? This job interview. I’m probably going to fuck it up, but… if I do fuck up, at least I will fuck up with style and confidence; the American Way!

It’s not actually an interview. They want me to come in and teach a trial class. I am not prepared at all. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m trying not to stress. I know I’m probably not the best candidate to teach grammar concepts to children. I’m really stiff and uptight and awkward. I’m not fun at all.

I’m not exactly the next Ms. Frizzle, okay? I love her, but I am not her. She is not me. She’s planning outfits and field trips and exciting lessons for her class. I’m watching Lawrence of Arabia and writing a humorous essay deconstructing it from a 21st century perspective. We are not the same.

I have no idea who I am or what I want. I just know that I tried to get on Facebook this morning and I was getting more harassing messages from those idiots back in SD. OMG just leave me alone already! I get it. You hate me. I hate you too. I’m a Hong Konger now. I’m very busy and important. I literally do not have time for your bullshit today, or ever. I have to figure out how I’m going to pretend to be Ms. Frizzle today instead of being my usual awkward self.

I can already feel the pressure to keep this mask on weighing on me. I wish I could find something to do that did not ask me to wear the mask of Neurotypicality. It’s not a mask I can wear. I try, but I can’t help who I am inside, and who I am inside is weird. It is what it is.

Okay, time to go do some yoga now. I got all the thoughts out of my head and onto the page. Like, really, this is my dad’s favourite movie? Jesus. I can’t even. Men and their delusions. It truly is a special treat to watch… sometimes…

Farewell!

BLOG: Irish Dancing in the Rain

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Monday.

Here I am at ye olde Irish pub.

And may I just say… HELLLOOOOO sexy beefcake! Who is this hottie with a body who just walked in and sat right across the bar from me? I can hear a faint accent. Is it an Irish accent? Gurl ‘cause if it is… sign me up to climb that hill today.

Anyway, insert something about rewarding myself for my job interview today with a bowl of hot beef stew and mashed potatoes with extra, extra butter?

Ummmm I think this lad over here might be the comforting side dish I’m looking for today.

I don’t see a wedding ring! HAHA but as we all learned from the last Irish lad… that doesn’t mean anything at all.

Hmmm he might not be Irish. He said “great” instead of “grand.” Now it’s officially up in the air. Anyway, I need to stop looking at him and drink my Guinness.

He reminds me of someone… I think it’s…. Nick Jonas? Right? Is that the one who is married to Priyanka Chopra? Or is that Joe? Or was he the one married to the chick from Game of Thrones? I still haven’t seen that show to this day and have no plans to ever watch it. Anyway, I don’t actually know the difference between the Jonas Brothers. I’m too old for that shit. He looks like at least one of them. Maybe. I think.

Anyway, a little thirsty there, Bets? Maybe you should have split your G before you looked up from your iPad. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not looking at you. He’s looking at his phone with that weird little twisted smirk I recognize so well. I already know exactly what that means.

Thank you, next.

ANYWAY WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?!

I have no idea. Where am I? Why did I come here?

I don’t remember who I am anymore.

Okay.

I have now eaten my potatoes and stew. I have had half of a pint of Guinness. I’m chillin’ in the Irish Pub listening to Irish Music. I’m grand. My spirit is officially recharged. Sometimes I feel myself running on empty and then I come here for a meal and it’s like I’ve magically sorted myself out again. Love that for me. Nothing like a bit of Irish magic to set me right when I need it the most.

Anyway, so I had a job interview today, which is what I actually came here to say. It was okay. I think teaching adults might be a better fit but I don’t know about this company. They said they’re undergoing “restructuring,” whatever that means. The online reviews aren’t great. I wonder if that has anything to do with the “restructuring?” Probably.

My interviewer was American, which was great because bonus points for me, duh! Do you know how hard it is to find other Americans in Hong Kong? It’s a challenge! So that already puts me slightly ahead of the competition. Plus he had some similar experiences so he could vibe.

The office itself was definitely giving “bro” vibes. I looked around that room and it was all bros. I could feel it before I looked because I walked in and everyone stopped and stared at me. I could feel the male gaze upon me. Then I looked up and around and sure enough… it was mostly bros.

So, yeah, obviously I don’t know about that one. I’m not exactly enthusiastic about working with mostly men. I feel like it could be… distracting? Problematic? Better to avoid altogether?

I don’t know. I’m not in a position to be picky, so let’s just see how my follow-up interview for the other place goes on Wednesday. Then I gotta make my visa run to Macau this weekend. So much to do, so little time.

Let’s just say I’ve definitely learned the importance of shopping around today, lol. I’m still freaking out, of course, but I have nothing left to lose at this point, so I just have to keep pushing through, whatever that means…

How am I feeling right now? Mostly like I just want to go home and get in bed and wrap myself up in a blanket and watch Netflix while the thunderstorms rage on outside. Instead I decided to hope the MTR over to the Kowloon side in the middle of a major thunderstorm warning and live dangerously.

I’ll be sure to take the Star Ferry back just so I can get the whole “Irish Ancestors leaving behind their barren, empty, famine-ridden homeland and crossing the stormy seas to find their way in a brave new world” vibe. Really makes the meal worth it, to be honest. You really need to suffer through the rainy slurry on a rickety old boat…

Just kidding. There’s no ferry service in this weather. I just gotta hop the MTR and be done with it.

Well… best get to it before the weather gets even worse.

Have a nice day!

BLOG: Mickey D’s Meet-Cute

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Monday. 2:30am. We are having thunderstorms here in HK. The thunder is very loud and the Lightning is very bright. It keeps me awake at night. Luckily, I napped a lot today during the rain, so it’s okay.

So much to recount from this weekend. It was a lot.

Friday I did more job hunting things. I decided to go out that night. I wore one dress I had picked up on sale at the thrift store around the corner, but walked by and saw this other totally gorgeous dress in the window. I went in to try it on and felt so beautiful. I looked like a Princess!

Needless to say, I made a somewhat irresponsible purchase and wore it out of the store. I felt like I should get myself something nice to celebrate my first year living abroad. Ive been showing a lot of restraint when it comes to buying clothes. I’ve had to replace some necessities like pants and tops, and I needed a coat. But otherwise, I am not going on expensive shopping sprees around the boutiques and stuffing my closet full of expensive dresses I will never wear. Those days are over!

Besides, I have a whole closet I’m waiting to import when I finally get my new apartment. Manifestation ftw.

So I was out wandering about Central in this dress and decided to head up to the cantina. There I got stuck talking to one of these weird anime guys in his mid-40’s. Too much for me. Definitely what I would call a waste of a dress.

I decided to go home a bit earlier than usual. As I was walking home, I met another gentleman on the way. I was coming down the stairs as he was walking up. He looked at me and he just stopped still in his tracks. He stared at me for a moment with his mouth wide open. Then he ran up the stairs to greet me.

The first thing he did was offer me his McDonald’s bag. Seriously! He just held it out to me and said, “Do you want to share this with me? I got two pies! Which do you want? Apple or pineapple?”

LOL!

We have a winner for the best pick up of all time. That’s a good one!

So this gentleman is an airline pilot from South Africa. I know. I cringed at first too. However, he’s more international minded and lives here in HK. He has an HK phone number and apparently lives right around the corner from me. That’s very convenient. Looks like we both frequent the same McDonald’s, lol.

Also, the pilot thing is kinda hot. I’m into the hat. I can see it…

So we sat and chatted. He was very sweet, actually. He said I seem like I’m carrying a lot of weight and he asked me if he could take something off my back for me. I just hit him with the dead daddy issues thing straight away. He didn’t freak out, which is refreshing. Then again, he is from South Africa, so he’s probably qualified to fight a lion and/or crocodile, and therefore deal with me.

I agreed to wander back up to Peel Street with him for a drink. The dress needed redemption. We made it to last call and sat outside on the steps drinking our Tsingtao. The street was eerily quiet and empty. Very uncharacteristic of a Friday night.

We hung out and talked for awhile. He wanted to have sex right away, I didn’t. Boundaries! No more sleeping with strange men! I told him I needed more space and time for that. Luckily for me, he appeared to be very respectful of that fact. Plus he is busy with his own life, as everyone here in HK is, so it’s easier to set boundaries around that sort of thing. He can disappear if he wants to. I just know I prefer to have more space right now.

I went home alone and spent the weekend in bed watching movies and generally rotting. I set up my schedule for the week. I’m nervous about my interview on Wednesday. It’s challenging for me but it’s a good company so I’m going to do my best.

My interview tomorrow, not so much. This company doesn’t have great reviews. They have the name and the prestige, but the reviews were yikes on bikes. I take that sort of thing very seriously. I will check the vibe there tomorrow and see how it is.

I also worked more on my vision boarding for the next few years. I keep emphasizing stability, routine, security, long-term planning. Setting goals and making plans. I’m trying to build up my vision of who I want to become in the next few years. Perhaps maybe someone who is not a total mess? Hmm, yes, I think that would be nice.

Off now. I want to try to get some more sleep before the next storm comes. I don’t mind so much. I think Hong Kong is the most beautiful in the rain.

BLOG: The Darjeeling Limited

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Fri-yay!

I am currently hungover AF, which is a shame because I had big plans for today. In addition to the two interviews and dozens of rejections, I had three follow-ups that I definitely planned to follow up on today. Naturally, I self-sabotaged by getting way too drunk while I was at home alone.

Welcome to my life. And here I wonder why no one will ever love me, haha. Hey Betsey, here’s a brilliant idea: why don’t you stop looking at men and look at yourself for a change? Learn to love you and the mess that you are instead of waiting for some hot beefcake to rescue you from your bullshit.

Wow, brilliant, so many lessons learned today. I feel so enlightened now!

Yes, yes, yes, learn to love yourself, blah blah blah, become a strong, empowered woman, and all that jazz!

That being said, I would still very much like to end my days by falling into the arms of a hot, sexy beefcake (preferably with an even sexier accent) who just rescued me from a cockroach. That’s the real dream right there.

Listen, Ewan McGregor divorced his wife, married a woman 20 years younger, got her a job playing a Twi’lek in a Star War. It could still happen for me. I could be Wife #3, you know what I’m saying? There’s still time for me to see what’s really underneath the kilt, ya know what I’m saying?

Lol

Hahaha

Yeah I’m definitely still “off my tits” as they say in… Ireland? Scotland? England? Wales? The UK? I don’t even know anymore. They’re all so different. Is this a colonizer phrase? Who even knows anymore?

Breaking News from the Thai-US Embassy: Your passport will be revoked if you’re not making your child support payments on time.

I love this for all Thai women everywhere. Now let’s do the Philippeans! Stop letting these gross Passport Bros get away with shit! If I’m not allowed to go back to Thailand because I pissed off the local branch of the Irish Mafia, then they definitely shouldn’t be allowed back.

I’m totally kidding, of course. I’m not banned from Thailand. They’re would never ban me. All I do there is spend ridiculous amounts of money, and I don’t even talk to Bar Girls! I just blow it all on staying in a ridiculously overpriced loft with a bad pool just so I can be 5ft from the bar I’m obsessed with and all of the beautiful, wonderful, amazing people who frequent it. Love that for me!

Anyway, so that’s why I had to come back to Hong Kong. Now I blow all my money on a tiny little shoebox apartment where I somehow magically lose things like hair clips and my phone, which makes absolutely no sense. It must be the faeries. When in doubt, always blame the faeries, or the “little people,” as we say in South Dakota. Well, I don’t know if that’s what “they” say, but it’s definitely what Mad Dog used to say!

So yeah, I was definitely supposed to do real, actual, productive things today. Not sure that’s going to happen, which is unfortunate because I have things I really need to get done.

Instead I am sitting here at my favourite brunch place, right on the patio, in the heat, away from the air on like a crazy person, sweating it all out as I watch the world pass me by. I love it.

So many hot beefcakes walking by on their way to and from the gym on their lunch break. I love it. Obsessed with the beefcakes. Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight! Won’t somebody take the shadows away!

Everyone here thinks I’m so crazy for sitting in the heat instead of the aircon. Like, I get it, the weather is insane, but I really need to sweat it out. I keep telling them I used to live in a very, very, very cold place and now all I want to do is be out in the sun and sweat all my shitty feelings out. They don’t understand me. It is what it is.

Here is my real question: how do I get paid to sit in a restaurant and just watch people on the street? This is the only job I know how to do. Everything else is just, like, so stressful, you guys.

I literally do not know how people exist in the full-time corporate job world. They are all so fucking weird. They have no personal lives, no hobbies, no personalities, nothing. They just work, work, work, and then maybe go to the gym, and then they wonder why they’re all so unhappy, and then they make the rest of us feel bad about not being obsessed with work like that are.

Like, listen, I get it. I hate my family too. Honestly, the majority of them are terrible, narcissistic people who treat other people like shit and literally cannot handle being talked to in the same way. All I’ve ever wanted to do is get the fuck away from them. But I don’t throw myself into a job just to escape from that. That’s how you end up dying in a pile of your own shit, just like my dad. It is what it is.

I still remember the last thing my dad said to me before we all went to bed and I found him almost dead the next day. His last words to me were: “Can you pick me up a chocolate mocha frappachino?”

And then we found him half-dead in bed the next morning and then he was in a coma for two weeks and I had to be the one who called in the medicine man to read him his last rights because my stupid, evil mother was too drunk to literally do anything except be mean to me, and then I had to watch him die in the hospital bed right in front of me.

And then literally everyone in that stupid fucking shithole town was a giant fucking asshole about it, because that’s who they are and that’s what they do. Thanks again for ruining my life, Dad! So grateful for everything??????

Lol, yeah, whatever, at least I get to live in Asia now. Just like I always dreamed. Literally. My life only got better because my dad died. How fucking fucked up and shitty is that? It is what it is.

And this is why I have no idea how to have fun.

This is why men are a problem. They think it’s MY job to provide “fun” for them and then they get mad when they have to do actual emotional labor in the middle of the fucking blackout they put me in by plying me with booze nonstop.

So fucking stupid. Clean up your own mess, bro. I can’t do that for you. I will never do that for you. I am not your fucking mommy, okay? I’m not picking up your dirty underwear off the floor or doing your laundry or cleaning your house or cooking you food. Your job is to stand there looking sexy while fanning me with a giant palm leaf, then carry me away on my solid gold throne. Okay? Okay.

This is why I’m not married. My spirit did not reincarnate multiple times just to serve some stupid fucking man who won’t even wash his own dirty asshole. Fuck you and your fucking patriarchy. I am the motherfucking Queen!

“You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me. But you will respect me. Why? Because I’m a Boss!” -Kelis

SO I had some things to do today. Instead I’m sitting here on the patio writing crazy, unhinged things and having notions. This is exactly why my Irish ancestors got on that fucking boat and came to America. Their dream was for the 7th generation ahead of them to sit on a patio and write and make art and look fabulous while doing fucking NOTHING! No work down by the docks or in the factories or on the farm. No having 18 children, half of which died somewhere along the way. No nothing. I don’t have to do shit now, just like my ancestors dreamed. Yet somehow, I still feel so unfulfilled…

I have definitely sat in the heat for too long. It’s starting to make me sick. I need to go inside and sit by the aircon.

Okay, okay, okay, done done done.

Now inside. The sound of the construction on the Temple is very loud. I like this spot because it’s close to the historic Man Mo Temple. Man Mo is the god of “literature.” I always stop at the gates on my way home to say a prayer. I love the “Under Construction” vibe right now. It makes me feel better about myself. Like, yes, we have stood the test of time and survived, for better or for worse. That being said, sometimes we need to take some time to fix ourselves up for the sake of future preservation. It is what it is. I love it. I’m so here for it.

I should get a job as a bar cat. Like the meme. I don’t work. I don’t care. I just sit in the wrong spot and somehow run the entire place. Like Andrew did at Bloody Mary’s. Is my dream to actually be Andrew? Is that why I was so obsessed with him for like, what, ten years? Who even knows anymore!

That’s the second time this week I’ve thought about Andrew. I haven’t thought about Andrew in a long time. I mean, how could I? Between the Hot Beef Stew and The Russian, my heart, mind, and va-jay-jay has been extremely occupied. There’s very little space for a fictional character these days. I just meet so many attractive men. Sometimes I still look at Andrew’s old pictures and think to myself, “Wow, I really thought this guy was hot.” Goes to show how slim the pickins really are out there on the lone prairie. His catchphrase should be, “Yikes on Bikes!”

I will always remember this chapter as that time I was so desperate to get railed by a hot sexy beefcake that I wrote two whole books about the bartender I thought was really hot from far away, but only in a dark room.

Just kidding. I just thought of him now sitting in the doorway with his mountain man beard, looking mean and old and cranky AF, wearing some ancient fucking t-shirt from some concert he went to in the 90’s, taking off his baseball cap and wiping his forehead in exhaustion, as if he had actually done something productive today. Like maybe he mowed the lawn without the t-shirt and hat on, and then walk down to fetch the mail while I was riding by on my white horse, and that’s why he’s tired, or something? IDK!

Sorry, wow, wait, did it just get hotter in here? Because I’m literally sitting under the aircon right now and I just started sweating again.

I mean… he might not be the Pabst Blue Ribbon winner of the Magic Mike Live contest, but something about that really did it for me. I mean, you don’t see me sitting here writing two novels about The Russian. It is what it is.

I know I love him because I have lived my whole life being screamed at and called crazy, and he’s the only person who ever did that in a way that actually turned me on. I was so into it. I was like, “Please, yell at me more. I don’t know why I like this but I do.”

I don’t like it coming from anyone else, but when you do it, it’s like… somehow the hottest thing ever? No one knows.

Awww, my Andrew. I loved my Andrew. I really did. At least, I thought I did. Let’s be real here. I have never been in an actual, meaningful long-term relationship. I just stare at hot guys from far away and fantasize about what it would be like to have them fan me with a giant palm leaf. I don’t know jack shit about love.

But if you asked me if I’ve ever been in love with anyone… I would tell you it was Andrew, every single time. I loved him. I really did. I don’t know what real love is… but… whatever I felt was pretty close to that. I hope he’s happy now, wherever he is. Maybe Seattle? Who even knows these days? I don’t know. I don’t look for him or check in on him or ask about him. I don’t have to. He just visits me in my dreams…

*sigh*

Anyways, yes, what the fuck was I talking about again? My dad dying? The fact that I moved to the other side of the planet just to be this fucked up all the time? Maybe something about paying child support so your passport doesn’t get revoked? Who even knows anymore!

I really need to eat something. All I had for a dinner was a plastic cup full of olives and feta cheese to go with the two bottles of wine I drank after eating nothing all day.

I think sometimes I act this way because I just want to die and I lack the courage to just jump off the rooftop when the void calls to me. So I just kill myself slowly with alcohol and cigarettes and men instead. It is what it is.

Anyway, I can’t kill myself. I’ve already tried multiple times. It never works. Someone up there wants me to live, to survive, to give something back to this world. I don’t understand. If I’m still alive after all of this, I must have some kind of purpose. I just don’t know what that purpose is. I just know when I look at worksheets about teaching grammar to children, I feel absolutely nothing at all. It means nothing to me. I’m just here for the job, the visa, the paycheck. I can’t make a difference in this world. I’m just a woman, standing here in front of a white board, asking for a steady paycheck without the cost of being bullied at work.

It is what it is.

I really need to eat something. I haven’t eaten anything substantial in like… at least two days. At least.

It is what is.

I like that scene in the Darjeeling Limited at the end when they all leave their baggage behind and board the train, waving it all goodbye. That’s the vibe right now. I just want to leave my impossibly heavy suitcases behind and hop that train to the next shitty little village in India, and do yoga with a giant snake, and just have fun and live life and have a good time.

I wish I was fun. I just want to have fun. Someone, please, teach me how to have fun. I just want to have some fun!

Okay, I’m done now. I really do need to eat something or I will actually pass out in this “brunch concept” of a restaurant right now.

The End!

BLOG: The Great Mystery

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Thursday.

Today is The Day That Doesn’t Exist, aka May 35th. I can’t actually write about it, so you will just have to look it up. This is an example of what people actually mean when they talk about censorship in China. That rule is for Big Important Stuff, not my small potatoes blog where I talk about my narcissistic family and the crappy small town I used to live in.

The people I write about think, “I don’t like what she said because it hurts MY feelings and makes ME look bad, therefore she shouldn’t be allowed to say it or write it all!” Then they turn around and continue treating me the exact crappy same way with ZERO self-awareness whatsoever. So it’s okay for them to be assholes to me, but I’m not allowed to be an asshole back. I should be censored for speaking to them the exact same way they speak to and about me!

You know what we call that?

Delusional AF.

Hope ya’ll enjoyed your reality check. You’re not that important in the grand scheme of things, and neither am I. It is what it is. I am at peace with this. That’s why I still do what I do without shame. Just take the same dumb advice you’re always giving me and just, like, get over it already!!!!!

Yeah, how see how shitty that sounds?

Exactly.

Anyway, yesterday was pretty uneventful. I mostly slept because I absolutely did not sleep after finding that cockroach in my kitchen sink the other night.

Oh yeah, so nobody told me until later that you’re not supposed to leave the corpse unattended because it attracts more. LUCKILY FOR ME, it did not attract more, so I came home to find the same singular dead cockroach upside down in my sink. So gross!

Anyway, I was just tipsy enough to give it a New Orleans Jazz funeral, which means I sang “I’ll Fly Away” as I scooped it up with the big kitchen spoon and dumped it in a trash bag. Then I danced down the hall swinging the (closed) bag around like a rag and dumped it in the trash. Perhaps now it will break free of whatever miserable reincarnation cycle its stuck in that turned it into a cockroach and level up in the next life. You just can never be too sure with things like that…

It’s a good thing my neighbor was there to kill it for me because it is 100% against my spiritual belief system to bring harm to an animal like that. I do not kill insects or spiders or cockroaches or anything. That’s why I have to enlist help and why I still feel guilty enough later to do something ridiculous like sing to a dead cockroach. Again, I am at peace with this. It is what it is.

As you may have guessed, I immediately started spiraling after the cockroach jazz funeral and ended up on the roof crying all alone about everyone I know who died in a very short, five year period of time. It’s a lot. My dad, my Irish grandmother, Mad Dog, my favourite aunt, my uncle I lived with in NY, both of my dogs that we had for 13 years, three of my cats (including my favourite), a very good friend of mine, and one of my favourite professors from university.

Oh, and then there was the whole “losing my entire family” thing after my dad died because my mom realized it was finally her big opportunity to make me the Family Black Sheep, just like she’s always dreamed. How dare I stand up for myself and assert myself! I must be forever punished for my insubordinate behavior with the silent treatment!

Yeah, it’s a lot! Especially when you’re on the other side of the world, all alone with no one to talk to about any of it. Yeah, I cried a lot. It is what it is.

I sensed my neighbor come outside in the middle of it. Doing yoga increases one’s awareness of other energies, so you can sense people when they’re standing there, even if you can’t see them. Just Basic Jedi Mind Trick Stuff. Also, I can smell the smoke from his cigarettes. Dead giveaway right there.

He didn’t come over to me or say anything. I just felt him standing there watching me sadly, as if he was thinking, “It’s not really about the cockroach, is it?”

I found myself saying aloud, “You don’t understand. You still have a family you’re close to. You’re not all alone out here like I am.”

He didn’t say anything. He kept hiding in the dark, but I knew he was there. I could smell the smoke from his cigarette. A few minutes later, he went inside.

I think he’s a good friend. He’s been very helpful to me in so many ways. I’ve legitimately felt much calmer since he confronted me on the rooftop and asked me why I’m always acting so crazy. It’s one of those things like… I really just needed to be seen and heard and acknowledged in that moment, and he did that for me.

You really have to think about it from his POV. He’s seeing me when I’m not wearing the mask or out in public pretending to be someone I’m not yet in order to “fake it until I make it.” He’s seeing me crying on the rooftop on bad days and coming home from a night out drunkenly singing and dancing. He’s got the Front Row View of the entire show, completely raw, unedited, and unfiltered. He’s seeing me in Full Unhinged Crazy Mode, and instead of judging me, he reached out to help me. That means a lot.

I feel bad about objectifying him now. He’s not just some hot beefcake. He’s a human being with thoughts and feelings, just like I am.

Awww.

See? I don’t hate men. I just need to deal with men who aren’t complete assholes. That’s hard to find in this world.

Honestly, I think I’m just not used to kindness in this world. Most of the people I’ve known in my life have been really mean, negative, and on a mission to hurt others in order to elevate themselves. So when someone is actually genuinely kind to me, it’s incredibly jarring and shocking.

I still can’t believe he actually sat down with me and gave me real, practical advice for finding a job that legitimately worked. No one in my entire life has ever done that. They either give me some big lecture or tear me down to the point where I feel like I don’t deserve to exist.

The point is that all they do is speak words at me. There is no actual meaningful action behind their words. They’re just saying whatever sounds good to them so they can pat themselves on the back and say, “See? I tried, but SHE didn’t LISTEN!”

That’s because all you did was talk at me. You didn’t actually do anything meaningful to help me change the situation. That’s not helpful. That’s just basic narcissism. You think you’re a brilliant genius who knows everything and is better than everyone, so you talk down to everyone else as if they are beneath you. Then you wonder why I don’t listen. What are you actually saying? What are you actually doing?

To me, you might as well be typing out the same 5 paragraphs every person I’ve ever met has written to me about all the reasons why they hate me and why I shouldn’t exist. That’s not helpful. No sane, rational person in this world would look at a pile of hate mail they got in response to looking for a job and think, “Wow, that was SO helpful! Thank you so much! I’ll remember this when I’m still broke and homeless and living on the streets. Thank god you were here to lecture me during my time in need! I really benefitted from that!”

Please know at this point, I really do ignore the pile of hate mail I get from everyone. Yep, I get it. You hate me, you hate my personality, you hate my writing, you hate everything I am and have ever been and ever will be, you don’t support me, you want to see me fail, you wish I was dead so you wouldn’t have to deal with me ever again, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah! Blah blah blah! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah! Blah blah! Blah blah blah! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah…

Gee, it’s a really a mystery why I never listened to any of those people! Someone get Agatha Christie on this case, stat! Surely she will be able to figure out why someone wouldn’t listen to some dumb fucking townie hick from the middle of nowhere dole out thinly-veiled personal attacks disguised as completely impractical life advice. That’s definitely one for the ages. Sure that’s the story that will be getting new film and TV remakes once a decade, at least.

Meanwhile, my neighbor solved that mystery fast. He just sat down with me and was like, “Ah, so you’re upset because you’re unemployed. I see. Let’s take a look at your CV and cover letter and fix it up to make you really shine. We’ll get you sorted, no worries.”

Anyway, I really appreciate how kind he has been to me. He really did not have to help me at all. I try to give him as much space as possible and don’t bother him unless it’s an emergency (such as a giant cockroach in my sink). Boundaries, right? I can’t be 100% needy all the time. I have to at least try to figure out as much of this on my own as I possibly can.

In the end, I think he was probably just sitting up there on the rooftop thinking, “How do I get my annoying neighbor to shut the fuck up? Let’s confront the problem directly and see what can be done to get it all sorted.”

It is now sorted. If there’s one thing British people are good at, it’s getting things sorted. They do not care for chaos. They care for calm, control, and order. Combined with the Hong Kong value of Efficiency Above All Other Things, this man found a way to deal with his crappy neighbor without being an asshole, and it worked. Good for him! I respect that.

Anyway, yeah, he’s awesome. I want to get him a snack from 7/11 or something to thank him. I’m big on gift-giving like that. It’s generally not very well-received for some reason, so maybe I won’t get him anything at all. I don’t know.

Anywayyyyyyyyyz…

Still waiting on the job thing. They asked me to come in next week to do a test run with some of the classes. I think that’s a good sign! They seem to invest a lot of time and energy into training. They said it was something like four months of training time, as opposed to my old company. They gave us one week of training total. If you make any mistakes during that week, you’re out on the street and you somehow owe them money for the trouble. Brutal.

No wonder my confidence was completely destroyed after that job. I barely had any in myself when I got here and then they destroyed what little I had. It took a whole year, numerous adventures, and many dates with hot, sexy beefcakes to build up a basic level of self-esteem. I’m not sure I even still have any. Yet somehow I am still here, still swimming around in this shark tank, still keeping my head just above water.

That explains why I’m still worrying over whether or not I will actually get the job, even though I was technically already offered the job and they’re in the process of doing the onboarding paperwork. I refuse to get comfortable. It could all still go horribly, horribly wrong. I could still end up homeless on the street with nowhere to go and no one to help me. The risk of homelessness is always there. Always. This is my greatest fear.

I just hope it all works out. Law of Attraction. Manifestation. Visualization. I am standing in a random alley surrounded by red lanterns and glowing lights, wearing a vintage emerald green qipao and holding a bouquet of pink roses, posing for an instagram influencer photoshoot. I am celebrating. I got the job. I got the visa. I got the apartment. I got the Chirkin. I did it. I am a real Hong Konger now. #Chinamaxxing.

So much to do today. Gotta run to the market and find all peppermint everything. I’m going to deep-clean my apartment and coat everything in peppermint oil. Burn peppermint-scented incense and candles. Cockroaches hate peppermint!

Maybe I’ll just buy myself a peppermint plant and keep it on the kitchen counter where I found the cockroach. Never again.

Nothing else to write today. Just grateful that I met so many people on this journey who helped me. I never would have made it this far on my own. I’m lucky for the kindness of strangers. I didn’t know people could be so nice. It is truly a jarring experience of the best kind.

Off now. Have a good day! Try to be kind to someone for no reason today instead of ganging up on them in an effort to ruin their life for your personal entertainment. I know, it’s hard, especially if you’re from South Dakota, but somehow… I think you’ll manage.

BLOG: Man vs Cockroach

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Oh my god. I can’t even right now.

Ew.

It’s so gross. I can’t.

Okay, so, like, I know the realities of city life… but… so far, I have not had any direct encounters with cockroaches in my own house. My safe space. My cave. My little retreat where I can hide from the world.

Tonight I experienced a home invasion from an extremely large cockroach. It was so big and so gross and it ran right at me when I walked over to my kitchen sink. Forever traumatized.

I cowered in fear on the other side of the apartment as it peaked out at me with its creepy little antenna from the sink. I couldn’t handle it. I just couldn’t. In that moment, I resorted to my primal cavewoman instincts and did the only thing I could think of: I called the nearest man for help.

This was my neighbor, who I had literally just spoken to on the roof maybe 20 minutes prior. Not even. So when I knocked on his door this time, I knew he wasn’t in a bad mood and I knew I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“There’s a cockroach in my sink and I need you to kill it for me. I can’t. I literally just can’t.”

He looked at me in disgust and replied, “And you want me to do it? Who do you think I am?!”

“I don’t know! Someone who has more experience dealing with cockroaches in Hong Kong than I do! You’re the one who has lived here your whole life!”

He reluctantly agreed and followed me into my studio to assess the situation.

“Wow, that’s a big one,” he said. “Gross.”

“Yeah, exactly! So do something about it!”

He went out into the stairwell to fetch the communal roach spray.

“Is that going to work?” I asked. “I thought they were indestructible.”

“They are,” he answered calmly. “But this generally works. You just have to spray it multiple times, like this.”

He sprayed the cockroach dead and left me to dispose of the remains alone. I couldn’t deal with it, so I changed my clothes and walked over to the cantina instead. Just you wait until I get three strawberry magaritas in me. I’ll go full Mexican Mafia on your bitchass, cockroach!

I realized as I walked up the stairs through Central that my confidence in my neighbor had been slightly shaken. He wasn’t as ready and willing to take charge of the situation as I had hoped. I mentally added, “Confident in his ability to take out a cockroach” to my checklist of requirements for a future partner.

In that moment, I couldn’t deal only think of my Russian. If he had been there, he would say, “Do not worry, Liz. I am big strong alpha male. I kill cockroach for you, then feed to bear I keep in pit back home in Mother Russia.”

Oh, if only.

That’s hot…

The other expat sitting at the bar tonight has not been helpful. He overheard me telling my friend this story and he said, “Just wait until the rats come into your apartment and run across your bed while you sleep.”

“Has this actually happened to you here?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” he said with a sadistic laugh. “Just wait until the rats come.”

Pure fucking nightmare fuel.

Dear god.

You know, I was having a good day today before that happened.

Horrifying. I can’t even. Just the thought of its dead body waiting for me back in the sink is enough to fuel my nightmares for weeks. So fucking nasty and gross. I just can’t.

Now I’m mad at my neighbor for making me do this by myself. Like, come on, man. You’re a man, man! This is supposed to be your job!

Okay, enough dwelling on this. I need to get Mexican Mafia wasted and dispose of the body.

Have a good night!

BLOG: One Year Anniversary

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Tuesday.

One year ago last night I got on a plane to Dubai. One year ago today, I landed. There I was promptly dumped by my fake fiancé after 48 hours for being “Too Much.” He was ten years too young for me anyway, and not ready for real commitment.

Upon reflection, I really dodged a bullet on this one. I think I just let him sweet talk me for a year because it was what I really needed at the time. I knew deep in my heart it wasn’t going to work because we are from two very difficult cultures, but I let him tell me what I wanted to hear anyway. It’s what I needed at the time. It is what it is.

I spent two weeks in Dubai at a decently-priced resort doing nothing. I laying on a beach for half the day, then moved up to the pool to do the same thing with a slightly different vibe, and then I would go sit outside in the lounge and drink wine and eat za’atar pinza all night. Best vacation ever.

Then I came to Hong Kong and the craziness began. It’s been a journey ever since. Wow. I can’t believe I’ve been out here in Asia for a whole year. That is insane. I can’t believe it. I never, ever thought I would actually make it here, let alone live in a place like Hong Kong. Wild. Just wild.

Anyway, I spent yesterday celebrating my achievement by prepping for another job interview. Never heard back from the other place. This interview went surprisingly well. We were on the call for about an hour and 15 minutes, which is a good sign. She was very enthusiastic about my application and interview.

We were very much in agreement about our philosophies regarding workplace culture. I straight-up told her I had been in many negative work situations before and it’s part of the reason why I left the US. My old company here in HK was the same way and I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. It’s really, really, really important to me to find a non-toxic workplace where I can grow and thrive.

She said they were going to run a quick background check with my old job just to check that there is a record of me actually working there. I also gave them the name of another teacher I knew there who I know for a fact will give me a good reference. Hopefully I can clear that hurdle.

Assuming said hurdle is cleared, we will start the onboarding process this week. She wanted to get my new visa application started by Friday. I would also like to do this, mostly because I’m sick of job hunting. I’m ready to sign that two-year contract, get that visa, and lock into a new apartment lease.

I did run a background check on this company as well. I learned my lesson about that, lol. Unlike my previous company, the reviews on Glassdoor were overall very positive. There was no negative internet trail dating back 15 years following them. They also seemed to be aware of my old company’s reputation. They said it without saying it.

My hopes are high. I did get three other responses from some of the applications I sent out on Saturday. Three callbacks and about two dozen rejections, lol. I guess we will find out if my old company is going to cause me a significant problem this week. Then I’ll know whether or not I should just call it quits on Hong Kong and go somewhere else to start all over again.

Not sure how I would do that at this point since I just risked everything on HK, but I’m not going to worry about that. I’m just manifesting a positive outcome for this application. I’m manifesting a positive outcome for my life.

I’ve been out of the prison that was South Dakota for a whole year now. I know that sometimes the memories drag me back there and I still feel that pain as if it were happening to me in the present, but overall… I would say it’s getting a lot better. It’s not my every day life anymore. It’s just the old memories on replay. The longer I stay out here, the more material I collect for my “new movie.” If I can replace the bad memories with good memories, eventually the bad ones won’t bother me anymore. So the theory goes, anyway.

I think I’m doing a pretty decent job of that so far. I’m definitely getting lots of inspiration from all the characters I meet and adventures I have. Can’t really complain today, to be honest. It’s been a struggle, but it’s worth it. I’m so close now, I can taste it. The life of stability, happiness, growth, and prosperity is close at hand.

Trust. Manifest. Happiness is on the way. Happiness is here in the now.

Some days I’m just so grateful to finally be away from my old life. It was so sad and so difficult and so painful. Every day felt like a nightmare I would never wake up from. Now I’m free! I’m free! I’m finally free!

And what am I doing with that freedom? Sitting by the aircon in my tiny shoebox studio with all the lights turned off because it’s too damn hot to do anything else, lol.

Time to suck it up and go to the beach or something, lol. Why do I even live on an island if I’m not going to the beach? Ugh. I have no idea how to just be carefree and have fun, I swear. I’m always too caught up in my depression and anxiety and bad memories. No fun whatsoever.

No wonder I was so easily duped by The Russian. He promised me fun and instead it was… well… it was really something, wasn’t it? It was definitely story material. Definitely felt more like I was working than playing. Not as much romancing as I hoped for. All I learned was not to mess with the “sailors” (aka short-term visitors to HK) anymore.

Hopefully the next one who comes along will know how to actually have fun. Or maybe he’ll be another creep who wants to meet me at a bar full of finance bros who just want to drug and grope me like the most recent one was. Who knows? Let’s just stay open and hope for the best.

Off now. I have an apartment to clean and a long list of errands to run. Have a good day!