Tag: Hong Kong

BLOG: I Am Not Invisible

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Monday.

I am not in my regular writing routine so I’m just sitting here right now like… where was I?

Ok. I had just finished watching The Season and speculating whether or not my Neighbor would have played the role he auditioned for in a significantly less sleazy manner.

Right.

So what do you think the next choice I made was?

That’s right. I decided to go up to the Secret Society and collect material for my own version of “The Season,” fancy yacht parties not included. Welcome to the Mid-Levels Madness. Here we go.

So, first thing is first. That place is so fucking WEIRD. I cannot describe the vibe up there. I’ve been in there multiple times now as a member, I’ve given it an open mind, and yeah, like… it’s definitely giving “Secret Society” vibes.

The first problem I noticed was that all the regulars clocked me RIGHT AWAY, but no one actually said hello. They all just gathered in the corner and started talking amongst each other. There is nothing unusual about this specific group behavior, but it was definitely giving weird vibes.

I briefly wondered if the married Irishman I just rejected last week was all up in there talking shit. Maybe! Who knows! Not sure why I’m the problem for saying I prefer to have a real relationship with a single man instead of falling for some married guy’s imaginary made up fairytale fantasy… AGAIN. No thanks, bro! That ship has sailed! But sure, do whatever you have to do to ruin my life so you can avoid accountability. I’ve seen it all before.

I decided to ignore it. Maybe they are not talking about me at all.

Eventually, this random lady I had never met before came over and started chatting me up. She was cool enough. I just felt really awkward because she made a comment about my appearance and I had to say, “I’m 37.”

I know that I look young, but rest assured, I’m not some random 23-year-old sugar baby looking for her next daddy. Pretty sick of the whole “predatory older men using me for the own agenda” thing, honestly.

So the whole conversation was awkward, but I managed to hold my own, as per usual. Living in South Dakota may have fucked up my entire life, but I grew up in the DC area to a father who was a very well-known prominent lawyer. I can hold my own in these rooms whether I want to, or not.

So the conversation was happening, and I just kept trying to steer it towards the fact that I am in the market for a job that is not F&B or teaching. I don’t know how well that went, but I made an effort.

Then shit got really weird. All of a sudden, this one old British finance bro turned around and gave me a huge hug out of nowhere. Everyone in the room just stopped and stared at me while I put on a fake smile and tried to pretend I wasn’t insanely uncomfortable in that moment.

“Oh, you know him?” The lady asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not well,” I said. “I’ve only met him here a few times. He’s the one who invited me to join.”

Another raised eyebrow. Yes, lady, I know. I’ve seen him out here creeping on young ladies too. I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on. I ALSO don’t feel comfortable with him randomly putting his arms around me and showing me off to the whole crowd like a prized racing horse who just won him a trophy at Sha Tin.

So icky! Gross! It was just gross.

Somehow, it got worse. Right at that moment, out of absolutely fucking nowhere, the Finance Bro who invited me to snort coke off a dirty bathroom toilet seat and then proceeded to grope me in front of everyone appeared. And not only did he appear, but he, too, embraced me in front of everyone and made me do that obnoxious “kiss on both cheeks” greeting that, honestly, I totally get is cultural, but also… no.

Literally as he was kissing my cheeks, all I could think about was how close his face had probably been to a dirty bar toilet only moments before. Even as I write this… the expression on my face is like… ew… no… disgust… no.

I truly felt so violated in that moment. Once again, he just could not resist putting his grimy paws all over me and grabbing me in places I did not give him express, specific consent to grab.

Then came the most horrifying part: the fact that I CONTINUED TO PRETEND SMILING AND ACTING LIKE NONE OF THIS FUCKING BOTHERED ME EVEN THOUGH ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS RUN HOME AND SHOWER.

It was terrible. Honestly, so terrible. It really put me off going back up there again. Before, I was like, “Well… you know… it might just be me. Maybe I got too drunk, maybe I misunderstood, maybe there’s more to this place than I think, after all… it IS important to be in these types of rooms… you know, for the connections! Networking! This is just how it is. It’s the same in DC, in SD, in NYC, in HK, everywhere. You have to know which rooms are going to help you get where you need to go. This room could help me get where I need to go.”

But then… No. Girl, no! WTF?! Just… no!

For one brief shining moment, I really sat there and asked myself, “What am I doing right now? Why am I coming into this place where I have repeatedly been made to feel unsafe, just to listen to terrible old rich people spew terrible pro-colonialist Old Empire propaganda? All this, just for a blog post 10 whole people might read? Why? To what end? To get a job working for people like this? Why? So I can go back to the comfort of my suburban upbringing and never have to worry about money ever again? Is it really worth it?”

I don’t think it is…

Even now, just recounting this… the look on my face, the feelings I am feeling, everything, all of it. It’s like watching my whole life flash before my eyes.

Just… why?

I don’t know. I think South Dakota ruined me, tbh. All living there taught me how to do was compromise my boundaries and beliefs so I could feel extremely uncomfortable hanging out in rooms full of shitty fucking assholes, political opinions and socioeconomic status irrelevant.

Like… I don’t even know how to find a person I actually like. I have no idea how to have fun. I just think… “This is just how life is, Betsey. You just have to go out there and be around terrible people you don’t like all the time, and that’s just the way it is. You’re the problem for not liking it, Betsey. You need to learn how to turn off all of your feelings and opinions and just watch it all unfold in front of you live in real time. Then you go home and write about it later. That’s what being a writer is. That’s what it means.”

But like… is it?

Should I not be using this life to do something that makes me happy?

Of course!

But like… how do I do that when I legitimately do not know what makes me happy?

There are some things that make me happy. Sitting in a little street-side cafe on a rainy day, writing the afternoon away. Eating a plate of delicious food with the appropriate wine to pair. Snuggling up in bed and watching TV (mostly with my cat, who is sadly no longer with us). Learning new things. Reading. Drawing, painting, coloring. The feeling of hunting through a discount sale or secondhand shop in search for the perfect dress to wear out to dinner by myself just so I can feel beautiful for a night,

None of these things make money or involve a career. The career question is so hard right now. I literally do not know how to not be completely miserable at a job. I’ve mostly had TERRIBLE work experiences because the SD culture is so fucking hostile towards outsiders of all kinds. I can’t remember the last time I had a job I liked. I really thought teaching would be the change I needed, but it’s not.

My dream job is to not have to work in a place where I have to put on a big fake smile and pretend I’m a Disney character every day. I can’t do it. I can’t keep it together. I do not have that ability. I cannot hide my emotional state at all, ever. It is what it is.

I don’t know what’s right for me. Again, we just know it’s not teaching children or yoga, and it’s definitely not serving other people. But those are the only jobs I’ve ever had… and I don’t have the experience on my resume necessary to just switch without going back to school or finding someone to speak for me as a reference.

I just feel so stuck right now. My mind just goes back to the same place it always does: Fight, Flight, Fawn, or Freeze. Right now all I seem to do in HK is fawn or freeze. Now I’m a place where I either have to fight to stay or take flight. If I take flight, it’s very clear that I only have a certain amount of time/money before I end up back in the US, homeless, without meaning, purpose, or direction, and back in my abusive family home. If I stay here, there’s only a certain amount of time/money before my luck runs out and I end up in the same place.

But what if I flee to a yoga shala in India and hide out in the Himalayas until I go cray-cray a la Black Narcissus and jump off a cliff?

Why does that ending seem so inevitable all the time? Ugh. I fully blame my dad for saying dumb shit to me my whole life like, “You could be just like [insert name of writer who killed themselves here].”

Like, yeah, that shit is so real. I don’t even have kids or a husband or a house in the burbs, but I 100% get why Sylvia Plath stuck her head in an oven. You don’t need to encourage more of that energy to grow within me just to prove to your narcissistic ego that yes, you did, in fact, spawn a “misunderstood genius” who may not be accepted in this life, but maybe famous in the next.

Terrible parenting, tbh. 0/10, would not choose to be born to either of these nutjobs ever again.

Who am I? What am I doing with my life? I don’t know anything anymore.

All I know if that today is the perfect day to judge people based on their “umbrella walks,” so that’s what I’m going to do.

The End!

BLOG: So, I Watched The Season…

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Thursday. It’s raining like crazy. It’s very dark outside. Yet somehow I feel… better.

My day started with my Neighbor messaging me asking me to check if his mail is in my mailbox. He messaged me out of nowhere (no apology included, of course) claiming that he “put the wrong apartment number on a piece of mail.” Yeah right. Whatever! That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.

This slow burn is getting a little tedious for me. It’s like…

Me: That’s it. I can’t do it anymore! HK isn’t right for me. I’m giving up and packing my shit and leaving!

Neighbor: Wait, don’t go! I need you…

Me: Yes?

Neighbor: … uhh… I meant I need you to pick up my mail for me! Yes, that’s it!

[audience audibly groans]

Later I went down to investigate the mailbox situation and discovered there is only one box for the entire floor. Ridiculous! I can’t believe this is the excuse he invented to talk to me again…

So I decided to use the rainy day yesterday as an opportunity to watch The Season on Hulu, which is about rich people in Hong Kong. It was ridiculous and absurd. Very entertaining for all the wrong reasons.

It’s definitely a show for an American audience. Everyone in the show has an American accent, except for the one evil old money British guy. There were more Americans in this show than I’ve ever met in HK, lol. I guess now I know they’re all hanging out on a yacht. How do I get invited to that party?

Then there’s the Personal Trainer/Actor who “gives out extras on the side.” As it turns out, my neighbor auditioned for that role. I think he would have been better. The guy they cast came off as rather sleazy and gross. Maybe that’s what they were going for, but there was also a moment where he gets to be sincere and he completely failed to play it off that way. It just came out as creepy. Again, maybe that’s what they were going for, but I think my neighbor would have played it a different way.

The main character lived in what appeared to be a one-bedroom apartment with a balcony above a famous bar on Peel Street. It was furnished and decorated with a grungy SoHo theme to it. They were definitely trying to signal that she was “roughing it” compared to the others, who were living up in the Mid-Levels and on the Peak.

I would hardly call living in Central “roughing it” but, again, this is for an American audience and they neeed to be reminded of the Brooklyn vs Upper East Side rivalry of Gossip Girl. It’s the only way we can relate.

Since real estate speculation is a sport in HK, I decided to snoop on the public transactions records for the apartments in that area to see how much she would be paying for rent. My guess was $15k-$25k ($1900-$3200 USD).

Much to my surprise, the average rent for a unit that size in the building was actually slightly lower than I expected. It was about $13k-$20k ($1600-$2500). It probably has to do with the fact that she lives on Peel Street, which gets rowdy, loud, and crowded late at night.

If given the chance, I personally would not choose to live on that street. I much prefer living in Sheung Wan. I’m right next door to Central, but I’ve got my own little quiet space to escape from all the chaos and noise. Plus, it’s French AF. I love that for me!

Generally it’s just one big tourism commercial for HK, which I’m fine with. There are so many gorgeous shots of Hong Kong. I stuck with it till the end just for that. It’s so crazy to me when I watch tourism footage of HK. Like, “I actually live here now! That’s amazing!”

Overall, I was entertained. It was way better than Expats, which was one of the most depressing shows I’ve ever watched. Sure, the characters in this show were also hateable, but in a fun way! It was fun to watch. The first episode is a slog to get through, but after that it gets much better.

I think the funniest part is episode 5 when the main character goes out with “the boyz.” She’s like “Show me the real Hong Kong!”

Meanwhile they’re sitting there like Beavis and Butthead going, “Heh heh heh, heh heh heh, yeah we’ll show you the REAL Hong Kong…”

I’m watching this like “They’re about to take her to some sketchy back alley bar and do coke off a toilet seat.”

AND THEN THAT IS LITERALLY WHAT HAPPENED! I was laughing so hard, I was crying. Yeah, I’ve seen “the real Hong Kong” too. Don’t fall for that trap! You don’t know what you’re really asking for, lol! Ask me how I learned that lesson the hard way…

I’m pretty happy I watched it. Yeah, it was silly, but at least it was entertaining! I woke up in a pretty good mood today in spite of the black rain and dark sky. I guess that little boost of inspiration is just what I needed to kick my ass into gear again!

This is why I love Hong Kong!

What to do today? Update my CV and apply for another round of jobs? Maybe so!

Off we go now! Have a good day!

BLOG: The New Rules of Engagement

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Tuesday.

The morning started out rough. I had a nightmare, which is normal at this point, but still extremely triggering. Got upset. Left the apartment as soon as possible to come to the coffee shop and write.

Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane in this world. Writing and yoga, but only as long as I’m doing yoga by myself. I get stressed out if I have to be around other Yogis. Most of them are just… yikes on bikes. Not exactly a community I’m proud to be part of at this point. It’s a lot of “Being totally and completely selfish is the only way to be happy! You don’t owe anyone anything!”

Uhh… except for the part where that statement literally goes against the spiritual dharma of yoga. Like, actually, you do owe your community and the planet something, you fucking asshole. But sure, go off about how filming a handstand for IG helped you find your center, or whatever. Really doing yoga there.

I really did not like the people I met in Bali, lol. Can you tell?

I hate how negative people who say negative things to me stay stuck in my brain. Like, why the fuck do I care what people with no empathy think of me? They have no empathy! They’re horrible to everyone! That’s what people like that do. Why do I let it affect me?

New rule: anyone who makes me feel bad is not allowed in my space or my life. If someone comes at me and tries to lecture me out of “concern” or whatever, they’re getting blocked immediately.

Did I ask for your advice? No. So why are you talking at me like I give a fuck? Do you really think what you’re saying right now is relevant? It’s not, and I’m tired of pretending it is.

Let us take a moment of peace to be calm and enjoy our coffee.

Breathe it in real deep on this rainy, miserable day. We have a long day ahead of us.

So much for my “Week of No Regrets.” I already regret wasting my Sunday with that person. Their negativity is sticking to me now and I can’t shake it. I need to go out on a fun adventure or something. Too bad it’s raining. Alas.

Okay, new rules for socializing:

-If the person speaking is under the age of 30, don’t listen to anything they have to say. They have not passed The Age of Wisdom yet. I am 37. I am closer to 40 than 20 at this point. That age gap is real AF and I’m tired of pretending it’s not. Plus, Gen-Zs are fucking weird. Over it. Done. Under 30’s are not friend material. Period. Old people FTW. They have knowledge, expertise, wisdom, connections, and life experience. All your new friends are in their mid-to-late 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s now, Betsey. Welcome to real life. These 20-something’s you’ve been running around don’t know shit about shit. Cut them all off. They’re annoying AF.

-If the person speaking is not a creative or artist, do not listen to anything they have to say. If the person in question tries to suggest that writing is not a real career or source of livelihood, cut them off forever.

-If the person speaking is being mean, judgmental, or cruel in any way, cut them off and block them immediately. I deserve to be happy in my life. I deserve to be around people who are kind. I don’t need any more “tough love” or “brutal honesty.” You’re not saying anything new. You’re just being mean for the sake of being mean.

-If the person speaking defends my toxic family at any point for any reason, they’re gone. Cut them off. They are also toxic. I don’t need that energy in my life.

-If the person speaking tries to lecture me about anything, cut them off.

-If the person speaking refuses to acknowledge mental health, trauma, and grief are real issues that cannot simply be “pushed through,” block, delete, and cut off forever. These people don’t believe in science. They’re worse than anti-vaxxers. Nothing they have to say is relevant or valuable. They’re just going to be mean for the sake of being mean.

-If the person speaking is promising you something or giving you advice without taking any real action to help you achieve a specific goal, stop listening to and spending time around them. They’re not going to help you. They’re just being mean for the sake of being mean.

-If the person in question spends most of their time locked into a device with earbuds in, disregard everything they say about anything. These people are not living in the real world. Who wants to take life advice from someone on Zombie Mode?

That’s all I can think of right now. It’s unbelievable how many idiots in this world are walking around acting like they know everything when they’ve barely even read one piece of literary fiction.

Like, literally… be real with yourself for one minute. What qualifications do you actually have that allow you to make these judgments right now? Seriously. WHY would I listen to you?

I just accomplished something I’ve been dreaming of doing my entire life, and you’re trying to tear me down for it. Why? What is that? Why are you out here being mean just for the sake of being mean?

Okay, anyway, I’m done listening to any and all negative feedback. It’s not useful or productive. It just makes me lose respect instantly for whoever it’s coming from, mostly because I’m not sitting there tearing them apart to their face under the guise of “brutal honesty.”

I am very angry and annoyed today. I was very sad yesterday. Hmm. I should check my calendar. Maybe it’s my PMS week? That would explain the weird ups and downs in mood. It’s a real issue for me. I have to mark it out on my calendar specifically so I can self-isolate from other people.

It’s okay. We’ve learned a valuable lesson here. This is like, what? The fourth or fifth time I’ve encountered someone on my writing journey who promised up and down they would help me, only to completely tear me down?

I know it’s not helpful, they know it’s not helpful, everyone knows it’s not helpful. Most people just want their chance to take a shot at me. I don’t know why. I barely have self-esteem as it is. What are they perceiving about me that makes them want to tear me down and “humble” me so bad?

I will truly never understand. As I’ve stated repeatedly in this post, most people in this world are mean just for the sake of being mean. They hate themselves and their own lives, so they have to target others to make themselves feel important. It is what it is. It has nothing to do with me.

Anyway, sometimes you’re just not on the same page. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s important to be on the same page as your Agent/Editor/Publisher. If they’re not going to help you succeed in the art world, there’s no point in keeping them around. There are real professionals in this world whose job it is to help me get published and make a career out of what I do. I just need to find one of them and be done with it.

That’s it. That’s the whole point of this post.

The End.

BLOG: Monday Blues

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Monday.

I am back at the coffee shop after a two-week hiatus. I haven’t been feeling well, so I have been staying in my apartment in the mornings. It’s good to be back at the coffee shop. The Krewe that works here is super fun. Plus, the theme is cats, dogs, and other adorable animals. Pet-friendly! Love!

Yesterday was somewhat frustrating for me. I went out with another friend, which I found to be somewhat frustrating. A few months back, he helped me make a plan for my book. Now he acts like he doesn’t remember. He doesn’t check in on my progress at all. He just lectures me, just like everyone else. It’s starting to get really old.

I decided to be kind to myself this morning and give myself the gift of delicious iced coffee instead of getting mad about it. It’s frustrating, but I just have to get over it. People tend to be very tightly-wound here, if you take my meaning. A lot of workaholics and high-achievers. They can be very judgmental sometimes.

I think they are just measuring progress by the wrong metrics. For example, in this last year alone, I have run a blog and IG account, written a book, designed a new website, made a new business plan, prepped half a dozen screenplay treatments, completed a second yoga teacher training course, and traveled to 7 countries. That’s a lot!

So it’s just a matter of translating that into cash money, which is… much harder to do than I realized. Still, I’ve made it this far. There is no turning back now. The only way through is forward.

It’s a weird position to be in. When I was in Thailand, I felt quite comfortable doing absolutely nothing all day. Life moved at a slow pace. I had my little daily routine. Coffee stand in the morning to write, bar at night to collect stories. Eat, drink, smoke, have a bit o’ craic with the lads, and be merry. All that jazz.

But as time went on, it started to feel like the Land of the Lotus Eaters. It was like being trapped in a time warp. Every day started to feel the same. It was too much like South Dakota. I started losing my inspiration fast. I realized I couldn’t stay there and live like that forever. I had to come back here to Hong Kong and learn how to be a real, functioning adult person who has a professional career in a writing-adjacent field.

Unfortunately, as inspired as I was to climb straight to the top of The Peak, I’ve ended up plateauing instead. I can’t quite elevate myself the way I was hoping. I’m stuck at this same level, trapped in this same routine, endlessly overwhelmed as I struggle to figure out my next steps forward.

I think to myself, “What on earth did I get myself into?” Especially when my friends sit there across the table from me and judge me for being stuck in the position I’m in. It’s frustrating. I don’t want to be this person. I have a vision board.

Honestly it’s still sinking in for me that I even made it this far. 7 countries in a year? Seriously? And I lived in both Hong Kong and Bangkok? That’s insane. I never thought I would see the day. I guess you could say I’m still frozen in shock. I’m here but I can’t even really enjoy it because it’s such a shock to my system. I suppose that’s just what happens when you move abroad. You think it will be so glamorous and then you find out it’s not. It’s just regular everyday life, but everything is so much harder.

Anyway, I’m working on it. The goal is there. The plan is there. The vision is there. It’s just taking a bit more time to manifest than I thought. It’s fine. Everything will be fine. Focus on the vision but be open to new opportunities. You never know what will pop up.

I’ve decided this week is my “Week of No Regrets.” I will do something different every day that inspires me or pushes me out of my comfort zone. I feel like I’m missing out on certain aspects of Hong Kong because I’m always so deep in my feelings. I should just go be deep in my feelings at the beach on a random island instead. Change it up. Use my opportunity to my advantage instead of being depressed every day.

Be present in the moment, etc, etc.

I should go see a fortune teller or something. I just feel so lost right now.

BLOG: Just on My Way to Pick Up Some Sausage

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Saturday.

I am at the bottomless brunch. I am way too fucked up to be here without my sunglasses on. It’s a lot. The Beach Boys is playing on the radio. It’s a whole thing with my dead dad. I can’t even.

What did I do last night? Oh my goodness.

I sat in the bar waiting all night to catch some fish. Nothing interesting swam my way, so I decided to move along back down the hill. Went to the Cantina. Met some random American from Tennessee who was in town on business. Took him to the Honky Tonk place. Ditched him there. Went to the gay club. Danced my face off. I think maybe I brought some random guy in there with me and made him feel safe enough to part ways? It is what it is.

Came home at god even knows what time. I drank so many dranks. So many dranks. I am still drinking the dranks. It’s… bad, yeah. It’s really bad. Okay!

Went out to get McDonald’s and ran into my neighbor on the way. That was very unexpected. I was not planning to see him when I was drunk and on my way to get a sausage. I had a whole UFC White House Front Lawn Fight Night Special planned for him. It was supposed to be Uncle Sam vs The Schlong from Hong Kong! Like *puts on Space Jam voice* “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble!” And then the music plays.

Yeah, he’s into sports and fighting and shit, he’ll get it. He would laugh at this! British people LOVE fighting! It’s like, in all the old-timey shows. They even have a whole holiday dedicated to their love of fighting. Yeah, it’s called Boxing Day. Duh!

Anyway, I was very shocked to see him somewhere that was not the rooftop, especially at 4:30am. Why is he even awake? Is he watching soccer? Sorry, I mean football. Yeah, I say “football” now. I’m so cultured now that I’ve lived abroad for a year. *tosses hair back*

Yeah, it was very off-script. I was mad at him again. Excuse me, sir? I hired you to be a background extra in this picture. You’re supposed to fit in naturally with the scenery, not show up in places you’re not supposed to be and make a whole scene. It’s not about you, it’s about our leading actress Betsey Horton over here. She’s the star of this show, okay? So just stay in the background and don’t make a scene.

Bahahahaha. He would love this. He would eat this up and leave no crumbs! What can I say? I know actors pretty well thanks to my old friend Tom de La Salle. So moody, so changeable, so many personalities, so many potential ideas to project upon this blank slate of a perfect male form. It is what it is!

Much better than mooning over Andrew, honestly. Ugh, I just CANNOT with that man anymore. Never again. Two books is enough. We’re not coming back for a third.

You know who would love the entire concept of Hong Kong as a pirate colony? One of my many exes. His name rhymes with “He’s got a really big dick.” Some might call him Merrick. I call him a douchebag (and an asshole!). It is what it is.

Anyway, he would love Hong Kong as a pirate colony. He would say to me, “I am not surprised to hear you’re living in a place that requires you to hire a set of beefcakes to carry you up the hill.”

I would say, “I wouldn’t treat another human being that way. It’s against the Geneva Convention. I am a strong ally and advocate for human rights.”

He would say, “Stop kinkshaming me! What if some men are into carrying beautiful women up hill on luxurious chairs? What’s wrong with it if both parties are consenting and someone is getting paid fairly for their time?”

“Oh, ok. Come here and start your own luxury chair lift business. You can make a lot of money off of Western tourists looking for a real, authentic colonial experience. Next stop: Opium Den!”

Ha ha, very funny.

Like, why am I even lying to myself right now? We all know there is literally nothing in life I would love more than to have two professional male entertainers (who are being fairly compensated for their time) carry me up these ridiculous stairs in a fabulously luxury chair. Like maybe one of those old-timey Roman-style ones with a variety of cushions and the chiffon curtains to block out the sunlight?

It is what it is!!!!

Don’t lie to yourself, Betsey. Just be who you are deep down in your heart. It’s okay if that person enjoys watching sexy hot beefcakes dance on stage in the Magic Mike Live show. You know, or maybe like The Thunder From Down Under, coming soon to a sleazy casino in Macau!

It is what it is!

Omg, I thought I could do the bottomless deal, but I can’t. I need to go home and go to sleep right now. I cannot even. One drink is enough for me right now.

Hopefully I will not run into my neighbor, who has at least seven personalities that I have seen (so far). You gotta watch out for those actors. They will change their shit up on you every single time.

One minute you’re in a romcom having a silly meet-cute on the stairs, the next he’s a backstabbing villain in a spy thriller, then he’s in army cosplay with a big gun doing Muay Thai on a boat, then he’s out here looking like a candy cane modeling some striped jacket, and the next minute he’s yelling at me about all the weird, random judgments about my life that he feels qualified to make specifically because he’s British. Then he’s all quiet and weird and guarded. Then he’s hiding in his trailer being a Diva. Then he’s out at 4:30am picking up sausage from McDonald’s. Like, what is even happening with this character right now? Why does he always make me feel like I’m in a movie?

Ridiculous.

You don’t see me threatening to call his sister up and be like, “Is your brother always this fucking annoying?” I don’t have to do that because I know what it’s like to have a brother, and I love him more than anyone else in the world, but the answer is definitely 100% YES, brothers are always annoying. It is what it is.

I’m so ready to blow this taco stand. When can we get on the next flight to Thailand? I’m ready to bang cock in Bangkok! LOL!

That song literally gets better with age. It will never get old. It’s an amazing guide to living life abroad, lololol.

Yup, definitely way too fucked up to be out in public without sunglasses on. It is what it is.

My life is a comedy routine! Come laugh at this ridiculous clown show, please!

HA HA HA HA HA!

Just think, I live in Hong Kong and I’m not even out on a yacht committing financial fraud right now. You know it’s still Friday night in New York? We still have time to get one last shade trade in before market close!

Snort snort, oink oink.

Hahaha!

Just think, we could be doing crimes on a boat right now, but we’re not. We’re sitting in Central drinking shitty prosecco, which I definitely just accidentally spelled as “prosexxo” because “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye came on the radio.

See, I told you the universe is calling me back to Thailand! I know it! I saw a vanity plate that said “HERMES” last night! It’s time to go live it up Irish Mafia Style, which apparently means taking shots of Fireball at some random expat dive bar in Thailand while the former owner shoots off a taser at the sky.

That’s a real, true story. I lived that. I did. I used to be so boring and live in bumfuck nowhere, South Dakota. Now I’m out running around with all the riff-raff down by the docks and living it up on rooftops in Asia and not even taking full advantage of the experience by doing crimes on a boat. What is that?

I’m not really the crime-committing type myself. I much prefer to watch other people commit crimes and then laugh them when they get caught because they are stupid. Is that a thing I can do? Is that a real job? Uh, yeah, I think it is, actually, yes. Does anyone know if the Wall Street Journal is hiring?

LOL!

Okay, there is a man out here with full on punk-style spiked hair, wearing all Adidas, taking pictures of random street corners in Hong Kong like it’s an interesting experience. Must be from the Mainland, lol!

Off we go. Ta ta!

BLOG: Men Aren’t Lonely Enough

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Friday.

Here I am at the Secret Society. It’s just me and a room full of old men, as per usual. Nothing interesting to eavesdrop on so far. Mostly just World Cup chatter. Snoozefest!

How is the situation with my neighbor? Oh, well… just full of ups and downs, as per usual. Now that I know he has been monitoring me so closely these last few months, I decided to return that energy and put him under observation for the week.

As it turns out, he is very boring. All he does is work and go to the gym and sit on the rooftop smoking with his ear pods in while staring at his phone. Talk about living life on Zombie Mode. What are you even staring at on that phone, bro?

Last night, he left a single protein shake on the stairwell by the communal trash area. It was just like… the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. This man is not lonely enough! No wonder he’s invested so much time into judging me. I am way more exciting than he is.

Anyway, his new nickname is “The Double Double” since he’s so stacked. Hello, Beefcake! Honestly, didn’t really notice it before since he was hired to be a background extra on set, but now that I’ve seen him up close, I’m ready to offer him a leading role. He could definitely play the bad guy opposite my good guy Russian in my Spy Thriller. For sure.

Also, just to explain this joke to Americans: At McDonald’s in Hong Kong, they have a late-night “Double Double” deal, which is two double cheeseburgers stacked on top of each other, no bun in between. Just four stacked beef patties.

Hehehehehehe.

Yeah, I mean, he’s pretty annoying, to be honest, but honestly… think about this right now. How did I get so lucky as to move to Hong Kong, fuck up everything, get a second chance, and then move in right next door to a hot and sexy beefcake/actor?

Like, that’s not even real. I could make a whole movie out of that right now and none of it even has to be true. It just has to be marketable to single women between the ages of 30-45 who dream of leaving it all behind and moving to the other side of the world.

Grand!

We might even be able to push that age range up. After all, he’s the one who told me to “cruise the mom’s groups for gigs.” Maybe he’s never taken down a fully- grown mountain lion, but he has clearly wrestled a few cougars. I really feel like we could capture the magic of that dynamic if we market it to a slightly older audience.

You’re only as young as you feel, ladies! It is what it is.

So, you know, he can keep acting weird and giving me the silent treatment. I don’t need him to be real. I just need him to stand there and be hot so I can project whatever story I need/want at the time onto him. That’s literally what actors are for. Duh!

Anyway, he did unblock me, but he did not add me back. Then he tried to shoulder check me when I passed him on the rooftop last night, but I was carrying my yoga bag so I basically just used it to body check him right back. Then I called him a “mean person” and went to set up my mat in the garden to meditate.

He is a mean person. He’s so judgy. British people and their judgments. Ugh! I’m starting to understand why I actually secretly hated studying English Literature so much back in university. The English… grrr… yeah, wow, the more of them I meet, the more I understand why I’m eligible for DAR membership. We had the American Revolution for a reason. That shit is real AF.

I know, it’s a whole fantasy. They brainwash us, truly. They convince us we want a Mr. Darcy, a Mr. Rochester, a Dorian Gray. But here’s the problem: they’re always hiding something in their attics. You think he’s being mean and condescending because he likes you, but really he’s just a jerk who is hiding a secret ex-wife up in the attic. It is what it is.

It is what it is.

I know, this one claims to be different. He says, “I’m not English, I’m a Hong Konger.” Like… okay… so as a person whose family came to American on a boat way before the Revolution, I don’t even have the energy to unpack the multiple layers of colonial processes happening over there right now. All I can say is… that explains why you’re so comfortable sitting on your little rooftop looking down at everyone else. It is what it is, bro.

I’m calling him the Schlong from Hong Kong because he’s such a fucking ding dong. It’s not racist. He’s white. Also, I can tell by his whole vibe that he was totally stoked to watch the White House Lawn UFC Fight with his bros at the latest stag do in Thailand. As we all know, no one is more oppressed in the modern day world than the white man. That’s what all of this is really about!

He’s just jealous of my freedom. It is what it is.

Anyway, this is lame AF.

Everyone is outside socializing while I sit here and write and watch. It is what it is. I have made peace with it.

Also, I just realized I desperately need to replace the blue light glasses I lost two weeks ago. It’s becoming a real problem. I definitely remember why I bought them in the first place. The radiation is just… too much.

Okay, okay, they’re talking about Hedge Funds now. Finally, something juicy. Why else even live in Hong Kong if not to eavesdrop on Finance Bros openly bragging about how efficiently they are running their crime schemes from a luxury yacht?

Oh, now it’s back the World Cup. So boring. Ugh.

Ugh, my brain already feels like it’s melting. Casually hanging out in a room full of wealthy men on a drug-fueled power trip is not for the faint of heart. Trust me.

Oh lord, here come more of them.

Funny.

Something, something, AI… something, something, evening the playing field in third world war-torn countries, something something, I look like I’m trying to listen way too hard and I’m definitely giving myself away right now by doing so.

Honestly, I really think people underestimate how hard it is to actually be a good spy. This is a real skillset. It’s so much more than just picking up James Bond at a bar and listening to him spill all of his international secrets while talking in his sleep. Who knew?

Omg, I could be narrating a nature documentary right now.

*puts on fancy posh British accent*

“Here we have an elder finance bro, a real British lad who has been occupying the island of Hong Kong since ye olde colonial days. Now we see him passing down his ancient wisdom to newest crop of finance bros, armed with nothing but AI and a sense of entitlement. See how he spreads his knowledge to ensure the continuation of the species…”

LMFAO!!!

I am actually hilarious. Tortured genius? Yes, definitely. Rising star with so much to offer the world? Also yes. Bored AF and ready to go to bed? Girl, yasss, am I fucking ever!!!

Now I understand why it’s so hard for me to get married. Whoever does it better be ready to sign up for a whole “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” type of situation. Domestic violence on an airplane involving the children not included, of course. That was actually crazy.

I’m actually getting bored right now. I miss Bangkok, tbh. Vibes.

Speaking of Bangkok, I passed a vanity plate on the way up here that said, “Hermes.” Something tells me Bangkok is thinking of me too, lol…

Okay, time to go. I’m bored AF and it’s still way early. So lame. Literally snoozefest. It is what it is. The End.

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!