Tag: Ireland

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: 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: Gratitude Attitude

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Tuesday.

We are having a heat wave here in HK. That means everyone else is sitting inside enjoying the air on whilst I, a not-so-recent refugee of the unforgivingly cold and terrible winter weather of South Dakota, sit outside and bask in the glorious heat.

I never want to experience the cold, bitter, dark loneliness of the frozen tundra ever again. I never want to put on another heavy jacket or a set of long underwear or a pair of big old snow boots. I just want sunshine and warmth and halter top bikinis and flowy dresses with open-toed sandals. Forever.

Warm weather = my true soulmate.

I don’t care if I melt into a puddle of sweat. I need this heat more than anything else in the world. This frozen heart needs to be thawed. Show me the Vitamin D!

Yesterday was a holiday. It was not very exciting. I did two hours of Yin Yoga aimed at releasing ALL of my bad feelings about my past life in SD. I talked to my brother via video call. I went to the health cafe and got some fruit juice and a giant salad. I continued my re-watch of Emily in Paris in French. Ended the day with a conversation with my hot neighbor on the rooftop.

He apologized to me for being rude last time, then told me he knew that I was drunk. He said, “I knew because I heard you come home. You always talk to yourself loudly when you’re drunk. I can hear you. We can all hear you. Everyone on this floor can hear you. Please, please, please, on behalf of all of us, we like you, you’re cool, but please shut the fuck up.”

I just laughed at him for being so direct and said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve gotten a lot better,” he said. “Especially the last few weeks. You’re nowhere near as bad as when you first got here. I can tell you’re trying, and we appreciate that. Just know… you’re not invisible here. We see you. We hear you. We know you.”

Sigh.

“I had a really scary experience at a bar in the Mid-Levels,” I explained. “It put a lot of things into perspective for me. It was like ‘Scared Straight: Hong Kong Edition.’ It was bad, but nowhere near as bad as my ‘Scared Straight: Bangkok Edition’ episode featuring the Irish Mafia. That’s the universe’s way of saying I need to get my shit together.”

He gave me a knowing smile.

I realized in this moment that this man was a true friend. I was not upset by his very justified criticism. Instead, I thanked him for genuinely trying to help me in a way that I did not particularly understand or recognize. He didn’t see me as a problem to get rid of. He saw someone who was struggling to make it here on their own and couldn’t deal with whatever pain from the past they were carrying. He genuinely wanted to help out of the kindness of his heart.

It was then he told me a story of how he had once found someone in crisis on the rooftop of his old apartment and stopped them from jumping. When I heard his story, I finally understood what he was seeing from his point of view. That was why he seemed to be so understanding and helpful.

I decided to change the subject. I thanked him for his advice about my CV and the job hunt. I told him about my interview and the kinds of questions they asked. He said he was fairly confident that I was a shoe-in. Then he gave me some more advice about how to build relationships, maintain a professional attitude, and ensure my reputation is protected on this very small island.

As he was giving me this advice, I thought back to my questionable experiences at The Wolf and The Sketchy Place and cringed. I thought to myself, “I hope in the future that if anyone recognizes me from the first six months of my time here in HK, they will say they remember me as someone who had a rough start, somehow managed to keep her head above water even though she was drowning and bleeding out in a literal shark tank, magically got her shit together, and eventually grew up to become the serious, professional she always dreamed of becoming.”

I guess we will see if Hong Kong deems me worthy of another chance at this life. I’ve noticed they tend to be surprisingly forgiving, especially if you are super positive about the local culture, which I am.

I just hope I’m good enough. I really struggle with feeling like I’m good enough… for anything in general. Understandable when your own family appears to be on a mission to make you feel as worthless as humanly possible. Many Hong Kongers and Asians in general can definitely relate!

Today I am filled with gratitude towards all of the expats who have helped me out this year. They have saved me from drowning in this shark tank so many frickin’ times. I am actually in awe of them. In SD, I became so accustomed to being treated like garbage. People are so hostile and cruel there.

Best example: how I was treated right after my dad died. Did my co-workers at Starbucks say or do anything supportive? No. They weaponized my grief against me in order to push me out of my job so I would lose the health insurance I’d been fighting to get for years. Why would they do that? Oh, just to get themselves more hours, of course.

Just disgustingly selfish, nasty, cruel people. After 15 years of bullshit, that experience was just the icing on the cake for me. I don’t care how many of those assholes bitch about me “making generalizations about South Dakotans.” You earned it. You deserve it. You did nothing the entire time but make me feel like I didn’t deserve to even be on this planet, let alone at that university or in that town. Now you’re mad that I’m calling you out on it?

Look, if SD people had been nice to me, I would just say that. I would write about them the way I write about the Expat community here in Asia. But I don’t. Why? Because you didn’t earn it, you don’t deserve it, and you should constantly be reminded how shitty you actually are in order to be held accountable for your crappy behavior.

I can’t wait for my life five years from now, when SD is a distant memory and I have all of my shit together. I hope for that to happen next year, but we’ll see. I’m still in transition.

One thing I know for sure is that I never would have made it this far on my own. I had help every single step of the way. I acknowledge that help. I appreciate that help. I am grateful for that help.

I never want to be one of these assholes who says, “I am so successful. I am self-made. I did it all on my own. Nobody helped me! I pulled myself up by my own bootstraps.” It’s such a crock of bullshit!

If you want to pretend you did it all on your own, great. I’ll be over here thanking the people who helped me get out of immigration jail, got me to the hospital when I was attacked by red fire ants, taught me how to pay my phone bill, and found me a locksmith when I locked myself out of my apartment at 4:30am like a dumbass. They are the real ones.

Thank you to everyone who has supported me on this very messy journey. It’s been the most incredible year of my life. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I just hope I get a second chance to do it right, whatever that means.

Off now. I must go buy a new package of bottled water. I learned recently that, by Hong Kong standards, I should be drinking at least 1-2 liters of water and doing 10,000 steps per day. I’m averaging about half a liter and doing about 4k steps on a good day. Not great. No wonder my skin looks so horrible. I’m dehydrated AF. Less alcohol, more water and fruit juice. Noted.

Have a good day!

BLOG: Immigrant Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Easier said than done.

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

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

No pressure or anything, of course.

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

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

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

It is what it is.

I am not alone!

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

Right, got it.

No more whining.

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

Ugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So can I…

BLOG: The Cure for Loneliness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can do this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Sunday!

BLOG: Shark Fin Soup

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Friday. At the coffee shop. It’s raining today. It rained all last night. The construction was still going on outside until about 2am when the rain started, so the very loud sounds of the drilling were replaced by impossibly loud, extremely terrifying thunder claps. Needless to say, I did not get a lot of sleep last night.

Instead I stayed up late into the night vision boarding and life planning. I was looking at everything I was doing this time last year before Hong Kong. So much hope for the future, lol. Looking back now, I can see why I immediately fell into a deep depression when that first TEFL job went off the rails. Mistake! It wasn’t my fault. This company has a terrible reputation here in Hong Kong!

Still, most people I’ve met out here are better about jumping back fast. It took me more time than I thought it would to jump back. Then again, I was carrying a lot with me when I came here. Like I’ve said, it took me six months just to feel safe in the fact that I don’t have to go back to SD. There was also the breakup, all of the unprocessed feelings about my dad’s death, etc etc etc. I was in pretty rough shape.

Luckily for me, Bali and Thailand’s expertise is nursing sick water buffalo like me back to health, so here I am now. Back in Hong Kong. Recovering after a mysterious set of injuries appeared after I blacked out at the Sevens. Grand.

The good news is that I did get another ping from a source regarding the shadiness of one of those bars, so I’m not wrong to be concerned there might be more to the story. Maybe I was actually followed and attacked? It’s not out of the realm of possibility. I guess I would rather think I fell down the stairs because it’s a more pleasant version of reality…

Anyway, going over my old Pinterest boards always kicks my ass back into gear. I had a plan once. I had motivation. I had goals and dreams and a notebook full of financial worksheets and fancy charts. All of my academic dreams are well within my reach. Ireland is within my reach. The whole world is within my reach. I just have to work for it.

Let’s just channel The Russian’s energy here for a second, just to help me be less messy for five seconds. This is a person who is very educated, has traveled extensively, and started his own business. This is basically just the male version of the person I would like to be. It’s a good thing I fucked him, because now I have his energy inside me and I can be more like that.

It’s like how some Chinese people snort ground up rhino horns or eat shark fin soup or whatever. They do it because they think they’re absorbing the power of that animal. This is my new strategy with men: absorb the power of the animal, which in this case is a scorpion. So just more of the same, but manlier, lol.

That’s actually not limited to the Chinese at all. Wasn’t there an English king who ate a lion’s heart because he thought it would make him more powerful in the Crusades or something? Yeah, Richard the Lionheart. From Robin Hood. I think? Somebody fact check that for me later. I’m in the middle of a flow and now I’m moving on to the part about West African War Lords in eating children’s hearts and snorting gunpowder or whatever.

Hmm… I think I’m starting to figure out why men are so afraid of women, lol.

Anyway, that was a neurodivergent side quest into history. Side bar over. What was I talking about again? Absorbing Finance Bro energy to make myself stronger and more powerful? Yeah, that sounds about right. Somehow this has something to do with making vision boards on Pinterest. I have no idea, lol. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Or maybe I just haven’t finished my coffee yet.

I think my goal for the day was to re-do my resume for the billionth time, split it into multiple versions, and start sending it out, again. I was using a local job board, but I have gotten nothing back from it, so I’m switching to a different tactic. Be open. Embrace the chaos. Get that passport stamped. Worry less, travel more. See the world! Save money! Go back to school! Write about it all later!

Hmm.

Too bad The Russian ghosted me. I’m sure he would really appreciate me comparing his dick to illegally-poached ivory products and shark fin soup. I can imagine him doubled over laughing hysterically on the red leather couch right now.

Alas.

I just have to remember: I am not helpless. I am awesome! I am empowered! I’ve made it this far, and by this far, I mean traveling to a dozen countries in two years, attending two yoga teacher training courses in India and Bali, surviving life in Hong Kong after a failed TEFL job, finding my inspiration to write again while briefly living in Bangkok, and adding more characters to my Island of Lost Guys along the way.

I’d say I’m doing pretty well for someone who was intentionally pushed into a mental breakdown after her father died by her incredibly sick-minded co-workers from Starbucks for entertainment. That was three years ago! Wow! And where are those jerks now? Well, one of them definitely went to jail for assault, so there you have it!

Thank god I escaped that place. I hated South Dakota so much. There are no words. I don’t know what’s wrong with those people. They choose conflict and drama every time. Now that I’m far away from it and I don’t have to deal with it anymore or be an active target, I can see how wrong it really was. Sick, sick, sick people. Just sick, twisted, and evil.

Okay. Forget all of that. It’s hard. I still try to drown it out every day. It still affects my confidence. I still have flashbacks about the days I was constantly being attacked online, at work, around town, by my family, by my exes. It went on for years and years and years and years. It’s not easy to forget. I just have to keep adding new memories, new languages, new travels, new stories, new media, new everything to my brain to replace it all.

It is like Kim Kardashian says. “You just need to do so many photoshoots. The good pictures will replace all the bad pictures and soon everyone will forget the bad pictures altogether.”

I can’t remember if she said that in the show or if she said it to me in a dream. That happens sometimes. I have dreams about her coming to me and giving me life advice. Kim K and Paris Hilton. It’s a whole thing. Judge me all you want. I don’t care. I’m willing to take the L on this one. I shamelessly Keep Up and I have no regrets about it.

Okay, I had a mission today. That mission is to get up off my ass and work. Try to find a way to keep the past from haunting me forever. Move forward. Find a new job. Live a new life. Save money. Go back to school. The whole jam.

Motivated AF!

The Chinese guy sitting next to me at the cafe just looked at the bottom of his mug and read his foam the same way one would read tea leaves. How fun! I’m going to try that now. Let’s see what comes up…

Ohhhhhh I definitely got a heart! And a snake. So love is coming, but there will be obstacles along the way. No worries. That’s why I’ve got not one, but two statues of Ganesha, as well as a giant rainbow tapestry depicting him. Obstacles? No problem! We’ll be cruising on through like we’re on a TukTuk ride through New Delhi at rush hour!

BLOG: See the SEA

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Thursday. Where does the time go? I do not know.

I am early to the coffee shop today. Early meaning 10:15am. Normally I come around lunchtime because the streets are busier and much more fun to watch. Today I came early just because I woke up at sunrise, a rarity for me here in Hong Kong.

I am doing a little bit better today. I went out for pizza on the patio last night, which I have not done in over a month. I’ve been going out to different places and trying new things in an effort to cease my reliance on my Western comforts. That being said, one can only eat rice and noodles for so long before they need a slice of pizza with hot sauce and a cup of ranch on the side.

In the case of Thailand, this particular craving manifests as a grilled cheese sandwich with a side of coleslaw and ketchup. I would never, ever eat such a thing in the US. But in Bangkok? Hell yes, give me that shit, I haven’t seen a single tomato in weeks.

I also did a really intense 3-hour Tibetan Buddhist meditation session last night. The drilling on the street was going until pretty late, so I put on my headphones and some chanting and vibed. I had a vision I was doing yoga in Rishikesh. I had a notebook with me full of bucket list items that I was checking off. A nice little reminder that I am, in fact, living my life to the fullest. It’s okay to give myself some space for rest.

Overall, I feel good about my decision to stay in SEA, for now. There is so much more to see and do! Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Taiwan, Singapore, Japan, Korea, Mainland China, the Phillippeans, and, of course, everywhere in Thailand outside of Bangkok. I can go back West to study another time.

Everyone says the first year abroad is the hardest. I would agree with this. It’s been a lot of ups and downs. I’ve seen a mix of beautiful things and things no human being should ever see. It’s been an adventure I wouldn’t trade for the world. Resubscribe me for another year!

Now, if only my job applications would stop disappearing into the void. I need to find work, ASAP.

Anything to distract me from the intrusive thoughts I am having about The Russian. Ugh. Men. So annoying. I thought if I dated guys who just got on a plane and left, it would be much easier to cut the cord. However, this guy has proven it is not so easy, which sucks because I’m pretty sure he’s never coming back! So sad.

Why did I allow myself to be swept off my feet by his overwhelming charm? Probably because it had been five months since the Hot Beef Stew. I was ready to get him out of my system and fantasize about someone else! LOL! Well, I definitely got what I asked for. I am merely sitting in observation of my feelings now. I allow them to exist, but I take no action regarding them. There is no action to take. He is gone. The story is over. The End!

Anyway. Forget him. Let us focus on what is necessary and important: job hunting. Forever and always!

We need to step it up. Do the Hong Kong Hustle, as they say.

I have no idea how I live here some days. You’d think with my current energy levels, I’d be much happier rotting on a beach somewhere in Thailand or Vietnam. However, being here in Hong Kong and soaking up the professional vibes is good for me. It’s motivating. It’s inspiring. It pushes me to be something better than I am. That’s what I need right now in my life. I want to move up to the next level.

Just push me up the escalator to that next level. One more staircase, one more hill, just keep climbing and climbing and climbing until I reach the top…

BLOG: Recovery Takes Time

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Here we are! Wednesday in Hong Kong! Sitting outside the coffee shop people-watching, as per usual.

I love people-watching in Hong Kong. The outfits! Le gasp! Hong Kongers have such great style. It’s very comfy, very casual, but somehow also very professional and classy. I could sit here and watch people all day, and I have.

Other sights I enjoy seeing while people-watching (aside from the outfits): influencers in the wild, specifically Mainland Chinese influencers in the wild. They are on some next level shit. I cannot even explain it to you. I’ll be going about my normal day and suddenly I see an influencer dressed up in a $10,000 designer ballgown posing on the stairway in front of some random fruit stand. Like, why? I love it. It never stops being funny!!!!

They get real serious. I saw a full-on team the other day with a camera crew that consists of one guy holding multiple phones, a hair & makeup person, and a manager-type dictating out where the next location was. Honestly wasn’t sure if the influencer in question was an actual celebrity/movie star type or just some rich chick with an Instagram account. It’s hard to tell!

My other current obsession with people-watching? Old Chinese uncles. They don’t give a fuck! It’s amazing! The best place to spot them is in the park when they’re getting their workouts in. Some of these old dudes are RIPPED! They’re out here casually doing a million pull-ups like they’re about to get drafted into the army and sent off to war any day. It’s crazy.

And, of course, they’re doing it all with a hand-rolled cigarette in their mouths, mean-mugging anyone who walks by.

They have two modes: working out in the park, and slumped over staring at their phones. There is no in-between.

Welcome to Hong Kong!

So it is official now: I am not going to Ireland… yet. But it’s fine. When I woke up this morning, I heard a little voice in my head saying, “You know what’s better than going to Ireland? Not being in debt!”

And I thought to myself… that is very Irish, and also very correct. Not being in debt is fantastic. It’s the best way to live your life, truly. So we have to make some short-term sacrifices now. In the long-term, hopefully it will all pay off!

I actually do feel better today. There is definitely something to the Guinness-Irish Stew-Mashed Potatoes-Garlic Bread-Chocolate Brownie with Vanilla Ice Cream combo. That shit was real medicine, ya’ll. I can feel it.

I also did a really intense hour-long meditation last night in the middle of the night. I was trying to sleep but they were fixing something on the street so there was this unbearable drilling going on well into the night. I just put on my headphones and went into chakra cleansing mode.

I asked a question but I did not get an answer. Instead my Irish grandmother showed up as my spirit guide and gave me a great big hug. She just kept repeating to me over and over, “You are loved, you are loved, you are loved.”

She also said my dad wants to talk to me, but it’s really hard for him. I agree with that. It’s still really hard for me to talk to him. She said she doesn’t think we are ready yet, so she’s the one that decided to take over for him. I’m cool with that.

Best we can do right now is the occasional song on the radio and gently pushing the dessert menu my way. It is what it is.

I did say one thing to my dead dad’s spirit last week. It was really cathartic. It was after the LiveNation/TicketMaster verdict came out. This was my dad’s dream case. He was working on it when he died. As soon as I saw the news, I stood up and said very loudly to no one in particular, “I don’t give a flying fuck about TicketMaster, Dad!”

And I don’t. I really, really don’t. I don’t care about my dad’s career at all. I don’t care about his students (many of whom were smarmy, obnoxious suck-ups who I genuinely felt lacked real intelligence). I don’t care about his legacy. I don’t care about any of the cases he worked on. I don’t give a flying fuck!!!!!!!

Now the entire world knows the truth about Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire! I do not give a fuck about antitrust law in any way, shape, or form. Not my circus, not my monkeys. The US is totally fucked and there’s no coming back from it. A lifetime of work, all for nothing. Was it really worth it to hurt your children and destroy their lives over it? I don’t think so!

So yeah, I don’t give a fuck. It felt so great to just say that. Yeah. I do not give a fuck. Just like my dad never gave a fuck about me or what was good for my health or well-being. If he really cared, he wouldn’t have forced me to move to South Dakota. He would have just let me go to live my life the way I wanted to live it. But he didn’t. Instead he held me hostage for my entire adult life, and now I’m finally free.

Unfortunately, I still have no idea what to do with my freedom, except apparently get drunk and fall down the stairs and hit my head so hard I turn into Little Miss Optimist!

It’s okay. I’ve been researching this topic. It takes a lot of time to feel safe again after escaping an abusive situation. As we all know, my trauma is of a very complex nature. It’s taken some time to sort things out.

I had identified 4 areas that were the biggest problems: Relationship Trauma, Family Trauma, Work Trauma, and Location Trauma.

As of right now, I feel that I have done the necessary work to heal the Relationship Trauma and the Location Trauma.

I clearly no longer fear men, sex, or dating, so that’s good. I worked that out! That was really hard for me. I didn’t date through my entire 20’s because I was raped and assaulted and had the entire school/town gang up on me and call me a liar when I wrote about it. Now I see that behavior has nothing to do with me as a person.

Conservatives in general simply love predators and abusers. They love protecting them even more. Look who they worship as their King! That behavior has nothing to do with me. That’s just how they are. They’re a basket of deplorables. Always have been, always will be.

Mystery solved! The End!

It can be hard some days. I still have nightmares and flashbacks about living in the Town. It took me about six months after I left the country for it to really sink in that I finally escaped that place for good and I never, ever have to go back there ever again.

Some days I still wake up in a panic thinking I’ll have to go back there someday. But I don’t have to go back. I never, ever have to go back there ever again. I am marked safe from the state of South Dakota, today, tomorrow, forever, and always.

And she lived happily ever after. The End.

So now that I’ve escaped The Town, aka the source of the Location Trauma, I can date, make new friends, meet new people, and network without dealing with any of that bullshit following me around. I get to live a brand new life, free of the Rape Apologists running an active smear campaign in an attempt to ruin my life. And I get to date much, much hotter guys. BIG, BIG, BIG win for me!

Now the two things that are left are Work Trauma and Family Trauma. The Family Trauma is like an open wound that is just spilling out all over everything. It’s just gushing blood, nonstop. Just an endless well of pain. It feels like I’m trying to put a tourniquet on the wound to stop the bleeding but it’s not working. There is no stopping the bleeding. It’s just going to keep coming out till I die on the floor.

There is NO ACCOUNTABILITY from my family whatsoever. NONE! That is the aggravating part. There is just this total refusal to acknowledge anything that happened or talk about it or try to communicate in a healthy way at all.

Everything just gets dumped on me, and I get blamed for everything, and then I get vilified even more when I stand up for myself and say, “Hey, this is actually unhealthy and wrong. I’m not going to be your scapegoat anymore. Please respect my boundaries.” And then what do we get? More stonewalling and silent treatment as “punishment.” It’s all so textbook. It really is!

So there’s clearly nothing to be done about it, because even though I am the one who is tasked with the job of “fixing everything” because it’s always “my fault,” no one will actually sit down with me or take the time to work out any of it. Yet somehow there is always something new to blame on me or some recently invented problem that is magically my fault even though I had nothing to do with it. Love that.

So yeah, we can’t resolve that. I don’t know how to heal from that or resolve it. Just always be sure to remember why it’s always been my life dream to put an ocean between myself and my family. My goal for the future is to just stay as far away from all of them as possible. They can’t hurt me if they’re not in my life anymore.

Really gotta work out this whole job situation so I can be free of them forever. Too bad my applications keep disappearing into a virtual blackhole while these comic book supervillain tech bros shoot up Special K and blabber on about “replacing everyone with robots.”

Where is James Bond when you need him? Seriously. I’m so tired of listening to these utterly deranged men with no empathy or compassion openly talk about destroying the planet. It’s exhausting.

Like, yeah, I remember when I was 17 and hated everyone and wrote a manifesto about nuking the world. Then I grew up. I went to India and studied yoga and learned how to appreciate art and went out into the world and saw the beauty of it all. I stopped being angry and hating everyone and everything. It really made a difference in my life for the better! Y’all should really try it sometime!

Mitakuye Oyasin, assholes.

This leads us into Work Trauma. Obviously, most of this comes from living in South Dakota and being forced to work with and around some of the worst people on Planet Earth. Every job I had when I lived there consisted of non-stop gossiping, bullying, hostility, stealing, cheating, lying, corruption of all kinds, and a general effort to hurt as many people around they could for their own selfish gain.

It was the worst at Starbucks. Everything they did to me there was 100% illegal under the law and against the code of conduct in the Employee Handbook. Nobody cared because they don’t have values or morals or empathy or anything like that. It’s just uncontrolled mob violence at all times.

I don’t flourish in that type of environment because, again, I’m not a sociopath who is willing to crush anyone and everything around me just to make $.50 more. I’m just not interested in that. I don’t like hurting other people. The idea of intentionally running someone out of a job so they no longer have healthcare or a paycheck is literally the definition of “psychotically evil” to me. Yet to most of the people I encountered in South Dakota, it was considered “fun and games.” They would brag about intentionally creating situations where people lost their housing and healthcare.

Horrible, horrible, disgusting, depraved people. Just awful in every sense of the word.

I saw and heard so many horrifying things when I was working in South Dakota. It was unbelievable. Truly. Sometimes I look back on it and think, “I can’t even believe that shit was real. What the fuck is wrong with those people?”

They’re psychotically evil, they have no soul, they lack empathy, and they are sadists who actively take pleasure in being as mean and cruel as possible to other people. That’s what’s wrong with them. It is what it is.

Unfortunately, it’s a very prevalent attitude in the world right now. The worst people on Earth have now all been emboldened by the Dump Truck to be as shitty and evil as they want with zero consequences. Meanwhile, we’re all just sitting here derping around, letting it happen, like… whatever.

Anyway, this is why I could not tolerate the South Africans once I discovered the truth about how they ran the company I originally came to work for here in Hong Kong. I took one look at that crazy apartheid shit and Noped right out. I’m not dealing with that again.

Same thing as South Dakota, but worse, mostly because South Africans don’t hide their shittiness under a fake nice veneer like South Dakotans do. They’re just out in the open about the fact that they are bad people with extremely problematic world views. And you know what? I’m grateful for it, because I saw all of those red flags waving and got the fuck out before getting hurt again. Now I have all the documentation I could ever need to prove that this was actually the company’s problem, not an issue with me as a human being. Go me!

So now I just want to find a situation where I don’t have to deal with any abuse anymore. It’s a dream, I know, but there must be something out there I can do that doesn’t require me to be at the mercy of someone who can accurately be described as a “comic book villain.” I just cannot have that energy in my life anymore. I’ve been vastly overexposed to it. I have no more tolerance for it at all.

Zero tolerance policy towards sociopaths. Period.

In the meantime, we never did figure out what actually happened on Saturday night. One of the baristas just stopped by my table to chat with me about it. She said, “I don’t think it’s safe for you to go out by yourself anymore. I’m really concerned about you after some of the stories you’ve told me about the people you’ve met. The fact that this has happened to you now three times in a month, and it started happening after you met these guys… are you sure there isn’t someone following you or keeping tabs on you? They do that to journalists here, you know.”

Maybe. Who knows? It could be someone messing with me. It could also just be me drinking too much wine. Either way, she is right. It’s not safe to go out alone after dark anymore. Find a friend and go with them, if I go out at all.

It’s comforting to know that someone cares today. It really is. I needed that today. Some days I just feel so alone on this journey.

Anyway, let’s say someone did drug me and attack me on the stairway and hit me in the head to “teach me a lesson.” It obviously didn’t work! I’ve been following a lot of Irish Heritage pages on Facebook and I’m here to tell you my DNA is unmatched in strength and resilience after 900 years of surviving attempted genocide in various forms. It’s gonna take more than a little push down the stairs to get rid of me!

Besides, I’m not a journalist. I’m a writer on an epic journey of self-discovery across the world, dragging a 3-piece luggage set full of heavy trauma behind me. I’m here to start my life over. I want a fabulous apartment and a job I can tolerate and an actual, real long-term relationship with someone who isn’t an abusive, rapey, narcissistic sociopath. It doesn’t seem like it’s a lot to ask for, and yet…

Anyway, I’m off now. My head still hurts. Gonna lay down in bed again with my ice pack and meditate. It’s okay for you to rest, Betsey. It really is. You’ve been through so much already in life, and now you’ve just taken another beating, so yeah… it’s fine if you want to lay down and rest.

Rest, rest, rest…

Have a nice day, y’all.

BLOG: Irish at SEA

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Tuesday, later in the day. Still in a daze. Somehow made it over to the Kowloon side to hit up the Irish pub. Nothing a bit o’ stew and a pint can’t fix, am I right?

No, you don’t understand. This is not alcohol. This is Guinness. It’s not the same. I can’t explain that! Either way, I know I’m not about to put down six pints of Guinness is one sitting. That’s just not physically possible for me. I might get through a second one if I’m lucky, lol. I might. It’s too heavy for me. That’s why I’m drinking it.

The bartender was very happy to see me. I haven’t been here since St. Patrick’s Day. She asked me how I’ve been. I said, “Oh, ya know, just out collecting ridiculous stories, as always.”

She smiled at me knowingly and answered in her deep Welsh accent, “Well, my dear, you only have one life. Better live it as best you can!”

I gave her a sheepish smile as I imagined myself tumbling down the stairs after getting shitfaced at the bar around the corner from my apartment. It would be funny if it wasn’t sad!

Speaking of sad, I just had to sit down and write my letter to the Galway people explaining that I can’t come up with the money I need for the summer program in time. I explained about my desire to come to Ireland and inquired about longer-term programs with more potential for financial aid I could look at instead.

Maybe we can’t make a month work, but we can make a year work!

We have not given up yet!

And if I can’t make it work, I guess I’ll just fly to Chiang Mai and go live in exile with Hermès, my weirdo black sheep cousin from the North who no one talks to. I’ll be like, “What up, cuz? How you like dem snakes?”

LMFAO! I kid, I kid.

I’m just saying… Thailand *is* still an option, and it’s not the worst option, either! I can still live my best Irish life in Bangkok if I want to. And I would actually get to attend the Emerald Ball. We’re not at the end of this rope yet!

Now that would make a funny book: living in Thailand for a full year, desperately trying to cobble together some understanding of Irish culture from a bunch of people who already got on a plane and left in search of better weather. Then actually go to Ireland and fill in all the gaps I missed. I could call it “Irish at SEA.”

I would watch the shit out of that on Netflix. I really would.

I try to choose characters and stories I would be willing to invest time in. I watch way too much TV, as we all know. That’s why I secretly love being unemployed. More time for TV and movies so I can take notes on what’s working and what’s not!

Okay, I’m actually feeling much better about all of this already. I knew coming to the Pub would fix me right up. No problem. I ask you, my fellow Irish, who among us has not taken a bit of a tumble down a hill after too many drinks? You stumble, you fall, you get right back up and climb the hill again. It is what it is.

Exactly!

That’s what I’m saying, fam!

Now you know who I am in my soul. I got a great big kick in the head and I woke up zenned out, peaceful, ready to negotiate on financial aid, making back-up plans for my back-up plans. I still believe in love. I still have a sense of humor. I still believe I can make this ridiculous delusion of becoming a professional writer work.

Fabulous!

I thought I ordered food, but it hasn’t come yet. That’s weird because it’s very empty here. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough? That happens sometimes. I guess I can always try again. Once more, with feeling! And perhaps a side of garlic toast, as well.

Or maybe they saw the look on my face and thought, “This one needs a full pint first today.”

We don’t know what this one needs today. I suspect that if my dad were here, he would say I need to order the chocolate brownie. I suspect my grandmother would say the same.

Who even knows anymore?

Yeah, I don’t think that order got through. No worries! So it didn’t work out the first time around. So what? Next time it will, and it will come with the side of garlic toast and a chocolate brownie for dessert. This is the Irish way of things. Grand! Just grand!

Okay, yeah, I really do feel much better now. Like, actually. Nothing like the comfort of Irish culture to get us through the difficulties of life! 😀

UPDATE: They said no. No Ireland for me this year! Alas! And so I remain trapped in exile with the rest of the snakes. For now…