Tag: Ireland

BLOG: Are You Okay?

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Monday. Is it Monday? I have lost all of April. Where did the time go?

How am I?

Not great. I definitely feel like I got the “Hong Kong Sevens Experience,” and by that I mean literally getting beaten up while playing the game on the field. Unfortunately, I was not injured during play. I was injured because I got too drunk and blacked out.

Based on my injuries, I’m pretty sure I fell down the stairs. And by that I mean the very steep 100+-year old stone stairs around the corner from my apartment that are literally carved into the hillside, leading up to next street.

Yeah. Ouch.

This is my theory. I don’t know for sure what happened. But whatever it was, it was bad. I have scrapes and cuts on my knees and elbows, cuts and scratches on my back, a very sore neck/shoulder combination, and a large bump on my head. Oh, and my favourite flower hair clip from Thailand that I was wearing was found completely smashed up, as if it had broken my fall.

Lovely!

How am I doing now? Well, my head is killing me. I’m very sore. I feel pretty disoriented. I’m not loving life at the moment. Yet somehow, I am awake and clean and dressed and sitting at the coffee shop with a smile on my face, writing to you all.

So this is the part where we say we are not drinking anymore, right? Right.

That.

We’ll see how that goes.

In the meantime, I’ll confine myself to bed with a large ice pack to the head. Lovely wake up call, is it not? Not exactly the junk boat party I was hoping for!

Well, Ireland might be expensive, but the weather also sucks. It rains all the time! At least I will be confined to my house reading and writing and doing research by the fireside wrapped in a cozy blanket and wearing fuzzy slippers instead of running around Hong Kong at night in a state of pure blackout.

Right…

My head definitely went to a strange place last night when I was laying down resting it upon a giant bag of ice. I kept thinking, “What if I die tonight? What if I do this again and I die next time? What if the injuries are worse? What if something truly terrible happens that I have absolutely no memory of? Is this the life you really want to lead? Of course it’s not! You need be serious and get your shit together now!”

In that moment, my whole life flashed before my eyes. I hate it when that happens. So much of it has been so sad. I want something completely new and different now. I want to change. I feel like I still have so much more left to give. I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of my real potential. I’m just floating around out here in SEA in this weird limbo land, stuck somewhere between the past and the future.

I liked it better in Bangkok where the wine selection was terrible and alcohol was hard to get because 7-11 only sells it for like, four hours a day, and it’s always at a different time, and then there’s always a holiday so they’re not selling at all on those days, and yeah, guess what, you’re only option is to go to the American Bar and hang out with all the riff-raff. At least you’ll get a story out of it!

I do love Hong Kong. I really do. I just think I would like it better if I had a professional job or was a professional housewife to some Finance Bro.

I’m feeling very lost right now. Self-esteem in the toilet. The Russian said, “Be more kind to yourself.” So what do I turn around and do? Get drunk and fall down the stairs. Awesome. And we wonder why he ghosted us… lol. Not exactly a glowing candidate for the “40 Under 40 List,” am I?

It’s okay. As previously stated, I’m here. I got out of bed. I showered and dressed up and made myself look all pretty. I walked into the coffee shop with a smile on my face and chatted with the baristas just the same as always. I’m still feeling optimistic about life. I still believe in Love. I still think things will get better for me someday. I still believe I can manifest all of my dreams into coming true.

I think I have to go lie down soon. My head really hurts…

BLOG: Craic Dat Whip

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Saturday.

It’s Hong Kong Sevens weekend, which is one of the biggest rugby events in the world. I am not there because I am super lame and don’t have the right connections. Maybe I will be going out to people-watch with a friend later. We will see how it goes.

It’s okay. It’s just a lot of expats getting drunk and rowdy. I am… definitely not in the mood to deal with that energy right now. Instead, I am sitting in a random cafe somewhere in Central, stressing out over my finances and my life.

The situation is pretty stressful at the moment. Staying in Hong Kong is a huge risk. Going to Ireland is an even bigger risk. Going back to the States is not currently possible. Returning to Bangkok feels like a step backwards.

How do I make this work?

No idea. All I know is that first rule of finance is to just take the bull by the horns. Take control of the situation before it takes control of you. This much I have learned from living in Hong Kong. So here I am, taking control of the situation. I am not a victim. I am a strong, independent, financially responsible woman with options. I can find a way out of this mess.

If only The Russian had given stock tips during our pillow talk instead of lecturing me about my ovaries. My situation might look different right now. Okay, lesson learned, Betsey. Next time you bang a Finance Bro, shake them down for information before they get on a plane back to Switzerland and ghost you forever.

Fuck smarter, not harder.

Okay.

Let me try to reason my way through this.

Obviously, Ireland is the most desirable location due to family history and the massive potential to write a beautiful story about self-discovery, finding family, and falling in love. I can see this Netflix movie/show in my head. The creative potential is unmatched. I have to go to Ireland. I just have to!

However, the current financial situation there is not quite so desirable. Yes, I was accepted into a short- term program in Galway that could potentially lead to something longer-term. However, the price of tuition & fees, room & board, and general cost of living for 6 weeks alone would actually destroy me financially and leave me with nothing.

The only way I would be able to *maybe* survive it is by getting a long-term student visa, getting a loan for school, and finding a job at a random cafe/pub. Then I would still be in debt, but it would be student loan debt instead of credit card debt.

It feels like there is a better way to accomplish what I want to accomplish by going to Ireland that doesn’t require me to completely nuke my bank account.

For roughly the same amount as this summer program in Galway, I could pay off all of my current debt and float myself through a few more months in SEA while I continue my job hunt. It’s still a risk, but it’s a known entity at this point.

Ireland is very much an unknown entity. The housing crisis, the fuel crisis, the general economic situation, the visa process, everything. SEA is known in terms of cost potential, budget, cultural differences, etc.

Assuming I finally find a job here, I can apply for graduate school next year, after taking the time to do some real research and put together a quality application. The potential for finding scholarships and better financial solutions is higher if I delay school for another year.

Truthfully speaking, I am not hustling hard enough in regards to finding work. I am living my life on permanent vacation mode. It’s time to put an end to this. It cannot go on like this forever.

Either way, the job market is fucked. The world is fucked. Everything is fucked. I know that I want to go back to school. I know that. But I also know that I don’t want to completely fuck myself over financially by doing so. There is a better way.

Think smarter, not harder.

As I’ve said many times over the course of the last year, be careful who you mix your energies with. Well, now I’ve absorbed the powers of a very organized and highly controlled Finance Bro. My bad financial habits don’t stand a chance now! We are going to crack that whip and dominate this situation today!

Hahahaha.

Hahahahahahahaha!

That’s too funny.

He may not be the character we wanted to create, but he is the character we needed to create.

Oh, I’m loving this. I’ve got my GAA coach character to motivate me to get out of bed and my financial advisor character to motivate me to fix my mess of a bank account and lack of a real career. And here I thought men were so useless. Turns out it was always South Dakota that was the problem, not me.

Mad Dog was right all along. He always said that a single lady should always have a man to fix the plumbing, one to fix the roof, and one to chop the wood. Such wisdom my adopted Grandfather had…

That reminds me. I started watching the Netflix show “Sitting Bull” yesterday. It’s a two-part documentary about Sitting Bull and the history of the Lakota people. It’s been awhile since I listened to spoken Lakota. It’s strange how familiar it all sounded to me. I know the story so well, but hearing it again for the hundredth time brought me some comfort I’ve been missing.

I remembered it all. Working in the Oral History Center, researching Wounded Knee, going to The Rez, spending time with the Natives, going to ceremony, and following around Mad Dog. All of that was the highlight of my time in South Dakota. It made the entire experience worth it for me. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world can EVER come close to the value of that experience. It’s very important that I continue to remember and acknowledge it wherever I go in this life.

I hope someday I can finally get into a headspace where I’m healthy enough to have a more positive attitude about my time living in SD. Right now all I can remember is the dark times…

Time to take some space from this issue for the rest of the day. I must let this stew marinate a little more before serving it up…

BLOG: All Over The Place

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Here we are. Monday, again.

Still nothing to show for my efforts but some blog posts. I like to think it’s okay because I’m getting funnier, in spite of my occasional brush with darkness out here in SEA.

I applied for another crop of jobs last week. Nothing. It’s all the same recycled job postings that were there in January. So I am basically applying to be rejected by the same companies all over again. Fun.

I wish I knew how to do what I do all day and make money from it. All of my problems would be solved. No more pretending I like people. No more “networking.” No more masking. No more exhaustion that actively prevents me from writing and creating art. Just this, all day every day, for the rest of my life. I would be fine with that.

I thought about throwing in a random application for a Masters program at HKU. They would need to pay for literally everything though because I have no money for anything. Not school fees, not an apartment, nothing. I’m in the same position no matter where I move my piece on the board. Sucks.

I was feeling more motivated about it on Saturday morning. Now I don’t feel any motivation to do anything at all. I thought my depression would go away if I moved to the opposite side of the world, but it hasn’t gone anywhere. Some days I just get so lonely and overwhelmed here. I feel so lost. I don’t know who I am or what I want. I am just at the whim on the universe. I am not taking an active role in my own life at all. Honestly, I don’t think I even know how.

In the meantime, I am trying to make peace with things as they are. As I said the other day, I finally made peace with Bloody Mary’s. As we always knew, I was right and all of them were wrong. South Dakota people just enjoy being cruel for the sake of being cruel. They see someone out there doing something different and their first instinct is to burn the witch at the stake. That has literally nothing to do with me or my book. That state is just all bad vibes, all the time. It’s not about me.

I got rid of Andrew months ago, so that’s not an issue anymore. I’ve replaced him with true stories of ridiculous dates I’ve been out on with real men. Made peace with the deaths of Mad Dog, my dad, my aunt, my uncle, and my grandmother.

One thing I cannot make peace with is my living family. There is no peace to be made. It’s a source of constant struggle for me. I want to make peace with it, but I really struggle to accept how fucked up the situation is. It doesn’t help that my mom, grandmother, sisters and aunts basically stonewall me whenever I try to communicate. They really think they can just pretend nothing bad ever happened. They literally refuse to take any kind of accountability for anything. It is IMPOSSIBLE to communicate ANYTHING to them, at all. They will always DARVO me.

They still act like me moving abroad is the gravest crime ever to be committed on earth, which again, makes absolutely zero sense because my aunt literally lived here in Hong Kong for a year. You would think she would be happy for me or asking for pictures or checking in. But she doesn’t. It’s just… radio fucking silence from all of them. It’s so weird.

I swear it feels like leaving a cult, but I don’t know what cult it is or understand how it operates. I can only say that my cousins on my mom’s side are all also in the same situation where their parents are extremely controlling and keep them contained close to home in spite of the fact that they are all fully-grown adults. It’s weird. That whole family is weird. It’s only now that I am on the other side of the world, watching other people post pictures of their families visiting them, that I realize… that shit ain’t right.

I never speak to my dad’s side anymore. After he died, my aunt went full mask off and basically said, “You’re not my family anymore. I don’t want to spend time around you or invite you to things. I don’t want to deal with you at all.” Okay, crazy. I’m sure my Irish grandmother would love to see you treating your own blood relatives like that. I bet she’s really proud.

So yeah, I am definitely having a lot of trouble moving past the family stuff. As I’ve mentioned previously, I am the Family Scapegoat, which means everyone treats me like a punching bag they can take out all their negative emotions on. This is why nobody is happy for me and why they refuse to acknowledge my writing career. They don’t want me to succeed. They want me to fail so they can continue beating up on me. I refuse to accept that kind of treatment anymore, so they are vilifying me for walking away from it and setting up boundaries. It’s all very textbook for people with undiagnosed personality disorders.

I think it’s really hard knowing that they feel this way and act this way. I think I did something really brave by accepting a job on the other side of the world, getting on a plane to come here, and then sticking it out for the rest of the year when the job didn’t work out. I think it’s amazing that I’ve visited 12 countries, studied yoga in India and Bali, and lived in Bangkok and Hong Kong. I never, ever thought in a million years my life would look like this. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. And my family, the people who are supposed to be supportive and provide unconditional love, all hate me for it.

Why?

I have so much weighing on my mind right now. My date with the Russian was merely a distraction from all of this. Men are always just a distraction from all of this. They come and they go and, if we are lucky, they provide some entertainment along the way. That’s all we can hope for in this life. There’s no point in expecting anything more from any of them. Just get the story and leave. Don’t get attached. Don’t get hung up. Just take the story and leave.

I know I have this fantasy that if I go to Ireland to research my family history that I will find a new family that loves me and accepts me for who I am. I think this is very unrealistic. I should not go because I expect to find something or receive something in return. I should go because I want to spend my days unraveling old scrolls in the library just for the sake of learning and education. I’m setting myself up to fail by going there “for the people.” I should go for me, to find me, to learn to love me and understand who I am outside of my overly-controlling family.

Anyway, it’s not a good time right now. In addition to the housing crisis, now there is a fuel crisis affecting the entire country. All weekend my feed was dominated by footage of the protests across Ireland. I just felt like… maybe it’s not my time yet. Maybe I have more to learn out here in SEA before I go there.

I don’t know. I am so lost right now. I can’t pick a road to travel down. Some days I just want to go back to India to study more yoga. Some days I want to hop a flight to Vietnam or Cambodia. Some days I want to go to Ireland. Some days I want to dump off all my stuff at my brother’s apartment and just take a backpack all around Africa. Some days I just want to get married and have a nice apartment/condo/house/whatever to decorate. Some days I want to go to graduate school. I really am, as my AI-generated google search results say, “All Over The Place.”

Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel today: All Over the Place.

BLOG: I Think We Lost The Plot

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Thursday. Where did the week go? Oh yes, I know. I spent all day yesterday sucked into Netflix while actively avoiding reality. Nothing like a good true crime docu trio to wake you up to all of the different ways life could go wrong.

I’m not really partial to the murders myself. I like the documentaries about cults and cult psychology. I have watched ALL of the cult documentaries. Unemployment Level 100. I am also fascinated by cult psychology because, as an American, I recognize that my country has been taken over by a very dangerous cult.

This particular documentary was about the FLDS in Utah. It is absolutely terrifying to watch as a woman. I have nothing but respect for Dr. Christine Marie. She is definitely one of my new role models. That documentary was harrowing.

Then I watched the one about the pro cyclist who was murdered by the jealous girlfriend of some loser guy. The girlfriend took off to Costa Rica, where she was hiding out at various yoga retreats. That one definitely made me think a lot. I just looked back at some of the people I met in India and Bali and was like, “WTF were they running from?”

Some of them were really strange and off. As I’ve said before, I’m not sure I would go back to Bali again after what I experienced there. Bangkok, yes. Bali, no.

I found people in Bangkok were generally more open about the fact that they are running away from something. Maybe they won’t tell you what it is, but it’s kinda just the general vibe of the expat community in Thailand. It’s like walking into the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. You know everyone in there has come from somewhere else to do some kind of shady business. It’s just better not to ask too many questions about it.

In Bali, people are presenting themselves to be something they are not, and what that something is generally involves grifting off of people struggling with mental health, grief, spiritual questions, and a lack of meaning/purpose. I definitely saw some cult-adjacent shit while I was there. I also met people who were just… way, way, way off. Like “maybe they should be in the Hotel California and not running a yoga studio in Bali” kinds of off. Ya know what I’m saying?

It did feel validating in that way. I think sometimes I can be sensitive and take other people’s weird behavior super personally when in reality it has nothing to do with me at all. Like, maybe that lady wasn’t mean to me because I’m a bad person who deserves it. Maybe she killed her husband’s affair partner and went on the run and now she’s hiding out in Bali and she’s worried some writer is going to go snooping around and find out the truth.

Maybe.

Or maybe she was just having a bad day. Either way, this isn’t about me. Don’t take it personally. I’m perfectly grand just the way I am.

Right now I am sitting outside the coffee shop, watching people on the street. I just love Hong Kong. I really do. Every day I wake up and think, “Wow, I can’t believe I get to live here. This is the most incredible opportunity of my entire life. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for it every single day.”

I was meditating last night before bed and the spirit of my Irish grandmother showed up to talk to me. She said, “Do you know what the Irish Dream is? Not the American Dream. The Irish Dream. The Irish Dream is for our children to be free to become writers, poets, artists, musicians, filmmakers. It’s to give them the gift of free time so they can create. You don’t have to slave away at the docks or in the factories or give up your education to take care of a dozen children. We did all of this so you can sit outside on the rooftop and write your book and enjoy life in Hong Kong. Stop feeling guilty about it. Enjoy it. We did it all for you.”

Okay, okay, okay. I get it. My sole purpose on this earth is to Create. I must honor my ancestors by finding a way to become a serious, professional writer. Well, we all know the first two steps: money and a room of one’s own. I have that right now, yes, but how to maintain it over time is a problem.

I don’t know. Somehow I keep making it work. Failing upward, as they say. Perhaps a reminder to focus on manifesting simple things like a fabulous apartment that someone else is paying for so I can just sit there and write all day. Hahaha.

I’m not joking. That’s a real thing. It’s called “patronage.” It’s where rich people give you money and a room of your own so you can create art all day. I’ve actually had several patrons in my life, including my father, my uncle, my aunt, and The Publisher. It really is the best way to go. At least, for now.

That’s what I have to manifest: a patron! Ah, yes, so simple. Why did I not think of it before? Patron, patron, patron.

Brilliant.

Haha, aww, the song “I’ll Be Missing You” just came on the street stereo the delivery guy always plays around this time of day. Definitely a message from my ancestors. My dad always does that. Communicate through music, I mean. Sometimes I’ll just be sitting somewhere random and a playlist comes on that only he would make and I just know he’s there.

Oh yeah, they’re definitely there right now. It just switched to “Empire State of Mind.” Big New York City energy coming in right now. It’s a whole thing.

Now I am sitting here thinking about my book/Netflix show, lol. I’ve been going through my manuscript I made in January and I just hate it. The first half is such a slog. I just want to delete it all, speed up the timeline, and just have the first 10 pages/minutes be a montage of my dad’s funeral, getting fired from Starbucks, car breaking down, losing the house, getting a giant check in the mail, and buying a one-way ticket to India. That’s it. Fuck South Dakota. This is the terrible Prequel series no one asked for. Everything since India is like… my actual real life as I have always wanted to live it finally began. That’s the real story here!

I think we’ve kind of lost the plot a little bit here. Yes, I have meaning. I have purpose. I am a writer. It’s my dream to become a professional writer. That is why I am here. I got on that plane to have a crazy adventure and write it all down. Take whatever comes at me along the way. I did that. I’ve done it. I am actively doing it, even when it comes at a cost, like my little adventure up to the Mid-Levels.

So now we have to figure out how to steer the career into professional mode. I have no idea how to do that. I have no talent for business whatsoever. I need an agent/editor type to guide me in the right direction. Someone who has that eye for business in the way that I don’t and all of the connections I need but don’t have. Again, a patron type.

Okay, I feel like I’m back to normal now after my date with the Russian. Wow, what was that? Hmm. Wild. I don’t actually have anything else I want to say about him here. I just wanted him to know… I could have easily ripped you apart, but I didn’t. But I could. So just… know that.

Honestly, couldn’t even tell ya what he does for a living. You could be water boarding me old school Soviet style and I’d be like, “I swear to you, I don’t know! It sounded so boring. I checked out halfway through his explanation and started examining the crystal chandelier and hanging gardens at the Four Seasons. I can list off every plant and flower in the terrarium. Couldn’t tell ya what he does for work. Something with Finance, maybe? I thought he said he owned his own business. I honestly have no idea.”

The world will never know. Furthermore, the world does not care. The world cares about the part where two Scorpios went on a date to a bar that looks like an old-timey opium den/brothel and it was the most on-brand thing ever for both of them. Show us those terrible red leather couches from the 80’s! That’s what the world really wants to see!

Netflix execs will be like, “How is this even relevant to the plot?”

It’s not, it’s just an excuse to film at the Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong. Since when do we need a plot for sex? Spoiler alert: there is no plot. This is just a random, gratuitous sex scene with no purpose or relevance whatsoever. Since when do you have a problem including that in your shows?!

They’ll be like, “You’re right. Let’s make sure we get a top-notch intimacy coordinator on board with this production.”

IDK, I think that might be too “woke” for the Russian. I can just imagine the look of outrage on his face right now…

Ha ha ha!

I think I’m hilarious.

Off now. To do what, we don’t know. We know we’re not going back to the Mid-Levels anytime soon!

The battle of Hong Kong Island neighborhoods continues. So far I’ve eliminated Causeway Bay (too busy), Wan Chai (too wild), Central (too expensive), Happy Valley (too far), and the Mid-Levels (too bougie). I’m actually quite happy in Sheung Wan. It’s very… French. Close to everything, but easy to escape from the chaos of the city with a quick trip up to my rooftop.

I think I’ll go do that right now, actually. Then I have to clean my apartment because it’s a mess. All of my clothes are piled onto “the chair” instead of hanging in my closet, where they should be. Alas, I am not fancy enough to have a “helper” or live in an upscale “serviced apartment.” I am confined to my tiny little coffin box with the rats and the cockroaches, living off snacks and instant noodles from 7-11.

It is what it is.

BLOG: This Is Not Normal

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Wednesday in Hong Kong. Looks like it might rain soon. Luckily I managed to rescue my umbrella from the bar now known as “The Sketchy Place.”

This story is not-so-fun. Get ready. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been drugged at a bar before.

A few weeks back, I mentioned a story where I was walking home from the fancy grocery store up in the Mid-Levels and was roped into this random bar by the MAusGA. As you may recall, I blacked out there and can’t remember how I got home. I really thought it was just me not handling my wine, but the other night brought this theory into question.

Here’s the timeline:

  1. Met the MAusGa’s at The Sketchy Place, which is allegedly a small neighborhood bar frequented by the wealthy business class of the Mid-Levels.
  2. Finance Bro I met that night invited me for Happy Hour at a different bar, which I will call “The Wolf” after The Wolf of Wall Street. As you may recall, this “date” ended with him offering me a line of coke off of a dirty bar toilet and groping me behind the bar in front of the entire staff.
  3. Made a new friend that night, who is Irish and here on a long-stay work exchange with his company in Dublin. I met up with him a second time at The Sketchy Place. Nothing shady or questionable occurred.
  4. Fast-forward to Monday night, when I was back up in the Mid-Levels at this same bougie grocery store that I’m starting to suspect might actually suck.
  5. I walked down the same route, and one of the MAusGA’s from the first night was sitting outside The Sketchy Place. Pretty sure it was the same guy who roped me in the first time. It was definitely the same guy who I mentioned I saw mean-mugging me from a distance when I walked by The Wolf. He invited me in, but I only agreed because I saw my Irish friend there. I invited my other friend to meet me there as well. You know, for “networking,” as they say.
  6. Everything was normal until my other friend arrived. This is when I blacked out, again. I literally have no memory of anything that transpired after this. No memory. I don’t remember leaving, I don’t remember walking home, nothing. I definitely don’t remember how I fucked up my knees and elbows, or why my shoulder is suddenly in so much pain.
  7. I woke up the next day to messages from both of my friends in a panic. They told me I disappeared and neither of them could find me. Then my lady friend told me the same MAusGA guy was creeping on her hardcore and trying to get her to go home with him. She couldn’t find me, so she left and got home safe. Both of my friends were seriously, legitimately concerned for my safety.
  8. Are the alarm bells going off in your head yet?

Right. Yeah. If they’re not, they should be.

I told my bartender friend about this incident last night and she also freaked out. She was like, “Wait a minute. That’s not right. I’ve seen you drunk before. You’ve never blacked out here, have you?”

“No, just at the Sketchy Place.”

“And it happened to you twice in the span of a couple of weeks?”

“Right.”

“And you’ve already said that you’ve had problematic interactions involving drugs with the regulars there before?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, yeah, don’t go there again. I know that place you’re talking about. The vibe is very off there. I don’t like the bartenders. They seem sketchy. Just don’t go back there.”

I sat and thought about it for a moment before I remembered the day I was up on the rooftop and watched an obvious dealer lurk around outside. He was shaking hands with a lot of business types on their way home from work, if you know what I’m saying.

So yeah, not really too far out of the ordinary to think there might be something shady going on up there. So much for “networking” and “rubbing shoulders with the elite.”

As I’ve stated before, if this is the kind of crap people are doing to get ahead and stay ahead in that world, I want absolutely no part of it whatsoever.

What am I going to do about what I’ve seen and now suspect I know? Oh, well, you know, after repeatedly reporting incidents like this while living in South Dakota and being treated like literal human garbage as a result, my plan is simply to write about it.

Obviously, this is the shittiest solution ever. But, really, what can I do? There are CCTV cameras everywhere. If the Chinese know this stuff is going on and turn a blind eye to it, what hope do I have?

Still, if it’s happening to me, it must be happening to other people as well. There’s never just one of us. Predators usually have an established pattern. I must be someone’s type, or whatever they think their type is: young, vulnerable, alone in the big city for the first time, lonely, isolated from family, few friends, no job, no safety net, no purpose or direction.

Ahhh, but what you don’t know about me is that I wield the most powerful weapon of all: the pen.

Anyway, yeah, so needless to say that between this incident and The Russian, I have decided to slow down on the so-called “networking.” It’s not working for me. I have made some actual friends, which is good! However, all of this is just too much for me. This “corporate finance tech bro culture” is so toxic and sickening. It’s just not… the vibe for me. Like at all.

Meanwhile, we never heard anything from The Russian ever again. He has officially disappeared off the face of Planet Earth. Grand! This means I can now write whatever the fuck I want to write and I don’t have to worry about him checking up on me or getting in my business or trying to derail the one thing that keeps me sane in this world. He’s gone full ghost mode and he still has more class than the jerks from Bloody Mary’s Bar back in South Dakota. Love that for him!

My friend told me last night that I shouldn’t have texted him the paragraphs. I disagree. The paragraphs were not about my feelings. The paragraphs were summarizing what I’ve already said here and other jokes I planned to make. I sent that to cover my own ass and show that I did inform him. Just in case of any legal entanglements that may potentially arise…

My friend specifically said, “Don’t message him anymore. You’re giving away all your power. He has all the power now.”

I mean… does he really, though? He’s the punchline of my latest joke. Whatever power he thinks he has over me is purely in his mind. Frankly, if all he wants is power, then he can be all alone with his power. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll take my jokes about scorpion mating rituals and bad James Bond films and continue living my life the way I please.

I don’t think he ever really had the power. I just kinda let him pretend he did because it was fun. Deep down I think we all know I analyzed this situation with a clear, sober mind and thought, “Fuck yeah I want to stay in the Mandarin Oriental for a night on someone else’s dime. Show me the bathtub!”

This is why I say… next time, I’m using the bathtub. I don’t give a fuck what he says. I’m doing it anyway. Just like I’m doing with my writing right now. What is he going to do? Cancel me? Ha!

So… what’s on the menu for today? Oh nothing, just going through all of my finances and crying because I can’t make Ireland work right now. I can’t make anything work right now. But hey, at least I have some great stories to tell from my time in SEA! That’s all that really matters, right? Right!

Off now!

And always remember: safety first!

That means…

If I don’t update this blog or my social media for 48 hours straight, call in Liam Neeson.

I am literally not even joking right now.

BLOG: The Philosophy of Sex & Love

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Philo of Sex and Love

Sunday morning. Went to the coffee shop to get my coffee to-go so I could come back home to snuggle up in bed and write while watching the rain outside all day. Perfect!

I tried doing this yesterday with insta-coffee packets, but they just don’t do it for me. I always end up falling right back to sleep. The baristas at my coffee shop are all artists and writers and filmmakers and creative types, so they know the exact chemical equation to make a coffee that is going to keep a creative going through the day.

Anyway, how am I doing otherwise? Just grand, actually. I feel pretty good about my date this week. I really feel like I took control of that situation before it took control of me.

I’m not “hung up” on him, but he did leave me with several extremely very philosophical, deeply existential questions to chew over for some time. This is probably the best outcome we could hope for from all of that. How very Russian of him.

I think it’s okay to write about my debates on these questions, but I do have to be careful about what I say about him. He directly told me he doesn’t want me to write about him. I took that to mean, “Don’t use my real name, don’t write about my business, don’t transcribe our conversations, and don’t talk about what we do in the privacy of the bedroom.”

I’m cool with all of that.

Honestly, I could not explain to you what he does for work if I tried. He explained it to me like 7 times and every single time I was like, “You might as well be speaking Ukrainian right now because I don’t understand a goddamn word you’re saying.”

I think Finance might actually be the most boring topic ever as far as I’m concerned. Like, ugh. God knows what any of these people actually do for work. I try to listen when they explain and every time I just zone right out. Can’t do it. It just puts me right to sleep.

All I got from from that conversation was, “I’m the Boss.”

Okay. Grand. That much I understand. You’re the Boss!

Anyway, what was I writing about?

Oh yes, my deep, philosophical questions about love and sex. Haha, good thing I took an actual class in university called “The Philosophy of Sex and Love.” I am ready to debate these topics with myself.

The first thing I decided to do is separate out my “Old Life” from my “New Life.” Everything before I left South Dakota is no longer relevant to this conversation.

As far as I am concerned, my real life started when I went to the Yoga Shala in India in May 2024. That is when I feel I was “reborn” in a spiritual sense.

Everything before that was a different world, a different life, a different persona, a different version of me. Not relevant to this conversation at all.

This means the guys featured on the current season of the Island of Lost Guys are:

1. My Haryanvi ex from India who I was in a long-distance relationship with for a year and planned to marry before we broke up in Dubai at the beginning of this trip.

2. The Mexican-American guy I met in Bangkok the first time I ever went to the American Bar.

3. The British Guy, who I also met at the American Bar in Bangkok. We can all agree he is a stupid bloody wanker.

4. The Man with a Plan from Panama who Fixed my Canal. He was Panamanian-American. I also met him at the American Bar in Bangkok. This joke is funny because he really is an engineer IRL.

5. The Hot Beef Stew from Ireland. Also met him at the American Bar in Bangkok. Now we know why I was so obsessed with this bar! It was like hitting the jackpot! We found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow over there!

6. My new Russian friend from Germany or Switzerland (or wherever it was) who I met in Hong Kong last week. Let’s just go out on a limb here and assume we will never see nor hear from him ever again. I even tried to google him and nothing came up, so I was like, “Yeah, no, let’s just leave that one alone before we really do have to call in Liam Neeson.” I’m not chasing that guy down. Hell nawwww to the naw, naw, naw.

Though I did have brief flirtations with three other men, none of them were interesting or memorable enough to make the final cut for this team. I didn’t sleep with them. I wasn’t interested in them. They didn’t even make it into the final elimination round. They got knocked out of the ring very early on.

Anyway, these Representatives from the Six Nations are the characters we are working with here in this debate. I willingly and consensually slept with these men. I had very different relationships with all of them. The feelings I felt for each of them were different. Now I have had this experience with The Russian, so I can look at each of these and figure out what’s going on here.

So this debate started as a result of a conversation I had with The Russian, which I think is fine to summarize here. If he doesn’t like it, he can complain directly to me. I know he will because he is like that.

As I mentioned, he is a Scorpio male. I am a Scorpio female. Our birthdays are very close together. The energy was matching. If you had been in the room with us, you would have felt the intense chemistry between us. It was very strong.

However, in Chinese astrology, he is a Dog and I am Dragon. Traditionally speaking, that makes us enemies. One could say that is represented by the whole Russian-American thing. It was also clear our values systems do not align, as I am very, very “woke” and he is decidedly not. We definitely had a classic Enemies-to-Lovers dynamic going on there.

So this Scorpion man was explaining to me what he values in a partner. I think we did align on a lot of it, but again, that’s just the inherent Scorpio nature at work. You know, everything about trust and loyalty. Marriage is a business deal. You need someone who is going to be your equal partner who is operating on the same level, even if there are differences between the two.

In this specific pairing, that would be represented by him being more traditionally masculine-coded, while I am more traditionally feminine-coded. But also, not really on my end, because I do behave and speak in ways that are traditionally more masculine-coded and that’s why so many people (especially men) dislike me.

That being said, I don’t want to be a man. I don’t see myself as a man. I’m very happy to be a woman and use my feminine charms to my advantage, especially now that I’m learning how to actually do that in a way that empowers me.

Back to the Scorpion thing. So everything he was saying about this made sense to me. I sat there and thought, “These are all of the reasons I was dating my Indian Guy. He presented himself as a strong alpha Scorpion man who wanted these things.”

In Indian astrology, my ex is a Scorpion. However, in the West, he is not a Scorpio. He is a Pisces. So it was only a matter of time before I stepped into the position of coddling him because he’s actually just an overgrown manbaby who wanted his mommy and expected me to be his mommy. I don’t want to be his mommy. The End.

So then I had my Latin lovers, both of whom were excellent in bed. They were in touch with their emotions, they understood the concept of mutual pleasure, they were open with their sexuality, and they were concerned about making sure I was enjoying myself.

Honestly, I felt things during those nights I’ve never felt in my entire life. I didn’t even know my body could do that! Very pleasant experiences over all. The emphasis here is definitely on the physical experience of Pleasure.

But again, they both got on planes and left. I think the Mexicali is dating some blonde chick now. Good for him. I’m jealous, but happy for him.

Meanwhile, Panamanian guy was too controlling for me. Like he didn’t just have a plan to fix my canal. He had a whole plan to fix my life. He’s a fixer. I don’t want a fixer. I want a partner. It was doomed to fail from the start.

The British Guy was just a wanker. He was awful! Ugh! He was so mean. He treated me like shit. He talked badly about me behind my back and to my face. He was incredibly disrespectful in every single way. I regret allowing him to behave like that towards me.

It’s a good thing my Irish Family showed up and literally physically removed me from him. They were right and I was wrong. They said, “You need to learn how to stand up for yourself. Be kind to yourself. Treat yourself better. You don’t deserve to be abused like that. You are a strong Irish lady. You need to learn that we Irish don’t EVER take shit from the English. Stop taking shit from this colonizer wanker.”

Enter Mr. Hot Beef Stew. Now, the feeling that I experienced when I was with him was very, very, very strong. It was very different than anything I’d experienced before. It felt cozy, safe, comfortable, familiar, protective, warm, loving, kind. Literally like eating a bowl of Irish stew while cuddled up in a warm blanket by the fire on a rainy day.

My theory now after learning more about my Irish heritage is that what this was is actually “Irish Love.” It was special, but not because he and I are a good match or soulmates or whatever. This is just the way of Irish people. The universe brought him into my life to open the door to Ireland, help me find my family, and discover history, culture, and heritage.

Now we circle back to our Russian Scorpion friend. How did I even describe my feelings about this date after explaining all of this? I don’t know. I don’t know what that was. That was like… some bizarre scorpion mating ritual. I don’t know what that was. It wasn’t any of these things I just explained. I can only say it was very intense.

But also… like… what’s the point of feeling any way about it? He got on a plane and left. Now he’s back to living his real life and I’m back to living my real life. That’s it. That’s the end. There is no more to this story and never will be.

My takeaway is that I’ve gotten enough experience that I recognized it for exactly what it was. I managed to take control over the situation before it took control of me. I put up my boundaries. I didn’t get fixated or obsessed or convince myself whatever we were doing was going to end with us falling in love. It was just sex.

I said, “Okay, we’re gonna do this, but we’re gonna do this in a way that I feel comfortable with and consent to. It’s not just about what you want. We all know you only want sex. So I’m gonna have the sex I want in the way I want so that I don’t walk away from this encounter with any regrets.”

In the end, I’m not sure that what I asked him for was really what I wanted, but I’m glad I tried it. Like I said, it felt like an experiment. It was all fully consensual. Like, okay, we did that once and now we know maybe it’s not for me after all.

Now, I’m not fixating on him. I am just philosophizing in a very general way, which is better for me. Clearly, there is some kind of internal growth happening here. That’s good.

Moving forward… what do I want? I guess I still don’t really know. I think the bare minimum for me right now is to find someone that is going to stick around longer than a couple of nights. Hard to find. Probably impossible.

I think it would be a good starting point to stop doing the one night stand thing and find someone who sticks around long enough to develop some level of intimacy. Sex is better with intimacy, or so I’ve heard. I wouldn’t fucking know, lol.

I gotta just find someone who is open to experimentation and willing to communicate directly about it so we can both enjoy ourselves. Then just let whatever happens just happen from there.

I definitely know I don’t want to do the whole marriage/family/house in the suburbs thing. That is not for me.

I also know I don’t want to be with someone who is going to try to control me or fix me. I would like a partner who accepts me as the neurodivergent weirdo I am and doesn’t try to change it or beat it out of me.

He must be also supportive of my writing career and maybe provide gentle guidance in the right direction when I’m stuck or blocked.

I definitely need someone who can provide the stability and structure that I desperately need but am clearly incapable of providing for myself.

Most importantly, they have to be fun. I don’t want someone who is super uptight and serious all the time. I want someone who comes home from work and is like, “Office mode off! Fun mode on!”

I don’t want someone who comes home from work after a bad day and starts screaming at me or using me as a punching bag. That’s how my parents treated me until I was 35. I’m over it!

I don’t care how bad your day was or how many assholes you had to deal with. You better not come home and take it out on me. I’m not taking that shit from a partner. I’ve been through too much therapy for that. I am not your scapegoat. Period.

So now we know… this is what I actually want. I can vocalize this now. That is progress!

Overall, I feel pretty good about my time at SEA so far. It’s not what I expected it to be, but I’ve learned so much about myself and who I am and what I want.

I’m finally starting to find some sense of an identity that isn’t entirely built upon my intense collective of negative, traumatic past experiences.

I’m making my own choices, even if they aren’t always great ones. I’m learning from my mistakes. I’m in control of my destiny. No one is there calling the shots or telling me what I can/should do. I’m learning how to be free and independent and exist on my own.

This is it. I’m free. I’m on my own for the first time in my adult life. It’s hard, but I’d rather have it this way than be trapped in my parents’ house back in SD cleaning up everyone else’s messes while being screamed at and sabotaged and actively denied the ability to leave on every occasion possible.

I just never want to be trapped in a situation like that ever again. If that means avoiding the “traditional marriage and family” plan, then so be it. I really don’t want that. I already did it and I hated it. I don’t want to stay at home with a child all day and make snacks and do crafts and watch cartoons and Disney movies and read the same books over and over again.

I don’t want to be trapped in a big old haunted house with no option to leave just so someone can come home at rail on me every single night because they refuse to get the therapy they desperately need. I will not go through that again. I will not!

I want to be an adult out in the adult world doing adult things. I want the perks of a relationship. I want fun trips and nice gifts and good sex and emotional intimacy and direct communication and to be in an equal partnership where both of us are healthy and happy and feel heard and seen and understood.

So, none of these previously mentioned men are going to do that for me. However, I am happy that I met all of them and grateful to them for teaching me this lesson in their own ways.

Well, now all of that is settled. We got the Love & Sex question sorted out. What are we going to do about this whole Money & Career question? It’s fucked. Shit is fucked. The world is fucked.

I think… I really just want to go back to school now. Anyone got an extra $20-$50k USD laying around to help me out? Ha ha ha. Just kidding, of course.

Or am I?

LIST: Top 10 Requirements for Future Dates

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Listen up, fam. It’s Passover.

That means it’s time to make our annual spiritual exodus from ye olde world of slavery out into the desert to go get buck wild for 40 days and 40 nights worshipping golden toilets ballrooms fake reality tv show presidents idols, all while Moses is up on the mountain top doing… who even knows what, honestly?

Our sources claim he was talking to a burning bush, but like, who even knows what that means anymore, amiright? Sounds like a metaphor to me!

Yeah, I got your burning bush right here, fam. And by that, I literally mean my vagina. This is an actual vagina monologue. As The Lonely Island once sang, “This ain’t SeaWorld, this is real as it gets. I’m on a boat, motherfucker, don’t you ever forget!”

And let me tell you, this bush is STILL on fire after the Russians plowed on through several days ago. It was quite the event. And now, this is what *my* burning bush has to say about all of my future dating requirements from here on out:

1. You must be Write-able AF. You can either be a Muse, or be Mused. Your choice.

2. The more ridiculous you are, the better. I LOVE watching a good freak show unfold live. It’s even better if you fully crash out right in front of my eyes. It really gives the story that little extra something special, ya dig?

3. You must GTFO ASAP because I don’t have time or energy for men in general at the ripe old ancient age of 37. I’ve basically gone full Irish Bog Witch at this point. I truly mean it when I say… I don’t give a fuck.

4. I know this is really, really, really hard, but can you at least TRY to be honest? LOL, “try” being the key word here. It’s very hard for most men! You wouldn’t even believe how many married men I meet who honestly think that they are fooling me just by taking off their ring, or creating some fake, elaborate, ultra sympathetic backstory, or whatever. No. Stop. Just… Shut up. Stop talking. I have literally heard all of this before. I can see right through you. Stop wasting my time!

5. You must be a hot, sexy beefcake (all ages welcome). I dated too many uggo sluggos when I was young, so now I only take applications from guys who could realistically be on Magic Mike Live. I prefer men in the 8-10 range, but I’m willing to settle for a Kind 5-7 if you have enough charisma. 5 and below’s can just book a ticket straight to Thailand and invest in a water buffalo. Ain’t nobody got time for that!

6. You must pay for everything, mostly because I already know that everything you’re saying is BS and you’re just going to waste my time. Therefore, it’s best for all of us if you just pay the tab.

7. Be aware that you will eventually run off screaming into the night from fear, and that watching you do so is of great amusement to me. Nothing scarier than a woman with opinions, amiright, lads?!

8. You must be good in bed. We all know you want one thing and one thing only. So, again, please do not waste my time if you’re only going to disappoint me.

9. You must be from a country I have not conquered yet. As of today, I am still in the market for an Aussie, but only if you’re a rugby player and/or can wrestle a full-grown saltwater crocodile into submission.

10. You must laugh at my jokes, or else!

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

This has been yet another episode of “Fuck the Patriarchy” by Betsey Horton, brought to you by our sponsors at the Derek Zoolander Center for Kids Who Can’t Read Good and Who Wanna Learn to do Other Stuff Good Too.

Donate today, and your money could go straight into YET another billionaire-run embezzlement scheme designed to fund war, genocide, and human (and/or animal, plant, rock, fossil, mineral, etc) trafficking and slavery! Because who actually wants to pay anyone for their hard work, amiright? Only suckers and losers! Ha ha ha!

Thank you again for your generous donation today!

Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ!

BLOG: Sleeping with the Enemy

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Today is Monday.

Today I accepted my offer to attend summer school in Galway, because I was on a deadline and had to choose fast. Am I still a little unsure? Yeah, but really, like, no.

My heart says yes. My brain says yes. My bank account says… “Hey gurl, what is you doing? Is your plan to find a pot of gold at the end of one of those rainbows? Cause I’ve got some bad news… you’re gonna need one.”

I’m definitely feeling the conflict right now. I’m just… yeah. Anyway, I can’t think about that right now. I have a new and interesting story to tell from last night and I need to get it out of me right now before I do something really fucking dumb.

So yesterday I went to Art Basel with my friend. It was pretty cool. I always love a good art show. Really enjoyed the themes of the natural world, particularly the seascapes. Lots of focus on animals. Lots of combinations of various old artistic traditions from around Asia combined with newer, more modern styles. I had a great time! Definitely way overpriced in my opinion, but the art was worth it.

While I was there, I drank more coffee than I usually do during the day. Unlike alcohol, I have very strict rules around my daily coffee consumption. Rules I am breaking right now by getting a mocha at 2:30pm. Yesterday I drank three coffees, so needless to say I was WIDE AWAKE and I could not go to sleep. I decided to go around the corner to my fav bar and visit with my favourite bartenders.

I had literally just ordered a glass of wine and barely taken a sip when in walked this very tall, very good-looking man wearing a very styling blue leather jacket. He took one look at me, smiled to himself like he had found the buried treasure he’d been seeking all day, and took a seat right next to me.

Naturally, I was in no mood to entertain a man on this occasion. He didn’t give a fuck. He ordered the same drink I was having and promptly just went for it. Full throttle.

It didn’t take me very long to parse that he is a Scorpio male. Mmm, problem. Big time. Scorpio men are very, very intense. When they want something, they don’t hold back. He was not holding back. However, I was due to the following list of red flags, which he casually revealed over the course of the conversation:

🚩Russian

🚩Grew up in Germany

🚩Currently lives in Switzerland

🚩He is only here for three days! Call now, or you’ll regret missing out on this special once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

🚩Says he “runs his own business,” whatever that even means.

🚩Claims he is no longer married (sure, Jan), but apparently was very recently married to an Iranian woman, but only for a year, because they got married after six months and then it “didn’t work out,” probably because this guy moves at the speed of light.

🚩Says he loves Trump, describes Russians as “America’s Best Friend” (cue the bombastic side-eye).

🚩Asked me what’s wrong with being a “real man” and why is everyone so obsessed with “toxic masculinity” and am I going to cancel him for being a strong, manly man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it?

🚩Went on a mini-rant about transpeople and LGBTQIA+. I told him to just get over it and mind his own goddamn business.

🚩Made some very, very old school racist comments about black people.

🚩Asked me how I feel if Russia and Iran invaded America tomorrow? I just said, “Uh, well, you do realize that most Americans just casually stockpile guns, right? Just saying. I really think you’re gonna have a hard time taking over the Southsode of Chicago in a ground invasion.”

🚩Somehow came off as incredibly flirtatiously and charismatic in spite of the aforementioned ick factors, which I found very, very concerning.

Really, the only thing we actually agreed on was that neither of us wanted to talk about Israel. That was quite refreshing, actually. Turns out pretty much everyone is sick of their shit, so there is that.

So all of this happened BEFORE he proposed his big, genius idea to me: I should accompany him back to his fancy, luxury hotel that his clients are paying for, and then just stay there with him for the entire three days of his business trip.

I just laughed at him and said, “That is literally the plot of Pretty Woman. Are you planning to pay me for this?”

He was very smooth and suave about it. He was like, “Oh, well, we can do whatever you want. We can eat in the nice restaurants. I’ll take you shopping. You can go to the hotel spa all day while I’m at work meetings and then you will be mine for the evening. We can enjoy this beautiful city together. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

LOL WHAT?!

Hahahahahahaha!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I’m sorry, what?!

Yeah, I just have one question for you, bro: Does the human trafficking happens before or after this very elaborate fantasy you’ve concocted in the last hour you’ve known me?

Second question: Should we send in Liam Neeson now, or wait until after this has all gone terribly, terribly wrong and become an international incident?

Furthermore, I feel like there are professionals that you can hire exactly for this purpose. Julia Roberts would not approve of you approaching her as Erin Brockovich when you clearly want Pretty Woman.

… I forget her name in that movie, to be honest. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it. Really all I remember out is when she tries to go shopping on Rodeo Drive and tells the snooty shopgirls to go fuck themselves, the scene where they’re at the horse race, and the scene where they have sex on the piano.

Wait a minute…

How big is this luxury hotel suite you’re talking about? Does it come with a baby grand piano? Because I might be willing to rethink your offer if it does, but only so I can say I had sex on top of a baby grand piano. A regular old grand piano is obviously better, but we do have to consider the size of whatever room this is in.

Anyway, clearly he was watching this movie on the plane over here from Switzerland because he was very committed to this idea. He tried SO hard to get me to go back to his hotel with him. So hard. He pulled out all the stops. He even broke out the old school seduction moves from all those 18th century Russian novels about poor, innocent women being ruined by aristocratic men playing psychological games with them.

Yeah, so, as it turns out, that shit is real AF.

It was kinda hot, but also weirdly desperate? Like, he was just trying sooooo hard. It did not help that he eventually revealed to me he had been drinking since his plane landed earlier yesterday morning.

By the end, I was so turned off that all I wanted to do was just shove him in a taxi and send him off into the night, never to be seen or heard from ever again. I did finally get rid of him at the end, but it took a lot to get there.

He was upset at me! He was like, “I don’t know why you’re rejecting me right now. You don’t even understand what I’m offering you!”

What, two days of sex, a couple of spa treatments, and a shopping trip? Big fucking whoop. I can do that myself.

He was literally acting like he had just offered me the entire world on a silver platter and I was just… not all that impressed, to be honest with you. Seriously, what kind of women has he been with who jump at this kind of shit?

It was so weird. I have the worst feeling he is going to show up again tonight and try again. Meanwhile, I am just sitting over here like, “Boundaries, Betsey. Boundaries. Do not fall into whatever honey trap this is. Just say no.”

I mean, of course there is a part of me that is also a Scorpio, and therefore thinks, “But I don’t actually have to like him in order to bang him. I can just get that itch scratched right now and then I never have to see this guy ever again.”

But then I’m also like… but actually I would rather hold out for true love, and by true love, I obviously mean my imaginary fantasy Irish guy who is generally very boring and stable and cozy and quite nice to snuggle with in front of the fire on a rainy day, and is brave enough to get up on that ladder and fix that weird little hole in the roof the squirrels made.

That’s hot.

Wait, do they have squirrels in Ireland? I have no idea. I’m sure they have varmints of some kind that chew holes in things and generally cause problems.

Yeah… nice choice here… should I hold out for the light-hearted romantic comedy about falling in love and finding my family in Ireland, or should we just go straight for the erotic spy thriller and skip right ahead to the steamy sex scenes in the high-rise luxury hotel in Hong Kong?

Such amazing choices the universe offers to me. Really, I don’t think I could make this stuff up if I tried. Really, I cannot. I just go out and sit in the corner alone and mind my own business and then along comes the crazy. Love that for me!

Wild.

Okay, I need a cigarette now. Just thinking about this makes me want to smoke.

As a certain Irishman in Bangkok once said, “To be a slut, or not to be a slut? That is the question.”

Indeed, it is.

BLOG: Reality vs Faerie Land

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Friday.

How am I today? Oh, I just feel like I’m drowning, as per usual. I try to always remember what my favourite little group of expats in Thailand would say: “The first year away is always the hardest. You’re still caught up in all the shit you left behind. You still don’t know who you are or where you are or what you’re even doing. But rest assured, you’ll find your way around in time, just like the rest of us did.”

I don’t feel like I’m finding my way. I feel like I’m way in over my head and I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into.

This week I have definitely felt the weight of my old life weighing upon me. I don’t know why I am getting so triggered by everything this week. I just keep having flashbacks and night terrors about the situations and people I left behind. I’m just not on my A-game right now.

I should be more excited than I am. Unfortunately, I can only think of how upset and angry my family will be, and wonder how they will conspire to sabotage it, and how I am going to manifest the money I need to chase this relatively new dream.

I feel very conflicted right now. I’ve struggled so hard to find a place in Hong Kong just to live and now I’m just going to give it up so I can run off somewhere new and take the exact same gamble on housing and employment to pursue a degree that I have no real way to pay for?

Well, I guess the way I’ve seen it, there is no pay off in this world anymore. You just have to do what you have to do to survive.

It’s just hard. I feel like every day I’m just sitting there like, “I know there is more to life than sitting on rooftops sipping wine and writing about all of the ridiculous people I randomly meet. I just don’t know how to switch out of this mode into money-making mode. My only real skill other than writing and creative, critical thinking is making drinks. What am I doing here? What am I doing anywhere? Everywhere I go, it will always be the same.”

If only I could wrangle me one of these hot fintech bros that keep walking by and then I would never have to worry about money ever again. I could just have a nice apartment with a roof of my own located somewhere within and just write. Alas, they look good on the outside, but the reality is they are all just one ketamine-fueled crash out away from ending up on the street.

Oh yeah, that reminds me. I had to stop checking out Neighbor Guy after I saw some chick carrying a bag of takeout go into his apartment the other day. She had a key. So now I’ve just started avoiding him by taking the stairwells again. Always the same story with these guys, isn’t it? I really must see that witch under the bridge about breaking whatever curse this is.

Well, I’ve checked on flight prices and they’re not great. If I want to fly to the US and then to Dublin, it’s like $1500-$2000 and I have to deal with ALL of the insanity. Upside: 12 hour layover in Tokyo, which I’ve never been to.

Meanwhile, good guy Ireland is keeping flight prices to Dublin from SEA very low. I’m looking at $500-$800 there, depending on which hub I go through.

Istanbul is probably best. They probably just fly over Mainland China and then up through the Stans. Skip the GCC entirely. That’s a hell of a flight though. And I don’t get the luxuries of Emirates or Qatar Airways for the long-haul. Disappointing.

I just don’t know what else to do. I’m not getting anywhere with my job hunt. AI just eats my applications. Besides, I have terrible luck with jobs. I always end up working for and with the worst people. Starbucks is the brightest, shiniest example. I will never forget how my co-workers treated me after my father died. Pure human garbage, the whole lot of them. I am convinced that most of Gen-Z is dysfunctional and rotten to the core.

So now I am trying to work through my actual, literal fear of going back to work after what happened with Starbucks and with the South African company that brought me to HK in the first place. I really have terrible anxiety about working with other people now. I’m just afraid I will be targeted and vilified for defending myself and then I have to sit back and watch as my source of income and health insurance is ripped away, yet again, just so someone else can make some kind of temporary gains.

So I do realize that people in the corporate world only get increasingly more psychotic from here. The world we live in is a terrible place. I just don’t want to be around monstrous people like that anymore. Like I literally just cannot do it. I have no tolerance for it anymore. It’s so much easier to just hide in my room and sleep and pretend the world doesn’t exist outside of my blog or my notebook.

I know it’s a problem. I just don’t know how to solve it. I only know that I’m out here all on my own and that I am the only person who can solve it. I’m just… not solving it. I don’t think I want to solve it. I think I just want to hop that flight to Ireland and run away to a magical fairy land where I can write in a castle overlooking the sea.

Yes, right, that sounds very realistic, Betsey. Let us all know how that goes for you when you find yourself broke and homeless and left alone out on the street in the rain.

I swear to you, my fear of being homeless is seriously the only thing motivating me at times. I refuse to live in a tent or sleep on a bench. But I am also an Artiste and I live to create and I don’t know how else to live aside from Creation.

And no one likes me. I suck at networking and socializing. Everyone always ends up hating me. I’m definitely going to die alone on the street in the rain.

Oh god, I think I might have an anxiety attack. God help me.

I’m sure it would probably help a lot if I just went for a walk and ate something aside from 7/11 snacks and ramen noodles.

🙁 🙁 🙁

BLOG: To Ireland!

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Thursday. Here we are at the coffee shop. I am finally sitting inside today. We agreed it was better in case that crazy Aussie guy comes back.

I received some very exciting news yesterday: I was accepted into the Irish Studies program in Galway this summer. Yes, yes, I know, it’s very exciting, but this is only Part 1. I still have another application out for a full-year program I am completing right now. The real celebration will come if and when I finally get my Letter to Hogwarts!

The summer program is only for a month. That’s not going to be enough time for me. I need at least a full year. I decided to start researching Masters programs again and found some good options. I’ve realized that I just want to get it done already. I feel like I’m not going to be able to get ahead in my career until I get my Masters Degree. I’ve always wanted one, I just… had some rejections and a few opportunities that didn’t quite work out.

Maybe this one will work out since I’m already in! That’s what I’m hoping for. Then I can magically find a place to live (which I hear is very hard in Ireland right now) and not move anywhere again for a full year, or longer. I’ll just study and work in a coffee shop and learn Irish and write.

I can always come back to Hong Kong to if I want to. The door is now open to me forever because I’ve already lived here. I’m in da Club. I can come back any time. Ideally, next time I would like to be more prepared on a professional level. It’s really hard to get started here on my own. I just feel so lost all the time. School is a better option. I need the structure.

All of this being said, I am excited to go to Ireland. I’m gonna take courses on Irish History, Irish Society, and Irish Language. I’m excited to add another language to my ever-growing repertoire. Hopefully I’ll be much better at it than I am at Thai or Cantonese. Lol, I know, I know. Hey, I know the basics of getting around town! It’s not that bad! But I could also be trying harder, lol. Personally, I think I’m better at Hindi than both of those combined, but I was also in a relationship with an Indian man for a year, so…

Right now I’m trying to find a good spot to write my application essays in. This coffee shop is too loud. The library is too intense. The rooftop I was chillin’ on is too casual. My home studio works okay, but I do get a bit claustrophobic if I stay in there for too long. I can’t imagine trying to live here during Covid. I can’t even last 12 hours in there before popping over to 7/11. I would have lost my goddamn mind.

I’ve been doing some research on living in Ireland. It looks like it has the exact same problems literally everywhere else in the world does: high cost of living, housing shortage, stagnant low wages. Grand.

I have started looking at the housing situation. It’s definitely bad, but it’s not Hong Kong bad. Once you deal with the harsh, unforgivable realities of the Hong Kong housing market, everything else looks like a piece of cake in comparison.

Well, I’m dealing with the exact same issue here in Hong Kong, as I was before in the USA. It is what it is. It’s really about what I make of the opportunity in the end. If all else fails, I can always give up on life and go waste away in Thailand forever, lol.

There is no winning anywhere in this world right now. Everyone everywhere is drowning. There is no hope for the future. Might as well try to learn about my family heritage while I’m on my way out, I guess. It’s what my grandmother and father would want.

I always felt like I tried so hard to make something out of living in South Dakota. I traveled, I learn about Native American history and culture, I started this blog, I wrote so many stories, I followed around Mad Dog, took a lot of classes online, became a yoga teacher. In the end, it just wasn’t the right place for me. The people there are so, so, so toxic. I am grateful every day I left that world behind forever. I never, ever have to go back there ever again.

Ugh, I am feeling overwhelmed right now. I need to take a break. I am trying to do research online but everyone is SO NEGATIVE ALL THE TIME. The housing market sucks. The job market sucks. Everything sucks everywhere.

Like, yes, we know, the world sucks. Everything sucks. It is what it is!

Well, it’s fine. My ancestors survived crossing the ocean to come to America just to be treated like shit and discriminated against and denied jobs and housing. Somehow they still made it work. I’m sure I can survive one year in a dilapidated Irish boarding house by the seaside in Ireland proper.

I’ve got it pretty good compared to my ancestors, so, whatever. At least I don’t have to work down by the docks or toil away in the factories or camp out in the woods for weeks at a time to avoid getting caught by the feds for illegal rum-running between the US and Canada during prohibition. That’s a true story, btw!

Maybe I’ll just find myself one of these big strapping Irish lads with lots of property he inherited from his grandmother and make him some tea and then cozy up by him next to the fire place on a rainy, windy, foggy day after the car breaks down in the mud and he comes home drenched from head to toe and shivering cold. Then I will enchant him by whispering the magic words every Irishman wants to hear directly into his ear: “I know the recipe for my great-great-grandmother’s traditional Irish stew.”

It’ll be just like in the movies! 😀

Yeah, that doesn’t sound so bad to me…

Housing crisis, schmousing crisis. Reality cannot interfere with my romcom fantasy dream life!

Except for when it inevitably does…

Whatever, don’t interrupt me while I’m fantasizing! I have an award-winning romance series to pen. Everyone loves hot Irish guys in cozy sweaters, okay?! These are just facts!

Alright, well, I am going to quit reading all of this negativity on reddit and finish my essays. It goes…

161 years ago, my family looked around the famine-ridden nation of Ireland and said, “Fuck this shit, we’re going to America!”

Now, six generations later, their totally disillusioned American descendant is getting right back on that boat and saying, “Fuck this shit, I’m going back to Ireland!”

*sings*

It’s the circleeeeeeee, the circle of liiiiiife!

*ba dum*