Tag: Macau

BLOG: I’m on a Boat!

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Friday.

Just boarded the ferry back to Hong Kong from Macau. My trip to Macau was quite lovely. I stayed at an adorable little Portuguese-style inn by the seaside with a balcony and a gigantic bathtub. I brought the leftover bath bombs from my last trip to Macau just for that. I definitely needed the relaxation time, especially after I locked myself in my shoebox for 48 hours on Sunday and Monday to watch a bunch of 9/11 documentaries. What can I say? Exposure therapy is helpful for trauma.

I tried a few new Macanese dishes I’ve never tried before, including octopus (which I will not be eating again for various reasons). I went to the beach for a bit yesterday and got some sunshine. Then I went to a seaside cafe in the afternoon and drank a “small jar” of Sangria, which is probably the reason why I could not finish my octopus dinner last night. I felt weirdly guilty about eating it, so I started composing a story about what the octopus would say to me if it was sitting in front of me.

I posted about it on Threads, which immediately invited in all the loneliest men on the planet to harass me. So crazy. Imagine waking up one morning and saying to yourself, “You know what I’m going to do today? Harass random women on the internet who believe animals have a soul and are capable of intelligent thought.” It’s 100% giving small dick energy. Stay lonely, bro!

Now I’m on my way back to HK. Ready to take on my manuscript and job hunt with extra vigor. Less male distractions, more work work work. More networking. More taking myself seriously and not looking for validation from others. And definitely not thinking about my neighbor. Forget him! There are plenty of other fish in the sea! I can’t worry about that anymore. I have to get my shit the fuck together!

I really do love Macau. I wish I could have stayed longer, but duty calls. I have a book to write, a career to build, and a work visa to acquire. I can’t just check out from reality for an extended period of time like I did when I was living in Thailand. Shit’s getting real now. It’s hustle or go back home to the US, and as we all know, I do not have a home back in the US anymore. HK is my home now. If I want it to stay that way, I have to get the paperwork sorted out. It is what it is.

I was quite happy to receive several messages from my HK friends at the Secret Society while I was gone. It’s nice to be wanted, I guess. I made plans to meet up with a new friend there next week. Otherwise I will just go over there tonight to see who is around. As I’ve said before, it was weird for me at first to be in that room, but now it’s okay. Maybe I just felt weird because I was insecure about my identity and purpose. What I’ve learned is that it’s okay to be myself. There’s nothing wrong with me. I just wasn’t in the right rooms before. It’s all about finding your people, right? Exactly.

I know the first order of business when I get back is to make a hair appointment. It’s time. I believe hair carries memories and right now my hair is the longest it’s ever been in my entire life. It just feels heavy; like all the memories are weighing me down. I’m ready to give it the big chop and start over again. It’s something I must do to move forward on my spiritual journey.

Yes, I am a spiritual person. I believe all life on this earth has a soul. I believe in ghosts and spirits. I believe in the power of manifestation. I believe in a lot of stuff. If random men on the internet want to shame me for it, they can stay lonely. My spirituality has given me so much peace in this life. I used to believe in nothing and that got me nowhere. Now, I am quite happy to have my faith. It’s gotten me through some of the darkest times of my life. It’s getting me through life right now. I am proud to believe in something greater than myself.

Okay, I’m off now. We’ve hit some rough waters and if I keep staring at a screen I’m going to get seasick. As I’ve repeatedly stated, I am not a fan of boats! I can’t even imagine spending seven hours drinking on one. Too much, too much…

bn

BLOG: My Very Own Personal Harem of Men

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Wednesday morning.

Chillin’ in my apartment. Going to Macau today. I am very excited because the weather is going to be really nice, unlike last time. Hello adventures! I got an excellent deal on a really fancy hotel with beach access. My only priority for the next few days is to fix the farmer’s tan I acquired from doing yoga on the rooftop in shorts.

I am SO ready to get the fuck away from my ridiculous neighbor, who has mostly vanished and isn’t around anyway. Doesn’t matter. I just need a break from his general energy. Too much, too much.

See, here’s the thing: I know myself very well at this point. Sometimes I get these random fixations with dudes, then I write about them for awhile, then I get over it and move onto the next one. It is what it is. Men have to be useful for something in this world. As far as I can tell, it’s just for me to take their essence and use it for my own creative purposes. What else do they actually provide other than that? Nothing.

I had a weird dream the other night where I wandered into some random bar in HK and I guess it was the one he goes to all the time. Everyone in there was his friend. They said, “He told us about you. He said you’re a stalker.”

Oh, right. Just like he told me he was “poor” and “literally had cancer last year.” Then there was that weird story he told me about how he “saved” a girl from jumping off a rooftop, which sounded weirdly scripted and rehearsed at the time. Now that I know he’s an actor, I realize it probably was. Oh, and then there was the story he told me about getting punched in the face on Lamma Island. He said he deserved it. I believe him.

Yeah, you know what this sounds like to me? Someone who tries to elicit sympathy from people by telling them straight-up lies.

RED FLAG!

There was also some chick in the dream saying she’s his girlfriend. Girl, good luck with that. I mean it. You can have him. I don’t want him. All of my friends and I have already come to the collective agreement that he’s a giant douche.

I just needed to borrow his essence for a bit to inspire me. It is what it is. You’ll understand when you read my new Island of Lost Guys story. Maybe. Or maybe not! Reading is hard, I know. If it’s not a 10 second TikTok video, it literally cannot be comprehended!

Whatever.

Anyway, that part is over now. I have no shortage of gentleman callers in my life. I was just hanging out with one of them on Monday night. He was there for me when I needed someone after spending 48 hours locked in my apartment watching 9/11 documentaries (real ones, not that crazy conspiracy theory shit) like the masochist I am.

Mr. Next Door would never do that. He would just say, “Where’s the plane?! Where’s the fucking plane?!” As someone on Threads said, “It’s like a neurosurgeon looking inside your head and saying, “Where’s the brain?! Where’s the fucking brain?!”

It’s gonna take a lot to convince me that he actually has one, to be honest. It doesn’t really seem like there’s too much going on upstairs with that guy. It is what it is.

I guess my only question is, “Is this chick someone he picked up while ‘cruising the moms groups on Facebook?’”

HAHAHAHAHA

Sorry, I can’t. That had to be the worst piece of job hunting advice I’ve ever heard in my life. What is that? Are you moonlighting as a gigolo for bored, unhappy married women whose husbands are away traveling for work all the time? Because that’s what it sounds like to me.

We are living in two different worlds over here, that’s for sure.

You know I love that shit though. I could make a whole soap opera out of that one sentence alone. Brilliant. Thanks for being the Muse. You’ve truly inspired me today, bro. So grateful. So blessed. Thanks for bringing me back to life after I spent way too much time crying alone on the rooftop over my dead daddy issues.

Anyway…

I really need this mini-break to the beach. I can’t deal with this guy. I need a new Muse. Who among the men out there is brave enough to volunteer as tribute?!

No one?

That’s what I thought. No worries, I’m sure one will pop up in no time. For everyone one man that vanishes into thin air, three more immediately appear in his place. It is what it is. Male attention is the most abundant resource on the planet. It means absolutely nothing to me. It’s just, “Onto the next one, onto the next one, onto the next one.”

In the meantime, the hot beefcake in the building next door has started flirting with me. He likes to sit outside on the wall dividing out rooftops without a shirt on. He’s wayyyyy too young for me. Like 24 or 25, maybe? Too young. I told him as much, which only made him flirt with me more. He says he likes older women. Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I’m not interested in being your mommy, bro. But sure, I’ll let you compliment me all you want. I need the self-esteem boost. I do enjoy the attention from men sometimes. I really do. I just… don’t find them to be very useful to me beyond that.

This kid told me I’m scaring off potential guys by saying I don’t want a relationship. Okay, well, in my experience, I scare off more guys by saying I DO want a relationship. Honestly, it doesn’t really take much to scare away a man. I’ve come to enjoy the experience. It’s like a game to me now. I love to strike fear into the hearts of men. It’s funny to me how fast they crumple.

As the world-renowned poet Jay-Z once said, “You know I thug ‘em, fuck ‘em, love ‘em, leave ‘em, cuz I don’t fuckin’ need ‘em.”

What do I want from men? Honestly, I just want to be carried around in a luxury sedan chair by hot sexy beefcakes. That’s about all I can think of at this point.

I guess that explains why I had that dream about Mr. Next Door dressed up as one of the Avengers. I’m assembling a team for a special mission. And that mission is to yeet me straight up to the top of The Peak.

Hahahahaha! I just think I’m sooooooooooo funny, don’t I?! And I am. I really am. 🙂 🙂 🙂

I’m just so tired at this point. I’ve been through so much in my life. Most people have trauma from one thing. I have trauma from about a dozen different things, one of which is being lied to, cheated on, assaulted, and raped. My first two major relationships when I was 16 and 19 were with guys who unapologetically cheated on me and whored themselves around to any woman they could manipulate into taking off their pants. Then I was raped by the person I considered my best friend at the time, and later assaulted by a guy the police report refered to as my “sometimes boyfriend.”

And you wonder why I treat men like they’re part of my own personal harem? Who do you think you taught me to do that? You think I would have learned that behavior on my own? No! Of course not! I just treat men the exact same way they have always treated me; like an object to be used, abused, and tossed away when they become an inconvenience.

I know, it’s a pretty ugly reflection to look at in the mirror. I don’t always feel good about it. After all, I was once brainwashed by the Disney Princess Fairytale too. I truly believed in my heart that I would meet “The One” and we would get married and run off into the sunset and live happily ever after. Now I understand that’s a lie perpetuated by the patriarchy to keep women in chains. So forgive me if I take a page from the movie “Down with Love” and take my men like I take my dessert: à la carte!

Okay, I’ve said all I have to say about this matter, for now. I have to pack for my “mini-break,” as the Brits say. I don’t need a man to take me on a mini-break. I can take myself on my own mini-break, if only so I can have a mini-break from all of them.

See, I say this, but we all know there’s a 99% some random dude is gonna see me chillin’ in my bikini by the hotel pool and invite himself to my private party with absolutely ZERO consideration for the fact that I’m there alone because I literally want to be alone. It is what it is.

Off now. I’ve got laundry to pick-up and drop-off, a suitcase to pack, and a ferry to catch.

Bye, Felicia!

BLOG: Turn the Page

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Saturday morning.

Up on the rooftop with my coffee. I did not go out last night. I was just too exhausted after this week. It was a lot. I needed a break. I just watched Gossip Girl and scrolled through reddit. Nothing exciting to report.

The only thing I could decide on for sure was to let the whole issue with my neighbor go. Like, yeah, he’s pretty weird and judgy. Not really someone I can take practical life advice from. Doesn’t listen to me. Spends all his time staring at his phone. It’s very clear he has his own issues that have nothing to do with me. Therefore, I must focus on myself. I have real problems to take care of.

Besides, if he’s anything like most of the men I’ve met in my life, I already know he can’t handle a woman who is equal or better to him in any way. He’s probably one of those types that goes for women in their early 20’s so they don’t realize what a loser he is for someone in his mid-30’s.

It is what it is.

Men are nothing but a distraction anyway. I’m going to turn 38 soon and I’ve never once met one who contributed anything positive to my life. Most of them are more trouble than they’re worth. I have to figure this shit out all on my own because none of them are going to be useful in any way whatsoever.

All of that being said, I’m still planning to go to Lamma Island for a day. I really don’t give a fuck if he’s there or not. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I will encounter far more interesting characters than him.

At the end of the day, I wanted to find something to judge him for. I wanted to judge him the way that he judged me that night on the rooftop when he randomly launched into attack mode and ripped me apart for no reason. I have accomplished that goal. Now we can finally move forward.

I mean, really. Cosplaying as poor when you come from old money and refusing to acknowledge the privilege you’ve had in life is pretty far up there for me. Honestly, I don’t think I can come back from that. I just instantly lost whatever tiny amount of respect I still had for him the moment I learned that.

I can’t stand it when people refuse to acknowledge their privilege. I see it all the time. So many people I knew back in the States are like this. They tell themselves their little fantasy fairytale story that they “made it on their own” and “never had any help from anyone.” It’s pure narcissism. It’s gross.

At least I acknowledge the fact that I’ve had a significant amount of privilege and financial assistance in my life. The least I can do is use it to give something back to the world. I just don’t know how to do that…

End Chapter. New Chapter.

I don’t know when I’ll get around to that trip, truth be told. I need to plan a trip to Macau before I do anything else. Nothing crazy. It’s supposed to rain again so I’ll just do what I did last time and enjoy the epically large bathtub and room service.

I have absolutely zero desire to go anywhere near a casino, especially by myself. I’m just not the gambling type. It’s not fun to me. Then again, I lived in South Dakota, a place where video lottery and sports betting are legal, for 17 years. I’ve seen some pretty dark shit in those gas station casinos. It’s not for me.

What’s on the agenda for today, other than trying to get my shit together? Ummm… that’s pretty much it. Maybe I will go hike The Peak to motivate myself. Always a good idea.

Or maybe I’ll just stay inside and sleep in the A/C all day. I couldn’t sleep for the life of me last night. I just kept tossing and turning all night. My sleep has been pretty bad this week in general.

Right now I’m processing what the bartender told me at the Secret Society the other night. I have to stop running away and hiding from who I am. I am Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire, whether I want to be or not. I can move to a different country, change my name, and try to be someone I’m not, but in the end… it’s always going to find me. It’s my destiny. Therefore, I must embrace it for what it is. I possess the power of the pen. I have a responsibility to wield that power in a way that helps others, not hurts them.

I’ll be marinating on that for awhile. In the meantime, back to the usual. Same routine, different day. Coffee, yoga, meditation, vision boarding, writing, hacking away at this book, TV, takeout, laundry, chores, rinse and repeat.

Life goes on…

BLOG: And That’s How I Became A REAL Writer…

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Friday.

It is 9/11 today. That means no internet for me today. Speaking as a person who grew up in the DC area, that day was horrible. I do not care to relive it. I do not care to listen to people spew out conspiracy theories about it. I especially do not care to re-watch any of the footage from that day. Horrible. Just horrible.

Moving on…

When did I last post? Wednesday? Hmmm… what has happened since then?

Wednesday night I went to the Cantina to visit a friend who just returned from several months abroad. I was so happy to see her. We chatted and caught up. I told her everything that had happened with my neighbor in the last few months. She just laughed at me and said, “You two fight the way old married couples do. You know that, right?”

My other friend started cackling. “I know, right?” she exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I said! We need to stage an intervention to get them back together so this movie has a happy ending.”

“Ha ha, very funny. How can you reunite us if we were never together? He’s made it clear he hates me and wants nothing to do with me. I’m just the freak who stole his sweatpants in a misguided attempt at revenge.”

My friend called me out immediately. “You’re so full of shit! You took them because you miss him.”

“There’s nothing going on! We had a few conversations in the roof, after which he randomly decided to start picking these weird, random fights with me. He just freaked out because he didn’t realize I was going to fight back, which is ridiculous because it’s clear to anyone with eyes that I have an anger problem.”

The two of them just laughed and laughed. We hung around for a bit longer, then my friends went their way and I went mine.

On my way home, I stumbled upon the infamous SoHo Queen. Naturally, she wanted me to join her for a drink. One drink turned into many. Before I knew it, I was frat house wasted. I have no idea how this lady does it. She could drink an Irish sailor under the table. It’s actually insane.

I told her I have to go to Macau next week. She wants to come with me. Like, I love her, but there is no way I can ever go to a Macanese casino with her. It’s going to turn into The Hangover sequel no one asked for.

Eventually I stumbled home, where I promptly passed out in my street clothes. Big no no here in Asia. You have your outside clothes and your inside clothes, just like you have your outside shoes and your inside shoes. That’s how drunk I was. I didn’t even bother to change into my neighbor’s sweatpants first.

Oh, speaking of my neighbor, I have a fun little story about him, but I’ll get to that later. Haha, it’s a good one.

Okay, back to my timeline.

I woke up several hours later a complete mess. I did not know what to do with myself. I swear to god, y’all. I’m holding it together with a single brain cell right now. I just reiterated to myself that I cannot go out drinking with the SoHo Queen and this is exactly why.

In spite of my hangover, I spent the next few hours working on my book. I managed to get something done. No idea how. There is definitely a reason why all of these famous authors went crazy and killed themselves. Locking yourself in a tiny room with your manuscript will drive you crazy after awhile.

Upon the realization that I was going to lose it if I stared at my fucking wall any longer, I decided to leave and take a walk. Naturally, my walk led me up to the Mid-Levels and straight into the Secret Society. I think I got there at like 4pm or something? Insane.

I told the bartender I was losing my shit and had to escape my apartment. We chatted for awhile. She asked me why I keep insisting everyone call me Liz instead of Betsey. I explained to her about my “Small Town Famous” past as a writer in South Dakota and what happened in Bangkok. I straight up said, “I was trying to hide my identity here because I’m afraid of going through that again. I really don’t like the attention as much as people think, especially because a lot of it is negative.”

She just shook her head at me. “I get it. I’m an artist too, but you can’t run away from it. You just have to be who you are. It’s okay. You’re in here for a reason. Remember that.”

That was the moment I suddenly remembered I had a question for her. I saw a picture of that writer I met up there a few weeks back on their instagram page, so I asked her if she knew who he was. She did, but she did not know his name either. I explained that he had given me a lot of writing advice but refused to tell me his name. He specifically said to me, “If you are a real writer, you’ll figure out who I am.”

Challenge Accepted!

We decided to make this my mission for the afternoon. She said, “There’s a guy who comes in here who always sits with him and reads his work. I think you’ve met him before, but I’ll make sure you’re introduced to him when he comes in later. Otherwise, just ask around when the regulars come in and see what you can find.”

I said, “I bet you any amount of money that (NAME REDACTED) and (NAME REDACTED) are going to know who he is. They know everyone here.”

She nodded and said, “You’re right. This is good. You’re learning.”

While we waited, we decided to ask AI if it could find him. We uploaded his picture to the AI and compiled a list of everything we knew about him. The AI gave us about 5 or 6 completely wrong answers before we completely gave up on it. AI is seriously the most useless shit I’ve ever encountered, and I have met a great deal of completely useless idiots in my life. What a waste of time!

While I waited around for our three most promising sources to arrive, I chatted with a few different people and made some new connections. Hashtag: Networking. I am getting much better about not sitting on my iPad when I am in there. As I said in my previous post, they expect me to socialize when I am there, not to sit in the corner and write. It’s hard for me because I am not naturally a socially gifted person, but I recognize the fact that it is a skill I can learn. So now I am learning!

When Source #1 showed up, I immediately asked him what he knew about our mysterious writer friend. He said he knew exactly who he was, but he also did not know his name! He asked around and we discovered very quickly that this man has apparently never told anyone in that room his name. Ridiculous.

The bartender and I were both annoyed by this. I said to her, “If he doesn’t know, I bet you any amount of money Source #2 will.” Luckily, right at that moment, Source #2 walked in. I walked right up to him and asked him if he knew who the writer was. He was like, “Oh, yes, of course I know him. Do you want a copy of his book?”

BAM!

Called it!

I went back to the bartender to report on my discovery. I said, “See, I told you he was going to know.”

She just smiled at me.

“I guess that means you’re a real writer now.”

Yes, I am.

I admit it was fun to watch everyone in the room try to solve the mystery. It was like that scene in The Season where they’re all on the yacht and the party gets boring so they swipe a piece of jewelry from a guest and everyone plays the mystery game to figure out who the “thief” is. I thought that was fake, but no… they really do play games like that. Apparently, this was one of those games.

I see what you did there, sir. Mad respect.

This was when Source #3 appeared. The bartender introduced me to him and we chatted for a minute. He asked me if I had a card. I actually had multiple people ask me for my card last night. I used to have one, but I don’t anymore. I guess I need to design a new one and take it to the printing shop. Put that on my To Do list.

I just wrote down my info and gave him a barnap instead. I can’t say what his name is, but I can tell you that it’s a name that is well known in the publishing industry. I guess that’s why he’s always reading that writer’s manuscripts. I could be wrong, of course. I guess we’ll find out.

I went back over to Source #2 and started chatting with him again. I thought to myself, “If he knows everyone here, I wonder if he knows who my neighbor’s family is?”

I took out a picture of him and asked. Source #2 did not immediately recognize him, but he said, “He looks familiar, but I don’t know from where. You said he is English? What is his last name?”

I gave him the name and his eyes widened.

“Ohhhhhh. That is a very, very, very old English name. Very proper. I don’t know them personally, but I can tell you that he comes from money. Old money. Very old money.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I said. “We aren’t speaking right now because I called him a spoiled, rich, overgrown party boy.”

He laughed at me and shook his head.

“He is,” he replied. “Someone else is paying for those boat parties. He’s probably trying to escape from his family and make his own way.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

“You’re the same. That’s why he’s angry with you. You can see through whatever act he’s putting on right now.”

I was surprised by how straightforward he was. It’s like… he knows him, but he’s doesn’t? Maybe he just recognizes “the type.” Personally, I know that type VERY well. I grew up around it. I can spot it from a mile away. I mean, I am that type. It’s not exactly a secret that I’m a spoiled little princess! How else would I be living in HK this long without a job? It’s not that hard to put 2 and 2 together on this one. The only real difference between us is that I’m a nerd who spends most of her time in the library, while he’s a jock running around outside in the field. It is what it is.

“He’s been avoiding me. I haven’t seen him in about a month and a half.”

“Are you sure he didn’t move out?”

“Yes.”

“He’s definitely avoiding you on purpose then.”

“That’s what I thought. I think he’s got a girl somewhere too.”

“Oh, he’s not serious about her. If he was, he wouldn’t be living there next door to you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

See? I know what I’m doing! I can read people! I need to learn to trust my instincts. Living in South Dakota fucked me up way more than people realize. I was treated so badly there. Everyone would call me crazy and make me doubt my sanity. Turns out I was right all along, and that’s why they all hated me so much.

I guess that means I’ve been right about My Andrew all along too. I knew that fucker was contributing energy to his character. You can’t fool me, bro. I know exactly what that sneaky little fucking snake was up to all along. Somehow, I still love him anyway. That’s the last time I pay a witch under a bridge to curse someone. It didn’t fucking work!

It’s like… Really? All of that for a man who I stared at from across the room like five times? Ridiculous! Who the fuck do you think you are, Betsey? Sir Philip Sidney?!

That joke is funny AF, btw. If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.

ANYWAY, that aside, I guess we’re going to start calling my neighbor “Mr. Bridgerton” now. Hahahaha! That’s funny as fuck, actually. I guess that means I’ve gotta go stalk him on Lamma Island. That’s his “hangout spot.”

I told the bartender this and she was sooooo here for it! She lives there. She immediately wrote down the directions for me and gave me the name of “the good spot.” She was like, “I can’t wait to read about what you find over there.”

Oh god, I can’t even imagine. I can only assume the dress code is “All White Everythang.” I guess that means I have to go shopping now. Believe it or not, I don’t wear a lot of white clothing. I much prefer black. You know, like Johnny Cash.

Until we start to make a move to make a few things right, you’ll never see me wear a suit of white…

BLOG: Macau

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Friday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home Sweet Home!

Now we just have to figure out how to stay…

No worries. Law of Attraction vibes only!

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

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

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

Strange.

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

BLOG: Meltdown Mode

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Wednesday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, I need to go now. Goodbye.

BLOG: I Am Free!

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Tuesday.

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

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

Should be a good time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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