Tag: Netflix

BLOG: The Forgotten Side Quest

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Sunday.

I just looked at my calendar and was shocked by how much time has already gone this month. Crazy.

In two weeks, I will have been gone a whole year. In one month, my visa expires. This is crazy. So crazy. I can’t believe this year has gone by so fast. I feel like I spent most of it barely keeping my head above water. Now I’m finally starting to find my footing and the tides are changing yet again. How I long for stability…

Well, the only way to get stability is to hustle, and even then, it’s always an illusion. As we learned from the TV series “Straight To Hell,” you never know when some hot beefcake will target you, seduce you, and con you out of all of your money and property, leaving you with nothing and no one.

That somewhat unlikely situation aside, I did indeed spend yesterday hustling. I just sent out a bunch of job applications to different English language centers. We’ll see if anything hits. I’m pretty sure it’s all the same ghost job postings that are always up there, but whatever. A job is a job and I need money, so… at least this time I have a better understanding of what exactly I’m up against.

If I don’t get anything here, I’ll try the mainland. I hear the money is better over there. Then again, it is the mainland. It’s not exactly Hong Kong, ya know? The rules are different there. You know what they say: one country, three systems: Hong Kong, Macao, and the Mainland. The OG Triads, lol.

I suppose there’s always Taiwan. No further comment.

Last night I went out with my friend. We went to this Greek place I’ve been to before. They redid the interior to make it significantly less charming. Before it was all blue and painted to look like a Greek cafe with a charming sea view. Now they’ve streamlined it and taken away all the charm in favor of a different, more bland concept. The food is still good but I just hate the new interior.

While we having dinner, my friend asked me a very alarming question about last weekend. She asked me if I remember a little side quest we went on after our visit to The Sketchy Place. Apparently we went to an Indian restaurant and had a whole conversation with an Auntie about yoga, my trip to India, and my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend from Haryana. I do not remember any of this. Like, at all. Grand!

She was concerned for me because she thought she walked me home in my blacked out state. Instead, I decided to go on a little adventure up to the 7/11 on Peel Street, where I met up with someone I should not have met with. My friend was even more alarmed when I revealed to her that he and I ended up making out under a tree, in spite of the fact that I am not attracted to him, he is not my type, and I don’t want to be involved in whatever his situation is.

Initially, I agreed not to write about this, but now that I understand just how fucked up I actually was that night, I think I should mention that it happened. Obviously, this is not good. I definitely should not have been where I was that night.

My other friend expressed additional concern when we stopped by her bar to visit her after dinner. She said, “Watch her tonight. See how normal she’s acting? It’s only when she goes up to that place that she gets crazy like last week. I think they’re putting something in her drinks.”

This solidified for us that The Sketchy Place is officially off-limits forever. I admit that this is on me. I can’t leave things alone when I should. I let my curiosity get the better of me. I just had to know the truth. Now we know the truth, beyond all reasonable doubt. Something isn’t right there. It’s time to just step away and leave it alone.

For me, this is serving as extra motivation to get my shit together. Only I would accidentally wander into a modern day opium den and get sucked into whatever crazy bullshit is going on there.

Why did this happen to me? Because I don’t have a job. I have too much free time on my hands. I need something productive to do. Time to get to work and stop drinking in bars with increasingly questionable people.

At first I thought it was exciting to meet the so-called scum of society, for academic research purposes only, of course. Now I realize that I need to stay as far away from people like this as humanly possible, especially if I am going to elevate myself to a successful position in society.

It is indeed as my Irish Family in Bangkok said: “You are a Lady. No good will come of you running around down by the docks with all of the riff-raff.”

Truth.

Speaking of riff-raff, last night we met some rich banker lady on a business trip who asked us if we knew where to find cocaine. Ridiculous. These people are such a trip. As previously stated, it’s alarming and terrifying to me how much of the world’s systems are barely being held together by people with active drug addictions. Insanity. Eye-opening, for certain.

Yeah, so, first she asked us if we had any cocaine, then her friend asked us if we are poly. JFC, why aren’t any of these people normal? I guess when you have all the money and all the power, shit gets boring and you gotta spice it up. I can’t even imagine that, personally. I’m still down here at the bottom, scraping by, trying to survive. I guess I’ll figure out the answer to that question later.

Honestly, who wouldn’t be “poly” after two marriages and three kids? You’ve already checked off all the boxes on the life list. Time to throw caution to the wind and have some fun!

Okay, I guess now I know what my plans are for when I’m in my 60’s and my non-existent children are all grown. You know, my non-existent children that came from the eggs I didn’t freeze after The Russian gave me a whole lecture about it, then never came back to fertilize the eggs in question.

That was actually crazy, lol. I just laugh every time I think about him lying in bed next to me buckass naked, lecturing me about my fertility. Like he actually gives a fuck! It’s just funny.

It literally feels like he picked me up by my scorpion tail and checked my underbelly for eggs. It was so weirdly invasive and frankly, way too intimate for a one-night stand. Everything we did was way too intimate for a one-night stand. I just can’t be doing that with strangers anymore. I need an actual partner, for sure.

I’ve been with many men in my life, but none of them ever did anything like that. That was so crazy. Yes, he was really something. I am still thinking about him to this very day. It was an Experience. As with most of my experiences in the last year, I was left alone thinking to myself, “Wow, what was that?”

It was…

Yeah.

Upon further reflection, I can see why the experience was so unsettling for me. I was just sitting there and then suddenly, out of nowhere, here comes this man with impossible amounts of charm and charisma and confidence. He is clearly only seducing me for the purposes of meaningless business trip sex, yet he spends the entire time talking about intimate topics such as marriage and the meaning of partnership and then gives me a fucking lecture about my fertility right at the end. And then he just… fucks off and disappears into a void forever. What the fuck is that? That’s bullshit, that’s what it is. Men are so fucked up. Seriously. Stop picking up random, unsuspecting women at bars who are innocent and looking for love in all the wrong places and get a therapist instead. Ridiculous.

Men are dumb and annoying and this is why I don’t like them. They’re just liars and whores. I’m over it.

Okay, that aside, did anything else weird happen last night? Yes, yes it did. We did not go to the 7/11 on Peel Street because it was raining. Instead, we took a seat at the open corner bar right across the street. The people at this bar were… questionable at best.

There was one woman in there and she was 100% giving crackhead vibes. The Brazilian guy sitting next to her looked at my friend and I like we were fresh meat on a stick. He immediately approached us like he was ready to carve off a slice, you know what I’m saying? Yeah, sure, he was hot and Brazilian and a tennis coach, but the whole situation around us was really not doing it for me. I felt like I was being seduced in Rio by a hottie with a body, only to be robbed of my valuables later. Not into it.

Then his South African friend appeared and asked us if we wanted to go to the jungle with him. Like, hell no, dude. I’ve learned enough about South Africa in the last year to know that I don’t want to go anywhere with you, let alone to “the jungle,” whatever that might be.

I wanted to leave, but this Brazilian dude kept talking and talking and talking and had us blocked in. It was making me nervous, to be honest. Finally, we escaped and went back to my rooftop for a bit. Then my friend went home and I went to bed. No blackouts, no side quests, no unhinged social media posts. Good job, me. Way to act like an actual adult, for once.

This is about the time my friend asked me why I drink so much. The truth is painful. It’s because I was really sad and really lonely and really angry for a very, very, very, very long time. I was not in a position where I could change my life for the better because I was unable to escape the toxic situation I was in. I turned to alcohol and weed because they were the only way I could cope with the fact that I felt like shit every day and had no power to change even though I desperately wanted to.

Now I have changed everything, but the physical chemical addiction and bad habits remain. I recognize that it’s holding me back and causing me serious harm at this point. But… you know… it’s not something I can just stop on my own anymore. The monkey on my back is running the show right now. I know that. I’m not proud of it. I don’t like it. I want to change it. But, you know… rehab is expensive, I live in a foreign country, and I don’t have healthcare back home. It is what it is.

I can only do what I can to minimize consumption at this point. I already killed my 7/11 habit and now I’ve learned the hard way that some people, places, and situations are safer than others. It’s not a good idea to go out alone. It doesn’t end well. It’s not safe. Furthermore, when I go out with my friends, I should feel comfortable enough with them to be sober. I shouldn’t have to hit a three drink minimum before I feel comfortable being myself. What is wrong with me?

This I say as I sit and my favourite brunch place drinking a mimosa to take the edge off from last night. Ridiculous.

Anyway, someday I will turn all of this into a TV show. Who doesn’t love a fatal flaw in a leading character? It’ll be just like Emily in Paris, if Emily struggled with alcoholism behind the scenes. Sort of. I don’t know. I’m still studying teleplay writing at the University of Netflix. I’ll get back to you later.

Speaking of Netflix, I am going home to change into my sweats and curl up in bed with season 2 of Running Point. It’s so rainy and gross out today. It’s the perfect day to rot in bed.

Have a good one!

BLOG: Chum for the Sharks

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Friday.

Currently sitting inside the coffee shop, which I almost never do. Overstimulation Central. Bright lights, loud music, people talking. Not the vibe I’m looking for today.

Usually I prefer to sit outside and watch the street. Unfortunately, the Dump Truck came to China and brought a cloud of terrible weather with him. It’s been raining cats and dogs down here in Hong Kong since he showed up.

Coincidence? I think not.

The rainy weather always takes my energy out of me. I have spent most of the last 48 hours in bed as a direct result. Most of my time was spent sleeping and watching a Japanese TV series on Netflix called “Straight to Hell” about a famous fortune teller and her climb to the top. I love her, I hate her, I kind of want to be her, but I also don’t agree with half of the shit she does. It is what it is.

I went out on Wednesday night, much to my regret. I did not find any interesting stories, so I came home early. In my drunken mind, I decided it was a good idea to knock on my neighbor’s door and offer him a can of body spray called “Beach.” You know, because he looks like a Ken Doll and Ken’s job is Beach. Right. Logical to me, not so logical to him. It was my way of trying to thank him for all the help he’s given me over the last few months.

It did not go well. He opened the door and was so rude to me that I was genuinely shocked by his behavior. Talk about two-faced! Wow! He basically told me to fuck off and slammed the door in my face. Again, shocking. That was not the same person I’ve been speaking to on the rooftop. Crazy.

At first I took it personally, but then I remembered he’s an Actor. He has a “Process.” What I did was basically the equivalent of knocking on the door to his trailer while he’s in the middle of his “Process.” He’s probably busy “looksmaxxing” (or whatever it is the kids say these days). He has a very strict routine he has to do to get into his roles, you know? If he doesn’t follow it, he can’t do his job. It is what it is.

Still not an excuse to be a total dick to me for no reason whatsoever, though.

Anyway, I felt my attraction to him vanish pretty much immediately after that. There goes my Slow Burn! Dammit! I was really looking forward to being cornered in the stairwell and “absolutely wrecked.” Alas!

He told me who he was, and I believe him. He does not play the romantic leads in Western movies. He plays the bad guys in Chinese movies. It is what it is.

That’s okay with me! I need a good villain! He can team up with my other British Guy from Bangkok. Birds of a villainous feather flock together! I can already envision this in my head.

So that happened, and now we’ve learned why we don’t fuck our colonizers! Okay! No more British Lads, regardless where in the former Empire they were raised. Same shit, different colony. It is what it is.

Learning new things every day.

Gotta love it.

Okay, enough about my many men. I have real issues to deal with, like visas and moving and paid jobs that are not materializing even though I desperately need one. I don’t know how anyone in charge actually expects anyone to make it in this day and age. It’s especially frustrating watching a show like “Straight to Hell,” which is another version of the “Baby Boomer Climbs to The Top of the Ladder” myth. Yes, they climbed to the top, then they pulled it up behind them. Shitty.

I do love her whole attitude about wanting to start her own business so she is no longer beholden to anyone. Nice idea, right? Oh, except for the part where she gets conned out of all of her money and property by some hottie with a body, gets taken as a slave by his big old non-yakuza gangster boss, then ends up dating an actual yakuza boss to free herself from slavery.

Lol, just a little flaw in the plan right there…

Sadly, I have no talent for business, at least that I know of. If I had any sense of it, I would already have one. Instead I’m just running around SEA, collecting men like Pokémon cards in some sort of effort to become a writer.

The only explanation I have for my behavior right now is “Arrested Development.” This is exactly what I would have been doing had my parents allowed me to move to Los Angeles like I wanted to when I was 27 years old. But no. That wasn’t allowed, so I had to stay in a small town in the middle of nowhere in bumfuck South Dakota, where there were zero opportunities, and do nothing and date no one.

I seriously have no idea what my parents were thinking. Honestly, I don’t think they were. My dad was in active opioid addiction and my mother was on some combination of alcohol/allergy medication/god knows what else. All they ever did was yell and scream and fight with each other. If I asked for anything or needed anything, I got screamed at too.

This is how I ended up living in downtown Verm, writing about Bloody Mary’s Bar, being put through a mass hazing and harassment campaign by some psycho bar owner and his little cult of followers dedicated to protecting rapists, abusers, predators, and pedos from evil feminist bitches like me. Good job, guys! You really SHOWED me I was wrong!

What a joke, lol.

Anyway, I am here now, as I continue to remind myself. I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself to be functional and normal instead of just embracing the freedom and running around the world like I could be.

Just kidding, I can’t do that. Nope. I have a paperwork issue of urgent need. My mother heard this and was THRILLED that she finally had another chance to sabotage me! This is what she does. I have like 25 years of documentation of her doing shit like this. If it involves me needing paperwork of some sort in order to secure my freedom, she will find a way to sabotage it. Why is she like this? I don’t know. But I do know I can’t fix it or change it, so hopefully after this round, I will finally be free of her bullshit and able to act fully on my own.

This is the only thing motivating me right now: I need a job so I can finally be independent from her. I am 37 years old. I should not be fighting with this woman over my friggin’ birth certificate. I shouldn’t have to worry about her stealing my mail or doing my taxes without permission. I shouldn’t have to call her asking if I can get a new phone. None of this is normal. Why does she think it’s normal?

Furthermore, why are so many people siding with and enabling this woman’s abusive behavior? It’s insane the way she manipulates people. You are not the victim of your evil, selfish daughter, Karen. You’re an abuser. You’ve been abusing me my whole life. That’s literally why I moved to the other side of the planet. I wanted to get the fuck away from you.

She plays this game where she’ll be screaming at me, “You’re an ADULT! You have CHOICES!” But then she directly interferes with my paperwork and sabotages me and actively prevents me from being an actual adult. Then she gets everyone to pile onto me about “not acting like an adult.” Literally, all you had to do was give me a pile of paperwork 15 years ago and none of this would have ever happened. But no, you didn’t want to do that. You wanted to put on a show and play a game and ruin my life so you could get attention.

Ugh. No wonder I can’t think straight sometimes. How can I find stability when I’m still being controlled by people who do not have my best interests at heart? I’m so exhausted right now. I don’t know how to get out.

I’m angry at myself that the job I took in Hong Kong didn’t work out. I am here a year later looking at my plan from last year and I’m just mad. I didn’t accomplish what I set out to accomplish, which was becoming fully financially independent from my abusive family. Why? Because I jumped from one abusive situation into another, which was the atmosphere of this company I worked for. I was just chum for the sharks, as they say here in Hong Kong. I was so desperate to escape my old situation that I dived right into a shark tank without looking. Luckily, I made it out alive, but still…

I’m still in the same position I was before, only now I’m running out of time and money. I still haven’t made any progress on the job thing. I just can’t stand the idea of being used and exploited like that again. I’m so over it.

All I know is that I never want to be beholden to anyone else ever again. I wanted to be free of my family forever. I don’t want anymore ties to them. I wanted to be in control of my own destiny for once in my life.

Unfortunately, it feels like the only thing I know how to do is put my words to paper. I can’t offer the world anything else beyond that. I thought there was something to this teaching English and/or Yoga thing, but there isn’t. It’s just more exploitation in return for table scraps. I’m over it.

I’m so lost right now. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I just want money, a room of my own, and the freedom to write forever. How do I acquire that? I don’t know. By manifestation and the law of attraction and magic, I guess?

If I were smart and had no morals, I would just start my own yoga cult. That’s where all the money is! Unfortunately for me, I don’t think like that. I don’t look at vulnerable people struggling with mental illness and think, “How can I exploit them for ca$$$h money, baby?” I will never be like that. I’m proud not to be like that.

Well, that’s how I end up getting conned into giving out free sex work services by handsome Russian men, isn’t it? I am too innocent and too pure of heart. I’m swimming in shark-infested waters right now and I don’t even know what kind of sea creature I am. How can I thrive if I don’t know who I am? Am I shark? An octopus? A starfish? A dolphin? A turtle? A seal? I don’t know.

Maybe I should go see a fortune teller…

Yes, that’s it. I’ll go and see a fortune teller. Surely that will fix everything!

Off to go home and finish that TV show now.

BLOG: I Think We Lost The Plot

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

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.