Tag: Paris

BLOG: Keep the Dream Alive

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Sunday. Sitting out on my rooftop on my yoga mat. It’s not the most comfortable writing position. I suppose I could always use a chair or go get my little lap desk from downstairs. Or I can just put my keyboard on my lap and sit up straight.

Here we are with a coffee and a cigarette. Nothing interesting to report. I was going to go to the Latin Carnival last night, but my friend bailed on me so I just stayed home alone. I don’t know why. I saw a couple of other people I know here dancing there on their stories. I could have just gone and met up with them instead.

I am not great at this socializing thing, as much as I try to be. Also, thesis friend always seems to bail when it’s something I want to do. We always do what they want to do. There should be more balance there. I need to widen my circle so I can have my foodie friends, my party friends, and my adventure friends.

I was also in a weird mood last night. Feeling uncertain about the future right now. It’s weighing heavily on me. I hope I can stay, but it’s out of my hands. It’s up to fate to decide now.

The sun is shining too brightly to be writing on my iPad. I will have to stop and go somewhere else.

—

Eventually made my way over to the health cafe around the corner. It’s about 5pm right now.

I spent most of the afternoon looking at the same graduate degree programs in Paris that I’ve been looking at for the last ten years. I’m trying to be practical about my choice. I’m also trying to imagine myself five years from now. What kind of person do I want to be? What field do I see myself working in? How do I imagine myself beyond where I am right now?

Hard to say. I never imagined myself living in Hong Kong or hanging upside down from an aerial silk in the rainforest of Bali or doing yoga on a beach in India or partying with shady expats in Thailand, but here we are.

Here we are.

I was sort of feeling bad about the fact that I haven’t done it already, but I think it’s better this way. For example, the MFA in Creative Writing. Really glad I didn’t do that. What would I even have written about? Nothing! All the good stuff finally happened this year! With more yet to come…

So that’s off the chopping block, which is a relief. I can write about anything on my own time. I don’t see the need for an MFA. At least not yet. I think I would rather do something with a real career path, whatever that might be.

I’m thinking something on the business side of the creative industries. Maybe something like Arts and Cultural Management. I don’t want to give in to my grandmother’s whole business school thing, but after living in Hong Kong… I kinda get it now. It’s good to have that base of knowledge when dealing with the capitalist hellscape of the modern world we live in.

Plus, we all know my skillset in this arena is extremely limited. Writing, creating, making art — easy. Business? Not so easy. Plus corporate language is, in fact, my biggest weakness. What are these people even saying to each other? No one knows. All we know is that they’re all doing cocaine, which is definitely not for me.

I am now back at my apartment, re-watching Emily in Paris for the 80 millionth time. My last couple re-watches were in English, so this time I’m watching it in French. I try to switch it out.

Amazing how my comprehension of French has vastly improved since living in Asia. It turns out living in places where I was completely illiterate in the local language actually helped boost the skills in the languages I do know. Not sure how that works, but hey, brains are amazing. What can I say?

Anyway, I’m just doing this to remind myself I have something to look forward to in the future if Hong Kong doesn’t work out. The dream of Paris is always alive inside of me!

Something to ease my anxiety in this last month of job hunting hustle. It is what it is. I accept the path the universe has laid out in front of me either way.

Off now. Have a good day.

BLOG: Mah Jong in the Sandbox

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Tuesday.

I have completely lost track of the days. Truth be told, I have no idea how I am even functioning right now. I basically just drank for four days straight. To say I feel very low right now would be an understatement.

I just want to get my shit together.

I felt the judgment of my Minder upon me when I left my apartment at 12:30pm today to get coffee. I just heard a little voice in my head going, “How are you living in Hong Kong? You don’t have your shit together at all!”

I don’t know. I ask myself the same question every day. To be fair, I did choose Bangkok. Unfortunately, Bangkok did not choose me, probably because I am not an old rich white man with plenty of money to provide for a water buffalo farm. However, Hong Kong did choose me. I have no idea why given my current state of mind, but I am here. So now I am here.

The only explanation I have is Mah Jong, the traditional game of China. I saw a stand-up comedian do a bit about on Instagram the other day that I could really relate to. He said, “In Chess, everyone starts with the same hand. In Mah Jong, you get what you get. It’s up to you to play the hand in front of you and figure out how to win.”

It reminded me of the scene from Crazy Rich Asians when the fiancée and the mom are playing Mah Jong. The fiancée lets the mom think she has the upper hand and is going to win the game easily, but in the end she herself is the one who actually holds the winning hand.

Just a little bit of Ye Olde Chinese Wisdome for ye. It’s more for me than it is for you. I find that if I stay quiet and listen long enough, the universe always has the answer I need.

No sign yet today of my little pigeon friend, who I have since dubbed Paddy. Imagine having to mind after me and realizing that it’s hard to stalk me because I’m not keeping a regular routine.

I just imagine Hermès giving updates to Mr. Antony like,

“Well her blog said she was going to go do one thing today, but she didn’t do that at all. Instead she did this other thing, which was on the agenda five days ago. Why doesn’t she ever do normal things like go grocery shopping? She just goes to 7/11 to buy beer and then stays in her house and watches Netflix all day. Maybe if we’re lucky, she’ll go out and do her little yogi-song-and-dance on the rooftop today. Is she okay? I’m starting to get a little concerned here. This is not the job I signed up for. I really thought she was part of the CIA! Turns out she’s just a mess and a half. She needs to get her shit together.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Antony is just sitting there with that same dumbfounded face he kept giving me the entire night like, “What on Earth is going on here? Who the hell is this woman?!”

Oh, I just love these two characters. I could play with them in my metaphorical sandbox all day. I don’t need to know everything about them. I can just use my imagination. It’s like playing with two G.I. Joe action figures but I’ve repainted them to look like the IRA. Well, at least Hermès is. I don’t know about Mr. Antony over here. He remains shrouded in mystery. All we really know about him is that he is Irish and Posh, so maybe he’s more like the James Bond action figure, fancy Tuxedo edition.

I’ve got Mr. Antony saying, “I’ll take this martini shaken, not stirred, extra extra dirty. And an extra large bowl of hot beef stew with a side of mashed potatoes with extra butter. We need more butter, y’all!!!!”

And then Hermès is saying, “Look at meeee, naaaa. I’m such a pretty boy, naaa. I’m a real gangster, naaaaa. I’m so well-connected, naaa. You don’t even know how powerful I am, naaaa.”

Then we break out the British Guy, who is played in this sandbox movie by an Octopus stuffie wearing a monocle and bow tie. He says, “RAWWWR! I am the Evil Empire coming to destroy you all! Submit to me or die!”

And then Hermès and Mr. Antony fight back and lop off the arms of the evil octopus one-by-one. Then they rip off the bow tie and monocle and stab it in the head. Then they bury the carcass in the sand and plant an Irish flag on top. Then they plant a Lakota flag on top. And then the Rainbow flag to represent the LGBTQIA+ Nation.

And fuck it, why represent one nation when we can we can represent them all? Let’s go ahead and plant the United Nations flag there too. And can please get a wholeass Planet Earth flag in there too while we are at it?

Let us stand here and represent all the nations, all the peoples, all the animals, all the plants, all the fungi, all the vertebrates, all the invertebrates, all the known, ll the unknowns, the water, the fire, the earth, the rocks, the sky, the heart, the hearth, the metals and minerals, the moon, the sun, the stars, the galaxies, all the aliens we don’t even know yet, and all of the space in between, above and below. All of the Kingdoms in this universe, spoken for an unspoken for.

Meanwhile, the Moose is just sitting in the corner of the sandbox watching the show with Texas Rodeo Barbie on one arm and Canadian Mountie Barbie on the other, ehh?

My Old Irish Uncle is just in shambles. He’s just watching the whole scene unfold with his head in his hands like, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. This is NOT what I meant when I told you to get yourself all loved up!”

*giggles to self again*

Oh, how I amuse myself so…

You all might be powerful men, but to me you’re just action figures in a metaphorical sandbox.

Cut to shot of my Irish Grandmother looking down at me from heaven above and nodding in approval. “That’s the spirit, sweetheart! You show those men who’s the real Boss!”

I love them. You can just ship me straight to Ireland any day now. I’m here for it. How much does it cost to do a Masters Degree there? Do you think I can get a discount if I show them my family tree? I’ve never even thought about it, to be honest. I was always so fixated on Paris. Maybe the universe has a different plan for me after all.

Hmm, I was just wondering why I haven’t seen Paddy the Spy Pigeon yet today. It always follows the same route. Then I caught something moving in the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw it in the reflection of the building across the way. It is sitting on top of the maintenance shed watching me from behind. Clever. Very clever. It knows I’m onto it now…

Haha, I could write this shit all day. Unfortunately, I really do need to go grocery shopping today. And, ya know, probably take a shower? I have gone full bed rot. It’s disgusting. What has become of meeee? I have no idea.

It’s like damn, Paddy, you know everything about me now. Stop spying on me and actually give me something to do with my infinite free time and amazing journalistic skills.

Ah yes, my skills. My amazing journalistic skills that I totally fucked up on Sunday night. I fell into my own goddamn Honey Trap at this Mexican place. It was so embarrassing for my life and my soul. I spent all day hiding in my apartment trying to drown out my humiliation. It didn’t work.

Luckily I had two very old friends from childhood come along and say, “Betsey, we have known you your whole life. Writing has been your passion since you were a kid. We’ve been watching you write your entire life. So you made a mistake one time. You don’t need to punish yourself for it. Just learn from your mistake. Your time will come.”

Yes it will.

Just play the hand in front of you, Betsey. It doesn’t matter what cards you’re dealt. You can always find a strategy to win the game and come out on top.

Truth.

STORY: Betsey in Faerie Land

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Once upon a time, there was a single woman in her mid 30’s who decided to leave her shitty life behind and finally live her lifelong dream of working and living abroad.

First, she went to the Paris Writing Workshop. There she realized her vision of writing in a cramped studio apartment with a view of the rooftops and the Eiffel Tower. Then one day she woke up and realized… her stories were lame as fuck and she needed to travel the world to get some new material.

Next, she went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. She came home sick with a mysterious illness. Three weeks after that, the entire world shut down for the Covid-19 pandemic. Shit got fucked.

Fast forward a few years into the future. This woman’s father has died, she has a bit of money saved, and she’s sick of living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, South Dakota.

She started doing yoga and went on a magical journey to India to get her yoga teaching certificate. There she met a very handsome young man who asked for her hand in marriage. She told him they had to wait at least a year so they could get to know each other. During this time, they made a lot of plans about a very specific vision of the future together.

This motivated her to look for a job on the other side of the world. Somehow, she ended up getting a job in Hong Kong. She got together the paperwork she needed, packed the wedding dress her late aunt had gifted her, and got on a plane to meet her future husband in Dubai. By this time, a year had passed.

They met up in Dubai and it suddenly became very apparent that the difference in age, life experience, and culture was very difficult to overcome. He left her alone in a foreign country after she had just left everything behind so he could go party at a nightclub. She could never trust him again after that. That part of the story is over now. The End.

Fast forward to Hong Kong. The impossible demands of the high-speed, fast-paced work culture are too much for our heroine. She quits her job and buys a ticket to Bangkok, Thailand on a total and complete whim. She plans to stay for a week, ends up staying for two months, leaves to go to another yoga teacher training course in Bali, then stops in Malaysia, then randomly comes back to Bangkok.

Our heroine returns to Bangkok, where she begins frequenting a farang bar full of English-speaking expats from all over the world. True to the tradition of Thailand, her life becomes an episode of “Farangs Gone Wild.” She’s getting wasted, she’s doing drugs, she’s seeing the Loch Ness Monster in her kratom tea, she’s picking up random men at the bar. You know you love to watch that kind of shit on TV. It’s a whole reality tv-style mess.

One magical night, she goes to the bar and gets way too fucked up. She takes home the wrong guy and now all of a sudden all the raw footage of her living her crazy new life in Thailand is on blast for the whole world to see. Now they are all watching her more closely than ever. What does she do?

One night, she goes to the wrong party and ends up out walking the streets late at night alone. There she has a vision. A helpful doggo friend appears to guide her out from the darkness of the underworld and back to the bright lights of the BTS station.

In the vision, she is wandering through a dark forest hunting for the stags with the biggest antlers to take home as trophies. She is bragging too much about her trophies and the faeries do not like her hubris. The faeries see her for the Black Widow spider she secretly is and decide to put a stop to this mess once and for all.

One night when she is out hunting, one of the faeries appears to her in the form of a particularly handsome Irish stag. The stag befriends her and discovers she is the way she is because she has a very deep soul wound in her heart. He draws the poison from the wound and promptly disappears off into the darkness of the night, never to be seen or heard from again.

When our heroine wakes up again, she finds herself surrounded by a gang of faeries. All of them are watching her with a mixture of anger, bewilderment, and fear. She realizes she is at their mercy now and accepts her fate as their prisoner.

“You are not allowed to go stag hunting in this forest anymore,” the leader of the faeries says.

“Okay,” she says, “That’s fine. I just have one question.”

“You may ask.”

“Where can I find more handsome Irish stags?”

The faeries all laugh and lead her to a clearing in the forest. She looks down and sees a bunch of handsome beef steaks running around on a field playing some sport called rugby. They do not have this sport in her homeland. She is immediately transfixed by the manner in which the tiny shorts cling to butts of all the super hot men.

The faeries all snicker to each other as they watch her eyes sparkle at the sight of the rugby game. They bring her a blanket and a basket of potatoes and invite her to sit down at the game. She spends the rest of eternity peeling a never-ending pile of potatoes as she watches the game.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.