BLOG: One Week’s Worth of Posts

Posted on July 30, 2026July 31, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged American Bar, Bangkok, Bloody Mary's, Central, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, India, Kowloon, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, South Dakota, Thailand, The Sketchy Place, The Wolf, yogaLeave a comment

Wednesday. Here I am, at the Secret Society. I can’t stay away in spite of all evidence that I should. It is what it is. You know me.

I finally got a new pair of glasses, so I can finally stare at a screen for pro-longed periods of time again without hurting my eyes. It’s been, like, what? A whole week since I’ve written anything? No wonder I’m starting to lose my shit.

Now… where did I leave off?

Ah yes, I was right here, at the Secret Society. I had just been forced to put away my iPad because of an oncoming shark attack. Luckily, none of the sharks are here right now. It’s too early for them, I think. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish this post and make it out of here before they show up and start swarming me again. I assume they’re all down at The Wolf right now, which is everywhere I don’t want to be.

Okay, let’s go by the day… starting right where we left off…

THURSDAY

So I rolled up here and nothing interesting happened for awhile. All those old bankers were up here celebrating a birthday. I chose not to get involved. Not trying to get friendly with a bunch of old married men, as previously stated. Especially this crowd. I ignored them, they ignored me, everything was grand.

Then my Irish friend (he needs a name that isn’t Seamus lol) from Dublin showed up. You know, the married one who confessed his “love” for me, yet refuses to divorce his wife even though it’s clearly not working out between them. Yeah, that guy. Winner winner chicken dinner.

So we started chatting, but he was annoying me, as per usual. Luckily, right at that moment, that crazy old British Banker who roped me in here the first time around showed up to interrupt the conversation. He walked past us to go to the bathroom and gave me a sideways glance. I turned to my Irish friend and said, “Watch this.”

The British Banker (also needs a name) came back and immediately walked up to greet me. I asked him how his plot to overthrow the British Monarchy and install Trump as King is going.

“Now’s your chance,” I said. “The monarchy is old, weak, and unpopular. The Prime Minister is a cat. Brexit has ruined everything. It’s all very Shakespearean. I think you’re really set up for success here if you give it the good ol’ college try.”

The Irish guy snickered to himself as he watched this exchange. Meanwhile, the British Banker gave me a defeated look and sighed deeply.

“Oh no, no no,” he said. “Trump is an idiot. I simply can’t stand him anymore. He’s a clown running a big tent circus show.”

Oh, really? You don’t say. I’m amazed you finally figured it out. It’s like… Wow, that only took, what, like, four months? Hmm. Wonder what changed. Aside from… well… everything…

Anyway, so happy to report the plot to install Trump as King of the Commonwealth is no more. I guess they’ll be passing it on down to Wills & Kate after all. As they say, the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

“Say,” he asked. “How old are you anyway?”

“I’m 37, turning 38 this year. I’m getting close to cougar status. You better watch out or I’ll sneak up on ya!”

“You can’t sneak up on me.”

My Irish friend and I gave each other a sideways glance and I started laughing again.

“Oh, I think I already did.”

Needless to say, he found this very amusing and decided we are friends now. Sure we are. Why not? Everyone knows my favourite people to make friends with in this world are rich old white men. And here I don’t even get anything out of it except a bunch of random, ridiculous stories. Love that for me.

As this conversation came to a close, so did the bar. I packed up my things and headed on down the hill. I stopped by the Cantina on the way down, where one of my friends was working. We will call her Kitty (she chose this name herself). I stopped in for a drink while they were closing down the bar. That was when the ghost showed up.

As it turns out, my much beloved Cantina is haunted AF, which explains the slightly-off vibes there. The ghost was very much present on this evening, as evidenced by the flickering lights, weird vibes, and ever-present creepy feeling of being watched by a nonhuman entity. Kitty was terrified, so I walked her home since we lived in the same direction.

So ends Thursday.

—

FRIDAY

Friday was busy for me. I went to a shop nearby to pick up a pair of new glasses since I lost my other pair. Got an eye exam, which I haven’t had done in literally 20 years because the American healthcare system is wildly overpriced hot garbage.

Turns out I needed a prescription after all. Picked out a lovely set of frames, added in the blue light protection, and paid about $125 USD for the entire package. Mindfuck. In the US, the frames alone would cost $300-$500. Such a fucking rip-off.

After that, I decided to go visit the witches under the bridge in Causeway Bay for some good old-fashioned villain hitting. It’s a ritual where you write down someone’s name and put a curse on them. For me, I wrote down the name of someone who I felt put a curse on me roughly ten years ago. I didn’t want to curse him. I just wanted to cut the cord between us once and for all.

I won’t say who it was. I will just say it was someone from Verm who has caused me a lot of pain and anguish over the course of a decade. Personally, I feel like it’s very obvious. If it’s not… you clearly haven’t been keeping up. I think we all know who the main character in Bloody Mary’s was, and it’s definitely not me.

Anyway, I just wanted my energetic field to be free of his essence once and for all.

Prior to going to the bridge, I performed a protection ritual on myself. I meditated, set my intention carefully, and dressed in all white. I don’t mess with black magic/bad medicine/bad juju/whatever you want to call it. I fully believe putting a curse on someone will come back at you ten fold. That’s why I was careful to set my intention to cleanse myself, not to curse someone else.

I walked around the coven and looked for the perfect witch to cast the spell. For this, I decided to go with my gut. I think I chose right because the results were apparent right away. I left feeling lighter, happier, freer. It was the best $50 HKD I’ve ever spent.

I returned home to find my neighbor acting weird, as per usual. No idea what’s up with him, honestly. I keep trying to dig and he won’t tell me shit. You know these English guys. They’ve always got something hidden in their attics.

I straight up said to him, “Okay, if you refuse to tell me, my mind will fill in the blank for you. I will just assume you have a haunted portrait or a mentally ill ex-wife locked up in an attic somewhere.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Mmm, yeah… that’s what I thought, Mr. Rochester. It is what it is. I’m done digging. I’ll let that one come to me. I’m over this whole “In the Mood for Love” dynamic. I don’t need this shit. I can go out any night of the week and take my pick from the crowd. Fuck that.

This she says as the bartender she made out with last week stands directly in front of her. Haha.

This leads me into Friday Night, aka Girls Night Out. It was my friend’s birthday. I haven’t given her a fake name yet even though she’s the first friend I made when I came back to HK. I haven’t been doing well with this. Let’s call her… Anastasia! Haha, inside joke. She also chose this name for herself.

I met up with Anastasia at a random spot along the escalator. One of her regulars was there so he bought us some dranks. We hung out with him for awhile, then walked down to the Cantina to pick up Kitty. She didn’t want to close alone because of the ghost, so we sat and waited for her while she finished up.

As we were waiting, the bartender I made out with last week appeared. They both knew him already because they’re all Filipina/o. My friends immediately picked up on the weird vibe and looked at me like, “What was that?”

I made the mistake of telling them what happened. Y’all, they were SCANDALIZED! They wouldn’t stop giving me shit about it for the rest of the night. They started calling him “The Pirate” because I told them to stop screaming his real name so loud half of Central can hear. Like, girl, do you know who I am? No real names, please! So now the joke is just “Oooooooh Pirate!!!!” Like, yeah, he really do be out here looking like a pirate though. It is what it is.

After that, we went down to the Nepalese shisha bar for a drink and a smoke. We were there until about 3am. Kitty took off home, while Anastasia and I went to a late-night Indian restaurant I had no idea existed. It was amazing. Loved it.

Finally got home some time around 4am. My neighbor, whose name is now Mr. Rochester until he makes a decent argument in favour of something better, was definitely awake when I came home. I know because I heard him get up and go out onto the rooftop. He does this pretty regularly.

Unfortunately for him, I was in a different dimension thanks to the combination of the witch’s spell, the dranks, the shisha, the Indian food, and the two hits of a vape pen I took from some random finance bro at the bar. There would be no weird rooftop meeting on this night.

—

OMG, this is getting to be such a chore. Now you know why I have to write every single day. Trying to go a week at a time is just too much for me. No wonder I’ve been feeling so crazy.

Definitely had to take a break from writing for a minute. Also, the usual Krewe of Sharks showed up and wanted to talk to me. My not-so-secret identity has officially been revealed. I’ll get to that later…

Anyway, continuing on…

—

SATURDAY

Saturday morning I woke up as if it was any other ordinary day and checked my IG. The first person on my “People You May Know” was one of the mean girls from the yoga shala in India. Apparently she made herself a professional yoga teacher account and decided to use it to creep on me.

I clicked on it and discovered she is now marketing herself as a “trauma-informed yoga teacher.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Bitch, PLEASE! Get the fuck OUT! You are not a fucking “trauma-informed yoga teacher.” You’re a mean girl with an Instagram account. Shut the fuck UP!

“BREAKING NEWS: The worst person you met at your YTTC is now a trauma-informed yoga teacher!”

LOL! LMFAO!

That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever seen. Wow. Just… wow. Daily Inspiration for you: you really CAN be anything you want to be. All you need is an Instagram account and some basic-ass marketing skills.

God, that totally made my day. That’s fucking hilarious. I literally cannot even. I mean… good luck with that, girl. I mean that sincerely. Personally, I would never take your class after the shitty fucking way you treated me while I was ACTUALLY trying to sort out my trauma. Yikes!

Fucking delusional.

Anyway…

So that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Pure delusion right there. Truly fascinating from a psychological perspective. Like… really? I can’t.

Okay, moving on.

I got up and dressed and walked over to SYP to meet up with an old friend I met in Paris back in 2011. We met at one of Jim Haynes’ dinner parties. He’s this famous American who used to throw weekly dinner parties for strangers in Paris. It’s a whole thing. You can go look him up.

We met up for coffee and lunch and caught up on the last 15 years. He’s writing a book. He asked me a lot of questions about my writing. He also wanted to know why I never moved to Paris. I explained my crazy family situation to him. He said, “Yeah, you know, that never quite sat right with me. I remember when I met you that you had a very specific plan for your life. Then I kept checking in on you and you were still out in South Dakota. I just kept asking myself… what happened?”

Well, now you know! And now I live in Hong Kong instead, so it all worked out in the end!

So that was fun. We went our separate ways again. I returned home to prepare for the oncoming typhoon. Stocked up on snacks and drinks. Made sure the windows were sealed shut. Snuggled up in bed to watch TV all night. Fun times.

—

SUNDAY

This whole day was occupied by the typhoon. I couldn’t go anywhere, nor did I want to. Sorry but I’m not brave enough to go out wandering around in extreme weather just for the sake of the gram. It is what it is.

—

MONDAY

The most exciting part of this day is when I discovered an American grocery store in my neighborhood that sells Costco-sizes of American products. I got a giant bottle of Frank’s Red Hot Buffalo Sauce and a giant container of Creole seasoning. Yasssss. So happy! It’s the little things in life, truly.

—

TUESDAY

I did nothing.

—

WEDNESDAY

Finally, something interesting happened! I went up to the Secret Society, as previously mentioned. There was no one there when I first arrived, which gave me enough time to write out the events of my life up to Saturday. That’s when the sharks showed up.

I was busy typing away when I heard someone announce in a loud British accent, “There she is! She’s writing! She’s writing!” It was the Banker dude. OMG, he really needs a name. Now they all need names, because they found me out!

So when I’ve been up there, I’ve been going by the name Liz. I just didn’t want to be known, I didn’t want to be found, and I definitely did not want any of them to find out I’ve been watching them this entire time.

Unfortunately, they caught onto me. How? Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it’s because I’m a young woman in a room full of old men, sitting at a keyboard clacking away. In my mind, I think I’m invisible. In their minds… not so much!

And so they finally unmasked my not-so-secret identity as Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire. I think they were all slightly disappointed to discover that I’m a writer, not a spy. I know. I’m disappointed too. It is what it is.

Naturally, they wanted to know more about my writing. At first I was nervous, but then I remembered that I was standing in a room full of highly educated people who live and work in Hong Kong making a fuckton of money. This is not some shitty dive bar in South Dakota full of aggressively illiterate MAGAts, nor is it an expat bar in Bangkok where shady people go to hide from their extensive rap sheets back in the West. It’s a different audience, for sure.

There is a reason why I joined this club, and this is exactly why.

I told them about Bloody Mary’s Bar, which they were highly amused by. I’m not even kidding right now, you guys. These gossipy old queens ATE THAT SHIT UP AND LEFT NO CRUMBS! Caught their interest right away, as I knew it eventually would if I sat on it long enough. Looks like that curse worked, MWA HAHAHAHA!

Then I explained what happened in Bangkok and about how mad everyone at the American Bar was that I wrote about them. The HK-era were like, “Well, of course they were mad. Thailand is where shady people go to hide.” TRUTH!

So then they wanted to know what I’d been writing about them. I said, “Oh, not much. I came here to hide, not to write.” Lies! I did not tell them the story about how I met all of them at The Wolf, nor about their friend and his little stunt in the bathroom. I mean, they were all there for that, but I doubt they remember. I remember, though. That’s not a story I’m likely to forget any time soon.

I was really scared they were going to be mad and throw me out. Instead, they laughed. They thought it was funny! They were like, “Oh, I want to read that. I want to see what fake names you come up with everyone on the Island and try to guess who they are. Haha, that’s so funny. You’re just like Lady Whistledown!”

So now my nickname is Lady Whistledown, which is hilarious, actually. Like, yep, that’s me. I am the modern day American equivalent of Lady Whistledown, and proud of it.

All of them encouraged me to finish the book I’ve been writing about my first year living abroad. I’ve never seen so many people cheering me on. It was wild! They are here for it!

My Banker friend was especially impressed with my discipline as far as writing every day goes. Like, “Oh, you’re for real, aren’t you?”

Yes, yes I am. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it!

And now they know the name Betsey Horton!

I still asked them to call me Liz, though. I just… really, really prefer to separate my writing identity from my every day identity. It’s a whole thing.

After bar close, I wandered on down the hill back home. Along the way, I ran into my Auntie, who I swear to god is secretly a gangster of some sort. We hung out for awhile at the corner bar across from the 7/11 on Peel Street.

That was when Mr. Pirate came along. I brought him back home with me to my rooftop, forgetting about the weirdness with Mr. Rochester. Mistake! Pretty sure Mr. Rochester came out onto the rooftop and saw us out there, because Mr. Pirate kept turning around and looking behind him and asking me if there was someone else there. I was like, “Oh, yeah, that guy. Just ignore him.”

Unfortunately, neither of us could ignore the invisible presence of the third party, so I had to send him on his way home. IDK. Maybe it’s all in my head. Or maybe… it’s not… because Mr. Pirate noticed it too and wouldn’t stop asking me about it. So… I guess I can’t be hosting any more guests at home now. Especially since the first insult Mr. Rochester lobbed at me during our first argument was, “All you do is get drunk and make out with random guys in elevators!”

Yeahhh…. Guess he’s decided to stake his claim to that specific elevator, lol. I mean, I get it. The thought of seeing him with another girl makes me weirdly jealous. I don’t know why. I don’t even like him that much. It’s probably because we are sharing a wall and he’s always around lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump out and scare me. He’s just this ever-present force in my life now that I can’t escape from. I would be so mad. I would be like, “Hey, that’s MY neighbor! Back off bitch!”

It is what it is.

Now I’m here at Ye Olde Irish Pub, the last place where I can hide. Yep, I’m a known quantity in the universe now. That means I gotta come all the way over to Kowloon to hide. And even then… they know me here too! Everyone knows me wherever I go! I’m special! I can’t escape from my fate! It has found me… again.

Alas.

Alright, I’m off to finish my Guinness (LOL) and then head on back over across the bay before the weather gets worse. Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day.

Have a lovely day!

BLOG: I Am Not Invisible

Posted on July 20, 2026July 20, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Black Narcissus, Central, dad, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, India, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, Sha Tin, South Dakota, The Season, The Sketchy Place, The Wolf, yogaLeave a comment

Monday.

I am not in my regular writing routine so I’m just sitting here right now like… where was I?

Ok. I had just finished watching The Season and speculating whether or not my Neighbor would have played the role he auditioned for in a significantly less sleazy manner.

Right.

So what do you think the next choice I made was?

That’s right. I decided to go up to the Secret Society and collect material for my own version of “The Season,” fancy yacht parties not included. Welcome to the Mid-Levels Madness. Here we go.

So, first thing is first. That place is so fucking WEIRD. I cannot describe the vibe up there. I’ve been in there multiple times now as a member, I’ve given it an open mind, and yeah, like… it’s definitely giving “Secret Society” vibes.

The first problem I noticed was that all the regulars clocked me RIGHT AWAY, but no one actually said hello. They all just gathered in the corner and started talking amongst each other. There is nothing unusual about this specific group behavior, but it was definitely giving weird vibes.

I briefly wondered if the married Irishman I just rejected last week was all up in there talking shit. Maybe! Who knows! Not sure why I’m the problem for saying I prefer to have a real relationship with a single man instead of falling for some married guy’s imaginary made up fairytale fantasy… AGAIN. No thanks, bro! That ship has sailed! But sure, do whatever you have to do to ruin my life so you can avoid accountability. I’ve seen it all before.

I decided to ignore it. Maybe they are not talking about me at all.

Eventually, this random lady I had never met before came over and started chatting me up. She was cool enough. I just felt really awkward because she made a comment about my appearance and I had to say, “I’m 37.”

I know that I look young, but rest assured, I’m not some random 23-year-old sugar baby looking for her next daddy. Pretty sick of the whole “predatory older men using me for the own agenda” thing, honestly.

So the whole conversation was awkward, but I managed to hold my own, as per usual. Living in South Dakota may have fucked up my entire life, but I grew up in the DC area to a father who was a very well-known prominent lawyer. I can hold my own in these rooms whether I want to, or not.

So the conversation was happening, and I just kept trying to steer it towards the fact that I am in the market for a job that is not F&B or teaching. I don’t know how well that went, but I made an effort.

Then shit got really weird. All of a sudden, this one old British finance bro turned around and gave me a huge hug out of nowhere. Everyone in the room just stopped and stared at me while I put on a fake smile and tried to pretend I wasn’t insanely uncomfortable in that moment.

“Oh, you know him?” The lady asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not well,” I said. “I’ve only met him here a few times. He’s the one who invited me to join.”

Another raised eyebrow. Yes, lady, I know. I’ve seen him out here creeping on young ladies too. I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on. I ALSO don’t feel comfortable with him randomly putting his arms around me and showing me off to the whole crowd like a prized racing horse who just won him a trophy at Sha Tin.

So icky! Gross! It was just gross.

Somehow, it got worse. Right at that moment, out of absolutely fucking nowhere, the Finance Bro who invited me to snort coke off a dirty bathroom toilet seat and then proceeded to grope me in front of everyone appeared. And not only did he appear, but he, too, embraced me in front of everyone and made me do that obnoxious “kiss on both cheeks” greeting that, honestly, I totally get is cultural, but also… no.

Literally as he was kissing my cheeks, all I could think about was how close his face had probably been to a dirty bar toilet only moments before. Even as I write this… the expression on my face is like… ew… no… disgust… no.

I truly felt so violated in that moment. Once again, he just could not resist putting his grimy paws all over me and grabbing me in places I did not give him express, specific consent to grab.

Then came the most horrifying part: the fact that I CONTINUED TO PRETEND SMILING AND ACTING LIKE NONE OF THIS FUCKING BOTHERED ME EVEN THOUGH ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS RUN HOME AND SHOWER.

It was terrible. Honestly, so terrible. It really put me off going back up there again. Before, I was like, “Well… you know… it might just be me. Maybe I got too drunk, maybe I misunderstood, maybe there’s more to this place than I think, after all… it IS important to be in these types of rooms… you know, for the connections! Networking! This is just how it is. It’s the same in DC, in SD, in NYC, in HK, everywhere. You have to know which rooms are going to help you get where you need to go. This room could help me get where I need to go.”

But then… No. Girl, no! WTF?! Just… no!

For one brief shining moment, I really sat there and asked myself, “What am I doing right now? Why am I coming into this place where I have repeatedly been made to feel unsafe, just to listen to terrible old rich people spew terrible pro-colonialist Old Empire propaganda? All this, just for a blog post 10 whole people might read? Why? To what end? To get a job working for people like this? Why? So I can go back to the comfort of my suburban upbringing and never have to worry about money ever again? Is it really worth it?”

I don’t think it is…

Even now, just recounting this… the look on my face, the feelings I am feeling, everything, all of it. It’s like watching my whole life flash before my eyes.

Just… why?

I don’t know. I think South Dakota ruined me, tbh. All living there taught me how to do was compromise my boundaries and beliefs so I could feel extremely uncomfortable hanging out in rooms full of shitty fucking assholes, political opinions and socioeconomic status irrelevant.

Like… I don’t even know how to find a person I actually like. I have no idea how to have fun. I just think… “This is just how life is, Betsey. You just have to go out there and be around terrible people you don’t like all the time, and that’s just the way it is. You’re the problem for not liking it, Betsey. You need to learn how to turn off all of your feelings and opinions and just watch it all unfold in front of you live in real time. Then you go home and write about it later. That’s what being a writer is. That’s what it means.”

But like… is it?

Should I not be using this life to do something that makes me happy?

Of course!

But like… how do I do that when I legitimately do not know what makes me happy?

There are some things that make me happy. Sitting in a little street-side cafe on a rainy day, writing the afternoon away. Eating a plate of delicious food with the appropriate wine to pair. Snuggling up in bed and watching TV (mostly with my cat, who is sadly no longer with us). Learning new things. Reading. Drawing, painting, coloring. The feeling of hunting through a discount sale or secondhand shop in search for the perfect dress to wear out to dinner by myself just so I can feel beautiful for a night,

None of these things make money or involve a career. The career question is so hard right now. I literally do not know how to not be completely miserable at a job. I’ve mostly had TERRIBLE work experiences because the SD culture is so fucking hostile towards outsiders of all kinds. I can’t remember the last time I had a job I liked. I really thought teaching would be the change I needed, but it’s not.

My dream job is to not have to work in a place where I have to put on a big fake smile and pretend I’m a Disney character every day. I can’t do it. I can’t keep it together. I do not have that ability. I cannot hide my emotional state at all, ever. It is what it is.

I don’t know what’s right for me. Again, we just know it’s not teaching children or yoga, and it’s definitely not serving other people. But those are the only jobs I’ve ever had… and I don’t have the experience on my resume necessary to just switch without going back to school or finding someone to speak for me as a reference.

I just feel so stuck right now. My mind just goes back to the same place it always does: Fight, Flight, Fawn, or Freeze. Right now all I seem to do in HK is fawn or freeze. Now I’m a place where I either have to fight to stay or take flight. If I take flight, it’s very clear that I only have a certain amount of time/money before I end up back in the US, homeless, without meaning, purpose, or direction, and back in my abusive family home. If I stay here, there’s only a certain amount of time/money before my luck runs out and I end up in the same place.

But what if I flee to a yoga shala in India and hide out in the Himalayas until I go cray-cray a la Black Narcissus and jump off a cliff?

Why does that ending seem so inevitable all the time? Ugh. I fully blame my dad for saying dumb shit to me my whole life like, “You could be just like [insert name of writer who killed themselves here].”

Like, yeah, that shit is so real. I don’t even have kids or a husband or a house in the burbs, but I 100% get why Sylvia Plath stuck her head in an oven. You don’t need to encourage more of that energy to grow within me just to prove to your narcissistic ego that yes, you did, in fact, spawn a “misunderstood genius” who may not be accepted in this life, but maybe famous in the next.

Terrible parenting, tbh. 0/10, would not choose to be born to either of these nutjobs ever again.

Who am I? What am I doing with my life? I don’t know anything anymore.

All I know if that today is the perfect day to judge people based on their “umbrella walks,” so that’s what I’m going to do.

The End!

BLOG: Black Narcissus

Posted on June 30, 2026June 30, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bangkok, Hong Kong, India, Meta, Native Americans, Neighbor Guy, South Dakota, Thailand, The Russian, yogaLeave a comment

Taco Tuesday.

I am not in a good writing habit lately. My routine has been messed up since I got back from Macau. I haven’t been going to the coffee shop at all. Instead I’ve been spending the morning doing yoga and meditating on the rooftop with a side of instant coffee. So not bad, just not writing.

I decided to shut down my Facebook again. Why? Because I hate it. Also, I happen to be in possession of a video taken of myself in Bangkok without my knowledge or consent by some jerk wearing Meta Glasses. We were just at dinner at some random place with another friend, but it doesn’t matter. It’s still creepy, weird, and gross. Also, I know for a fact that guy was out filming other situations that night that he should not have been filming. The people he was filming definitely were not aware of what he was doing at all.

Fuck that gross, creepy shit. I’m just so over it. I’ve never liked Facebook anyway. It’s just causes problems I don’t need in my life anymore. So, we are done now. IG and WhatsApp are much harder to let go of, of course, but neither are Facebook, which is what I really care about.

Otherwise, I had a much better day today than I’ve been having all weekend. I meditated for a really long time this morning and gave my mat a nice scrub down. Then I just sort of sat in my apartment calmly and quietly for awhile.

For some reason I had the random urge to watch an old movie called Black Narcissus. No idea where the fuck this came from. In case you don’t know, it’s a movie about a group of nuns who attempt to set up a convent in the Himalayan Mountains. It was all filmed in Pinewood Studios, which is in England. No one ever set foot in India for this movie. Yet somehow… so beautiful. The cinematography is just stunning!

The movie was pretty entertaining. As someone who has been to India, it was fun to watch them all slowly melt down in real time. Like, girl, been there! LOL!

My favourite was the nun who was so inspired by the views she forgot to plant the vegetable garden and planted a bunch of beautiful flowers instead. I was like, “Welcome to the Yoga Lifestyle.”

My second favourite was the Guru sitting on the mountaintop. Love that for him! What a sage! I would offer him a wreath of flowers, for sure.

Also loved the British dude who went Native and spent the whole movie wandering around in shorts and a scarecrow cap. The funny part was that I saw some random meme on Instagram the other day about advertisements for “Military Shorts.” I was like… wtf? Then I watched this movie and I was like, “Oh.”

Cool story, bro! Can you tell it again? Do you have time?

So I sat on that one for awhile, then decided to see if there was anything on the news besides Dump TV. Much to my surprise, Al Jazeera English was running a special feature on Native Americans going up against ICE in Minnesota.

It was grand until all of sudden we’re back on Pine Ridge, right at Wounded Knee. At least we were in the better part of South Dakota, but still… I was caught off-guard because I was trying to avoid letting my mind wander back there today. And yet… there I was… standing right back at the mass grave, right where I started this journey from.

Trauma-bonded for life.

So right as the shot of Wounded Knee came up, I felt something crawling up my arm. No idea what it was, but it was an insect of some sort and it was in bed with me. Freaked out, of course. Caught it and took it outside. Yelled at it to stay out of my safe space and went back downstairs.

I had just started shaking out the sheets when I looked out the window and realized a downpour had just started. Both my (almost) dry yoga mat and sandals were out on the rooftop. I ran upstairs to rescue both, but the damage was done. The mat is now drying on the stairwell banister, but I’m not convinced it will be dry in time for me to do yoga tomorrow.

I’m not sure it matters. As far as I know, I’m supposed to go to a Junk Boat Party for July 1, which is a holiday here. We’ll see if that comes to fruition. I’ve had no luck with the boat party thing yet, mostly because I’m afraid of boats. It is what it is.

A little bit later, I decided to start watching some Spanish documentary about an escort service in Mexico where a bunch of sex workers were murdered. I got about 20 minutes in and it was too triggering for me. I got really upset when I was listening to them describe meeting clients in hotels. I was like, “This is EXACTLY what the Russian needs! He should have arranged this service for himself in advance. That’s what it’s there for. What gives this man the right to wander around Central and choose some random woman to carry out of the bar to service him for free? Furthermore, how dare he say he doesn’t consent to be written about? Like, bro, I didn’t consent to being used as a free escort service. Fuck you. Next time, be more careful about who you choose so you don’t get a starring role in the sequel to Promising Young Woman.”

Raging.

So yeah, I paused the doc, turned off the TV, changed my clothes, and came out alone for Taco Tuesday. Tonight is just for me. No bros of any kind. No Passport Bros, No Finance Bros, No Influencer Bros, No Diginal Nomad Bros, No Boss Bros, No Neighbor Bros, No Sports Bros, No Bros of Any Kind!

No men allowed in this space tonight.

I had a brief moment of clarity in which I realized my body has actually endured a great deal of trauma this year, in addition to the trauma it has already taken. No wonder I feel so terrible all the time. This year has been a lot! But hey, you know what? I did what I came here to do. As the Publisher said, “You didn’t go there for some stupid job. You went there to write a book. And guess what? You did it. No matter what happens now, you did it.”

It’s true. I did it. And that’s why I’m secretly beefing with my neighbor now. I’m about to drink his ass under the table this weekend. He doesn’t even see it coming! He’s British AF. Does he even drink Kentucky Bourbon, bro? I highly doubt it. He ain’t ready for this jelly!

I’m obviously still mad about Saturday night. Like… Take off the metaphorical Muay Thai gloves and fight me like a real man, bro! You can’t just be like, “All you do is drink all day and make out with random men in elevators!” That’s literally not even true! I’ll have you know, I haven’t made out with anyone in an elevator since The Russian. I did make out with anyone Irishman under a tree, but we were both shitfaced and had a conversation about it later, so it basically doesn’t even count.

Also, you are just mad that you are not in that elevator with me. You’re even madder because you’ve seen me go out of my way to avoid getting into that elevator at the same time as you! You know why! Stop lying to yourself! You know what this is really about!

All of my girl friends are like, “What’s wrong with this guy? Why does he care so much?” Literally no idea. It’s a very small space. Those walls are paper thin. It is what it is. And whatever it is will be resolved at the 4th of July Party this weekend. Come what may!

Well, I am off now. I am going to eat a very large burrito bowl and plan my holiday tomorrow. Have a good one!

BLOG: Macau

Posted on June 24, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Hong Kong, Macau, Neighbor Guy, South DakotaLeave a comment

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: And The Balls Win Again

Posted on June 16, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Asia, Bali, Bangkok, Dubai, Hong Kong, India, Mid-Levels, SEA, South Dakota, Thailand, The Sketchy Place, WritingLeave a comment

Tuesday evening.

Against my better judgment, I decided to brave the rain and venture up to the Mid-Levels for the Quiz Night I was invited to. The person who invited me is not here. So now I am sitting here at the bar all alone, watching everyone else play trivia, just like I did back in SD. Wow, yeah, I know, I really feel like I’ve come so far in life, lol. Ridiculous.

I really thought my life would look different at this point. I guess it’s true what they say. Wherever you go, there you are. And here I am, alone at the bar, as always.

Damn. I’m disappointed. I was totally all about the Secret Society thing. I guess it’s not a secret if I write about it, lol. Oh well!

I’m kidding, by the way. It’s not a secret at all. It’s like when I worked at “Regal’s Club” back in Verm. It’s technically a private club for members only, but anyone can go there. I had to learn the names of all the members and their usual drinks. I completely get the concept. It’s not lost on me. I’m just make a joke about it being a “Secret Society” because I can.

The good news is that there are some very good looking men in here. There are good looking men everywhere in Hong Kong. The whole island is just crawling with them. They don’t always have the best personalities, but it’s fine. They don’t have to have a good personality. They just have to look good without a shirt on.

It is what it is.

My concern now has turned to how I am going to make it home in the pouring rain. Obviously I brought an umbrella. However, it is still a 15-20 minute walk downhill in the pouring rain. I feel stupid for venturing out on this type of night, but oh well.

Hong Kong is so wild to me. I never know what to expect from this place. I love the song that goes, “You’ll find more than you bargained for when you come to Hong Kong!” If there is one thing I’ve learned this year, it’s that this phrase is true.

I just want y’all to know that including the word “Balls” in an all-male trivia team name is, in fact, a global phenomenon. Men are so ridiculous. It is what it is.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to my mini-break to Macao tomorrow. The hotel I booked is really nice. I got it for super cheap since it’s a weekday and I have membership perks. I love the thrill of getting a good deal on something travel related. I won’t be able to use the pool since it will be raining, but I will get to take some good photos from my seaside balcony, take a luxurious bath in the gigantic tub, and get some writing done at the fancyass desk. I am in it to win it, fam.

Fun Fact: luxury hotels are, in fact, my favourite place to write. I don’t know why. The more palatial, the better. They’re just inspiring. Trust me, I’ve stayed in some real shitholes on my travels. I can’t write in a bedbug-ridden motel off the highway that looks like something straight from a horror movie. I need a terry cloth robe and slippers and room service. Why do you think I keep blowing so much money on that stupid hotel in Bangkok? It’s the perfect place to write! Which is why I always do all my writing at the little sidewalk coffee stand next door.

Oh, I miss Bangkok. I’ve been getting signs from the universe about it again. There’s just something about Thailand…

The problem is that I love it too much. That’s why we cannot be together. It’s not Thailand, it’s me. I’m not a rich old western man with a lot of money looking for a much-younger Thai wife. I don’t belong there!

I’m glad I came out anyway, even if it didn’t turn out as planned. It’s always better to be out soaking up the Hong Kong energy than to be sitting at home watching Netflix and eating ramen noodles and snacks from 7/11. Hong Kong inspires the fuck out of me. I love it here.

I was debating earlier if it was “worth it” to me to give up my dream of living in Paris to come out here to Asia instead. The answer is definitely yes. Paris was always this imaginary dream escape place for me where everything was always perfect. When I was the Paris Writing Workshop, I realized that fantasy was holding me back from exploring the rest of the world and really understanding reality.

Here in Asia, shit gets real so fast. I have no illusions about the reality of life here in Hong Kong, or in Bangkok, or in Bali, or India, or the GCC. Coming here to Asia opened my world up in ways I never expected. I always knew I would end up to be the Peace Corps type. I fully expected that someday I would live in some random little village somewhere in Africa, showering with a bucket and helping out around camp. Living in India was definitely an adjustment, but the reality is that I didn’t mind the blackouts or the monsoon or the bucket showers.

I never thought I would be fighting for my life to stay afloat in a place like Hong Kong, or living it up in a luxury loft in Bangkok, or following around a group of sex workers through the VIP lounges of Dubai, or spend a weekend in a gigantic villa in Bali, or any of the other totally crazy, completely ridiculous things I’ve done in between.

Wild.

The truth is that I don’t need this. I don’t need to write about this, whatever this is. It’s what I call “extra material.” I’ve already charted out the novel/show I have in mind two weeks ago. I got some good feedback on it. I already have an entire plan that doesn’t involve any of this.

If I’m here, it’s because I want to be Liz for a night and just forget that I am an “infamous, notorious writer.” As I always say, I’m just a traumatized woman in recovery who has no idea how to have fun, standing before a crowd of strangers on the other side of the world, asking them to teach me how to have fun.

There is no fun in my world. Only work, which for me sadly means being a prisoner of my own device all the time. I literally have no idea how else to live my life. It is what it is.

It’s too bad I’m not on someone’s trivia team right now. I am killing it with these categories. My new mantra: “You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me. But you will respect my intelligence enough to include me on your team for Quiz Night. And that’s why we will all win whatever this prize is together. Hashtag: Teamwork Makes The Dream Work.”

Lately I’ve been really caught up in reliving past moments when my goals were actively being sabotaged by my mother. Right now I am trying to be present and look at what I’ve been able to accomplish in spite of that.

I’m not comparing myself to any of these influencer types I was jealous of before. I definitely still have goals I haven’t accomplished yet, but even the fact that I got this far is still an impressive feet.

I mean…. Hong Kong. Wow. That’s big no matter how you slice it. I am truly lucky to be here right now. I know it’s complicated and all that, but I love it, and I’m learning a lot, and I don’t regret coming here for even one minute.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say tonight. I’m just sitting here pretending to look busy so it doesn’t look like I showed up for a social event that didn’t actually happen like some total fucking loser, lol.

It is what it is…

BLOG: I Am Free!

Posted on June 16, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bangkok, Hong Kong, Macau, South DakotaLeave a comment

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!

BLOG: The Darjeeling Limited

Posted on June 5, 2026June 5, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Andrew, Bloody Mary's, dad, Ewan McGregor, Hong Kong, Hot Beef Stew, India, Mad Dog, South Dakota, Star Wars, Thailand, the Island of Lost Guys, The RussianLeave a comment

Fri-yay!

I am currently hungover AF, which is a shame because I had big plans for today. In addition to the two interviews and dozens of rejections, I had three follow-ups that I definitely planned to follow up on today. Naturally, I self-sabotaged by getting way too drunk while I was at home alone.

Welcome to my life. And here I wonder why no one will ever love me, haha. Hey Betsey, here’s a brilliant idea: why don’t you stop looking at men and look at yourself for a change? Learn to love you and the mess that you are instead of waiting for some hot beefcake to rescue you from your bullshit.

Wow, brilliant, so many lessons learned today. I feel so enlightened now!

Yes, yes, yes, learn to love yourself, blah blah blah, become a strong, empowered woman, and all that jazz!

That being said, I would still very much like to end my days by falling into the arms of a hot, sexy beefcake (preferably with an even sexier accent) who just rescued me from a cockroach. That’s the real dream right there.

Listen, Ewan McGregor divorced his wife, married a woman 20 years younger, got her a job playing a Twi’lek in a Star War. It could still happen for me. I could be Wife #3, you know what I’m saying? There’s still time for me to see what’s really underneath the kilt, ya know what I’m saying?

Lol

Hahaha

Yeah I’m definitely still “off my tits” as they say in… Ireland? Scotland? England? Wales? The UK? I don’t even know anymore. They’re all so different. Is this a colonizer phrase? Who even knows anymore?

Breaking News from the Thai-US Embassy: Your passport will be revoked if you’re not making your child support payments on time.

I love this for all Thai women everywhere. Now let’s do the Philippeans! Stop letting these gross Passport Bros get away with shit! If I’m not allowed to go back to Thailand because I pissed off the local branch of the Irish Mafia, then they definitely shouldn’t be allowed back.

I’m totally kidding, of course. I’m not banned from Thailand. They’re would never ban me. All I do there is spend ridiculous amounts of money, and I don’t even talk to Bar Girls! I just blow it all on staying in a ridiculously overpriced loft with a bad pool just so I can be 5ft from the bar I’m obsessed with and all of the beautiful, wonderful, amazing people who frequent it. Love that for me!

Anyway, so that’s why I had to come back to Hong Kong. Now I blow all my money on a tiny little shoebox apartment where I somehow magically lose things like hair clips and my phone, which makes absolutely no sense. It must be the faeries. When in doubt, always blame the faeries, or the “little people,” as we say in South Dakota. Well, I don’t know if that’s what “they” say, but it’s definitely what Mad Dog used to say!

So yeah, I was definitely supposed to do real, actual, productive things today. Not sure that’s going to happen, which is unfortunate because I have things I really need to get done.

Instead I am sitting here at my favourite brunch place, right on the patio, in the heat, away from the air on like a crazy person, sweating it all out as I watch the world pass me by. I love it.

So many hot beefcakes walking by on their way to and from the gym on their lunch break. I love it. Obsessed with the beefcakes. Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight! Won’t somebody take the shadows away!

Everyone here thinks I’m so crazy for sitting in the heat instead of the aircon. Like, I get it, the weather is insane, but I really need to sweat it out. I keep telling them I used to live in a very, very, very cold place and now all I want to do is be out in the sun and sweat all my shitty feelings out. They don’t understand me. It is what it is.

Here is my real question: how do I get paid to sit in a restaurant and just watch people on the street? This is the only job I know how to do. Everything else is just, like, so stressful, you guys.

I literally do not know how people exist in the full-time corporate job world. They are all so fucking weird. They have no personal lives, no hobbies, no personalities, nothing. They just work, work, work, and then maybe go to the gym, and then they wonder why they’re all so unhappy, and then they make the rest of us feel bad about not being obsessed with work like that are.

Like, listen, I get it. I hate my family too. Honestly, the majority of them are terrible, narcissistic people who treat other people like shit and literally cannot handle being talked to in the same way. All I’ve ever wanted to do is get the fuck away from them. But I don’t throw myself into a job just to escape from that. That’s how you end up dying in a pile of your own shit, just like my dad. It is what it is.

I still remember the last thing my dad said to me before we all went to bed and I found him almost dead the next day. His last words to me were: “Can you pick me up a chocolate mocha frappachino?”

And then we found him half-dead in bed the next morning and then he was in a coma for two weeks and I had to be the one who called in the medicine man to read him his last rights because my stupid, evil mother was too drunk to literally do anything except be mean to me, and then I had to watch him die in the hospital bed right in front of me.

And then literally everyone in that stupid fucking shithole town was a giant fucking asshole about it, because that’s who they are and that’s what they do. Thanks again for ruining my life, Dad! So grateful for everything??????

Lol, yeah, whatever, at least I get to live in Asia now. Just like I always dreamed. Literally. My life only got better because my dad died. How fucking fucked up and shitty is that? It is what it is.

And this is why I have no idea how to have fun.

This is why men are a problem. They think it’s MY job to provide “fun” for them and then they get mad when they have to do actual emotional labor in the middle of the fucking blackout they put me in by plying me with booze nonstop.

So fucking stupid. Clean up your own mess, bro. I can’t do that for you. I will never do that for you. I am not your fucking mommy, okay? I’m not picking up your dirty underwear off the floor or doing your laundry or cleaning your house or cooking you food. Your job is to stand there looking sexy while fanning me with a giant palm leaf, then carry me away on my solid gold throne. Okay? Okay.

This is why I’m not married. My spirit did not reincarnate multiple times just to serve some stupid fucking man who won’t even wash his own dirty asshole. Fuck you and your fucking patriarchy. I am the motherfucking Queen!

“You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me. But you will respect me. Why? Because I’m a Boss!” -Kelis

SO I had some things to do today. Instead I’m sitting here on the patio writing crazy, unhinged things and having notions. This is exactly why my Irish ancestors got on that fucking boat and came to America. Their dream was for the 7th generation ahead of them to sit on a patio and write and make art and look fabulous while doing fucking NOTHING! No work down by the docks or in the factories or on the farm. No having 18 children, half of which died somewhere along the way. No nothing. I don’t have to do shit now, just like my ancestors dreamed. Yet somehow, I still feel so unfulfilled…

I have definitely sat in the heat for too long. It’s starting to make me sick. I need to go inside and sit by the aircon.

Okay, okay, okay, done done done.

Now inside. The sound of the construction on the Temple is very loud. I like this spot because it’s close to the historic Man Mo Temple. Man Mo is the god of “literature.” I always stop at the gates on my way home to say a prayer. I love the “Under Construction” vibe right now. It makes me feel better about myself. Like, yes, we have stood the test of time and survived, for better or for worse. That being said, sometimes we need to take some time to fix ourselves up for the sake of future preservation. It is what it is. I love it. I’m so here for it.

I should get a job as a bar cat. Like the meme. I don’t work. I don’t care. I just sit in the wrong spot and somehow run the entire place. Like Andrew did at Bloody Mary’s. Is my dream to actually be Andrew? Is that why I was so obsessed with him for like, what, ten years? Who even knows anymore!

That’s the second time this week I’ve thought about Andrew. I haven’t thought about Andrew in a long time. I mean, how could I? Between the Hot Beef Stew and The Russian, my heart, mind, and va-jay-jay has been extremely occupied. There’s very little space for a fictional character these days. I just meet so many attractive men. Sometimes I still look at Andrew’s old pictures and think to myself, “Wow, I really thought this guy was hot.” Goes to show how slim the pickins really are out there on the lone prairie. His catchphrase should be, “Yikes on Bikes!”

I will always remember this chapter as that time I was so desperate to get railed by a hot sexy beefcake that I wrote two whole books about the bartender I thought was really hot from far away, but only in a dark room.

Just kidding. I just thought of him now sitting in the doorway with his mountain man beard, looking mean and old and cranky AF, wearing some ancient fucking t-shirt from some concert he went to in the 90’s, taking off his baseball cap and wiping his forehead in exhaustion, as if he had actually done something productive today. Like maybe he mowed the lawn without the t-shirt and hat on, and then walk down to fetch the mail while I was riding by on my white horse, and that’s why he’s tired, or something? IDK!

Sorry, wow, wait, did it just get hotter in here? Because I’m literally sitting under the aircon right now and I just started sweating again.

I mean… he might not be the Pabst Blue Ribbon winner of the Magic Mike Live contest, but something about that really did it for me. I mean, you don’t see me sitting here writing two novels about The Russian. It is what it is.

I know I love him because I have lived my whole life being screamed at and called crazy, and he’s the only person who ever did that in a way that actually turned me on. I was so into it. I was like, “Please, yell at me more. I don’t know why I like this but I do.”

I don’t like it coming from anyone else, but when you do it, it’s like… somehow the hottest thing ever? No one knows.

Awww, my Andrew. I loved my Andrew. I really did. At least, I thought I did. Let’s be real here. I have never been in an actual, meaningful long-term relationship. I just stare at hot guys from far away and fantasize about what it would be like to have them fan me with a giant palm leaf. I don’t know jack shit about love.

But if you asked me if I’ve ever been in love with anyone… I would tell you it was Andrew, every single time. I loved him. I really did. I don’t know what real love is… but… whatever I felt was pretty close to that. I hope he’s happy now, wherever he is. Maybe Seattle? Who even knows these days? I don’t know. I don’t look for him or check in on him or ask about him. I don’t have to. He just visits me in my dreams…

*sigh*

Anyways, yes, what the fuck was I talking about again? My dad dying? The fact that I moved to the other side of the planet just to be this fucked up all the time? Maybe something about paying child support so your passport doesn’t get revoked? Who even knows anymore!

I really need to eat something. All I had for a dinner was a plastic cup full of olives and feta cheese to go with the two bottles of wine I drank after eating nothing all day.

I think sometimes I act this way because I just want to die and I lack the courage to just jump off the rooftop when the void calls to me. So I just kill myself slowly with alcohol and cigarettes and men instead. It is what it is.

Anyway, I can’t kill myself. I’ve already tried multiple times. It never works. Someone up there wants me to live, to survive, to give something back to this world. I don’t understand. If I’m still alive after all of this, I must have some kind of purpose. I just don’t know what that purpose is. I just know when I look at worksheets about teaching grammar to children, I feel absolutely nothing at all. It means nothing to me. I’m just here for the job, the visa, the paycheck. I can’t make a difference in this world. I’m just a woman, standing here in front of a white board, asking for a steady paycheck without the cost of being bullied at work.

It is what it is.

I really need to eat something. I haven’t eaten anything substantial in like… at least two days. At least.

It is what is.

I like that scene in the Darjeeling Limited at the end when they all leave their baggage behind and board the train, waving it all goodbye. That’s the vibe right now. I just want to leave my impossibly heavy suitcases behind and hop that train to the next shitty little village in India, and do yoga with a giant snake, and just have fun and live life and have a good time.

I wish I was fun. I just want to have fun. Someone, please, teach me how to have fun. I just want to have some fun!

Okay, I’m done now. I really do need to eat something or I will actually pass out in this “brunch concept” of a restaurant right now.

The End!

BLOG: The Great Mystery

Posted on June 3, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged China, Family, Hong Kong, Neighbor Guy, South DakotaLeave a comment

Thursday.

Today is The Day That Doesn’t Exist, aka May 35th. I can’t actually write about it, so you will just have to look it up. This is an example of what people actually mean when they talk about censorship in China. That rule is for Big Important Stuff, not my small potatoes blog where I talk about my narcissistic family and the crappy small town I used to live in.

The people I write about think, “I don’t like what she said because it hurts MY feelings and makes ME look bad, therefore she shouldn’t be allowed to say it or write it all!” Then they turn around and continue treating me the exact crappy same way with ZERO self-awareness whatsoever. So it’s okay for them to be assholes to me, but I’m not allowed to be an asshole back. I should be censored for speaking to them the exact same way they speak to and about me!

You know what we call that?

Delusional AF.

Hope ya’ll enjoyed your reality check. You’re not that important in the grand scheme of things, and neither am I. It is what it is. I am at peace with this. That’s why I still do what I do without shame. Just take the same dumb advice you’re always giving me and just, like, get over it already!!!!!

Yeah, how see how shitty that sounds?

Exactly.

Anyway, yesterday was pretty uneventful. I mostly slept because I absolutely did not sleep after finding that cockroach in my kitchen sink the other night.

Oh yeah, so nobody told me until later that you’re not supposed to leave the corpse unattended because it attracts more. LUCKILY FOR ME, it did not attract more, so I came home to find the same singular dead cockroach upside down in my sink. So gross!

Anyway, I was just tipsy enough to give it a New Orleans Jazz funeral, which means I sang “I’ll Fly Away” as I scooped it up with the big kitchen spoon and dumped it in a trash bag. Then I danced down the hall swinging the (closed) bag around like a rag and dumped it in the trash. Perhaps now it will break free of whatever miserable reincarnation cycle its stuck in that turned it into a cockroach and level up in the next life. You just can never be too sure with things like that…

It’s a good thing my neighbor was there to kill it for me because it is 100% against my spiritual belief system to bring harm to an animal like that. I do not kill insects or spiders or cockroaches or anything. That’s why I have to enlist help and why I still feel guilty enough later to do something ridiculous like sing to a dead cockroach. Again, I am at peace with this. It is what it is.

As you may have guessed, I immediately started spiraling after the cockroach jazz funeral and ended up on the roof crying all alone about everyone I know who died in a very short, five year period of time. It’s a lot. My dad, my Irish grandmother, Mad Dog, my favourite aunt, my uncle I lived with in NY, both of my dogs that we had for 13 years, three of my cats (including my favourite), a very good friend of mine, and one of my favourite professors from university.

Oh, and then there was the whole “losing my entire family” thing after my dad died because my mom realized it was finally her big opportunity to make me the Family Black Sheep, just like she’s always dreamed. How dare I stand up for myself and assert myself! I must be forever punished for my insubordinate behavior with the silent treatment!

Yeah, it’s a lot! Especially when you’re on the other side of the world, all alone with no one to talk to about any of it. Yeah, I cried a lot. It is what it is.

I sensed my neighbor come outside in the middle of it. Doing yoga increases one’s awareness of other energies, so you can sense people when they’re standing there, even if you can’t see them. Just Basic Jedi Mind Trick Stuff. Also, I can smell the smoke from his cigarettes. Dead giveaway right there.

He didn’t come over to me or say anything. I just felt him standing there watching me sadly, as if he was thinking, “It’s not really about the cockroach, is it?”

I found myself saying aloud, “You don’t understand. You still have a family you’re close to. You’re not all alone out here like I am.”

He didn’t say anything. He kept hiding in the dark, but I knew he was there. I could smell the smoke from his cigarette. A few minutes later, he went inside.

I think he’s a good friend. He’s been very helpful to me in so many ways. I’ve legitimately felt much calmer since he confronted me on the rooftop and asked me why I’m always acting so crazy. It’s one of those things like… I really just needed to be seen and heard and acknowledged in that moment, and he did that for me.

You really have to think about it from his POV. He’s seeing me when I’m not wearing the mask or out in public pretending to be someone I’m not yet in order to “fake it until I make it.” He’s seeing me crying on the rooftop on bad days and coming home from a night out drunkenly singing and dancing. He’s got the Front Row View of the entire show, completely raw, unedited, and unfiltered. He’s seeing me in Full Unhinged Crazy Mode, and instead of judging me, he reached out to help me. That means a lot.

I feel bad about objectifying him now. He’s not just some hot beefcake. He’s a human being with thoughts and feelings, just like I am.

Awww.

See? I don’t hate men. I just need to deal with men who aren’t complete assholes. That’s hard to find in this world.

Honestly, I think I’m just not used to kindness in this world. Most of the people I’ve known in my life have been really mean, negative, and on a mission to hurt others in order to elevate themselves. So when someone is actually genuinely kind to me, it’s incredibly jarring and shocking.

I still can’t believe he actually sat down with me and gave me real, practical advice for finding a job that legitimately worked. No one in my entire life has ever done that. They either give me some big lecture or tear me down to the point where I feel like I don’t deserve to exist.

The point is that all they do is speak words at me. There is no actual meaningful action behind their words. They’re just saying whatever sounds good to them so they can pat themselves on the back and say, “See? I tried, but SHE didn’t LISTEN!”

That’s because all you did was talk at me. You didn’t actually do anything meaningful to help me change the situation. That’s not helpful. That’s just basic narcissism. You think you’re a brilliant genius who knows everything and is better than everyone, so you talk down to everyone else as if they are beneath you. Then you wonder why I don’t listen. What are you actually saying? What are you actually doing?

To me, you might as well be typing out the same 5 paragraphs every person I’ve ever met has written to me about all the reasons why they hate me and why I shouldn’t exist. That’s not helpful. No sane, rational person in this world would look at a pile of hate mail they got in response to looking for a job and think, “Wow, that was SO helpful! Thank you so much! I’ll remember this when I’m still broke and homeless and living on the streets. Thank god you were here to lecture me during my time in need! I really benefitted from that!”

Please know at this point, I really do ignore the pile of hate mail I get from everyone. Yep, I get it. You hate me, you hate my personality, you hate my writing, you hate everything I am and have ever been and ever will be, you don’t support me, you want to see me fail, you wish I was dead so you wouldn’t have to deal with me ever again, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah! Blah blah blah! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah! Blah blah! Blah blah blah! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah…

Gee, it’s a really a mystery why I never listened to any of those people! Someone get Agatha Christie on this case, stat! Surely she will be able to figure out why someone wouldn’t listen to some dumb fucking townie hick from the middle of nowhere dole out thinly-veiled personal attacks disguised as completely impractical life advice. That’s definitely one for the ages. Sure that’s the story that will be getting new film and TV remakes once a decade, at least.

Meanwhile, my neighbor solved that mystery fast. He just sat down with me and was like, “Ah, so you’re upset because you’re unemployed. I see. Let’s take a look at your CV and cover letter and fix it up to make you really shine. We’ll get you sorted, no worries.”

Anyway, I really appreciate how kind he has been to me. He really did not have to help me at all. I try to give him as much space as possible and don’t bother him unless it’s an emergency (such as a giant cockroach in my sink). Boundaries, right? I can’t be 100% needy all the time. I have to at least try to figure out as much of this on my own as I possibly can.

In the end, I think he was probably just sitting up there on the rooftop thinking, “How do I get my annoying neighbor to shut the fuck up? Let’s confront the problem directly and see what can be done to get it all sorted.”

It is now sorted. If there’s one thing British people are good at, it’s getting things sorted. They do not care for chaos. They care for calm, control, and order. Combined with the Hong Kong value of Efficiency Above All Other Things, this man found a way to deal with his crappy neighbor without being an asshole, and it worked. Good for him! I respect that.

Anyway, yeah, he’s awesome. I want to get him a snack from 7/11 or something to thank him. I’m big on gift-giving like that. It’s generally not very well-received for some reason, so maybe I won’t get him anything at all. I don’t know.

Anywayyyyyyyyyz…

Still waiting on the job thing. They asked me to come in next week to do a test run with some of the classes. I think that’s a good sign! They seem to invest a lot of time and energy into training. They said it was something like four months of training time, as opposed to my old company. They gave us one week of training total. If you make any mistakes during that week, you’re out on the street and you somehow owe them money for the trouble. Brutal.

No wonder my confidence was completely destroyed after that job. I barely had any in myself when I got here and then they destroyed what little I had. It took a whole year, numerous adventures, and many dates with hot, sexy beefcakes to build up a basic level of self-esteem. I’m not sure I even still have any. Yet somehow I am still here, still swimming around in this shark tank, still keeping my head just above water.

That explains why I’m still worrying over whether or not I will actually get the job, even though I was technically already offered the job and they’re in the process of doing the onboarding paperwork. I refuse to get comfortable. It could all still go horribly, horribly wrong. I could still end up homeless on the street with nowhere to go and no one to help me. The risk of homelessness is always there. Always. This is my greatest fear.

I just hope it all works out. Law of Attraction. Manifestation. Visualization. I am standing in a random alley surrounded by red lanterns and glowing lights, wearing a vintage emerald green qipao and holding a bouquet of pink roses, posing for an instagram influencer photoshoot. I am celebrating. I got the job. I got the visa. I got the apartment. I got the Chirkin. I did it. I am a real Hong Konger now. #Chinamaxxing.

So much to do today. Gotta run to the market and find all peppermint everything. I’m going to deep-clean my apartment and coat everything in peppermint oil. Burn peppermint-scented incense and candles. Cockroaches hate peppermint!

Maybe I’ll just buy myself a peppermint plant and keep it on the kitchen counter where I found the cockroach. Never again.

Nothing else to write today. Just grateful that I met so many people on this journey who helped me. I never would have made it this far on my own. I’m lucky for the kindness of strangers. I didn’t know people could be so nice. It is truly a jarring experience of the best kind.

Off now. Have a good day! Try to be kind to someone for no reason today instead of ganging up on them in an effort to ruin their life for your personal entertainment. I know, it’s hard, especially if you’re from South Dakota, but somehow… I think you’ll manage.

BLOG: One Year Anniversary

Posted on June 2, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Dubai, Hong Kong, South Dakota, the Island of Lost Guys, The Russian, The Wolf, UAELeave a comment

Tuesday.

One year ago last night I got on a plane to Dubai. One year ago today, I landed. There I was promptly dumped by my fake fiancé after 48 hours for being “Too Much.” He was ten years too young for me anyway, and not ready for real commitment.

Upon reflection, I really dodged a bullet on this one. I think I just let him sweet talk me for a year because it was what I really needed at the time. I knew deep in my heart it wasn’t going to work because we are from two very difficult cultures, but I let him tell me what I wanted to hear anyway. It’s what I needed at the time. It is what it is.

I spent two weeks in Dubai at a decently-priced resort doing nothing. I laying on a beach for half the day, then moved up to the pool to do the same thing with a slightly different vibe, and then I would go sit outside in the lounge and drink wine and eat za’atar pinza all night. Best vacation ever.

Then I came to Hong Kong and the craziness began. It’s been a journey ever since. Wow. I can’t believe I’ve been out here in Asia for a whole year. That is insane. I can’t believe it. I never, ever thought I would actually make it here, let alone live in a place like Hong Kong. Wild. Just wild.

Anyway, I spent yesterday celebrating my achievement by prepping for another job interview. Never heard back from the other place. This interview went surprisingly well. We were on the call for about an hour and 15 minutes, which is a good sign. She was very enthusiastic about my application and interview.

We were very much in agreement about our philosophies regarding workplace culture. I straight-up told her I had been in many negative work situations before and it’s part of the reason why I left the US. My old company here in HK was the same way and I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. It’s really, really, really important to me to find a non-toxic workplace where I can grow and thrive.

She said they were going to run a quick background check with my old job just to check that there is a record of me actually working there. I also gave them the name of another teacher I knew there who I know for a fact will give me a good reference. Hopefully I can clear that hurdle.

Assuming said hurdle is cleared, we will start the onboarding process this week. She wanted to get my new visa application started by Friday. I would also like to do this, mostly because I’m sick of job hunting. I’m ready to sign that two-year contract, get that visa, and lock into a new apartment lease.

I did run a background check on this company as well. I learned my lesson about that, lol. Unlike my previous company, the reviews on Glassdoor were overall very positive. There was no negative internet trail dating back 15 years following them. They also seemed to be aware of my old company’s reputation. They said it without saying it.

My hopes are high. I did get three other responses from some of the applications I sent out on Saturday. Three callbacks and about two dozen rejections, lol. I guess we will find out if my old company is going to cause me a significant problem this week. Then I’ll know whether or not I should just call it quits on Hong Kong and go somewhere else to start all over again.

Not sure how I would do that at this point since I just risked everything on HK, but I’m not going to worry about that. I’m just manifesting a positive outcome for this application. I’m manifesting a positive outcome for my life.

I’ve been out of the prison that was South Dakota for a whole year now. I know that sometimes the memories drag me back there and I still feel that pain as if it were happening to me in the present, but overall… I would say it’s getting a lot better. It’s not my every day life anymore. It’s just the old memories on replay. The longer I stay out here, the more material I collect for my “new movie.” If I can replace the bad memories with good memories, eventually the bad ones won’t bother me anymore. So the theory goes, anyway.

I think I’m doing a pretty decent job of that so far. I’m definitely getting lots of inspiration from all the characters I meet and adventures I have. Can’t really complain today, to be honest. It’s been a struggle, but it’s worth it. I’m so close now, I can taste it. The life of stability, happiness, growth, and prosperity is close at hand.

Trust. Manifest. Happiness is on the way. Happiness is here in the now.

Some days I’m just so grateful to finally be away from my old life. It was so sad and so difficult and so painful. Every day felt like a nightmare I would never wake up from. Now I’m free! I’m free! I’m finally free!

And what am I doing with that freedom? Sitting by the aircon in my tiny shoebox studio with all the lights turned off because it’s too damn hot to do anything else, lol.

Time to suck it up and go to the beach or something, lol. Why do I even live on an island if I’m not going to the beach? Ugh. I have no idea how to just be carefree and have fun, I swear. I’m always too caught up in my depression and anxiety and bad memories. No fun whatsoever.

No wonder I was so easily duped by The Russian. He promised me fun and instead it was… well… it was really something, wasn’t it? It was definitely story material. Definitely felt more like I was working than playing. Not as much romancing as I hoped for. All I learned was not to mess with the “sailors” (aka short-term visitors to HK) anymore.

Hopefully the next one who comes along will know how to actually have fun. Or maybe he’ll be another creep who wants to meet me at a bar full of finance bros who just want to drug and grope me like the most recent one was. Who knows? Let’s just stay open and hope for the best.

Off now. I have an apartment to clean and a long list of errands to run. Have a good day!

BLOG: Make Me An Offer I Can’t Refuse

Posted on May 31, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Hong Kong, South Dakota, TEFL, ThailandLeave a comment

Sunday.

At brunch. And by brunch, I mean I woke up at 2:30pm after staying out all night partying at the gay club and somehow dragged myself up the stairs for a Bloody Mary.

Who am I? Where am I? Ugh.

Yesterday was ridiculous. I went to the reggae festival and it was a whole thing. So in my mind, I thought… outdoors, sunshine, everyone dressed in rainbows, chill vibes. I brought a blanket in my bag for the lawn and an extra bottle of water. Then I got there and it was a bunch of super upright people standing around in a dark room. Very jarring. Not what I was expecting at all.

I immediately freaked out and had an anxiety attack. I really, really, really struggle to face down a room full of strangers like that alone. It’s literally, like, my worst fear on earth. I cannot handle it at all. So I freaked out and left. I ran all the way back to the safety of my apartment (which was like 5 blocks away) and calmed myself down. I gave myself a pep talk, then I went back for the headliners. I’m not going to miss out on seeing reggae legends live just because I had some stupid anxiety attack.

I went back and enjoyed the last two sets. I still hate being alone in a room full of people like that. It was like… really hard. I felt more like I was trying to just get through the experience rather than fully enjoying it. Not quite the chill, relaxed rastamon vibes I was going for, but whatever.

Anyway, yeah, I got through it, so… yeah.

Afterwards, I went to the Cantina. There I made a new friend. We went to the gay club together and danced all night. I think we were out until like 4 or 5am? Something like that. Don’t really remember tbh. I just remember dancing a lot, because that’s what I always do when I’m there. I love the gay club. It’s very safe there. I can be in there surrounded by beautiful men without having to worry about anything.

That being said, I do have some weird interactions there. There are the regulars, of course, but then there are the weird tourists who come through. They tend to be… how do I say this politely? Somewhat messy.

I meet a lot of people who pretend to be one person in their every day lives and then live a secret life they are ashamed of by night. I find it very sad sometimes. They should just be free to be themselves and live their truths without fear or shame. Instead they are hiding in the darkness, crying on my shoulder in the bathroom while coked up to the max. Sad.

We still have fun anyway. It is what it is.

One thing that bothers me still is when I tell people there I am bi and they ask me to “pick a side.” That’s literally not the point at all. The point is to have whatever you want at the all-you-can-eat buffet. It’s not to order the same meal from the same restaurant. Plus, it’s not really about the person’s gender. It’s about their soul. Yeah, I mean, sometimes, I can be really shallow and go for attractive people simply because they are attractive. But when it comes to a potential partner, I’m looking for a soul match. I’m not so concerned with the packaging it comes in.

That being said… I think it’s very obvious what my preference is. I just don’t have enough experience with women to really talk about it. Men are easy. They will never say no to sex. They will literally stick their dick into a pie. They do not care at all. Women, however… women are not so easy. That’s why I’ve never managed to bed one. It’s too much goddamn work! Yet somehow, you do not see me turning my ability to fuck a woman into a memeable grift preying on lonely, vulnerable teenagers. Amazing.

I have been attracted to women before but I have not been intimate with one, so I do not actually know what I prefer. I mean, you know, maybe I think I want to be with a man, but it’s only because I don’t have any experience with women. Maybe I’ll meet a woman who blows my mind. Who knows? I think it’s best to stay open.

Anyway, blah blah blah, no one cares. What’s important is the results of my job application spamming yesterday. I can’t remember if I said this, but I heard back from one place almost immediately. Like maybe one hour later? They sent me a list of questions, I filled it out, and they sent me back an offer immediately.

The other place did not do that. They interviewed me, but they never put any kind of offer on the table. They didn’t even tell me what kind of contract they would theoretically offer me. They just said they would call me at the end of the month, which they have yet to do.

The current offer on the table is pretty solid. The hours are better, the pay is better, and they have health insurance. They’re also offering me a two year contract, which is great because most of the apartments here ask for a two-year lease.

It looks very stable. I want stable. I want to be able to work and not worry about it. I’m definitely a commitment phobe because the idea of me signing away my life for two years freaks me out, but it means two years in Hong Kong, and that’s what I want.

Also, I hate job hunting. I don’t want to job hunt anymore. I just want to lock in. Show up and do the damn thing. Get my money and go home. I don’t want to stress out, I don’t want to think about it, I don’t want to take it home, I don’t want any drama whatsoever. I just want to clock in, make money, clock out, and go home to write and eat in my fabulous apartment. The end.

I have to complete a little English test for them, which I am not in the right frame of mind to do because I am hungover, but I will do it anyway. It’s not hard. It’s just correcting spelling and punctuation and grammar and all that. Very easy.

Easy except for the part where they are expecting to hear from me today and all I want to do is go home and get in bed and pass out. I haven’t stayed out all night in months and now the one time I do, it’s when I suddenly and unexpectedly need to get something done on a short timeline. Ridiculous.

The tone of the email they sent back after I filled out the questionnaire was very amusing. I could tell they were familiar with my old company’s reputation because they emphasized the fact that they believe in diversity and value work-life balance. These things matter to me. That is literally the reason I left my last company, which they did ask me to explain on the questionnaire. I said I liked the job but the company wasn’t a good fit, so I left to go on an adventure and write a book about it. Now I’ve been back in HK for 6 months job hunting. The recruiter’s response was really enthusiastic. She was like, “Oh you sound like you would be perfect for our team!”

One of the things that helped me was my neighbor’s advice about embracing my Americanness. Hong Kongers love Americans, especially when it comes to English teachers.

The reason is because Hong Kongers value speed, efficiency, and directness over all things. American English tends to be extremely direct (at least if you are on the coasts), as opposed to British English, which is generally much more abstract and elaborate. British people use a lot of extra words that don’t need to be there. They use large words nobody knows the meaning of. They speak in metaphor. They will talk circles around you for 7 hours and never make their point.

Americans, especially East Coasters like myself, do not have time for any of that bullshit. Neither do Hong Kongers. Hong Kongers don’t have time for anything. They’re busy AF. You better make your point fast, or else. So I have learned they value American English more because of its efficiency. As it turns out, I also value efficiency, which is why I hated the “Fake Midwest Nice” passive-aggression so much. It’s such a waste of time. Like, why are you making everything 100x harder than it needs to be? Just be honest and direct and upfront. Stop wasting everyone’s fucking time with your crazy drama and inability to communicate. JFC. What are you even doing right now?

They’ve turned out all the lights in the restaurant. Lol. This is the hot new thing because of the energy crisis. Nothing says “l’ambiance” like candlelight, amiright?

I’ve actually gotten quite used to blackouts. They don’t happen here, but I did deal with them in India, Thailand, and Indonesia. I also dealt with them during hurricane season on the East Coast. I remember one year we didn’t have power for like 5 days. Rough. Anyway, I can handle it. Also, it’s a vibe.

When I was living in my traditional Thai-style apartment (not the giant loft) last summer, everyone in my neighborhood would turn their lights out at the same time every night and use tea lights instead. It would just get so hot outside. All you could really do was sit in front of the fan in total darkness.

Always good to know I can survive an apocalypse, I guess? Lol, it is what it is.

Soooo tired. Done writing for now. I want to finish this drink and head home. It feels like I’m at a turning point right now. A new era begins….