Tag: South Dakota

BLOG: The Haunted Island

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Sunday.

Here we are, back at my preferred brunch spot.

The ladies at the table next to me are being annoying and difficult. You know, the type that look at the menu and say, “Is there anyway I can order the XYZ, but change literally all of the ingredients so it’s actually a completely different dish that you don’t even serve here?”

LOL, that one gets me every single time. Some people are so entitled.

This is why I can’t wait tables anymore. The anger issues are real…

The same person just asked to change tables because she’s “too cold.” Yeah, maybe it’s because you’re wearing a strapless, backless, high-cut leggy dress with no underwear on? Yes, I can see that. Everyone can see that.

Just asking questions!

So Ridiculous.

Some people’s children…

Blah blah blah, enough about that. We all know you’re here because you want to read about the Full Moon Party I went to on Lamma Island yesterday. As previously mentioned, I was invited by some friends I met at the Secret Society. This is not an adventure I would have otherwise been able to brave on my own.

As you may recall, my neighbor is a big fan of Lamma Island. Now I know why. It’s easy to see why he made it into his entire personality. It’s like the Thailand of Hong Kong. They even had Big Changs and elephant pants! Love it.

Obviously, I took the opportunity to stock up on incense. I forgot to buy a fan though, which is annoying because I really need one. I guess I’ll pick that up today. Memo to myself…

Hmm… sorry, got derailed for a minute there. I had to eat my avocado toast. Now, where was I? Ah yes, Lamma Island.

I wandered about for a bit trying to get some sense of where I was. It’s a small island, but it’s very jungly. Can’t say I loved walking around alone in said jungle alone at the end of the night when I was trying to find my way back to the ferry. It was quiet. Too quiet. Like, eerily, spookily, unsettling quiet. That’s never a good sign, as far as I’m concerned. The jungle should sound like a symphony at night.

Anyway, I tried to go to the chill, local restaurant that was recommended to me at the Secret Society, but it was too full. I used the opportunity to check out the place that was described to me as “very douchey.” It was a fancy restaurant right by the sea with a lovely view and extremely overpriced menu. I loved it, lol.

And as I sat there with my glass of French rosé and my mini hummus platter, looking around at all of the douchebags surrounding me, I couldn’t help but wonder… Am I a douchebag too?

Lol, I might be!

I received the answer to this question soon after, when I finally met up with my friend and we walked down to the beach together. There, she introduced me to everyone. They were all very hippie dippie. Very relaxed, very chill. Perhaps a little too chill. It was giving Bali yoga shala vibes, which, in my experience, is never a good thing.

As we all know, as a neurodivergent person, I am extremely uptight and weird all the time. I have exactly ZERO chill. I could definitely tell some of them were put off by my general aura. I thought to myself, “Yup, I’m definitely a douchebag. It’s okay! At least I’m self-aware!”

It was in this moment I realized exactly why I love the Secret Society. They’re a bunch of uptight douchebags who don’t know how to have fun, and so am I.

This was re-confirmed to me later in the evening, when the sun was setting and it was time to stop by the beach bar. I went to shower off and change. As I was standing in the dressing room, I heard the Canadian chick talking shit about me to her American friend. I just laughed to myself. Like I’ve never had this happen to me before, right?

I waited a minute and allowed the conversation to pass. Then I walked out with my head held high, made direct eye-contact with her, and smiled at her in a way that said, “You know I just heard all of that right?” without me actually having to say it.

Then I walked up to the bar and bought her a drink. She tried to refuse three times, but I insisted. I said, “I’m just being nice” and gave her the same sneaky little smile again. She did not look happy AT ALL! Mwa Hahahaha! I win.

I know. Impressive, right? It’s called a Power Move. Look it up.

We all sat down around the table and began chatting again. The American guy wanted to rant about the train system in the US, but I stopped him and said, “Hey, I would love to catch up with you sometime about American politics, but right now we are in mixed company and we need to respect the other members of the group.” That worked! Shut him right down.

That was when they subtly turned the topic of conversation to my neighbor. Oh yeah, they definitely knew him. They were subtle about it, but it was obvious to me what they were doing. He must have warned them I was coming, lol.

I’m speculating this because he left to go to 7/11 about five minutes before I left to catch the ferry so he could walk out of the elevator at the same time I was walking in. He also chose to make the same trip with the exact same timing when I came home. Pretty weird coincidence after two months of avoiding me at every opportunity possible. He knows what he’s doing. I know he can hear me through the wall.

Or perhaps it wasn’t him at all. It was me all along. I’m the one who asked early in the day if any of them knew him. Of course, no one knew him at all. Sure, Jan. He talks about it all the time, but no one on this tiny little island knows him at all? Yeah, I’ve seen this tactic deployed in HK before.

They all pretended not to know him until this conversation. I am not the one who brought it up. They took care of that for me, as I knew they would.

Hahaha, suddenly I understood why that Canadian chick had such a sharp stick up her ass. She was acting WEIRD! She was not subtle about it at all. In the back of my mind I wondered if they’d had a thing at some point.

Not gonna lie, I did judge him for that. Just a little bit. Really, bro? A Canadian? I have a whole Island of Lost Guys and even I’ve never fucked a Canadian. How do you even talk dirty to them in bed? What do you say? How does that conversation go?

“Oh baby, oh baby, show me how sweet that Maple Syrup tastes.”

“Oooh yaaaahhh, dontcha know it, eh?”

Yeah, no, can’t do it. Too close to South Dakota. Not for me!

I digress. Back to whatever I was talking about before.

I would not call this an in-depth conversation. I would say they wanted to ask me one question, and one question only. They wanted to know why he talks about moving over there all the time but hasn’t done it yet. I just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something keeping him where he is right now.”

They just look at me like, “What?”

That was when the guy sitting right across the table looked right at me and gave me this weird knowing look. I looked back at him and realized he looked really familiar. Like I knew him from somewhere, but I didn’t know where. Hmmm… strange, indeed.

And that was it!

I do have a theory about that now, upon further reflection.

To me, that place felt like a dead end. You go there, you settle down, you live your little paradise Island life, and you never leave again. It’s giving Land of the Lotus Eaters vibes, you know?

I thought about the night he flipped out on me on the rooftop and realized he wasn’t actually yelling at me. He was yelling at himself. I don’t think he really wants to settle into another dead end. I think he’s like me. He’s more interested in figuring out how to elevate himself.

I could be wrong, of course. We could just be projecting random bullshit onto each other through that paper-thin, cockroach-infested wall. Who even knows at this point?

The conversation moved along and they all went their own ways shortly thereafter. They invited me to some bar for the live music, but I wanted to go off on my own.

I chatted with the bartender for a bit before heading off. As I was leaving, I said to him, “Sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

“Andrew.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk!

Now THAT… THAT was too much for me. I promptly went back down to the beach and sat alone under the full moon, drinking my Big Chang and processing all of my thoughts. I did a Moon Salutation on the shore and let my spirit become one with the sea. Then I decided to catch the ferry back home.

This was the part when I got lost in the jungle. Not fun! Not for me! Like I said, it was too quiet for me. Freaked me out. It reminded me of South Dakota, and not in a good way. All I wanted in that moment was to get the fuck off that haunted island and get back home.

That was when the freakiest part happened: a little Indian boy on an orange bicycle that looked just like Mad Dog’s appeared. He motioned for me to follow him, so I did. He led me right back to the ferry before picking up speed and disappearing somewhere far ahead. He never came back down the pier, and I didn’t see him at the end of the dock by the ferry.

SPOOKY AF!

I’m so into that shit. I love it when I have weird spiritual encounters. I mean, I definitely don’t like them when they’re happening to me in the moment because it’s pretty much always weird and freaky, but it’s always fun to write about them later!

Finally made my way home, only for my neighbor to make another one of his dramatic appearances. I just gave him the side-eye as I passed him like, “Wow, what the fuck, bro?”

I was high on the adrenaline rush of getting lost and trying to find my way home, so I went to meet my new American friend at the bar he works at on Peel Street. He promised me a free beer if I came to their anniversary party, so I took him up on the offer as a show of solidarity with my fellow Americans in Hong Kong. You know, all five of us, lol.

Peel Street was popping, but it was way too messy and overstimulating for me. Can’t do it. Not for me. Especially after the general weirdness of yesterday. I took my free beer in a to-geaux cup and headed back home. At this point, I was much calmer. Mission Accomplished!

I stayed up for awhile writing jokes to calm myself down. It felt like it took FOREVER to bring my cortisol levels back down to normal. I finally went to sleep, but did not dream that I can recall, which was a relief after all of the crazy nightmares I had this week.

Today I woke up and everything went back to normal. I did a really intense yoga session on the rooftop, took a shower, did a soothing aloe face mask, then got dressed and came out for brunch. Now I’m writing and judging the fuck out of the weird characters currently sitting in this room.

Well, Mr. Next Door, did you learn a lesson today? Just because I’m obsessed with you doesn’t mean you’re the only character on the island. Don’t take it too personally. After all, I’m not convinced it’s really you I’m obsessed with. Honestly, I think it might just be the super comfy sweatpants I stole from you. We’re in a pretty serious relationship now. I wear them like, every single day, literally.

LOL!

Okay, I’m off to bum around the Secret Society now. Oh, look, my Aussie Horse Guy is here. Fun!

Have a nice day! I know mine will be…

BLOG: Turn the Page

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Saturday morning.

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

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

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

It is what it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

End Chapter. New Chapter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life goes on…

BLOG: The Judgmental Fox

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Wednesday.

Currently in my apartment having a coffee. It’s been a strange week so far. Things are getting better for me in general, but I’m still not where I want to be in life. I choose to be patient with myself and give myself the space and time I need to grow. I’m only 15 months into my new life. It’s okay to be at peace with where I am now.

Monday was weird. I went up to the Secret Society, which I am rapidly figuring out is not a “Bloody Mary’s-Bangkok” type of situation. The bartenders and other members are really forcing me out of my habit of sitting alone in the corner writing about people instead of talking to them. It is a social club, after all. I joined so I could be social, even if I feel awkward and totally out of my comfort zone. It’s not that bad, really.

I find quite a bit of value in being around non-creative people. They are the consumers of creative content, after all. I was invited to sit at a table with some people, so I asked them what they like to watch in terms of movies and TV. I grabbed a napkin and wrote down all the titles so I could study the screenplays. The list is pretty solid, actually. I was quite impressed. They have good taste, even if they may not think so.

Unfortunately for me, one of the people sitting at this table was Mr. Bathroom. I am still not a fan. He, however, is clearly obsessed with me now. I treat it like an opportunity to set boundaries and say No.

On this evening, I was explaining how artistic patronage works and how I’ve used it in the past to accomplish various creative tasks, such as writing a book. I could see the wheels turning inside Mr. Bathroom’s head as I explained, which is never good.

He looked at me and said, “Okay, let’s role play this scenario. Let’s say I’m the rich guy…”

I already knew where he was going with this. I’m sure you can guess too.

“I get you your own apartment with a studio space for your writing and art. I pay for everything, I visit you whenever I want, and if you don’t produce anything, I take it all away.”

His friend looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “That sounds like a Mistress,” she said. She turned her head back to look at me. “You know what he’s really saying right? He expects sex in return.”

O RLY?! You don’t fucking say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Right,” I said. “So the only problem with your ‘roleplay scenario’ is that I’m not interested in you, like at all. Also, you have a long-term partner you live with, whose children you take care of. I think you should focus on your family instead.”

He just looked at me with that little sparkle in his eyes and said, “Okay, your loss.”

Hmm… somehow I highly doubt that!

He got up and left. The woman then said, “This is why I’m independent. I make my own money. I control my own fate. I never have to rely on men in that way. Neither should you.”

Noted! I agree COMPLETELY!

Seriously, though. How does this guy keep getting worse? ¿Como se dice “scumbag” en español?

Anyway, thank you for giving me yet another push I need in life! I really need the motivation right now. I need to get cracking on the whole job/visa paperwork thing. I took my little vacation from reality and used my time to work on my book. Now it’s time to get serious again.

Also, thank you for reminding me why I still continue to come back here in spite of the fact that I don’t necessarily like every person I meet. I don’t have to like them. I just have to be in the same room with them. It is what it is.

Yeah, I’m definitely learning a lot. I appreciate the fact that they are welcoming of me in their space. In South Dakota I was treated like the town punching bag and in Bangkok I was treated with suspicion. Very difficult to network and make proper connections of any kind. This is a very important life skill to have. I feel like I am learning how to do it when I go up there, for better or for worse.

Luckily, right at that moment, another lady walked into the bar and approached the table. The three of them all knew each other, but I had never met her before. She said hello and politely introduced herself, then essentially cut me out of the conversation. I was relieved to be ignored for a moment, so I took the opportunity to go outside for a cigarette break.

I got into a conversation with the guys standing outside about James Bond. They had a completely inaccurate reading of the Daniel Craig films, but I didn’t try to argue with them. I just listened. Sure, I was sitting there thinking, “Wrong. Wrong. You’re so wrong!” but it doesn’t matter. The point is to take a step back and listen.

One of them lives in the same neighborhood as me, so after the bar closed, we walked down the hill together. We went to the corner bar on Peel Street and chatted for a very long time. So long that we closed down that bar as well. Then we just sat on Peel Street chatting for awhile. He walked me home. I realized when I came in that it was FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING! What!!!! Disaster!

This one was pushing me to look for marketing jobs. He says his company in particular isn’t into AI and believes in human creativity and storytelling. He was going on and on about the importance of storytelling and how having creative minds of the team is extremely valuable to people like himself who don’t think that way. He was encouraging me to get back on the job hunt and go for this industry. He said, “I know we are drinking, but I can tell from our brief conversation that you have a significant mountain of talent and skill you are not using right now. You should be using it, especially in this day and age. We need people like you now more than ever.”

I thought to myself, “He is right. Thank you again, Secret Society, for pushing me to better than I am. I came to climb the ladder, they see it for what it is, and now they are pulling me up with them. This is great! Much better than that bucket of crabs back in South Dakota. All they did was drag me down into that miserable blackhole with them.”

I made a note of this and went to bed. When I woke up again a few hours later, I felt an extremely strong urge to make peace with my dad. I talked to him a little bit then decided to go out for a walk “with” him. I went to get my glasses fixed, stopped at the bookstore, then picked up some Lebanese food for lunch. He lived in Lebanon for a year, so I always feel closer to him in spirit when I go out for Lebanese. It was a good day. It was peaceful.

My trip to the bookstore was fun. I visualized my book on display at the front of the shop, picked up a new notebook to write said book in, and went to look for coloring books. They only had the kid kind, not the therapeutic adult kind, but it doesn’t really matter. A coloring book is a coloring book. The first one they pulled out for me was a Dr. Seuss coloring book. I just looked at it and teared up and whispered softly, “Daddy?” He used to always read Dr. Seuss to me when I was little. I just got so overwhelmed in that moment. I mean, I’m sitting here in tears just writing about it. Imagine trying not to break down in tears in the middle of a store in Central during lunch hour. Yeah. It was A LOT.

Somehow I pulled it together long enough to pay for the books and get out. I picked up my food and went home to cry into my chicken shawarma, lol. I did some yoga, went to the shrine to make an offering, and then decided to stay in for the night and watch TV.

I got antsy after awhile and decided to head over to the Cantina around 10pm. My friends were working and I knew it would be empty. I was hoping to finish my new Island of Lost Guys script, but I realized I’m nowhere near completing it. Mostly, I just felt relief that whatever weird fixation I briefly developed with my neighbor got poured out onto the page and is no longer negatively affecting me.

I don’t really care about him anymore. He’s disappeared from my life now. I’m just keeping the sweatpants as a souvenir. I’m also keeping the weird little stuffed animal he gave me way back in the Spring after one of our first conversations. He called it “The Judgmental Fox.” It’s a little white fox with crazy eyes. I set it high up on the shelf so it can look down at me and judge me in that very English way. He said it’s supposed to be a reminder to hold myself to a higher standard and take myself more seriously because I’m always being watched and judged.

At first, I was like, “Uhhhh…. Okay?” but now I understand what he was saying. I just had to spend more time in the Mid-Levels, I guess. I finally get it. I am definitely being watched and judged at all times. Luckily for me, it seems like the judgment is skewing towards “Extremely Skilled, Talented, and Valuable, but Without Direction, Purpose, and Opportunity.”

I would definitely call that an improvement over my South Dakota days when the judgment skewed towards “CrAzY bItCh!” Yeah, of course I look crazy to a bunch of negative, ignorant people who will never leave their sad little town. That doesn’t mean I have to define myself that way. I was just trapped out there for so long I completely forgot who I was and how to make proper use of my skills and talents.

Now I’m in a better place. I just have to pull myself up again. It is what it is.

I can do this. I know it. I made it this far. I’m not giving up. This is my life now. I am here by choice. I have the opportunity to do anything I want. I just have to give myself a real chance and go for it.

Thank you, Mr. Judgmental Fox. I appreciate you now that I see what you did there. I’m sending you back that same energy now. I wish you well on your spiritual journey, wherever it may take you in life.

Thank you.

BLOG: The Hong Kong Judging Club

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Friday.

At the brunch spot. It’s about 4pm. I decided to eat before I go out tonight because I have learned my lesson, theoretically.

The server is from Nepal. I chat with her every time I come here. She’s pretty cool. She just asked me for my contact info. She wants to meet me on her day off so she can sit down with me and tell me her story. She offered to pay me to write it for her, but I told her she can just gift me a bottle of wine instead.

She has told me before that she sends most of the money she makes working here in Hong Kong back home to her family in Nepal. I think we can all agree they need that money more than I do right now. Do I need money? Yes, of course I do. Do I need money badly enough to take it from a Nepalese person after a major catastrophic disaster directly caused by climate change wiped out dozens of villages and killed thousands of people?

No. No, I do not.

Honestly, she doesn’t even have to bring me the wine. It would be an honor for me to sit down with her and give her a chance to share her story and speak her truth. I am flattered that she asked me to take down her life story. She doesn’t have to give me anything in return. I know she feels like she should pay me for any and all services rendered, but I’m not taking it. I refuse.

It is what it is.

Now for the juicy stuff. And by that I mean, the Secret Society content we are all waiting for…

So, first thing is first, our friend from the bathroom is still a problem. I saw him at The Wolf on my way up to the Mid-Levels. Without revealing too much, I will explain that The Wolf is located on a corner with one side that opens directly to the street. I usually walk by there on my way up the hill to check who is in there. I pretend like I’m not looking, but I am 100% always looking!

On this evening, Mr. Bathroom was sitting there street-side with two of his friends. I walked right by him, heard him speaking Spanish, and recognized his voice. I pretended I hadn’t heard anything and kept staring straight ahead as I walked past. When I got on the escalator and was far enough up so as to no longer be seen, I peaked into the bar and confirmed that it was indeed him.

As soon as I saw him, I thought to myself, “He’s going to follow me up to the Secret Society. I bet any amount of money he’s going to finish this drink and suggest to his friends they move on. I know it. I just know it.”

As per usual, I was right in my assumption. I walked into the Secret Society and he showed up with his friends about 10-15 minutes later.

Like, OF COURSE he followed me. Of course he did! He knows I don’t like him or respect him and that I think he’s a disgusting pig. Why wouldn’t he follow me?

Men are weird like that. I told my neighbor I think he’s hot and he literally vanished into thin air overnight. I told this Finance Bro I think he sucks, so now he’s following me around like a stray dog. Ridiculous.

Auntie Bella WAS right: If you want real results with a man, Call Him Ugly.

I decided to ignore this intrusion and chat with my English and Irish banker friends instead. They were sitting with a friend who I had not previously met before. He was wearing floral swim trunks and a t-shirt. He told me he just got back from two months in Thailand. Lucky him!

He told me he “works with horses.” I googled him this morning and that’s… definitely an understatement, lol. I will not go into further detail because one of the conditions of my membership at this establishment (or so I perceive) is that I do not doxx the other members.

This establishment is the sort of place where the big wigs like to hang out without having to feel “special,” or however you want to say it. In their lives and their jobs, they are Very Important. At this place… they are just normal people out having the craic at the pub after work. They will be vague about what they do for work, they may or may not give you a fake name to throw you off their trail (I am guilty of doing this myself, so I get it), and they will undersell themselves every time. They could be the top person in their field in the entire fucking world and they will not tell you.

Do you follow me?

Yeah. Right. That’s why I’m calling it “The Secret Society.” It literally is what it is.

I digress. This gentleman did allude to the fact that he was kind of a big deal multiple times, but he kept derailing my questions about his job because he didn’t want to talk about it. Obviously, I thought this was quite hilarious when I looked him up later. I just laughed when I saw his CV like, “This is the same man I just met wearing floral swim trunks to the bar in his post-Thailand haze?”

As the kids say… Sometimes it really do be like that tho. *shrugs*

He asked me to come home with him, but I said no, because duh. Then he wanted to know if I would ever date a man twenty years older than myself (obviously I already have) and if I am looking for a boyfriend. I said, “Maybe, but it depends on what you’re offering me.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to have fun. Get me out of this goddamn bar. Let’s go have fun adventures around Hong Kong. I’m fun to have on your arm at a really boring party. I’m a member of the HKJC: The Hong Kong Judging Club.”

He gave me a little smile and took down my number, then left to walk up the hill to his luxury apartment or whatever. I guess we’ll see what happens now. Haven’t heard from him yet! Next time remind me to call him ugly…

LMFAO!

Yeah, I know, it’s not great, but it is what it is. Banging random hot sexy beefcakes is fun, but it would be way more fun to have a rich boyfriend who takes me to horse races, yacht parties, and on impromptu trips to Thailand.

IT IS WHAT IT IS!

After he left, I realized I was alone in the bar with Mr. Bathroom, his friends, and a lady I’ve seen hanging around him many times. She says they are “very close friends.” Mmmmhmmmm. I bet you are, Ms. “Loudly Brags About Her Sex Toy Collection To Anyone in the Bar Who May or May Not Want to Hear This Information.”

Anyway, this gangbang-in-the-making had “NOPE” written all over it, so I left the bar and headed on back down the hill.

I stopped at the Cantina to visit with my friend, then ran into the SoHo Queen at the corner bar on Peel Street on my way home. Naturally, she wanted to hang out, so I agreed, but only upon the condition that she never take me back to Wan Chai ever again.

Instead we went to a random bar around the block and got shitfaced. I love that lady. She’s definitely scary and crazy and ridiculous, but she’s also a motherfucking gangsta-ass bitch and I have nothing but respect for her.

I know, I sound like a shallow social-climber who only cares about money, power, and status. What can I say? I just spent 17 years of my life living in South Dakota, being treated like shit and kicked around for sport by the dumbest of the dumb and the lowest of the low. We all know I’m better than that.

As we have seen by the EXTREME reactions to my writing in multiple parts of the world, I am a very powerful person. At this point in my life, I have simply chosen to align myself with the people I see as my equals in this world. In order to become my best self, I must surround myself with other powerful people who can elevate me to the level I should have been on this entire time. I’ve spent enough time running around with the riff-raff down by the docks. That’s not who I really am deep down in my soul.

And honestly? I just want the lifestyle I grew up with back. I’m sick of struggling. I’m sick of working low-level jobs that any idiot could do for scraps from the table. I’m sick of being surrounded by people who act like crabs in a bucket. I want to climb to the top of the Peak, dress up in all white, and look down at everyone in my old life like they are nothing but tiny little insignificant nobodies to me. I want to get to a point in my life where nobody can ever touch me again. I don’t know what I have to do to get to that point, but I do know the entire idea of it is motivating AF. I didn’t come to Hong Kong to be a teacher. I came to climb to the top of the motherfucking mountain. So that is what I am going to do…

Off now. I should be finishing my Island of Lost Guys story, but I’m still letting it simmer for a bit. My Neighbor’s character has a lot of things to say, I guess. Let the man speak!

In the meantime, I will enjoy this sudden role reversal where I am the one who is now sitting up on the hill dressed up in white looking down at him. Just kidding, of course. Afternoon tea on the veranda is soooooo not my thing! I much prefer a balcony decorated with Mardi Gras beads where I can chill in my mask with a frozen daiquiri and look down at the plebs drunkenly wandering the streets far below me. As we say in New Orleans, laissez les bons temps rouler!

It is what it is… 🙂 🙂 🙂

Welcome to the Hong Kong Judging Club!

BLOG: One Week’s Worth of Posts

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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

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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

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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

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Friday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home Sweet Home!

Now we just have to figure out how to stay…

No worries. Law of Attraction vibes only!

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

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

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

Strange.

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

BLOG: And The Balls Win Again

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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!

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Tuesday.

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

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

Should be a good time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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