Tag: Thailand

BLOG: Monday Blues

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Monday.

I am back at the coffee shop after a two-week hiatus. I haven’t been feeling well, so I have been staying in my apartment in the mornings. It’s good to be back at the coffee shop. The Krewe that works here is super fun. Plus, the theme is cats, dogs, and other adorable animals. Pet-friendly! Love!

Yesterday was somewhat frustrating for me. I went out with another friend, which I found to be somewhat frustrating. A few months back, he helped me make a plan for my book. Now he acts like he doesn’t remember. He doesn’t check in on my progress at all. He just lectures me, just like everyone else. It’s starting to get really old.

I decided to be kind to myself this morning and give myself the gift of delicious iced coffee instead of getting mad about it. It’s frustrating, but I just have to get over it. People tend to be very tightly-wound here, if you take my meaning. A lot of workaholics and high-achievers. They can be very judgmental sometimes.

I think they are just measuring progress by the wrong metrics. For example, in this last year alone, I have run a blog and IG account, written a book, designed a new website, made a new business plan, prepped half a dozen screenplay treatments, completed a second yoga teacher training course, and traveled to 7 countries. That’s a lot!

So it’s just a matter of translating that into cash money, which is… much harder to do than I realized. Still, I’ve made it this far. There is no turning back now. The only way through is forward.

It’s a weird position to be in. When I was in Thailand, I felt quite comfortable doing absolutely nothing all day. Life moved at a slow pace. I had my little daily routine. Coffee stand in the morning to write, bar at night to collect stories. Eat, drink, smoke, have a bit o’ craic with the lads, and be merry. All that jazz.

But as time went on, it started to feel like the Land of the Lotus Eaters. It was like being trapped in a time warp. Every day started to feel the same. It was too much like South Dakota. I started losing my inspiration fast. I realized I couldn’t stay there and live like that forever. I had to come back here to Hong Kong and learn how to be a real, functioning adult person who has a professional career in a writing-adjacent field.

Unfortunately, as inspired as I was to climb straight to the top of The Peak, I’ve ended up plateauing instead. I can’t quite elevate myself the way I was hoping. I’m stuck at this same level, trapped in this same routine, endlessly overwhelmed as I struggle to figure out my next steps forward.

I think to myself, “What on earth did I get myself into?” Especially when my friends sit there across the table from me and judge me for being stuck in the position I’m in. It’s frustrating. I don’t want to be this person. I have a vision board.

Honestly it’s still sinking in for me that I even made it this far. 7 countries in a year? Seriously? And I lived in both Hong Kong and Bangkok? That’s insane. I never thought I would see the day. I guess you could say I’m still frozen in shock. I’m here but I can’t even really enjoy it because it’s such a shock to my system. I suppose that’s just what happens when you move abroad. You think it will be so glamorous and then you find out it’s not. It’s just regular everyday life, but everything is so much harder.

Anyway, I’m working on it. The goal is there. The plan is there. The vision is there. It’s just taking a bit more time to manifest than I thought. It’s fine. Everything will be fine. Focus on the vision but be open to new opportunities. You never know what will pop up.

I’ve decided this week is my “Week of No Regrets.” I will do something different every day that inspires me or pushes me out of my comfort zone. I feel like I’m missing out on certain aspects of Hong Kong because I’m always so deep in my feelings. I should just go be deep in my feelings at the beach on a random island instead. Change it up. Use my opportunity to my advantage instead of being depressed every day.

Be present in the moment, etc, etc.

I should go see a fortune teller or something. I just feel so lost right now.

BLOG: Just on My Way to Pick Up Some Sausage

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Saturday.

I am at the bottomless brunch. I am way too fucked up to be here without my sunglasses on. It’s a lot. The Beach Boys is playing on the radio. It’s a whole thing with my dead dad. I can’t even.

What did I do last night? Oh my goodness.

I sat in the bar waiting all night to catch some fish. Nothing interesting swam my way, so I decided to move along back down the hill. Went to the Cantina. Met some random American from Tennessee who was in town on business. Took him to the Honky Tonk place. Ditched him there. Went to the gay club. Danced my face off. I think maybe I brought some random guy in there with me and made him feel safe enough to part ways? It is what it is.

Came home at god even knows what time. I drank so many dranks. So many dranks. I am still drinking the dranks. It’s… bad, yeah. It’s really bad. Okay!

Went out to get McDonald’s and ran into my neighbor on the way. That was very unexpected. I was not planning to see him when I was drunk and on my way to get a sausage. I had a whole UFC White House Front Lawn Fight Night Special planned for him. It was supposed to be Uncle Sam vs The Schlong from Hong Kong! Like *puts on Space Jam voice* “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble!” And then the music plays.

Yeah, he’s into sports and fighting and shit, he’ll get it. He would laugh at this! British people LOVE fighting! It’s like, in all the old-timey shows. They even have a whole holiday dedicated to their love of fighting. Yeah, it’s called Boxing Day. Duh!

Anyway, I was very shocked to see him somewhere that was not the rooftop, especially at 4:30am. Why is he even awake? Is he watching soccer? Sorry, I mean football. Yeah, I say “football” now. I’m so cultured now that I’ve lived abroad for a year. *tosses hair back*

Yeah, it was very off-script. I was mad at him again. Excuse me, sir? I hired you to be a background extra in this picture. You’re supposed to fit in naturally with the scenery, not show up in places you’re not supposed to be and make a whole scene. It’s not about you, it’s about our leading actress Betsey Horton over here. She’s the star of this show, okay? So just stay in the background and don’t make a scene.

Bahahahaha. He would love this. He would eat this up and leave no crumbs! What can I say? I know actors pretty well thanks to my old friend Tom de La Salle. So moody, so changeable, so many personalities, so many potential ideas to project upon this blank slate of a perfect male form. It is what it is!

Much better than mooning over Andrew, honestly. Ugh, I just CANNOT with that man anymore. Never again. Two books is enough. We’re not coming back for a third.

You know who would love the entire concept of Hong Kong as a pirate colony? One of my many exes. His name rhymes with “He’s got a really big dick.” Some might call him Merrick. I call him a douchebag (and an asshole!). It is what it is.

Anyway, he would love Hong Kong as a pirate colony. He would say to me, “I am not surprised to hear you’re living in a place that requires you to hire a set of beefcakes to carry you up the hill.”

I would say, “I wouldn’t treat another human being that way. It’s against the Geneva Convention. I am a strong ally and advocate for human rights.”

He would say, “Stop kinkshaming me! What if some men are into carrying beautiful women up hill on luxurious chairs? What’s wrong with it if both parties are consenting and someone is getting paid fairly for their time?”

“Oh, ok. Come here and start your own luxury chair lift business. You can make a lot of money off of Western tourists looking for a real, authentic colonial experience. Next stop: Opium Den!”

Ha ha, very funny.

Like, why am I even lying to myself right now? We all know there is literally nothing in life I would love more than to have two professional male entertainers (who are being fairly compensated for their time) carry me up these ridiculous stairs in a fabulously luxury chair. Like maybe one of those old-timey Roman-style ones with a variety of cushions and the chiffon curtains to block out the sunlight?

It is what it is!!!!

Don’t lie to yourself, Betsey. Just be who you are deep down in your heart. It’s okay if that person enjoys watching sexy hot beefcakes dance on stage in the Magic Mike Live show. You know, or maybe like The Thunder From Down Under, coming soon to a sleazy casino in Macau!

It is what it is!

Omg, I thought I could do the bottomless deal, but I can’t. I need to go home and go to sleep right now. I cannot even. One drink is enough for me right now.

Hopefully I will not run into my neighbor, who has at least seven personalities that I have seen (so far). You gotta watch out for those actors. They will change their shit up on you every single time.

One minute you’re in a romcom having a silly meet-cute on the stairs, the next he’s a backstabbing villain in a spy thriller, then he’s in army cosplay with a big gun doing Muay Thai on a boat, then he’s out here looking like a candy cane modeling some striped jacket, and the next minute he’s yelling at me about all the weird, random judgments about my life that he feels qualified to make specifically because he’s British. Then he’s all quiet and weird and guarded. Then he’s hiding in his trailer being a Diva. Then he’s out at 4:30am picking up sausage from McDonald’s. Like, what is even happening with this character right now? Why does he always make me feel like I’m in a movie?

Ridiculous.

You don’t see me threatening to call his sister up and be like, “Is your brother always this fucking annoying?” I don’t have to do that because I know what it’s like to have a brother, and I love him more than anyone else in the world, but the answer is definitely 100% YES, brothers are always annoying. It is what it is.

I’m so ready to blow this taco stand. When can we get on the next flight to Thailand? I’m ready to bang cock in Bangkok! LOL!

That song literally gets better with age. It will never get old. It’s an amazing guide to living life abroad, lololol.

Yup, definitely way too fucked up to be out in public without sunglasses on. It is what it is.

My life is a comedy routine! Come laugh at this ridiculous clown show, please!

HA HA HA HA HA!

Just think, I live in Hong Kong and I’m not even out on a yacht committing financial fraud right now. You know it’s still Friday night in New York? We still have time to get one last shade trade in before market close!

Snort snort, oink oink.

Hahaha!

Just think, we could be doing crimes on a boat right now, but we’re not. We’re sitting in Central drinking shitty prosecco, which I definitely just accidentally spelled as “prosexxo” because “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye came on the radio.

See, I told you the universe is calling me back to Thailand! I know it! I saw a vanity plate that said “HERMES” last night! It’s time to go live it up Irish Mafia Style, which apparently means taking shots of Fireball at some random expat dive bar in Thailand while the former owner shoots off a taser at the sky.

That’s a real, true story. I lived that. I did. I used to be so boring and live in bumfuck nowhere, South Dakota. Now I’m out running around with all the riff-raff down by the docks and living it up on rooftops in Asia and not even taking full advantage of the experience by doing crimes on a boat. What is that?

I’m not really the crime-committing type myself. I much prefer to watch other people commit crimes and then laugh them when they get caught because they are stupid. Is that a thing I can do? Is that a real job? Uh, yeah, I think it is, actually, yes. Does anyone know if the Wall Street Journal is hiring?

LOL!

Okay, there is a man out here with full on punk-style spiked hair, wearing all Adidas, taking pictures of random street corners in Hong Kong like it’s an interesting experience. Must be from the Mainland, lol!

Off we go. Ta ta!

BLOG: Men Aren’t Lonely Enough

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Friday.

Here I am at the Secret Society. It’s just me and a room full of old men, as per usual. Nothing interesting to eavesdrop on so far. Mostly just World Cup chatter. Snoozefest!

How is the situation with my neighbor? Oh, well… just full of ups and downs, as per usual. Now that I know he has been monitoring me so closely these last few months, I decided to return that energy and put him under observation for the week.

As it turns out, he is very boring. All he does is work and go to the gym and sit on the rooftop smoking with his ear pods in while staring at his phone. Talk about living life on Zombie Mode. What are you even staring at on that phone, bro?

Last night, he left a single protein shake on the stairwell by the communal trash area. It was just like… the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. This man is not lonely enough! No wonder he’s invested so much time into judging me. I am way more exciting than he is.

Anyway, his new nickname is “The Double Double” since he’s so stacked. Hello, Beefcake! Honestly, didn’t really notice it before since he was hired to be a background extra on set, but now that I’ve seen him up close, I’m ready to offer him a leading role. He could definitely play the bad guy opposite my good guy Russian in my Spy Thriller. For sure.

Also, just to explain this joke to Americans: At McDonald’s in Hong Kong, they have a late-night “Double Double” deal, which is two double cheeseburgers stacked on top of each other, no bun in between. Just four stacked beef patties.

Hehehehehehe.

Yeah, I mean, he’s pretty annoying, to be honest, but honestly… think about this right now. How did I get so lucky as to move to Hong Kong, fuck up everything, get a second chance, and then move in right next door to a hot and sexy beefcake/actor?

Like, that’s not even real. I could make a whole movie out of that right now and none of it even has to be true. It just has to be marketable to single women between the ages of 30-45 who dream of leaving it all behind and moving to the other side of the world.

Grand!

We might even be able to push that age range up. After all, he’s the one who told me to “cruise the mom’s groups for gigs.” Maybe he’s never taken down a fully- grown mountain lion, but he has clearly wrestled a few cougars. I really feel like we could capture the magic of that dynamic if we market it to a slightly older audience.

You’re only as young as you feel, ladies! It is what it is.

So, you know, he can keep acting weird and giving me the silent treatment. I don’t need him to be real. I just need him to stand there and be hot so I can project whatever story I need/want at the time onto him. That’s literally what actors are for. Duh!

Anyway, he did unblock me, but he did not add me back. Then he tried to shoulder check me when I passed him on the rooftop last night, but I was carrying my yoga bag so I basically just used it to body check him right back. Then I called him a “mean person” and went to set up my mat in the garden to meditate.

He is a mean person. He’s so judgy. British people and their judgments. Ugh! I’m starting to understand why I actually secretly hated studying English Literature so much back in university. The English… grrr… yeah, wow, the more of them I meet, the more I understand why I’m eligible for DAR membership. We had the American Revolution for a reason. That shit is real AF.

I know, it’s a whole fantasy. They brainwash us, truly. They convince us we want a Mr. Darcy, a Mr. Rochester, a Dorian Gray. But here’s the problem: they’re always hiding something in their attics. You think he’s being mean and condescending because he likes you, but really he’s just a jerk who is hiding a secret ex-wife up in the attic. It is what it is.

It is what it is.

I know, this one claims to be different. He says, “I’m not English, I’m a Hong Konger.” Like… okay… so as a person whose family came to American on a boat way before the Revolution, I don’t even have the energy to unpack the multiple layers of colonial processes happening over there right now. All I can say is… that explains why you’re so comfortable sitting on your little rooftop looking down at everyone else. It is what it is, bro.

I’m calling him the Schlong from Hong Kong because he’s such a fucking ding dong. It’s not racist. He’s white. Also, I can tell by his whole vibe that he was totally stoked to watch the White House Lawn UFC Fight with his bros at the latest stag do in Thailand. As we all know, no one is more oppressed in the modern day world than the white man. That’s what all of this is really about!

He’s just jealous of my freedom. It is what it is.

Anyway, this is lame AF.

Everyone is outside socializing while I sit here and write and watch. It is what it is. I have made peace with it.

Also, I just realized I desperately need to replace the blue light glasses I lost two weeks ago. It’s becoming a real problem. I definitely remember why I bought them in the first place. The radiation is just… too much.

Okay, okay, they’re talking about Hedge Funds now. Finally, something juicy. Why else even live in Hong Kong if not to eavesdrop on Finance Bros openly bragging about how efficiently they are running their crime schemes from a luxury yacht?

Oh, now it’s back the World Cup. So boring. Ugh.

Ugh, my brain already feels like it’s melting. Casually hanging out in a room full of wealthy men on a drug-fueled power trip is not for the faint of heart. Trust me.

Oh lord, here come more of them.

Funny.

Something, something, AI… something, something, evening the playing field in third world war-torn countries, something something, I look like I’m trying to listen way too hard and I’m definitely giving myself away right now by doing so.

Honestly, I really think people underestimate how hard it is to actually be a good spy. This is a real skillset. It’s so much more than just picking up James Bond at a bar and listening to him spill all of his international secrets while talking in his sleep. Who knew?

Omg, I could be narrating a nature documentary right now.

*puts on fancy posh British accent*

“Here we have an elder finance bro, a real British lad who has been occupying the island of Hong Kong since ye olde colonial days. Now we see him passing down his ancient wisdom to newest crop of finance bros, armed with nothing but AI and a sense of entitlement. See how he spreads his knowledge to ensure the continuation of the species…”

LMFAO!!!

I am actually hilarious. Tortured genius? Yes, definitely. Rising star with so much to offer the world? Also yes. Bored AF and ready to go to bed? Girl, yasss, am I fucking ever!!!

Now I understand why it’s so hard for me to get married. Whoever does it better be ready to sign up for a whole “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” type of situation. Domestic violence on an airplane involving the children not included, of course. That was actually crazy.

I’m actually getting bored right now. I miss Bangkok, tbh. Vibes.

Speaking of Bangkok, I passed a vanity plate on the way up here that said, “Hermes.” Something tells me Bangkok is thinking of me too, lol…

Okay, time to go. I’m bored AF and it’s still way early. So lame. Literally snoozefest. It is what it is. 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: 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: Members Only Club

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Saturday.

I am at the brunch spot again. I don’t know why I’m here. There’s construction across the way and it’s really, really loud. I guess I am here because they do a good Bloody Mary. It’s not quite right but it is what it is.

Last night I decided to return to The Sketchy Place. I don’t know why. I felt something summon me there, so I decided to solve the mystery of this place.

As it turns out, this was a good plan. They remembered me, and I actually remembered most of them quite well. As it turns out, this is not just a neighborhood bar. This is a private expat club, which they invited me to join. They gave me a card with a QR code on it. The link took me to a membership form, which I filled out. Now I am a member of this secret expat club in Hong Kong. I get to use the Clubhouse. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.

Welcome to “networking.” I don’t have to like these people. I just have to hang out in the same rooms as they do. This is how I get a job, and maybe even an invitation to lunch at the Foreign Correspondents Club, which is insanely expensive to join, by the way. It’s basically only for rich people. I’ve already tried to attend a conference there and they rejected me. I’m not getting in there without an invitation from someone who knows someone. It is what it is.

The person who gave me the card said they had lunch at the FCC the other day. So jealous. Y’all need to look this place up. It’s insane. They brand themselves as “probably the most famous press club in the world.” Oh, the irony of it all.

This feels like a message from my dad. He used to take me to lunch and events at the National Press Club in DC all the time. I can just hear him saying, “You have to join the FCC! You can go eat lunch at the clubhouse!”

Membership is much, much cheaper in Thailand. I should have joined when I was there. Ugh.

I haven’t thought about those days in a long time. I remember now. Georgetown. K-Street. Federal Triangle. Walks up and down the Mall. Weekends at the Smithsonian. Watching the fireworks from the rooftop of the Kennedy Center on the 4th of July. What a time to be alive.

I didn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. I long to have the luxuries of those days again. I have no choice but to sell my soul for them. So here I am, selling my soul to join the secret expat club, all so I can live in a gigantic luxury apartment in the Mid-Levels and never have to shower over a toilet ever again.

I’m disappointed in how shallow I turned out to be. But, you know, once you’ve lived in a rustic yoga shala in a tiny little beach town in India and showered with a bucket, certain lifestyle choices become more essential than others.

I swear to god, if I ever get married, it will only be for money. I really am that shallow. I am. It is what it is. I’ll get a pre-nup. It’s fine.

Okay, from now on I must monitor my alcohol intake very carefully when I am there. Last night was alright. I remember the vast majority of it. Walking home is kind of a blur. Apparently my neighbor invited me out but I was already too drunk to take him up on the offer. That’s too bad. I really want to go to his friend’s bar with him, which is where he was.

It’s the wine. I can’t drink the fucking wine. No more wine.

In addition to the invitation to join this private club, I also received an invitation to join a team for “Quiz Night,” which is what they call Trivia here. How exciting. I guess the hazing ritual is over now and I’ve been deemed “cool enough” to party with the rich people.

Next stop: yacht party!

Hell yeah!

Yes, for reference, this is the place where I was having weird issues before. Looks like I was right; there is definitely something weird going on up there. As it turns out, it was some kind of initiation ritual into some private members-only club. Fun! I could not make this shit up if I tried.

I’m not really the Eyes Wide Shut type myself, but I heard the food is pretty good at those parties. At least it will give me something to write about. I’ll just be there in my mask and robe, off chillin to the side somewhere, snacking from a small plate of cocktail shrimp and deviled eggs, watching the madness unfold before me from a distance, thinking about how I’m going to write about it on my blog tomorrow.

I can already picture this in my mind. Ridiculous.

This random chick just walked by with a cat in her bag. I love Asia, lol.

I know what you’re thinking: “Betsey, what happened to the pilot guy from last week who gave you his McDonald’s bag?”

Well, he got on a plane and flew away, as I knew he would. Haven’t seen or heard from him since. This is why I didn’t bang him. I just can’t go through that again. I gotta marry some bored rich guy with a gigantic apartment in the Mid-Levels. It is what it is.

I definitely feel like I just sold my soul. It’s fine. It’s the only way to get ahead in this world. That’s why I came to Hong Kong!

It is what it is…

BLOG: My Very Own Hype Beast

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Friday.

Here we are at the Brunch Spot. I promise I will fix all of these dumb placeholder names in the final version. I don’t have my vintage book of baby names with me, which I use to help me come up with new ones. Yes, I know, I could use a website, but it’s not the same.

The current scenery includes two very sexy tennis players with equally sexy accents. They sound Aussie. You know how much I love me some Thunder from Down Under, lololol! Fun times in Expat Land. Hot beefcakes everywhere, all the time, all day, every day. I love it.

Anyway, what was I going to talk about today?

Hmm…

I woke up pretty early at about 6:30am. This has been my pattern this week, which is quite nice, actually. It’s very hard to keep a proper sleep schedule here in Hong Kong. Going to bed at 10pm and waking up at 6:30-7am is an ideal scenario.

I went up on the rooftop to do Yin yoga and meditate. I think I was up there for about 2-2.5 hours this morning. It was a good session. It has taken A LOT of time, but I’m finally beginning to feel an improvement in my moods. It’s becoming much, much easier to work on my emotional regulation skills now that I’ve removed most of the factors that were throwing it into overdrive. In general, things are getting better. That’s why my meltdown on Wednesday was such a massive disappointment for us all.

Still, I persist. Maybe it just wasn’t the right thing. Okay, fine. Let’s try again with something else. No problem. I’ve done a million jobs. I’ve had a lot of different experiences. I know I can find work if I just crack the right combination on this lock.

Being in Hong Kong is really great for me at this point in my life. The city keeps me motivated AF. Like, sure, at first I came here to Hong Kong escape my old life. Then I escaped from here to go to Thailand and Bali. That’s when I discovered that I *really* came to Hong Kong to BUILD a new life.

So here I am, almost six months later, still trying to leave that old life behind and figure out how to build a new one. Right now it feels like I’m still standing in the center of a smoldering ruin. By this time next year, I hope I feel like I’m standing on top of a skyscraper. Fingers crossed…

At first I was worried about my old work visa expiring, but I stopped after my job interview with the American the other day. He said he didn’t have a job or a visa when he came here. He just got off the plane and hustled. Gotta love that Fresh Off the Boat spirit! I needed a bit of that immigration inspiration this week. Let that old, cursed visa from that cursed, terrible company die in ditch. I’m going to Macau, hitting the reset button, coming back for my 90-day tourist stay, and hustling my way into a new job.

Love this whole “One country, three systems” thing when it comes to immigration. I see what they did there, and you know what? I’m not mad about it. I’m really not. No further opinion, Your Honor.

I don’t know how I’m going to make this work. Magic, I guess. I just know that running away is not an option anymore. Going back to the US is also not an option. I came here to build, and by god, I will build. I will build that ladder all the way to the top of The Peak, in true American fashion. Inspirational AF!

Okay, hype level set. I am a Dragon. China loves Dragons! A Dragon is ALWAYS welcome in China. If I can’t make it here, I can’t make it anywhere. Therefore, I shall become my own Hype Beast, whatever that term even means.

Oh, yeah, no, I just looked it up and it definitely does not mean what I think it means. I thought it literally meant a creature that stands behind you and hypes you up when you’re down. Wrong. Way wrong. It’s a fun type of wrong, but it’s definitely wrong, lol.

It’s okay. Now I know the truth.

I suppose I could use this opportunity to visit Bangkok again, but… I think I needed an escape from my escape by the end. I’m gonna give that one a bit more space and time. Besides, it’s not a good time. The Princess just died (RIP).

Okay, all hyped up now. Time to get some lunch and work on something else, like my book or a new CV or something like that. Or maybe just take a break and enjoy a bowl of noodles stress-free while subtly checking out these sexy tennis bros.

I guess we’ll see…

BLOG: Train to Somewhere

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Thursday.

Sitting in the coffee shop. The vibe in my world today is very “Now What?”

Now what, indeed.

Okay, I’ve been gone for exactly one year now. I gone on a crazy adventure and spent most of my money. I do have the makings for a decent book manuscript, but no real job or career prospects. Yeah, it’s definitely a “Now what?” Type of situation for sure.

I admit that I am very disappointed in myself about yesterday, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. It’s like Belfast, okay? One moment everything seems fine, the next minute it’s engulfed in flames. Welcome to my life.

In my epic levels of frustration, I ripped up one of the paper copies of my resume I got from the print shop the other day and threw the pieces into my offering bowl to Ganesha. I feel like that’s a pretty universal symbol for “Please help me sort this out because it’s a fucking mess and a half.”

Looking back on where I was a year ago, I feel like an idiot now. I really thought I was just going to move to HK, keep dating my long-distance boyfriend until we got married, and then move to some other random country together. That did not happen. Instead I went to Thailand and Bali and Malaysia and Macao. I banged a bunch of random guys from all over the world and did a second YTTC and wrote a bunch of short stories about the crazy expats I met in Bangkok and HK.

Now what? Now what?

How am I going to survive? How am I going to pay rent? How am I going to get healthcare? I can’t do anything! Well, I can, I just hate it. I hate working jobs that require me to be social and smiley. I can’t do it. It will break me down every time. Even now I get anxiety just from thinking about walking into a room full of children and trying to teach them vocabulary words. I’m really not great at it. I know the bar is set really low over here and I’ve met some real idiots that can somehow do it, but I can’t. It’s just not for me.

I just don’t know what is for me.

Nothing is for me, apparently. I can’t even get one of these “Housewife who does Pilates and Brunch” gigs. You literally do not even need a brain to get that job and yet I still can’t even get that. Bare minimum! Ridiculous.

I feel very useless to society right now. I have no plan at all anymore whatsoever. Every time I try to make a plan, it all blows up in my face. It just does not come naturally to be “normal.” But going with the flow also doesn’t seem to work. I just end up stagnating. Nothing ever really changes for me except the scenery.

I feel like I don’t know who I am. What am I doing? Why am I here? Why do I have absolutely no purpose?

I have no idea. All I know right now is that I’m on the train and the train is going somewhere. I have no idea where the train is going. It’s a surprise. I can try to steer the train, but it’s just going to take me off-track. So I’ll just wait for it to stop and see where I land.

Definitely feeling really depressed today. I wish I had someone to talk to about it. But I don’t. People just try to “fix” it and I wish they would stop. It cannot be fixed, okay? Stop trying to fix it. Just let it hang in the air for a moment and let it be what it is. Then perhaps a solution will present itself on its own. The last thing I need or want at this point is another fucking lecture. What if… and this is a very radical idea, I know… what if we just went out to a party and forgot about it for a night and just had fun?

Wow! Radical! I know!

I need a fun friend. I don’t have any fun friends. They’re always working. I need to rope in one of these hot guys in his 40’s who has all the money but none of the fun. Then we can just have fun spending his money together! True love! Yay!

No plan for today. Maybe just go out for a walk around Hong Kong and let the universe dump something exciting on me randomly? Right, because that always ends so well for me!

Sad. Disappointing and sad.

Who am I? What am I doing? Why can’t I just get my shit together? Who knows?

BLOG: The Darjeeling Limited

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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: Make Me An Offer I Can’t Refuse

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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….