BLOG: I Choose Peace

Posted on August 10, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, the Island of Lost Guys, yogaLeave a comment

MONDAY

Here I am waiting for my dinner order. I’m in a much better mood now than when I woke up. At first, I was very angry at my neighbor for acting like such a jerk to me. As the day went on, I decided to just let that shit go. This is what men do. This is how they are. I don’t have the extra energy to waste on them anymore.

Now I am bizarrely indifferent towards him. Relieved that the Obsession Spell has worn off. I really do not like him at all, as it turns out. He’s not a very nice person. I can see why he is where he is in life. It is what it is.

Otherwise, my day yesterday was pretty okay. I wrote then went up to the Secret Society, where I met some new people I had not previously met before. Hung out with some people I know already. It was a good day. I really do have to learn to control the amount I’m drinking though. It’s a problem that will not serve me well in these types of rooms.

That’s probably what deflected me from the incident with my neighbor. I don’t need him to socialize, or for anything, really. So, what did I really lose? Nothing. Thank you for competing in the Six Nations Tournament of Betsey’s Heart and representing Hong Kong. Well done, lads. Carry on!

—-

TUESDAY

Not in the habit of writing lately. I’m pouring all my creative energy back into the manuscript I’ve managed to assemble over the course of the last year. I’ve also been spending a lot of time sitting in meditation. Not doing active, physical yoga. Just meditation. I’ve noticed a huge difference in my overall mood and sense of well-being.

Like right now, for example. Today I woke up and I was not angry anymore. Growth! It’s like… you know what’s better than worrying about some random man? That’s right! NOT worrying about a random man!

I win. I get to live happily ever after. The End!

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming, which is just me trying to figure out how to live my best Emily in Paris Life here in Hong Kong.

I am feeling much better about it since I started hanging out more at the Secret Society. I find they are much more open to what I do up there. They like having a writer in the mix. I’m told it’s refreshing from the usual bank and finance crowd.

Plus, it’s all people who are my age or older, not younger. They have lived here for a long time. They know more than me. I can learn a lot from them. It’s an important room for me to be in, whether I agree with their politics or not. I’ve learned to just not engage with it anymore. No good will come of it.

As I said in a previous post, hanging around the first few people I met here (like my Neighbor and this other guy I met who is in his mid-20’s), was becoming very draining for me. There’s a lot of negativity, a lot of cynicism, and both of these men felt way too comfortable projecting their insecure bullshit directly onto me. I don’t need more of that at this point in my life.

The main thing with my Neighbor is that he reflects my worst self back to me in a way that I find quite unsettling. I think I probably do the same for him, which is why he threw another tantrum and melted down at me.

Sidebar: I’m really starting to believe they’re putting something in those protein shakes that make men go crazy. Just a conspiracy theory I have.

At first, I felt bad about the exchanges I’ve been having with negative people this past year. Then I finally realized… it’s not about me. I’m working really hard on my emotional regulation skills, my general attitude towards the world, and my less-flattering behavioral habits. I’ve made so much progress, especially this year.

Sure, it hasn’t been easy. I think any normal person would come out of an abusive situation like the one I was in feeling unable to function properly. I don’t have to justify my healing journey to anyone, especially people who come from a culture that doesn’t value mental health at all.

Once again, I have come to the conclusion that spending time around men is draining, and spending time around women is ultimately better. I’ve started meeting more women recently who are mid-30’s and older, successful in the careers, single for whatever reason, and just living their lives. It gives me something real to look at and aspire to be. I used to view my older sister this way when I was young, but as I grew up, I realized how truly mean, spoiled, and cruel she actually is. Definitely not someone I aspire to be!

The women in my family are all so fucking mean all the time, especially to me. I couldn’t even tell them I was coming here until after all the arrangements had already been made because I knew they would try to sabotage it. That’s exactly what happened. They literally have no ability to support me or be happy for me. They just mow on in and take over everything and try to control me, which consistently ends with bad results.

Now they’re all shocked Pikachu face that I literally got on a plane and moved to the other side of the planet to escape from them. Yeah, there’s a reason I stopped calling you. It’s because I don’t want to talk to any of you anymore. It’s not that hard to figure out. At some point, I got tired of my mentally ill, alcoholic mother vilifying me to anyone who will listen while actively forcing me into a Cinderella-esque situation. Just crazy.

I don’t miss my family at all. I don’t miss my old life. I have zero desire to ever return to the US. I really gotta start playing that up more in job interviews. Give me a visa. I will stay for 7 years. Maybe even forever! I am ready to become a permanent resident of this small-but-mighty Island nation.

In ten years time, you’ll find me sitting in the Secret Society, giving out guidance to the fresh young expat who naively wandered in looking for a real opportunity to make a significant life change.

Off now. I need to tidy up the apartment and work on my various projects.

Sending peace and love out into the universe today. Have a good one!

BLOG: One Week’s Worth of Posts

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

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

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

Now… where did I leave off?

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

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

THURSDAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t sneak up on me.”

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

“Oh, I think I already did.”

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

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

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

So ends Thursday.

—

FRIDAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Anyway, continuing on…

—

SATURDAY

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

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

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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

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

LOL! LMFAO!

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

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

Fucking delusional.

Anyway…

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

Okay, moving on.

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

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

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

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

—

SUNDAY

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

—

MONDAY

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

—

TUESDAY

I did nothing.

—

WEDNESDAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now they know the name Betsey Horton!

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

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

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

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

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

It is what it is.

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

Alas.

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

Have a lovely day!

BLOG: Is This A Wong Kar-Wai Movie?

Posted on July 23, 2026July 26, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bali, Cambodia, dad, Goa, Highway 18, Himalayas, Hong Kong, India, Mid-Levels, Montauk, Montaukett, Native Americans, Neighbor Guy, Pine Ridge, Reservation Dogs, Rez Dogs, Rishikesh, Rosebud, Secret Society, Shinnecock, spirits, Sun Dance, the Rez, The Sketchy Place, Wong Kar Wai, yogaLeave a comment

Thursday.

Back at the Secret Society, to the surprise of literally no one. I can’t help myself. Hellooooo! Who do you think I am?

Same old, same old. All the old men are here. I’ve decided to take the route of politely nodding hello to them and then otherwise ignoring them completely. Not trying to get friendly with a bunch of old married men!

Gee, I wonder why!

I was definitely here the other night as well. Got wayyyyy too friendly with the Filipino bartender, went to a second location with him, and inevitably made out with him.

I know, but like… What do you want from me? He’s my age, he’s hot, he’s covered in tattoos! It is what it is, okay?!

Luckily for me, he is not here tonight. Unfortunately, all the old men are. They’re celebrating someone’s millionth birthday. I’m pretending I don’t notice what’s going on. I just don’t care.

I actually came up here specifically to see the bartender, but he is not here. I cannot remember his name for the life of me. I don’t even know if I put it in my phone.

I just checked and I definitely did not put him in my phone. I guess the feeling is pretty mutual on that one. Thank god for that. I was genuinely worried. Alright, well, glad that’s all sorted out.

Meanwhile, I watched In The Mood For Love today, aka a Hong Kong Cinema Classic. Yes, I have seen it before, but that was a long time ago, before I lived in a tiny shoebox right door to a hot beefcake who I am definitely very attracted to, probably because he either yells at me or ignores me. Hello Daddy Issues! It is what it is.

Today when I watched it, there were no English subtitles. Welcome to my everyday life! Now you know why I stay in my comfy expat bubble, which isn’t actually terrible because here “expat” means “everyone from all over the world, not just specifically white people.”

So, I knew the plot, but I could not remember exactly what was said throughout the film. Therefore I was focused exclusively on the visuals and the vibes. It was a nice experience, actually. It forced me to put down the iPad and actually pay attention to every little detail in the frame. Just for a brief moment, I remembered how I fell in love with movies in the first place…

Then there was the question of vibes. Oh, the VIBES! I felt ALL the vibes. I was like… yeahhhh… this is how I feel about my hot neighbor right now. Problematic AF, as I’m 90% he is not feeling the same way about me. Either way, he’s an actor, I’m a writer, he’s right next door, and this fantasy is going to be projected onto him whether he likes it or not. It is what it is!

I did have a bit of a laugh though. He was hating on me for not having enough “Authentic Hong Kong Experiences.”

Meanwhile, I’m over here watching this movie like… “Wtf are you talking about, bro? I am having the MOST authentic HK experience right now. What do you even think living next door to someone like you is like for me, especially in this impossibly tiny, cramped space?! You do realize you’re a hot, sexy beefcake AND an actor AND British, right? Like, that’s basically a Triple Threat to me. It’s like the universe served me up my dream man then pulled an MC Hammer on me. Like, ‘U can’t touch this!’ RIDICULOUS!”

Yeah, it was depressing. In the end, I thought to myself, “Hmm… maybe I should go to Cambodia, or not, mostly because the vibe there right now is kinda scary. Soooo maybe back to India for my 300hr YTT course. I’ll whisper your name into a giant temple and then bury it with mud and grass. How romantic!”

And then I’ll just move onto the next hot, sexy beefcake because that’s just how it is these days…

Not that I necessarily want that. I just feel like he’s been pretty upfront about the fact that he finds me REALLY fucking weird and annoying. As I recall, he specifically said, “You are the strangest person I’ve ever met.”

He told me who he is, and I believe him. I learned this about men the hard way. Therefore, it is what it is.

That being said… he hasn’t asked me about his mail ONE TIME since using it as an excuse to unblock and re-follow me on Instagram. Just saying!

I did check for it though, because I’m me. Alas!

Anyway… what else did I do this week? Tried to start out the week productive, failed, then decided to re-watch Reservation Dogs to motivate me. I’ve rewatched it like 5 times now, but this time was different. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m a year removed from living in SD so it’s not as present in my every day life anymore. It felt like the very strong dose of medicine I needed this week.

If you haven’t seen this show, it’s focused on a group of teens living on the Rez in Oklahoma. It’s one of my favourite TV shows of ALL TIME. It’s fucking beautiful. The main theme of the show is dealing with Grief in various forms. Obviously it hits much different after losing so many family members to death in the last 5 years. I really, really, really needed to watch it way more than I thought. It was so healing. I felt so much better after my re-watch.

Inspired by my rewatch, I decided to go out this morning to meditation with a spirit plate, play the Lakota Ceremonial Songs Playlist, and ruminate on the Sun Dance. I pictured the Tree of Life and relived the memories of the ceremony.

Sure enough, one of my spirit guides appeared at the table. I’m pretty sure I know who she is now. I think she’s the Native woman from Shinnecock Nation my Great-Great-HoweverManyGreats Uncle married. He was a minister who worked with the Montaukett and Shinnecock during a smallpox epidemic that wiped most of them out.

I can prove this by the way. There is a significant record of this. This is not just some random shit I made up. I always felt some kind of connection there, but I didn’t know what it was. She led me to it eventually, but it took me awhile to figure out she was actually related to me and not a random spirit who decided to hitchhike when I was driving down Highway 18 through Pine Ridge and Rosebud.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was her because at the end, she said, “Thank you for acknowledging me. You’re the only person in our family who does. The rest of them are out there still pretending to be white. They’re the real Pretendians.”

That made me laugh, tbh.

Anyway, yeah, I don’t feel the need to justify this experience to anyone anymore because I know it’s real. I’m just more comfortable expressing it now that I don’t live in a small town full of crazy people who were determined to burn me alive at the stake every opportunity they got.

I asked her for some practical life advice and she told me to go to the eye doctor. Typical spirit shit, lol. She said, “Bad eyesight runs in your family. You lost your glasses two weeks ago and haven’t replaced them yet. You need to take better care of yourself in that way.”

So I booked an appointment for tomorrow. It’s a different system here. I looked around for the place with the most fashionable frames in HK and made an appointment with the optometrist tomorrow. I admit I’m relieved. Typing this right now without my glasses is actually pure torture right now. Can’t do it anymore. I’m shelling out the money for a prescription this time. That shit is real AF.

I asked her about other things too. Mostly about how to figure out my next step. It’s not like she can “tell me what to do” but she can give me general advice on the best direction to take.

It’s… complicated right now. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know!!!! I mean, I KNOW. I made a new vision board. I just… I don’t know. I feel so stuck.

It is what it is.

That being said, I love Hong Kong. I literally never want to leave this Island. However, I recognize that I am not in the healthiest place right now because of my grief and trauma, and I need to address that before I try to climb the career ladder again. Why not go to the Himalayas and do yoga while I figure it out?

I just have to be more serious this time. Goa was tough because it the first time. Bali felt more like a vacation from reality than anything else. Rishikesh, however… that is The Yoga Capital of the World. It’s very serious. Like… Fuck around and find out!

I need that. I need to be in a place where I can’t sneak out at night in search of alcohol to numb the pain of feeling my feelings. That being said… hook me up with dat Himalayan Kush, fam!

How do they say it in Reservation Dogs, “Weed is the Creator’s medicine, alcohol is the Devil’s work.”

Truth!

—-

Update from later:

Walked into some old man’s bday party. Definitely decided not to get myself involved. After all, I have nothing to say to a group of old married men.

Sat at the bar and minded my own business. Chatted with the bartender for awhile. Luckily, the one I kissed before wasn’t there. thank god. The story she told me was depressing. She was talking about how she has to grocery shop for 6 people in HK without a car. The entire time she was talking, I could not get the picture of my mom loading piles of groceries into the back of the minivan. I used to hate on it a lot, but now I truly appreciate the luxury the American people actually have.

And then we just pissed it away….

—-

Update from later later:

Will tell this part of the story later. To be continued…

BLOG: I Am Not Invisible

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

Monday.

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

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

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So icky! Gross! It was just gross.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t think it is…

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

Just… why?

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

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

But like… is it?

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

Of course!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End!

BLOG: The New Rules of Engagement

Posted on July 13, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Hong Kong, Writing, yogaLeave a comment

Tuesday.

The morning started out rough. I had a nightmare, which is normal at this point, but still extremely triggering. Got upset. Left the apartment as soon as possible to come to the coffee shop and write.

Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane in this world. Writing and yoga, but only as long as I’m doing yoga by myself. I get stressed out if I have to be around other Yogis. Most of them are just… yikes on bikes. Not exactly a community I’m proud to be part of at this point. It’s a lot of “Being totally and completely selfish is the only way to be happy! You don’t owe anyone anything!”

Uhh… except for the part where that statement literally goes against the spiritual dharma of yoga. Like, actually, you do owe your community and the planet something, you fucking asshole. But sure, go off about how filming a handstand for IG helped you find your center, or whatever. Really doing yoga there.

I really did not like the people I met in Bali, lol. Can you tell?

I hate how negative people who say negative things to me stay stuck in my brain. Like, why the fuck do I care what people with no empathy think of me? They have no empathy! They’re horrible to everyone! That’s what people like that do. Why do I let it affect me?

New rule: anyone who makes me feel bad is not allowed in my space or my life. If someone comes at me and tries to lecture me out of “concern” or whatever, they’re getting blocked immediately.

Did I ask for your advice? No. So why are you talking at me like I give a fuck? Do you really think what you’re saying right now is relevant? It’s not, and I’m tired of pretending it is.

Let us take a moment of peace to be calm and enjoy our coffee.

Breathe it in real deep on this rainy, miserable day. We have a long day ahead of us.

So much for my “Week of No Regrets.” I already regret wasting my Sunday with that person. Their negativity is sticking to me now and I can’t shake it. I need to go out on a fun adventure or something. Too bad it’s raining. Alas.

Okay, new rules for socializing:

-If the person speaking is under the age of 30, don’t listen to anything they have to say. They have not passed The Age of Wisdom yet. I am 37. I am closer to 40 than 20 at this point. That age gap is real AF and I’m tired of pretending it’s not. Plus, Gen-Zs are fucking weird. Over it. Done. Under 30’s are not friend material. Period. Old people FTW. They have knowledge, expertise, wisdom, connections, and life experience. All your new friends are in their mid-to-late 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s now, Betsey. Welcome to real life. These 20-something’s you’ve been running around don’t know shit about shit. Cut them all off. They’re annoying AF.

-If the person speaking is not a creative or artist, do not listen to anything they have to say. If the person in question tries to suggest that writing is not a real career or source of livelihood, cut them off forever.

-If the person speaking is being mean, judgmental, or cruel in any way, cut them off and block them immediately. I deserve to be happy in my life. I deserve to be around people who are kind. I don’t need any more “tough love” or “brutal honesty.” You’re not saying anything new. You’re just being mean for the sake of being mean.

-If the person speaking defends my toxic family at any point for any reason, they’re gone. Cut them off. They are also toxic. I don’t need that energy in my life.

-If the person speaking tries to lecture me about anything, cut them off.

-If the person speaking refuses to acknowledge mental health, trauma, and grief are real issues that cannot simply be “pushed through,” block, delete, and cut off forever. These people don’t believe in science. They’re worse than anti-vaxxers. Nothing they have to say is relevant or valuable. They’re just going to be mean for the sake of being mean.

-If the person speaking is promising you something or giving you advice without taking any real action to help you achieve a specific goal, stop listening to and spending time around them. They’re not going to help you. They’re just being mean for the sake of being mean.

-If the person in question spends most of their time locked into a device with earbuds in, disregard everything they say about anything. These people are not living in the real world. Who wants to take life advice from someone on Zombie Mode?

That’s all I can think of right now. It’s unbelievable how many idiots in this world are walking around acting like they know everything when they’ve barely even read one piece of literary fiction.

Like, literally… be real with yourself for one minute. What qualifications do you actually have that allow you to make these judgments right now? Seriously. WHY would I listen to you?

I just accomplished something I’ve been dreaming of doing my entire life, and you’re trying to tear me down for it. Why? What is that? Why are you out here being mean just for the sake of being mean?

Okay, anyway, I’m done listening to any and all negative feedback. It’s not useful or productive. It just makes me lose respect instantly for whoever it’s coming from, mostly because I’m not sitting there tearing them apart to their face under the guise of “brutal honesty.”

I am very angry and annoyed today. I was very sad yesterday. Hmm. I should check my calendar. Maybe it’s my PMS week? That would explain the weird ups and downs in mood. It’s a real issue for me. I have to mark it out on my calendar specifically so I can self-isolate from other people.

It’s okay. We’ve learned a valuable lesson here. This is like, what? The fourth or fifth time I’ve encountered someone on my writing journey who promised up and down they would help me, only to completely tear me down?

I know it’s not helpful, they know it’s not helpful, everyone knows it’s not helpful. Most people just want their chance to take a shot at me. I don’t know why. I barely have self-esteem as it is. What are they perceiving about me that makes them want to tear me down and “humble” me so bad?

I will truly never understand. As I’ve stated repeatedly in this post, most people in this world are mean just for the sake of being mean. They hate themselves and their own lives, so they have to target others to make themselves feel important. It is what it is. It has nothing to do with me.

Anyway, sometimes you’re just not on the same page. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s important to be on the same page as your Agent/Editor/Publisher. If they’re not going to help you succeed in the art world, there’s no point in keeping them around. There are real professionals in this world whose job it is to help me get published and make a career out of what I do. I just need to find one of them and be done with it.

That’s it. That’s the whole point of this post.

The End.

BLOG: Black Narcissus

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

Taco Tuesday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trauma-bonded for life.

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

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

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

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

Raging.

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

No men allowed in this space tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

BLOG: Failure, but with Style & Confidence!

Posted on June 10, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Central, Escalator, Hong Kong, TEFL, Wan Chai, Writing, yogaLeave a comment

Wednesday.

Here we are.

How did my job thing go today?

Oh, it didn’t.

Why?

The usual, well-documented reason. I freaked out, had an anxiety attack, started crying, went into full meltdown mode, and then locked myself in my room and shut off my phone.

Sadly, this is normal for me.

I don’t understand what happened. I did everything right. I prepared. I got enough sleep. I woke up early. I had my coffee, smoked a cigarette, did yoga, wrote a blog post, showered, got dressed, gave myself two extra hours to get there… and then… somehow… I just fell totally and completely apart within the span of about 15 minutes.

Grand.

Maybe I’m just not a people person and that’s why I have an anxiety attack every time I try to force myself to put on the mask and pretend I am a people person?

Maybe I just can’t do these jobs. I can’t be a waitress or a bartender or a barista. I can’t be a yoga teacher or an English teacher. I can’t get up in a room full of people like that and act like a completely different person. I just cannot do that. I would be so much happier if I could choose when I interact with people and how. I want it to all be on my terms. I can’t have it be on their terms.

Yeah so I just… really fucked it all up today. But also… maybe it’s better this way. Maybe I’m just not meant to teach a kindergarten class, or a primary school class, or a secondary school class, or any class in general. And you know what? Honestly… like… no fucking duh!

So what can I do? Ummm… sit alone in the corner, watch people from a safe distance away, and write ridiculous made-up stories about them? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that I sit here every day watching the people go up and down the Escalator like, “Why can’t I just be normal like them?”

I finally forced myself out of the house after playing Mah Jong for an hour and half straight. I came up the escalator to my fav Greek place. Much to my surprise, my favourite Hong Kong “Auntie” was sitting in the window enjoying a glass of wine alone.

I absolutely love this lady. She has lived in Hong Kong forever! She has all the best stories from the pre-handover, post-handover, pre-Covid, and post-Covid eras of Hong Kong history. She was here for all of it. She watched this neighborhood in Central go from dark allies full of print shops and dirty restaurants to the lively, bright, crowded social scene it is today. Every restaurant and bar owner in Central and Wan Chai knows her. She is the best Auntie to have!

Seeing her instantly put a smile on my face. I was so relieved. I came over to her right away and greeted her. She was so happy to see me. She gave me a big hug. It felt really good after such a shitty, disappointing day.

I told her about my day and she nodded understandingly. “It’s good you find out now it’s not right for you,” she said. “Now you can do better! You have so much talent, so much beauty. You have the most beautiful gift for writing. I see it! Why you not do something with that instead?!”

Everyone knows but me. I’m the only one who doesn’t know it. I’m the only who doesn’t have it figured out. I’m the one who doesn’t know how to take what I have and make it work. That’s why I will always fail…

Ugh, see? Even the restaurant manager just came over to ask me how my book is going. Everyone knows but me. So why can’t I figure out how to make a career and/or money out of this?

I had the most intense vision during meditation this morning. This week I am using the visualization technique of imagining myself packing up a suitcase full of memorabilia representing my past, running to catch the train, dropping the suitcase, and leaving it all behind as I wave goodbye.

Today I took the suitcase and threw it as hard as I could off the back of the train. I watched it explode into a thousand pieces in the station behind me. Each piece turned into a beam of light and took a place on the train platform. The lights hovered in the air for just a moment before transforming into the ghosts of everyone I’ve loved who has passed on. They were all standing on the platform, smiling and waving at me as I headed off on my adventure.

I saw my dad, my grandparents, my friends, my family, my pets. Everyone was there. Even Mad Dog rolled up on his shitty old orange bicycle with a little caddy attached to bag reading “Lemonade Stand.” Each one took a moment to give me a hug and say something special to me before sending me off to Hong Kong. The last thing I saw was my dad looking at me proudly saying, “I’m so proud of you. We are all so proud of you.”

Aww… and now I’m crying in the middle of the restaurant. So embarrassing for my life and my soul. Oh well. The manager literally just told me to make it dramatic. What is more dramatic than bringing yourself to tears while penning your own memoir? Exactly.

Side Bar: This is exactly why I didn’t bother wearing make-up today. I knew I was just going to sit here and write and cry it all off anyway. Pointless. Not even the most waterproof liquid eyeliner can last through my writing process. Trust me; I’ve tried them all.

So yeah, it was a rough day. I just had to sit with myself for a time today and say to myself, “It’s okay if you don’t want to work with children, or people in general. It’s not the right job for you. Trust in the process. Trust in the journey. Trust there is something better ahead for you. You made it this far already, didn’t you?”

I really do love living in Hong Kong. I feel like there is so much here I have yet to see and explore. I’ve been so caught up in trying to be the person everyone else wants me to be or who I think I should be that I’ve forgotten who I really am. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Right now, I feel like I am more lost than ever.

Welcome to life at SEA: Drifting from one shipwreck to another, desperately trying to keep your head above water and avoid all the sharks along the way.

Speaking of sharks, a big old English one dressed in purple just rolled up. I just watched him knock an older Chinese tourist lady out of the way on the Escalator and then mutter an insult to himself on his way across the street. Naturally, he looked right at me in the window, walked in, and sat down one chair away from me. Now he’s talking to himself.

That’s my cue to GTFO! Time to go anywhere that’s not here…

Have a good one!

BLOG: The Wolf of Peel Street

Posted on May 26, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Causeway Bay, China, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, India, Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, Shenzhen, The Kardashians, The Publisher, The Russian, The Wolf, Times Square, TTI, yogaLeave a comment

Wednesday. Here we are at the coffee shop. Same as always, same as always.

What is there to write about today? Hmm… Well…

Once upon a time (aa back in December), I met some random expat bro at The Wolf. Can’t quite remember where he said he was from. Hungary? Bulgaria? Something like that. He worked in Shenzhen at the time, but now he has moved here. Somehow, he remembered me (they always do) and messaged me out of the blue to ask me out for “coffee.” Apparently, by coffee, he actually meant Prime Time Happy Hour at The Wolf.

As you may recall, The Wolf is the Finance Bro Bar where I was offered a line of cocaine off of a dirty bar toilet, then groped outside of the bathroom while everyone at the bar watched and did nothing. Sounds like a pretty unsafe situation to return to, right? Right.

On the one hand, I could go and write about my observations in a cleverly-titled blog called “The Wolf of Peel Street.”

On the other hand, I’ve been to this place before, I’ve calculated the risk factor there, and I just don’t think it’s worth it to put myself in a dangerous situation like that again. As we all know, Men + Bars = Disaster Waiting to Happen.

I’m also trying to make healthier life choices, like doing more yoga, eating more salads, and frequenting the neighborhood juice bar instead of an actual bar. Nothing about this situation screams “healthy.”

I’m thinking… not. I guess we’ll see if I change my mind at 5pm. I don’t think I will. I’m still mooning over The Russian. I don’t need more problems coming from the Eastern Bloc. Let’s change regions next time, shall we? Maybe take a trip back to Latin America, where the men know how to rolls their tongues and move their hips.

Just saying.

What other news in the world is there? Oh yes, only the most exciting kind of news: The Kardashians are Taking Hong Kong!

Yes! It’s true. Kim K herself is opening a SKIMS store in my old neighborhood (aka Times Square, Causeway Bay). I don’t know if that means she will physically be here filming the show, but I strongly suspect it does. I’m not crazy enough to think I could meet her, but maybe I could stand in line at the store and see her from a short distance away. Assuming I am still living here in November, of course. And that I don’t get crushed by a flock of tourists from the Mainland in the process…

Love it. I don’t care what anyone thinks. KUWTK has gotten me through some hard times in life. They’ve been my imaginary family when my real family has let me down. It’s one of my ultimate comfort shows. Sometimes I just want to sit around the table and eat a giant salad and talk shit about whatever with my sisters. Unfortunately, my real sisters are not in my life. That’s why I watch the Kardashians do it on their show. It’s not that deep. It just is what it is.

I wonder which hotel she will stay at? The Peninsula? The Mandarin Oriental? The Four Seasons? Will she go on the Escalator? Will she take the Star Ferry to Kowloon? Will she visit Macau?

I hope it’s not one of those trips like the India episode where they flew there for like two days and were too jet-lagged to do anything. I was pretty disappointed in that episode, honestly. I was just hoping for so much more.

Lol, I remember last year when I was doing magic mushroom therapy and I kept hallucinating that Kim K and Paris Hilton were dressed up in lab coats asking me questions and talking to me. That was wild.

I remember watching the India episode before doing my MM therapy session and I got caught in some weird loop where I was wandering through a spice market looking for Aladdin. I kept pacing around my apartment asking aloud, “Where’s Aladdin? Where’s Aladdin? where’s Aladdin?” My brother and cat were both like… WTF. Then I got really sick and had a super intense flashback of my relationship with my Persian ex-boyfriend, whose favourite childhood movie was… you guessed it… Aladdin.

Wild.

Brains are crazy, like I’ve said. I actually really benefitted from doing magic mushroom therapy. You have to treat it like actual therapy though. It can be really, really, really ugly and unpleasant. I basically had to take a dose, intentionally expose myself to various things that would trigger my worst traumas, and then relive them from a significant distance in a safe space. It really sucked while I was doing it, but it worked. I don’t get the flashbacks or nightmares anymore, at least not specifically related to that time in my life. I still get them in regards to my family, but hopefully that will go away with time.

I mainly used it to work through my PTSD related to my time in the Troubled Teen Industry. That is why I was specifically hallucinating Paris Hilton standing there talking to me. She’s leading the charge on the TTI stuff. Kim K was her lawyer.

Yet another one of those experiences I could write about for a legitimate publication if only I had my shit together. I do not have my shit together. Sigh.

What else happened? Hmm. Well, I talked to The Publisher. I haven’t talked to him in two months, apparently. Whoops! He was very happy to hear about my progress. At least someone is. He just said, “You did it, Betsey. You went there and you did the thing and you survived and you wrote about the entire experience. You did it. I’m proud of you.”

Thank you. Like I said, at least someone is proud of me, lol. No one, including myself, thought I was going to make it this far. But here I am, standing tall and proud, alive and well in Hong Kong SAR today!

I explained I’m only in documentation mode right now in regards to my daily adventures. I officially have a plan for this book, which I developed after piecing together that first manuscript draft back in January. I have a certain endpoint in mind now. I just need to manifest it!

Speaking of manifesting, I need to manifest a clean apartment. I picked up my second load of laundry late last night, so it’s all still sitting in the bag. I need to put it all away. It’s the perfect excuse to stay in my little cave and enjoy the aircon, which I definitely want to do today. The heat index is… yeah. Plus I was already outside doing yoga earlier this morning. No need to be out in the mid-afternoon sun.

Anything to take my mind off of the job thing. More rejections in my inbox. Really starting to panic now. I’m so ready to go back to work and open a new bank account and sign a two-year apartment lease and pay off my credit card bills. I don’t want to pack up and move, again, and start all over with the paperwork, again, and go into debt, again, and feel like this year was nothing more than a vacation from reality I took on a whim.

Manifesting. Manifesting. Manifesting.

I am a Hong Konger!

BLOG: Keep the Dream Alive

Posted on May 24, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bali, Hong Kong, Paris, Thailand, yogaLeave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Here we are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Off now. Have a good day.

BLOG: In the Mood for Love

Posted on May 22, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged brunch, Hong Kong, India, My Blueberry Nights, Rishikesh, The Russian, Wong Kar Wai, Writing, yogaLeave a comment

Saturday morning.

Woke up early from a bad dream. I can’t remember it, as per usual. I either don’t remember or have a very intense, dark nightmare. I wake up angry and frustrated so often. I can’t get rid of the anger. I don’t know how to filter it out.

I went up to the rooftop for a nice yin yoga session. Had a coffee and a cigarette. Meditated. Thought to myself, “Stop thinking about what you’ll do if everything goes wrong and start thinking about what you’ll do if everything goes right.”

Tennis lessons. Horse races. Junk boat parties. Quiz nights. Stand-up comedy. Shopping sprees. Weekend trips to Japan and the Mainland. My very own Birkin bag.

Okay, so it might actually turn out to be a Chirkin, and I’ll probably be flying on a budget airline and sleeping in one of those weird little capsule pods, but you know… whatever.

My meditation colors today were orange and yellow. Finding my center of balance by embracing my creativity energy. Love it. This has been the recurring theme in my journey this year.

It was a good session. I felt safe in my body again and found some clarity of mind. Peaceful vibes. I feel much calmer now than when I woke up. Now I just want to eat some French Toast and stay in bed all day watching Wong Kar Wai films.

I’m clearly a little biased because I’m American, but my personal favourite is My Blueberry Nights. It’s one of those movies that inspired me to set out on my journey. I really identify with the main character, aka Norah Jones. It feels like it would be good inspiration right about now.

Just staying positive for now. Sitting here enjoying the feeling of being safe in my own body. I was thinking about South Dakota again. Everything there was so different. So hostile. I always felt like I was just waiting for the next attack to happen. They were so vicious. It’s not normal.

Here it’s like… I’m totally anonymous. No one knows or cares who I am. I can wander around and eavesdrop on conversations and watch people. No one notices. No one cares. I meet random people all the time who have interesting stories to tell and interesting things to say. I love it. It’s a vibe. I love not being “Betsey Horton.” Like the night I spent with The Russian. I could just be Liz. Most of the time, I just want to be Liz.

This is going to sound strange to say, but it’s weird feeling safe all the time? Like what do you mean I don’t have to worry about any of that anymore? My system doesn’t know how to react to the shock.

It’s like… yeah. South Dakota was pretty bad. I experienced so much violence and trauma towards my body, mind, and soul there. Literally just non-stop attacks from every angle. I knew it messed me up, but I’m looking back on it now after having lived abroad in Asia for a year and I’m thinking to myself, “No wait, actually, that was really, really, really fucked up.”

Rest and recovery = crucial. It’s good that I’ve had a long rest period, though I would hardly call navigating the everyday challenges associated with life in Hong Kong to be “restful.” I think Bangkok was probably more of a “restful” situation. Bali was so beautiful but Yoga Teacher Training courses are crazy intense and basically force you to sit with all of your bad feelings until you find peace.

All of this being said, I would go back to India for a 300hr YTTC in Rishikesh. I guess if Hong Kong doesn’t work out, I can just go do that. Oh, except for the part where July is the absolute worst time to travel to India. So, that’s off the list… for now.

Funny how the hand of fortune deals its cards. We’ll just wait and see what happens, I guess. Hopefully… Magic, lol. Otherwise… I’m fucked.

For now, I think the metaphor of being a woolly mammoth thawing out of an ice block feels apt. It’s like I was just frozen in time out in South Dakota, forced to relive the same hellish situations over and over and over again. Now I’m not there reliving it anymore and it’s like… okay. I’m safe. I’m calm. I’m cool. I can do this.

So what? I don’t know. Get a career and make money and generally be boring and live a normal life? Sure, I would love to be a writer, but it feels like I don’t know how to be professional about it. It feels like all I know how to do is dump my trauma out all over the place. I want to find my own identity outside of all of that.

I just want something else to bring in money for awhile. Something I don’t have to think much about. I don’t know. Clearly “Crunchy Hippie Vegan Yoga Teacher” is not the correct path for me. So what is the correct path for me? I don’t know. I just follow it wherever it goes…

For now, the path is leading me to drop off my laundry and then go out for brunch. I admit that I get really tired of eating alone all the time. It’s nice when there are other people there. They just come and go so often, you know? The life of an expat is very transient. One day someone is there, the next they are gone. Another new person appears in their place, then they disappear again. So on and so forth. Friends come and go, men come and go, randoms come and go. The only thing that stays forever is the story.

Well, I may not be emotionally fulfilled, but I can be physically fulfilled by eating a succulent Chinese meal, so that’s what I’m going to go do today.

Have a good one!