A healthy dose of chaos
Don't let control nudge out the fun in life
At 7:12 AM, I'm sprinting towards the train station. My Monday pilates class starts at 7:30, and I'd just woken up seven minutes ago — my alarm accidentally set for PM instead of AM.
I don't usually live life like this. I try to stick to a routine and keep my life fairly regular (and admittedly, boring). I’m normally in bed by 10 PM with a Kindle read and fall asleep by 11. I leave parties early. I’m abstaining from alcohol while I'm training for Hyrox, a fitness competition.
Life is a lot easier to operate in regularities. I know what I’m in for, and my whole being is prepared for it. Waking up naturally at 6:30 AM without an alarm makes me feel fresh. Eating healthy meals I cook for myself prevents my body from feeling lethargic. Working out six times a week keeps my fitness in check. Having no alcohol also means no hangovers, which helps with mental clarity when working.
But lately, I've been wondering what all this control is protecting me from.
Last Friday, three friends flew in from Singapore, Seoul, and Milwaukee—the kind of friends I had before schedules and systems took over. We met at a journalism conference in 2018, and we’ve gone through career shifts, heartbreaks, and relocations. For them, I cleared my calendar weeks in advance. For them, I was ready to let chaos reign.
In the morning, their Airbnb window cracked so we spent an hour securing that corner with trash bags and tape to create a makeshift curtain. At night, we went to a lesbian bar and donated bras in exchange for free shots.
“Becky, what era of life are you in?” Jamie asked.
“I'm in my chaotic era,” I said.
“Yes! We're here for it,” she replied.
I had only planned on drinking one glass of alcohol because I had Hyrox training the next morning. I pre-warned the group that I would leave 10, and none of them objected. But one of the bartenders recognized me and gave us three rounds of free drinks. I ended up dipping out of the bar at 11:15, thinking I’ll be fine tomorrow.
Narrator: She was not fine tomorrow.
I dragged myself out of bed at 9AM, running 6K by the Hong Kong island harbourside before my training session. I passed by Wan Chai, where my friends’ Airbnb was at. I wondered if they were sleeping in, if they were hungover, if they were grabbing a greasy breakfast. In the training session, I felt the alcohol slowing me down between my third and fourth lap of burpees.
Last night’s drinks were a horrible decision, I thought. But I oddly don’t regret it.
I caught up with them later in the afternoon. I wanted to last a good while tonight, at least until midnight. We swigged some cold brew at 6PM, double-fisting it with some espresso cocktails. Brian then suggested karaoke, which sounded a lot more fun than clubbing. We booked a karaoke room until midnight. We rocked out to second-generation kpop songs, driven by a mix of nostalgia, teen angst, and unhinged belting. The venue forgot to cut us off and instead asked if we wanted another round of beers. We took that as a sign to keep on going.
We dropped to our knees for Heartbeat by 2PM, shot imaginary arrows for Girls’ Generation’s Hoot, did the horse-riding dance for PSY’s Gangnam Style. Our karaoke machine finally cut out at 2:30AM. Jamie then remembered there was a dim sum place that opened at 3AM. We hopped on an Uber and reveled in fresh siumai and turnip cake served on bamboo steamers. We fell asleep at 5AM.
On Sunday, I woke up buzzing from the alcohol and the lack of sleep. I messaged the group to say, “I’m going to sleep more” and dozed off. I only managed to get to their Airbnb at 1:30PM, bringing some egg tarts as sustenance for the walk that Jamie planned to take us on.
“We’re just going up Wan Chai Gap Road,” she said. “It’s a quick hike and you can take some drone shots from up there, Matt!”
Matt packed his DJI Mini 3 and we set off. We trekked a steep incline for half an hour, sweat dripping off from our backs and onto the paved trail. We continued on for another half hour where the path flattened and the views of Aberdeen appeared in between the trees.
“Jamie! Isn't this the wrong side of the mountain? I just wanted to see Central and we’re somehow on the other side,” Matt said, his glasses fogging up from the sweat.
“There isn't a right side of the mountain!” Jamie answered.
Matt sent his drone flying. We waved at it before Matt crashed it into the trees. On our way down, Matt and Jamie traded dog food tips while I brainstormed some dinner options to distract myself from the steep decline that was taking a toll on my knees. We settled for Khao Soi and Chang beer.
“This has been a really fun family reunion,” Jamie said. “Let's meet again next year.”
“Bangkok 2025?” I suggested, referring to the location for next year’s journalism conference. We agreed to aim for that.
Jamie hopped on a cab to the airport two hours before her departure time, stressing out all three of us. Brian, Matt, and I grabbed a second round of beer nearby. I felt myself dozing off at 8PM.
“Guys, I’m crashing,” I hugged my friends bye and went home to sleep. They would fly out the next morning.
It was a wild weekend with a healthy amount of spontaneity. The thing about chaos is it’s hard to contain. Even though my friends have departed from Hong Kong, my body is still reeling from the disorderly sleep and the spike in alcohol consumption.
Missing my alarm this Monday morning was one of the consequences of chaos. But instead of beating myself up over being late, I was able to quickly get up and zoom towards the train station.
I've been on a bit of a journey to loosen up. I wanted to be more free and fun, and that involves a healthy amount of chaos into my otherwise rigid life. In the past six months I've lost keys, sandals (don't know how that happened when I was wearing them), and many hours of sleep. But instead of seeing chaos as purely something that ruins my very systematic schedule, it can be the X factor that makes life fun.
The pilates class had already started by the time I came in, and I saw everyone working on their left arms.
“Good morning,” the class instructor said. She motioned at the reformer bed she was using to demonstrate the moves. I swooped in and took her spot.
“I just woke up,” I said. She laughed.
We started on our right side: shoulder rotator cuffs, biceps, and upper back. We continued with the rest of the class and ended it with a stretch that I felt like I didn't deserve because I didn't complete the workout.
As my classmates filed out, I stayed behind to complete my missed left-side exercises. The consequences of chaos, I realized, are much smaller than the joy I welcomed it for. In exchange for a full weekend of friendship, I had to stay back just three minutes to work on the weaker side of my arms. What else am I missing out on by being such a stickler for my calendar? Maybe my life could be 90% rigid and 10% chaos from now on.
The instructor caught me struggling to press my left arm out and laughed. "It feels like I'm busted," I said, laughing back while catching her gaze through the classroom mirror.
What a great way to start the week.
Thank you to folks who embraced this chaos: and .
Update log:
📖 Reading Supercommunicators by Charles Duhigg (69% completed).
💍 Happy one-year engagement to my fiancée!
🎨 Have started treating my expressive journal as a therapy journal. This is different from my morning pages which tends to be my streams of consciousness. Will write something about the different journals I keep.
🎤 Singing second-generation kpop songs felt like such a full-circle healing moment from when I treated it as a guilty pressure in middle school (nobody thought kpop was cool).
🥱 I’m paying the price of chaos by catching up on sleep. Have pre-warned my friends I’m leaving at 8:30PM for our dinners this week.
🤝🏼 A year into therapy, Angie and I are working well together in connecting the dots of my story. How A is linked to B and also relates to C. No wonder people recommend sticking with a therapist for long-term. Related thought: I’ll bring my expressive journal to my next therapy session.
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Becky, your chaos sings! This piece is a love letter to spontanety, written by someone who knows exactly what they’re risking and chooses to risk it anyway.
Also, dim sum at 3am? That’s the kind of unhinged magic the rest of us strive for.
As someone who also tries cumbersomely to optimize their schedule, I resonated with this deeply. Albeit I am still finding the grace in enjoying spontaneity rather than guilt tripping myself for it. A great reminder and outlook on chaos!