Writing again. Ugh. I’m just so not into it anymore.

I guess I’m just here to keep a diary. Log my emotions. How am I doing? Well, I’m doing my best. Taking the magic mushrooms in responsible doses and settings with the guidance of scientific studies has helped A LOT with some of the heavier issues that have been holding me back for a long time.

I’m very pleased to report that I have finally made a meaningful contribution to science. And, you know, now I feel better as a result. But mostly… it’s about science and the study of the human brain, not me as an individual. My experience can help others. That’s what really counts.

I’m just in a weird place right now. I guess I don’t really feel like I’ve changed. In my mind, I’m the same person I’ve always been. I still have the exact same personality as I did when I started blogging on Teen Open Diary when I was 13. I still like weird shit that nobody else is interested in. I still struggle to socialize. I still don’t really know what I’m “doing with my life,” but whatever. I got a job on the other side of the world teaching kids to read, so at least I will be helping people even if I have no idea what I am. I’m excited about teaching kids to read. I don’t know what else to say, ahaha. I guess I can make a joke about how most of the adults I meet in America can’t read, so that’s how I know I’ll really be making a difference in a child’s life, ahahahaha.

I guess being a yoga teacher is okay, but it doesn’t pay very well, lol. Plus I still have to deal with adult issues and I’m just like… I don’t know what to say to you. I was really unhappy before I became a yoga teacher, and now I’m slightly less unhappy? I don’t know. I just need a change of scenery is all. Big city, bright lights, better weather, better food, better healthcare. And the best part is I will be one flight away from Mon Amour, who just called me right as I was typing that. 🙂

Awww… he makes me happy. I wasn’t sure about him at first, but, ya know… I did also agree to marry him after exactly on week of knowing him. That’s what they do in India. Marry a stranger and hope for the best. I didn’t realize fully what we were doing, but, in hindsight I see what happened there.

We were sitting at a table together all afternoon. We talked about the future and our visions seem to align quite nicely. We compared the astrology charts. They matched, but a little puja is necessary because I’m American and he’s Indian. Just gotta be mindful of those cultural differences and we’ll be okay.

Neither of us have parents there to speak for us because they’re all dead. I mean, my mom’s not technically dead-dead, but she’s dead to me, so I don’t really care what she thinks about my marriage. It’s not like hers was anything to admire. If anything, I don’t want my marriage to be anything like hers. Plus, she cannot be happy for me, no matter what I do. If she was at this wedding, she would probably throw some crazy tantrum where her racism is put on full display for everyone in the crowd to see, and that would just ruin the whole vibe. No thank you!!!! SO. Yeah, there are very real reasons why I do not want her in my life.

ANYWAY, no parents to speak for us, but we have brothers, so the brothers can speak for us. His brother says okay, my brother says okay, our families can do business together because my brother is a DJ and his brother runs an event management company that hires DJs, so it’s okay.

Then we walked down to the beach and held hands under the full moon and the sign of Scorpio lit up brightly in the sky, sooooo yeah, I guess that counts. We’re married. We just need the piece of paper, which is gonna be a challenge, but… I think we can manage.

I guess we can do the whole wedding thing if he really wants to, but you know, for me, I just need that piece of paper that comes with my rights as a wife clearly spelled out in blood. You know, so I can smack him over the head with it if I ever catch him cheating on me with some other white girl he picked up at the local yoga studio.

Otherwise, just tell me when to show up and where to get the outfit and where to go to get the henna done and whatever else I need to do for the whole thing and yeah, I’ll just stand there while he rides in a horse, or whatever it is he needs to do to get married.

Lol, like, I guess my only question is: do I get to ride the horse too, or is the horse just for him? Because if I don’t get to ride the horse, that’s going to be pretty disappointing, but, again, it’s not about me, it’s about Hinduism, so let the horse do whatever it’s gotta do to be part of the ceremony, ya know? It’s here to do a job, not to have fun, so let it do its job.

Also, do I get to change outfits 17 times? Because I’m totally okay with that. I will wear all the clothes and pose for pictures. No problem whatsoever. Dress me up however you want and post it to your Instagram page. You will make so much money off of rich American girls like me. They’ll talk a bunch of shit about me first, obviously, but then they’ll buy the clothes. That’s how it works. Yeah, you can just tell them I’m one of the Kardashians. They were here shopping at this store in this tiny India village for the Ambani wedding. True story! They were trying to avoid the paparazzi! Yep, seems like a likely tale. Instant sellout.

Also, can I still take pictures with the horse or is it too busy doing its job to pose for photos?

Also, can we invite the people from the yoga school where we met so they can use this story and these beautiful wedding photos in their ad campaigns forever?

Omg, that is every American woman’s Eat Pray Love Fantasy right there! That’s why they’re all coming to India to learn yoga! So they can do all of that AND also meet hot men who look like Javier Bardem, even though he was in Bali, and the writer herself turned out to be a lesbian, so the whole story is a total lie made up to sell rich women vacation packages to Italy, India, and Indonesia so they can go on a life-changing journey across the world to find themselves. And it works, hahahaha.

Everyone wins, except the LGBTQIA+ community, who were once again cheated out of seeing themselves, their love stories, and their epic life journeys represented onscreen.

Fuck that movie.

Anyway, what was I talking about again? Oh, right. The guy I married in India. Yeah, he’s pretty great, with or without the horse. The End.

I’m going for a walk now. Bye Felicia!

Post-Walk Update: Just wanted to clarify that I don’t actually know for sure if there’s a horse involved. This post is based on real questions I have been asked by real people about the wedding.

As I said, I don’t know. I’ve only seen Indian weddings on TV. That being said, there are two types: NRIs (Non-Resident Indians) who get married abroad and Indians getting married in India. As a Western person, I’ve seen a lot of the first category. I’ve also seen a little bit in the second category, but only in the context of Bollywood, so, who knows what I’m actually watching, right?

The second category is very dependent on a lot of factors, such as region, religion, wealth, status, whatever. You also have to factor in the whole issue of filming anything in India. You need about 100 permits, and that’s before you start getting into the bribes.

Pro Tip: You always need to set aside a slush fund for bribes, just because you never know when you are gonna need one.

Then, once you actually start filming, about 500 people show up wanting to know what’s going on and whether or not they can be a background extra in the film and invite all of their friends and family to be extras as well. Before you know it, you have three dance troupes in full costume rehearsing a big musical number and someone’s uncle bringing in a horse from somewhere nearby. Now you need a translator who speaks all 80 million languages in India.

Oh, and this is before you even get into the whole Hindu vs Muslim vs Sikh issue, which I am definitely not going to touch.

So, yeah, who actually knows what an “Indian wedding” looks like?

Just saying. Please don’t come at me. This is my official disclaimer for the post so I don’t accidentally offend the entire nation of India, which might actually just be 17 countries stacked up in a trenchcoat.

No animals were harmed in the making of this post.

Also, I’m just a dumb American white girl here to do yoga. I don’t actually know anything. I love India! Shut up and take my money!

The End End.

This post was brought to you in part by Wokeismo.