Walking into Denny’s in Houston last weekend, I had my
first brush with odd American rules ““ Texas seemed full of
them anyway. I mean, putting up the Texan flag on pretty much every
open inch of space?

Three years ago, my best friend’s dad died from cancer.
Two weeks later, she attempted suicide.
Even now, when I look back to the night when I was waiting for
her to have her stomach pumped, the feelings of nausea, confusion
and guilt all rush back.

Walking down Santa Monica on my first night in Los Angeles, I
officially met my first homeless person.
Perpetually, and possibly even strategically, placed at the
corner of 3rd Street and Broadway, his grunginess was conveniently
masked by a lone street bulb.

Why is it that the mere mention of arranged marriage incites
cries of sympathy and pity? The only conclusion I can draw from
these unexpected reactions is that people still have archaic
notions of arranged marriage as the utmost violation of human
rights.

Of all the relationships you develop at UCLA ““ friends,
more-than-friends, hook-up buddies and whatnot ““ being
roommates is definitely a category of its own. When I spoke to
students at UCLA, many reiterated this.

Are you a good-looking female searching for a job where you can
be paid $2,000 per day just for being a concierge? You get to meet
“affluent sports, entertainment, technology and Fortune 500
CEO clients” in a “highly discreet” environment.

I’m not surprised that there are gay athletes, but I am
surprised at the fact that they are closet gays.
Personally, I had my first brush with homosexuality last year
when I met my Resident Advisor.