I approached finding a spouse the way I do even the most emotional decisions: with logic. A few years ago, before I started dating, I wrote a list of requirements and some optional good-to-have features, similar to how one might decide on a smartphone. A friend who was helping me complained that I eliminated 90 percent of the population with my requirements, but this was intentional: I wanted to narrow the pool so I didn’t waste time on incompatible matches.
A few weeks ago, on a breezy Saturday evening, my husband and I were spending time with our friend Israel in his apartment in San Francisco. We all work at Google and our conversations usually revolve around start-ups or cool projects, but this was not one of those times. “Were you raised a Hindu?” Israel asked me.
If you have not been caught in the whirlwind of sharing economy, chances are that you were living in a cave. Though cave renting is quite popular on Airbnb, so I am not sure if that’s a valid excuse anymore. There is something inherently wrong with the term ‘sharing economy.’ It sounds very progressive and the widening wealth gap makes these opportunities appealing, but if you remove the layers, you realize that it not all it’s cracked up to be.
Dear Trump voters, I confess we are not well acquainted. I probably check every box that you loathe, fear or at the very least don’t like. I’m an atheist, liberal, immigrant and a woman. Admittedly, I also live in a tech bubble. Perhaps, that instinctively makes you not want to trust me but please hear me out.
I had lunch with a couple of my friends recently. They are Muslims and I have known them for several years. As we were enjoying Malaysian cuisine and exchanging holiday stories with voracious enthusiasm, the conversation shifted to the current political climate. One of them hesitated for a second before he went on to share an incident that happened to his niece recently. Let’s call her Layla and here’s the story in her own words.
This is an election year like no other. Republican candidate Donald Trump is clearly unprepared and unfit to be president. He has the highest unfavorable rating of any major party candidate in recent history, for very obvious reasons. In any other year this would be a landslide victory for the Democratic candidate, yet in this year Trump’s unfavorability seems to be almost matched by that of Hillary Clinton, so the election outcome is still uncertain.
Several years ago, on a beautiful Valentine’s Day evening in San Francisco, a friend of mine and I decided to visit the California Academy of Sciences. The museum was love-themed for the occasion, with lectures about dating and exhibits of ancient dildos, contraptions that resembled medieval torture devices.
My husband and I got married last year in Bled, Slovenia. While it’s not the most popular wedding destination (which it should be), it’s one of the most enchanting places I have ever seen. It was also convenient that he grew up in a town nearby and his family still lived there.
When I accepted an offer to work in San Francisco South Bay (aka Silicon Valley), I was in for quite a surprise. I lived in East Bay back then. My commute of 35 miles each way didn’t seem bad, at least on maps. The reality hit me the first day I drove to work during peak hours. What should have been a 35 minute commute turned into a 2-hour test of patience, and I failed that test miserably.
Everyone is free to believe (or not believe) whatever they want. There are too many religions to choose from and many of them contradict each other. So how should one decide what to believe? If you’re looking for a religion, here are six suggestions that are much more fun and in some ways make more sense than the mainstream ones.
Recently my husband and I decided to buy a new mattress. After a thorough research we settled on a product called Yogabed. We were ready to make the purchase but didn’t know if it would work with an adjustable base. While my husband and I have a million things in common, how we deal with customer service is not one of them.
Anyone who has ever met me would attest to the fact that I am a very logical person. This clearly does not lend itself to highly romantic ideas like “love at first sight”. What if, metaphorically speaking, you are dealing with glaucoma or some other type of eye disorder that impacts your sight, thereby forever prohibiting your ability to experience love at first sight? See, I told you I am not the romantic type.
It was summer of 2011 when I got the call. I unassumingly answered it while I was checking emails. “Jasmine?” said the voice. It was my mom from India; she could barely speak and I could tell she was in tears. After I asked, “Mom, are you OK?” for the third time, she said, “I am diagnosed with ovarian cancer!”