The Dramatic Hollywood Rabbit

1.     I love you.  Three little words that can make life worth living when meant; three daggers to the heart when said as a lie.  Too often these words are said by a guy to get a girl in bed.  Real love is proven with actions over time.  If said too quickly they lose all meaning. 2.     If you love me you will sleep with me.  The statement should be: If you love me you will wait until I’m ready to have sex.  Just because you love someone doesn’t entitle them to your body. 3.     I’m/you’re on the pill, you/I don’t need a condom .  If the girl is on the pill you have to remember no contraceptive is 100% effective and even if the girl doesn’t get pregnant the pill doesn’t protect against HIV and other venereal diseases.  If the girl is not on the pill then you should plan on buying diapers in about 9 months, and have the doctors check both of you for STDs. 4.     I’ll Pull O...

    Puris, potato and chickpea mixture in tamarand chutney, pani puri water with cilantro and boondis. The first time I ever heard of Bengali Sweet House was at my then boyfriend’s room at college.   One of his relatives had gone to the US and his mother had sent a care package.    Such a little thing, a cloth draw string bag filled with peanuts in a spicey crunchy coating.   I now know those were besan moong phali, but then it was something new and exotic, just like the boyfriend.   Over the next few years as we dated I’d eagerly await the next care package and those little fiery peanuts.    The boyfriend turned into a fiancé and eventually a husband.  One of the little food items that I could never accurately picture were pani puris, little puffy crisp bread that you dip in flavored water.  I thought the man was insane, until we came to India for our Indian Wedding.  He takes me to this little quaint market near Connaug...

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Lal, I was surprised to receive your letter. After all it has been almost five years since we last met. I am sorry for the loss of your son, Raj. Even though we parted on bad terms I would never have wished him any harm. Your request to visit with my son took me by surprise. It forced me to remember things I would rather forget. I remember when I first met Raj. It was the first day of our senior year at high school. He was tall dark and handsome and walked through the halls as if he owned the school, everything a 17 year old girl dreams of. Rumors had run rampant through the school about the new senior boy who had just transferred from California: that he was good in basketball and tennis, had gotten over 1500 on his SATs, and had his own convertible. During the next month every girl in school tried to get him to ask her out. Some even got the nerve to ask him out. He always said no. I was the nice smart girl who was good for borrowing note...

I know both who and what I am.  It is not necessary for anyone else to know.  Only one thing is important.  At the moment, I feel like my insides have been scooped out. I sit here alone.  Again.  The details why aren’t very interesting.  The fact that I received bad news isn’t even interesting.  The fact that my insides feel like they have been scooped is downright boring.   I don’t believe in regret. I don’t believe in guilt. I am practical.  If I can’t change something, then I don’t think about it.  I have conditioned myself to not dwell on things that cannot be changed. Pain.  There are so many types of pain.  The worst kind is when your insides are hollow.  When you hear bad news and know there is absolutely nothing you can do to change it.  The kind you have to live through. The hollowness is not only physical but emotional and rational as well.  The stomach hurts.  Emotions bounce...