Tonight, we went to see the off-Broadway show First Date, which showcased what a modern-day (blind) first date could be like. During the show, the man waiting on the first date couple’s table is obviously attuned to what is going on between the two – their strange quirks and dynamic, their awkward moments and odd transitions. I realized that since I’ve moved to New York, I’ve learned to completely block out what is around me when I don’t care. Chris always notices when a couple near us is on a first or second date; I completely shut them out as though no one else is there. I used to think it was nearly impossible to block out surrounding noise; now, I’ve almost become a master of it.

My friend and I were discussing our mothers today and both agreed that although we both loved our moms to death, we have zero desire to become carbon copies of them when we become mothers ourselves. In most women’s lives, their mothers are the women they respect the most – they raised you, fed you, instilled you with values, and helped shape you into the person you are today. Of course, we want to continue for our children what we loved about our mothers, but we also want to learn from what they taught us and give our children what will hopefully be an even better life. Maybe the mental check list of what to do (and not do) for our children will be helpful when the day finally arrives.

I am a happy person. I can’t remember a time when I was happier. I love the city in which I live, my career is progressing (or so I think it is), I’m exploring new places and learning new things and expanding my interests, and I’ve found the love of my life and get to spend every single day with him. Despite all this, every time I remember any of my dreams when I rise in the morning, something negative is there. Someone is denouncing me, a body of a loved one is getting mutilated, or someone is outright betraying me. Sometimes when I reflect on this, I wonder if I’m really meant to be happy. Maybe there is some person or force out there that really doesn’t want me to attain happiness.

I just read an article about The Risk Not Taken, how we don’t really make decisions; they just come to us when we least expect them. Life is really about the roads not taken (yes, Robert Frost, you were right) and how risky they could be to our overall spirituality and inner happiness. I’ve generally always been a risk-averse person, but I’ve realized in my short life that aversion to risk, in the form of choosing a mate that seemingly would be a fit or a job that is stable and “secure,” can lead to an incredibly boring, unfulfilling life. I don’t want to be 80 one day, look back on my life, and think about all the things I wished I had done.

I’ve lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan for over a year now, and while it’s not exciting the same way the downtown neighborhoods are, it’s a neighborhood that has lots of old New York history, plenty of museums, and easy access to Central Park and the East River. I love that I can take a stroll to Central Park in just a few minutes, check out the Met or the Guggenheim in a short walk, and stroll along streets full of lush trees and flowers down my block. And you really know you have lived in New York for a while when some weekends, you don’t even leave your neighborhood. That is sometimes even me now.

I am not a hair person. I don’t even know how to braid hair (it tends to come out like an ugly rope). Struggling with split ends the last few weeks, I decided it was haircut time. Chris told me about his beloved Astor Place Hair, where even mayoral candidates and celebrities go, and I was completely thrown off guard. It was one of the most chaotic and unexpected experiences I have had in this city. You walk in, and it’s like one gigantic barber shop with a zillion barbers, people talking in all languages and accents, and stylists running around like mad men. Definitely not relaxing by any means, but it was fast and cheap, and my stylist smiled more than anyone else ever has while cutting my hair. I’ll be back.