Today, we live in a world obsessed with staying connected. When we wake up, one of the first things that the majority of us do is check our mobile phones for messages, e-mail, or news. Ninety-seven percent of all mobile phone users keep their phones within three feet of them at all times. It’s pretty much the norm that even at a meal, your dining partner will check his phone and disconnect from you, the person breathing in front of him. The saddest thing about this obsession to constantly stay connected virtually is that it creates a complete disconnect from the today and this actual moment happening right now.

The baby name trends between 2011 and 2012 showed an increase in preferences for non-Anglican names. Apparently, the prevalence of names like Christopher and Sarah are on the decline. It reminded me of how I’ve always wanted to name my future children more ethnic, uncommon names so that when someone asked for Sayuri in class, no one would say, “Sayuri who?” Yet when I shared this thought with my friend, she said, “but you’re not Japanese,” if I were to choose a Japanese name. My mother is not French, yet she named me Yvonne, so what is the problem? We are living in an ever-changing, increasingly global world, so we should accept the beautiful differences among us, including given names.

My cousin and his wife had a baby last October. They gave birth to baby Ryan at a hospital in upper Manhattan, which is about a 1.5 hour commute from their Park Slope condo — actually, it’s more like 2.5 hours with the disgusting Manhattan congestion. In their new neighborhood of Bensonhurst, there are no real playgrounds, no grass or even dirt for little Ryan to roll in. Even in that lower income neighborhood, daycare costs are exorbitant. The air might be cleaner in Brooklyn than in Manhattan, but given all these things, the idea of raising children in New York is absolutely hideous to me.

One of my friends who I have had since middle school is leaving New York at the end of this month to get ready for Wharton in the fall. Today, we met for a last lunch before she packs her bags for Philadelphia. I guess at this point, I should be used to people moving around, getting married, and leaving; we’re all getting older and moving onto newer and hopefully better things in life. But what makes me sad about it is when I think of friends and family whose lives don’t seem to be moving forward and whose sense of time seems to be frozen. In real life, friends’ lives don’t always evolve at the same rate the way they do in shows like 90210.

I still find it surprising when I meet people here in New York, and they tell me that they’ve never been to California (or don’t want to go), or anywhere on the West Coast for that matter. A flight between San Francisco and New York is only about six hours, and during low seasons could be as little as $250 round-trip. Where is the curiosity about the world outside of them, even if it is just outside the vicinity of Manhattan, or even the tri-state area? It’s even more befuddling to meet people who live in New York who have never been to Philadelphia and other close cities.

My friend was given a Longchamp bag after her grandma received it as a gift and didn’t want it. She marveled to me while visiting New York that every woman here seemed to be carrying it, but that in San Francisco, almost no one had it. While working remotely in my company’s San Francisco office, I saw lots of women wearing it in the city’s financial district. She replied, “That’s because they’re all rich.” If I have a job that pays me enough to be independent and buy a $125 bag, does that make me and any other person “rich” in her eyes?

It wasn’t until I moved to New York when I realized how difficult it would be to find a good doctor or dentist. My first experiences with doctors were terrible. Once during my pelvic exam, an ice-cold speculum was rammed into me without warning. Two New York dentists told me I needed braces despite the fact that my teeth are perfectly straight; one refused to even make a mouth guard for my teeth grinding unless I had a consultation with an orthodontist. In the U.S., and more specifically, in New York, it’s hard to trust whether doctors and dentists are giving us recommendations based on what is truly best for our health rather than their paychecks.

My company is piloting a yoga program to encourage physical activity and relaxation. After taking a class, I started looking at different yoga studios in Manhattan to see my options for incorporating yoga into my workout routine. I had two previous yoga studio experiences that left me feeling that the people who go to these studios are snobs. Snootiness is not what I want in a place where I am supposed to be seeking relaxation and a workout without judgment. Yoga was originally meant to be a meditative and spiritual practice regardless of wealth or status, yet now in New York, it seems to elicit thoughts of snooty clientele who are like characters from Gossip Girl, and classes that cost $25-35/session.

Few cities in this country are as expensive to visit as New York when it comes to accommodation. A company I used to work for, as part of the business travel guidelines, actually had separate rules (i.e. higher maximum nightly rates) just for New York. Friends have joked around about how once I leave New York, they won’t visit anymore because they will no longer have a free place to crash at and wouldn’t be crazy enough to pay the potentially $300+/night for a hotel room here. How lucky you would be to have a friend who lives in New York that will house you.

The longest friends I have had have been with me since I was 11 – that’s 16 years of friendship through a lot of crazy crap, including the pains of puberty, SATs, boy drama, deciding my college major, jobs and unemployment, and life’s everyday joys and stresses. Some have actually moved to New York, and while things have not always been extremely close-knit, we have great friendships with one another. But what happens when you have friends who you have known all these years, and they have a fixed image of what you were when you were both close, and do not seem to fully see or understand how you have evolved during the times you have spent apart? How do we accept change in the people closest to us?