One of the beliefs that I was brought up with was that I should trust no one. I realize how cynical that seems since we are supposed to love thy neighbor and help others, but the truth is that we only fully know what our own motives and thoughts are, and we have little control of others. And when you move to a place like New York, where everyone is here to look out for themselves and take what they can get, it tends to exacerbate that thinking. How much can you learn to trust anyone, and what do they have to do to prove that you can trust them?

One of the best things about going to the gym in the morning is how quiet it is. I never have to pounce on a locker, trainers are not aggressively trying to solicit me, and I don’t worry about a workout class having enough space. I’ve also realized that after the first ten minutes when my alarm goes off at 5:50am and I hate my life that the feeling quickly subsides, and as soon as I’ve been active for over ten minutes, I get on an exercise high and just want to keep going and going. Then before I know it, an hour and a half has passed.

People say that Gen Y, or the “millennials,” are the “me” generation – the ones who constantly think that the world revolves around them. Two out of my three best friends are in their late twenties, and they both think that they are going through “quarter life crises” because neither of them is happy nor feels fulfilled. Is labeling these thoughts worthy of the quarter life crisis label, or is it all just overhyped drama to draw attention and make situations seem much bigger than they are? Perhaps we all need to stop thinking about being happy and instead take real, actionable steps that will activate our minds and bodies.

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.