1. I will sleep more.
2. I will walk slower. Unless I'm midtown.
3. I will not let social networks define relationships.
4. I will smile more, despite the annoyances of day to day life. 
5. I will close my ears to potential negativity. I will not take things so personally.
6. I will do more of what I say and say less of what I do.
7. I will network (ugh).
8. I will focus more on the positive.
9. I will read more, and I will read slower. I will take time to digest words.
10. I will learn new things and new skills every day.
11. I will drink from the glass, rather than analyze whether it is empty or full. 
12. I will pick up my phone more often. 
13. I will not impose my thoughts on others, and vice versa.
14. I will spend less time on the outside looking in.  
15. I will not force myself to be somebody I think I should be.
16. I will let love be louder than my emotions.
17. I will not keep reopening doors that closed themselves for a reason.
18. I will let go of those who have let go of me, or are in the process of doing so.
19. I will not be scared to speak up.
20. I will celebrate others as much as I can.
21. I will apologize. I will forgive. I will always forgive.
22. I will put my dreams into words and I will pursue them harder.
23. I will actually believe in myself.

Perhaps this is coming too late, now that I no longer have that DC zip code to my address, but it still doesn't wash away the five months of hell I lived through as a dependent of the DC metro system.

When I first moved from California, I found myself enjoying the easy transportation. Public transportation was not a common component of life in California, and I was happy to have the metro system transport me where I needed to go. Quickly, the charm wore off, and I learned exactly why Mengfei had told me before I moved that I would hate the metro.

Unless you are traveling during rush hour, expect to be waiting for a really long time. It's as if WMATA forgets that they have people to serve on off-peak hours, or on weekends too. They seem to be doing track maintenance all the time, and my question is, "Are you actually making improvements?" Because if you're doing maintenance all the time, you must not actually be fixing anything. I once waited 45 minutes at Gallery Place for the red line on a Sunday because of single tracking. Seriously, WMATA--why don't you do your maintenance during non-operating hours? It's bad enough the metros stop running at midnight (or at 3 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays) so that any chance of enjoying the limited DC night life is impossible, but then you force people to endure delays while you "improve" your system. But you're not improving anything.

And now there's talk of a fee increase? For what? It is already ridiculousy expensive because you charge by distance and don't allow for a monthly unlimited pass the way the New York subways do or, hell, even the Sacramento light rail does. Plus, it costs more to ride the metro during rush hour--the only time it's somewhat efficient! I'll support your fee increase when you actually do what you're supposed to be doing.

It would also be lovely if the escalators and elevators worked in each station. The tracks are so far underground that stairs would kill most people. I remember a time when the Woodley Park elevator was out for a month, and then it "worked" for a week, but then was out again for another three weeks.

I've been passed by trains that just didn't stop, offloaded for no discernible reason, and trapped in tunnels without so much of an impersonal intercom apology. And I know I'm not the only one--just check the @unsuckdcmetro Twitter.

And, of course, if stranded and in a time crunch, you will be forced to take a taxi, which is another rant itself. DC taxi drivers take advantage of everyone, whether you're a tourist or not. They will drive slow, take long routes, and charge you for the most ridiculous things. Unfortunately, those taxis are your only option, especially if WMATA shuts down stations you need in the guise of "improving your experience."

When people ask me what it was like to live in DC, I wish I could spend more time talking about the historical sights and the wonderful galleries and the amazing time I spent at NPR. But all that takes a backseat to my explanation of why it is one of the most frustrating cities to live in: because WMATA will rob you of your time, money and patience.

The one positive thing is that the metros are clean. But I'll take the cold, gray New York subways over a cushioned orange seat any day.

Inside my grandparents' home: the cross-stitch my mom made with all nine grandchildren's names and birthdates; the mantle lined with all of our graduation photos; the wishing tree from Mel and Kim's surprise baby shower we threw them back in August.

Families are frustrating. I think they're supposed to be, or else we couldn't learn to appreciate them in times of crises and need. I was born into a strong community full of strong individuals. It's a large family, full of aunts and uncles and cousins who feel more like a second set of parents and siblings. I think one of the saddest things about being away from all that now is the realization that if I ever had kids, they won't get to experience that too.

I've never thought of myself as much of a family person, but the more time I spend with them as an adult, the more I miss them. As the youngest, I never really got to bond with my cousins the way I wish I could have. Perhaps this is why 'communities' are so important to me: because they remind me of my most significant, yet distant, one.

Thanks to a persuasive New Yorker review of Parenthood, I marathoned through all of the episodes up until the latest one and found that the strength of the show lies in the irritating characters that you can't help but care about (except, maybe, Kristina). Watching Parenthood makes me homesick, and not just because it takes place in Berkeley, but because it's the kind of community I can only see now through photo albums. We're all so spread apart--and yet, when there are celebrations or holidays that reunite us, it makes me yearn for that community to exist year-round. Despite the frustrations and the arguments and the drama, there's still a love that can't be tossed aside.

Mom always told us that her father reminded them that family is the most important thing because, at the end of the day, that's sometimes all you have. And I think it's true. Sure, you don't have to love them, but you choose to because they're yours, and whomever you choose to date or marry better appreciate that too because my family is made up of a fierce love that radiates toward everyone who enters our home. Be prepared to be engulfed with passion, care and encouragement. When it comes to birthdays and holidays and every little milestone, we go big. We'll love you because someone in our family loves you, and that's all we need to know.

Being far away from my family makes me feel less connected to my identity and culture. It's tough to go from being surrounded by it, to never having it around. And because I didn't seek out similar communities in college, I had friends who would joke about me being whitewashed which, secretly, really upset me. They have no idea, I would think, of who I am or where I came from. Maybe it's my fault for never saying anything.

Anyways, the point is...it's difficult for me to articulate how important my family is to me. Each one of them has something that makes them special and unique, and I could spend pages and pages just writing about them. It makes me sad that I won't have the opportunity to bring new people into this community while I'm thousands of miles away.

I don't own an iron.

I never really thought about this before. Whenever something needed to be straightened out, I would just hang it in the bathroom during a hot shower and use my hands, a la Loretto choir dress style. I never really had much need for an iron, anyways--just one more thing to move around.

But when I was back in Sacramento recently, I was watching my grandpa iron his shirts before we went to lunch, and it occurred to me how weird this was to me. The last time I used an iron must've been high school, and only because my mother told me to. Sure, there are times now I'll be sitting on the metro and I'll look down at my slightly wrinkled shirt and think, "Shoot, I look like a slob," but then I move on with life, and nobody comments (out loud, at least).

As I rolled up my clothes and shoved items in my suitcases to prepare for the next chapter of life in New York, all I could think was, "I'm going to look like I rolled out of bed when I get to work." What a great first impression, huh?

I suppose the lack of an iron is representative of instability, not so much a symbol of an unkempt demeanor. I'm not a slob (normally) and I always get my work done at the end of a day. So don't judge my appearance, world. I promise I'm clean, just a little off track right now.