Judy Lopez sits on the couch sipping a soda. Her husband, Ricky, settles into the recliner with Dixie, a bug-eyed pug, riding shotgun on its ample arm. It doesn't get better than this. The trio is content to tune in to the flat-screen TV.

I have a mantra I repeat to myself when I'm not working in my cloud of an office way, way up in the sky. It is, quite simply: Don't think about it. And on that note, a sub-rule: Don't look at the ground. You will see ungodly things. It will change you.

We are all straphangers now and then: just people trying to share, and get around in, that greatest of all human creations, the city.

When you're out, about, and fully engaged in your New York City hustle, there's one particular experience capable of granting you a little space all your own to catch your breath and use exactly as you see fit: Cab rides.

The year I moved to Manhattan, Gossip Girl premiered. I was infatuated with the show's fabricated lifestyle. It took only about three months for my illusions to get shattered.

If you are 25 or turning 25: It's OK that you have not gone to grad school. It's also OK if you're thinking of going. And many may not agree with me, but I think it's OK to apply to grad school because you still haven't found a job in this economy.

John McDonagh, in a hoodie and hooligan cap on, is not behind the wheel. It's his day off, and he's at the diner having his breakfast between errands that will take him all over the place before the sun sets.

For every beautiful thing that happens in this city -- and there are many -- at least a few things a day make you question what you're doing living in the steaming pile of disease that is the Big Apple.

A sea change in New York. Although I have attended the NYC Pride Parade since 1983 -- many as a marshal -- this one was different.

The Dalai Lama is a big fan of Amjad Ali Khan, one of India's most famous classical musicians, who was in New York last week to perform in the grand ballroom at the Indian Consulate.