I can't remember a time when my mom didn't work. She has forever been on the move: a go-getter. When my brother Adel and I had a paper route as kids, my mom would get up before us at the crack of dawn to drop off the Washington Post at different corners.

I'm an optimist, so I think everything can be worked out and fixed. But from having cancer I learned that even if you're even an optimist, sometimes you just have to face the facts that certain things are broken.

I don't want to be 'the girl with cancer' ... I just didn't want that to be my only thing. But it is part of me. And it's a big part of me.

I think after overcoming breast cancer, you sort of become fearless and somehow going up to your boss to talk about a possible promotion doesn't seem like such a daunting task anymore.

I'm good at picking friends.

It's made me realize that imperfect is perfectly comfortable to me. Whether it's a city or my apartment, I feel most at home when things are somewhat flawed.

One day, right after my mastectomy, I went for a walk in Central Park, and there was this mob of people blocking the road. I thought, 'Oh, great, now I'm stuck!' but then I suddenly realized that it was a breast cancer walk.