Joshua Ness

I finished my strength & flexibility class this morning and sat alone in the yoga studio staring out of focus into the distance, thinking about how I messed up our reconnection – about how you have grown into a spectacular and wonderful and passionate woman, and I apparently had “zero interest” in a relationship with you. I began repeating to myself: “what was I thinking…. what was I thinking… what was I thinking?”

I was admittedly mopey when I arrived at the studio today at 6:30am. I even confessed on my morning Snapchat that I was having trouble following my own advice from a Facebook post the day before about letting go of the past and the future and using that energy for the present.

Usually chipper, I prepared quietly and avoided conversation until the start of the group workout. I grimaced and struggled and stretched and strained my way through the 90 minutes, grudgingly accepting the corrections of Gabriela, our interim instructor. (She’s another of these grown individuals who likely has the metabolic age of a 19-year old and will outlive us all.)

If she’s worth her salt, then she noticed a difference in my practice compared to Saturday when we executed a similar routine.

As the class came to an end and we were lying quietly in savasana, Gabriela approached me from above and knelt down, staring into my eyes, her face upside down opposite my own. With her right hand, she began stroking the right side of my head, near the temple – the way you like to do. She smiled and asked if I was alright.

Fighting back the fullness and pressure behind my cheekbones that indicate tears are on the way, I nodded slightly and whispered, lying, “I’m okay.” I attempted to redirect and asked, “how are you?”

She was having none of it.

She continued staring into my eyes, smiling and stroking my head, and said, “I’m so glad you’re here. You practice so beautifully.”

Spoiler: I do not.

She remained a moment more, gently passing her hand across my hair while my eyes glossed over and, overcome, I averted my gaze away from her and toward the ceiling. Then she left.

I don’t know how to thank her. I don’t know how to tell her what that meant. I’ve known her a grand total of three hours, and she’s already expressed more love and compassion than has anyone in my life (save my wonderful mother) these past few weeks.

The cold, dark winter months, combined with the wrong attitude, can add up to a quarter of the year spent griping about the weather and its inconveniences. Change your outlook by embracing the magical Danish idea of hygge (pronounced hoog-ah), which translates loosely to the mindset of coziness.

I forgot how fun this is.

Before I get started, I need to disclose that I’m getting back into Coheed and Cambria. My roommate makes fun of me for listening to angsty middle-school girl music, but I ignore her. Their latest album, The Aftermath: Descension, was released last week. Go check it out. (If you don’t have Spotify, welcome to the Internets. Go get Spotify.)

The trick to getting out there is to GET OUT THERE. You’re always going to be tired when the work-day is over, but nut up and power through it and go to the event you put on your calendar earlier in the week when you were feeling inspired to try new things and meet new people. Don’t, however, drink an entire Monster Energy Drink at 6pm for that added boost. You won’t sleep well.

Growth Hacking is a movement that combines marketing, analytics, and product development to acquire users and encourage startup growth. There’s a Meetup group for enthusiasts, and they hand out free beer. Hashtag sold. I met a cool dude named Peter who convinced me to sign up for a Strategy Hack competition where growth-hacky marketers will compete to create a sustainable marketing strategy for new startups ready to jump on that boat. These types of events have traditionally be reserved for developers through hackathons, so I’m excited to see how this works out.

The New York City transit system is a work of art. Subways, trains, buses, and ferries all work in (relative) harmony to move 8.3 million people around the 5 boroughs. Benjamin Kabak of Second Avenue Sagas hosted a conversation with Gene Russianoff of the Straphangers Campaign to discuss fare increases and the complex web of transit funding. Let me tell you, I don’t have a dog in this fight. My transportation costs are fixed at $112 per month, and that’s better than anyone I know back home. With public transportation, I can get literally anywhere in this city with minimal frustration and cost. But this event was at the New York Transit Museum in Brooklyn, and I’m a sucker for informational gatherings in historical environments. I learned a lot about MTA funding, and I enjoyed the discussion even though Ben didn’t choose my written question as one for Gene to answer.

When you put a bunch of Texans in a room and give them tequila and Shiner Bock beer, hijinks ensue. The monthly Texpats happy hour was at the Rodeo Bar in midtown this week, and it was a great time as usual. Everyone met someone new, and business cards were exchanged with the promise of follow-ups in the days to come. Everything from new jobs to Broadway performances to operatic karaoke were discussed at length. I’m really excited to see where the Texpats go this year. Our membership has been growing, and our meetings are getting bigger as more displaced Texans flock together to lament the long winter and drown their sorrows with southern camaraderie.

These events, combined with a few one-off meetings with people over coffee or drinks, made this week pretty great. A few new friends have moved to the city, and it’s a lot of fun introducing them to networking events and local resources to help them find jobs and achieve what they came here to do.

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