She asked how I’ve been taking care of my body, and if I exercise.

I said I jog or do yoga every day. And I eat healthy. Lots of leafy greens.

She asked what I will be like in 50 years if I keep it up.

I said I expect to still have six pack abs, with the ability to rip a phonebook in half.

“The phone books are getting smaller every year,” Grandma replies. “In 50 years, they will probably only be two pages.”

In shavasana  you lie flat on your back, palms facing the floor. It’s like taking a nap–only much better.

At my yoga studio the shavasana comes immediately after core work. Bicycle crunches. Scissor kicks. Burnout-inducing maneuvers that push your abdominal muscles to the edge.

A yoga class starts simply in child’s pose;  knees against the ground, thighs to ankles, arms outstretched with your forehead touching the floor. It’s a resting pose meant to free you from whatever happened prior, and to focus on breath and nothing else. From here the hour  that follows grows increasingly difficult.

As your muscles warm up and your limber body finds itself in asanas–poses–that challenge balance, concentration and muscle groups we don’t assume are connected.

At first yoga is a struggle for noobs like myself. To keep up with the instructor requires new powers of listening. The poses are alien, and the motions confusing. In a crowded room no one wants to look silly. But after a few sessions patterns become recognizable and it’s possible to anticipate how many minutes are left in the workout based on what pose is next.

I both love and loath the boat pose. Paripurna navasana, the boat pose, gets its name from the canoe-like shape your body makes when you sit on your butt with feet and torso elevated. Sometimes I start class hoping the instructor will spare us the agony of the boat pose and the crunches that follow. And when we arrive at boat pose and I think, “Uh oh! I’m about to get shredded.” But lately I’ve come to a new state of awareness. After 50 minutes of intense yoga I’m starting to welcome the difficult and painful core muscle exercises precisely because they’re hard.

I’ve coasted through too much of my life. Doing things that are easy and taking the path of least resistance is human. Math has always been a stumbling block of mine, and I’ve struggled in classes since I was 12-years-old. Journalism taps into my natural writing talent and requires infrequent right-brain computation. However, relying on intrinsic talents is like child’s pose–as simple as breathing. While it’s a great starter pose it doesn’t challenge any muscles or encourage growth. Nothing meaningful comes from this.

I’m currently reading a book, ‘Making Habits, Breaking Habits” by Jeremy Dahl.

Our brain is off when we engage in habitual, familiar behaviors, Dahl says. We’re literally not thinking. After a blackout Dahl says he repeatedly flicked the light switch when he entered a room, even though two hours earlier he had called the power company to come restore the lights. Dahl says he was so habituated to flicking the light switch that kept doing it even with a flashlight in his hand. Much of our lives is like this. We’re acting on autopilot and we do familiar things without thinking. It takes deliberate action to seek new challenges that force us to think and to exercise our brains.

I’m myopically focused on personal development which is why I’ve started to enjoy boat pose. It’s not any easier, though. After a hard workout it’s agonizing. But it’s a handy reminder I’m doing something that pushes my boundaries. Growth only happens when we challenge ourselves to do what is difficult–mentally as well as physically. I wish I had come to this awareness when I was 14-years-old, and learned much earlier to run toward the cannon fire.

At the end of core work, everyone in class lets out a collective gasp. This noisy, explosive breath is the best one of the day. It feels so good because it’s so hard-earned. The final shavasana is a last moment of stillness and reflection before returning to the world. It’s also a reminder the harder we work–the more we shred our abs, grunt and struggle–the greater the joy of relaxation that follows.

Leisure brings no happiness if it isn’t bought with effort.  Our society rewards convenience and instant gratification above all. As an entrepreneur I appreciate that getting a good ass-kicking force that leads to self-improvement. “Pain is weakness leaving the body” as they say in the Army. And while I don’t seek out pain or misery, temporary discomfort is a great reminder of how it feels to do something real.

Our discussions are lively. I grill my friend about contract law, ethics and, I get to learn about how the law is applied to day-to-day circumstances. But our real affinity comes from elsewhere. While he grows his solo legal practice, the evolution of my solo PR practice mirrors his. I’m struck lately by how similar what we do is.

Both publicists and attorneys strive to represent clients to the best of their abilities. We help clients share their story, knowing that a judge will rule on the facts of the case. And while legal clients plead their case in the court of law, entrepreneurs are tried in the court of public opinion.

And while my job is to present the best version of the truth, I know it’s not the full story. My clients hide things from me. Sometimes–often–important things. Whether intentional, or accidental, it’s a tricky part of our professional relationship. As a lawyer will tell you, there’s always two sides to a story. There’s no perfect client or business. It’s important to complete due diligence before entering into a relationship, but if I were waiting for the unblemished, inoffensive and media-ready client to walk up to my door, I wouldn’t last long in the business.

Just like my attorney friend, I take the good and bad parts of a client’s story, get them ready for the public, and help them reach the outcome they desire. I don’t like it when my clients hide things from me, but it happens. I need to be prepared for it. But while the public may be fickle, they know when something works, and are very unforgiving when people try to pull a fast one.

Attorneys and PRs are here to help. If we don’t get the full story, and something blows up, it’s very, very hard for us to do our job after the fact. That doesn’t mean we won’t do everything in our power to get the desired outcome, it just means the relationship will be strained afterwards.

Exactly three years ago I left Bangalore, India, and moved back home with my parents. A publisher in New York soon offered me a job as a full-time reporter and tasked me with the mission to help launch a daily blog covering renewable energy and transportation. It seemed like a dream come true.

I moved to San Francisco for work in the summer of 2010 and began a whirlwind of career highs and lows that has pounded me into a tougher and more resourceful individual than I imagined was possible. I’ve made amazing new friends, and have watched happily as old friends launched successful businesses, married wonderful spouses, and welcomed children of their own into the world. I am also honored to have lead weddings for two friends.

Six months ago I was at a low point in my life. I had recently lost my grandfather on the same day I was fired from a job that was destroying my soul. I was running out of options, and I did the unthinkable. I sent a letter hiding none of the urgency of my situation, and asked for your help finding a new job and a new path forward. What made it hardest was that no one wants to announce to the world when their ass is flapping in the wind.

But I did it, and I don’t regret it for a moment. The outpouring of support I received was immediate and overwhelming. And it came because I was willing to overlook my foolish pride and be real.

I now have a small and growing roster of clients whom I help with their PR and marketing needs, utilizing my background as a journalist. I love running my own business! The thrill and challenge of being a small business owner keeps me on my toes, and forces me to adopt new skills all the time.

In the past three years there have been failed relationships, false starts and career mishaps aplenty. I’m sure there will be plenty of spectacular crashes ahead. But hey, if we never fail it means we’re not willing to take risks, right? I will continue to experiment with the knowledge that the only failures are those from which I do not extract lessons.

You’re reading this because your presence enriches my life daily, and I’m very grateful for you and all that you do. I can’t thank you enough for being my support and inspiration.

One of my greatest joys is when I am able to help other people. If I can help you in any way –the way that I have been helped, supported and encouraged– it will be my pleasure. I’m just a phone call, email or Skype chat away, and I’m here for you always.

I just saw the Harlem Shake video that put me over the edge. Path founder Dave Morin filmed his team in their office cafeteria doing the Harlem Shake, and I couldn’t hold back.

For the record, I haven’t seen that many Harlem Shake videos, but the Internet is abuzz with them. After the Grammys on Sunday I had no idea what people were talking about, and it was a little disconcerting. As someone who lives on the Internet–and by it–I take trend spotting very seriously. Either on my client’s behalf, or for my own edification, I appreciate knowing the scoop.

The Harlem Shake is the new Gangnam Style according to New Media Rockstars, whose opinion on all things Internet I value highly. In the YouTube era, dance crazes like the Harlem Shake are part of a global conversation. Millions of Gangnam Style tribute videos have been produced, and their proliferation adds to the popularity of the original. See below:

The original video that spawned the craze was posted to YouTube on Feb. 2, 2013 and has racked up a respectable 5 million views. The song itself was released by Baauer more than one year ago on his SoundCloud page, and published to iTunes on Jan. 8, 2013. According to NMR more than 11,000 tribute videos have been uploaded, as of Monday. I wouldn’t be surprised if the number of new uploads has tripled or quadrupled this week. That’s just how things go on the Internet.

The digestible, 30-second length and semi-predictability are no-doubt triggers for the rapid proliferation of the meme. It’s also a pretty damn cool song.

D’Vo, a UK-based producer who has quickly become one of my favorites, first exposed me to Baauer’s Harlem Shake as part of his Winter Warrior Mix, which I’ve embedded below. I like to listen to it when I jog.

Going back further in time, the real Harlem Shake dance, was a street style that was laughed out of existence after being popularized by Sean “P. Diddy” Combs of Bad Boy Records fame. If you tried to break out your best Harlem Shake moves on a dance floor I think you would still get seriously clowned. I’m including the quintessential video of Harlem Shake moves, from G Dep’s ‘Let’s Get It’ so you can just how far the dance has come in the last decade.

And  in case you’re still interested in reviving the lost art form, here’s a handy tutorial. Shine like a diamond!

This morning it dawned upon me that I’ve set a chess board for myself, and I’m playing both sides. Professionally I’ve trimmed back my activities to the few that I can do best, but they’re in direct competition for my attention.

I’m in the process of growing my consulting practice, while experiencing a creative and entrepreneurial tug. Both lines of business have to do with my writing talent, but work opposite sides of the brain. My consulting work requires me to think like a small business owner, pour over Quickbooks, and obsess about taxes, cashflow and new customer acquisition.

The more creative side project is about content curation, developing a community and having an eye for what is cool and cutting edge. These two are not polar opposites, but there’s no easy way to make them work in tandem. I’m spending lots of time online (nothing new there), but it’s a matter of focusing my efforts to achieve a client’s goals, or to treat myself as the client.

The metaphor is striking. On the one hand, it’s an intellectual and emotional challenge. On the other, I can’t lose if I execute well. I am carving out a life for myself where online

I love to write. I love plot and strategize. More than anything I’m committed to getting myself professionally established and having a career on my terms.  I’ve never been good about saying no to cool opportunities. It’s a trait that goes back years. At this point, fortunately I suppose–these are opportunities I’ve created for myself, and ones I definitely intend to see through.

Playing the patience game. It’s not easy. My Uncle Andy once told me that anything that comes easy isn’t worth a damn. I know he’s right. There’s always the delicate balance between the urgency of the current moment, and building a future. We have the present only.

When the cold winds howl, can we wrap ourselves in trajectory to seek comfort in trajectory, and wrap it around ourselves like a blanket? It’s a new year, and the possibilities ahead seem endless. Before we know it, though, we’ll be turning our calendars over to 2014. Hard to believe when I’m still grappling with 2013 atop documents.

At times like these I need to remind myself that I’ve got my health, my family, and supportive friends who are there for me when I need them to be. What more can we really ask for. My wants are not material anyway. What I would like is a greater sense of security and stability, but that goes for anyone, at any stage of life. What I have now I wouldn’t change for the world, so why even fret?

Perhaps patience isn’t what is needed, after all. Maybe it’s even more gratitude. I’m grateful that people come to me for advice when they’re in need. That alone makes me feel that I’m making a contribution in the world. I know there’s more to it, but that’s enough for now.

As Americans we have a thing for watching how the other half lives. It makes us feel better about ourselves. When we watch reality shows about down-and-out 16-year-old moms, it reminds us that we’re doing ok, in spite of any hardships. Equally, we enjoy watching shows about the ultra wealthy, because when seen with all their warts, it’s clear they’re tacky, unsophisticated people who happen to have tons of cash.

Such is the case in The Queen of Versailles, a movie watched tonight on Netflix. Timeshare magnate and billionaire David Siegel is building America’s largest house, a 90,000 square foot monster outside Orlando, FL, when the global financial crisis erases his fortune overnight. The dream house Siegel and his wife designed has an indoor ice skating rink, a bowling alley, a grand ballroom, 17 bathrooms and $5 million of Chinese marble. I’m sure I’m leaving stuff out, but the point is made. Right?

Under normal circumstances a person who could afford to finance such a project would have a cash reserve to cover unexpected expenses, but not Siegel. The owner and founder of Westgate Resorts, Siegel is a workaholic who never separated himself and his personal finances from those of his company. Any money he made was reinvested back into his company, and as it grew his lifestyle became more extravagant but , he never took any money off the table for himself or his family. An army of maids, nannies and chauffeurs were all paid on cheap bank credit, which also paid for the rapid expansion of his timeshare empire.

Siegel was “selling the dream” to Joe Lunchbox and Suzy Q. Homemaker, disguised as ownership. I don’t confess to know much about timeshares, but I know that you don’t own anything. Instead it’s an overpriced rental that you get to use for two months out of the year. People get lured into “buying” timeshare properties when the companies selling them sweeten the deal by offering free cruises, flights and other enticements, just for “listening to a 90 minute sales presentation.” I remember answering the phone for my parents when I was in my teens, and I heard the salesman make his pitch. My hard-working parents were going to be given a free trip to Las Vegas, The Bahamas or somewhere nice, just to listen to a slideshow. Of course I thought my parents deserved a vacation, and they didn’t have to buy anything. Fortunately they were a little bit smarter than me.

Once you’re in the room, the pressure is on to close a deal. Timeshare King Siegel’s son said that if people aren’t closed the morning they walk into one of these presentations, they won’t buy. And once a family signs their name on the dotted line, their “paper” was securitized, sold to banks and added to the mess toxic mess that became America’s mortgage meltdown. While Westgate Resorts’ strategy to hoodwink know-nothing Americans and sell their mortgages on to banks wasn’t illegal, his complicity in contributing to the American mortgage crisis, and the great recession hardly stands up to an ethics test. Add this to his early bombast about helping to secure the 2000 presidential election for George W. Bush, and claims that he advanced the effort to start the Iraq War, and we’re not talking about a very scrupulous individual.

To see such a man kneecapped is both a joy, and truly embodies the meaning of schadenfreude. With no money, no credit, and nowhere to turn, construction is halted on his gaudy manse, his seven children are put in public schools, and his wife is forced to fly coach. “What are all these people doing on our plane?” one of his sons asks when they fly to Elmira, NY to visit their grandmother. Every vestige of privilege is instantly taken from them, and they experience the pain of millions of Americans trapped in underwater homes with subprime mortgages. Instead of a slightly aspirational McMansion, however, Siegel and his brood have to tighten their belts in their already-exorbitant mansion surrounded by a pack of feral pomeranian and an armada of luxury cars that get rented to wedding parties just to turn over a couple hundred dollars. It’s all quite humiliating, and a lip-smacking good time.

Siegel is as close as we get to a true villain in the wake of America’s prolonged and painful recession. He’s an unrepentant evil, at that. Siegel recently sent a company-wide email to his employees threatening mass layoffs if President Obama was reelected, though he didn’t make good on the promise, according to Gawker and others. What is both sad and satisfying about watching a man like Siegel get caught in a self-designed trap of financial engineering is that all the money he had had so little use. His beauty queen wife and the seven children they sired together were spoiled brats who never thought about college, because they assumed money would always be there. Money was an end unto itself, and they didn’t use it to buy anything exciting or durable. Siegel preferred to spend his time around Ms. America contestants, which few can besmirch, but even fewer can say creates any lasting benefit.

And what the Queen of Versailles makes so painfully clear is that America’s lust for money is utterly hollow. Money can’t buy you happiness, and it certainly can’t buy taste. At the end of the day, many of America’s wealthiest people are just nouveaux riche schulbs who have a fancier everything than you or I, but they still haven’t got a clue.