Perhaps you know a hipster, or maybe a one in recovery. More likely, the hipster you know ( and maybe even love ) is still active in the community. For most practitioners of the art of being cooler than you, shirking their role would, despite all cues to the contrary, might deprive the world of another obscure blog entry–or drunken interpretative dance on open mic night.

While hipsters have been around for a long time, and in some form probably always will exist, the shelf life of an individual hipster is far shorter than their actual lifespan. Thankfully this gap only places the slightest of burdens upon society.

For while the hipster’s posturing continues long after anyone stops noticing, the more obvious point is that nearly no one ever did in the first place.

Mentioned eight weeks ago that I changed jobs, without revealing the name of the employer. That seemingly odd–to some, at least–omission affirms traces back to my consulting days.

When I started in tech, the sea of money awaiting professionals willing to jump ship seemed almost endless. It was a special time in both business and history, when dollars really did more than just trickle from above; they pelted the economy and many of its participants from every direction. Good times, indeed. Like all cycles, that one came to an end, though I have faith another boom will happen.

Even though jobs back then were plentiful, and there were far more employers looking for workers than the reverse, it actually was hard to find a position that was really better without dealing with a recruiter. Besides staying at the new job for at least 90 days ( the minimum tenure needed to collect their placement fee ), recruiters demanded some discretion. In practice that discretion really meant the following:

1) Tell no one at the current job you are looking for work.

2) When you get the new job, tell no one where you are going except your immediate family, until you have been there for a few months.

While the first rule was relevant in markets both good and bad, the second was much harder in practice. No third party agent guided this job change, but I’ve acted from the old advice once again without thought.

And thus explains the secrecy.

It might be too hot for blogging. If not blogging, it’s certainly too temperate for activities requiring serious ( or even half-serious ) thoughts that later require more mental focus to develop the into a coherent sentence. Forget a whole paragraph, this weather is punishment enough.

Or maybe it’s just time for a new cellphone.

Then again, I should be used to this problem. Every July I hit the mental wall–sometimes even a literal wall–a collision which corresponds exactly to the muggiest days of the NJ summer.

Counting down till the heat spell breaks. And shopping online for a new cellphone.

Maybe like Captain Willard, I was looking for a mission, and for my sins they brought me one. Only the messenger in this case was a friend and the particular sin was a failure to commit.

Ah, a lack of commitment. For the past few years, I’ve bounced around in the study of martial arts, training with different instructors, in both group and private settings. I attended classes with zero thought for either the journey of self-discovery or earning belts or badges. If I learned something new, that was a sufficient milestone–even if I was the only one who recognized the progression.

One night, something remarkable happened. During an in-class demonstration, a rather frail looking older gentleman knocked a man half his age and twice his weight more than six feet from the point of impact with a strike that appeared to require no more effort than a waiter dropping a bill on a table. After realizing what happened, I took away three things from that night.

First, size did not dictate the amount of energy a person could channel in the right circumstance. This Grand Master was 130 pounds dripping wet and on the short side. Second, certain skills defied a conventional explanation and therefore later people might doubt what happened, even those people who witnessed it. Unlike a boxer or MMA fighter, this martial artist barely moved, yet caused a tremendous reaction in his target. Last, I wondered if I would ever have the chance to learn to focus energy with such precision.

Last week the chance appeared. And like Willard, the mission came up to me like room service. Of course I agreed.

When the universe offers a chance to learn from Yoda, the only answer is yes.