Category Archives: Life

Tim Taylor posts that he recently mentioned to an executive he was working with that the exec was swearing like a sailor. I have never confronted a colleague in the business world over their language. If people choose to "swear" (who defined what a swear word is?!) then that’s their choice. I myself exercise this right frequently! What’s important to me is how and when people swear. There’s no point just dropping an f-bomb for the hell of it — this shows that someone is lazy and doesn’t want to think of a more descriptive word, or is trying too hard to come across as laid back and cool — but it does make sense if you want to inflect extra emotion or meaning. Plus, the grammatical flexibility of many swear words make it even easier to draw on them.

Bottom line: there are smart ways and dumb ways to use swear words in everyday oral interactions. It reveals something about someone, either way.

I maybe have shopped for casual clothes 2 or 3 times my whole life. I didn’t have a mirror in my room until a few months ago. I love sweatpants, t-shirts, and hooded sweatshirts – mostly hand-me-downs. All this presents an interesting contrast with my other more Polo minded friends: me, in my ripped sweatshirt, Ecko sweatpants (my Mom sometimes buys my clothes at Goodwill and doesn’t know which brands are "black" so I end up with lots of getto apparel), and unbrushed hair, and them, button down shirt, nice shoes, etc. All this is very ironic because with my BlackBerry, pretentious eye-glasses, and loud mouth, I am most unlike my clothes.

I’m told on the east coast the fashion scene becomes even more egregious, with 19-year-olds wearing boat shoes, pink Polo shirts, and brown belts every day of the year. Yuck.

For my business appearances, I DO care a lot about how I look, since I think it makes a big impression. But even in business, I’ve gone decidedly casual since I don’t do sales pitches anymore. But – be careful – give me an opportunity to wear a bow tie, and I won’t let you down.

The rest of my family is stranded on the east coast due to the snow storms, and my partners Dave and Olivier are down at Pebble Beach for the Pro-Am golf tournament, so I’ve had the house to myself all weekend. Reading, thinking, writing, working, baking in the sun, meditating. I’m looking forward to grabbing dinner at the middle eastern place up the street with my favorite companion (a magazine) and getting a lot done during uninterrupted focus time. Solitude, in doses, is a wonderful thing.

There hasn’t been a cloud in the sky here in San Francisco in a week. Every day has been spectacular. My friends and I have a lot of Bay Area pride (an assortment of t-shirts sporting zip code/area code, for example) and much of it has to do with the awesome climate.  (I do, however, want to spend some years of my life living and working outside of California.)

Driving home from the gym today, listening to "Be Without You" by Mary J Blige, I had one of those San Francisco moments: it’s a beautiful day, a beautiful city, and a beautiful life.

It seems my whole day has been one giant f-bomb. I had to get off the phone with my partner Dave since my brother’s thunderous "Fuck!’s" were echoing so loud through my house. His tendency is to really utter that fateful word with tremendous passion (perhaps he will elaborate on his techniques on his new blog I gave him for Christmas), while some of us choose to integrate the word creatively (oddly enough, when I’m frustrated, I’m saying "Fuck that catshit"). Then, this afternoon, I had a basketball game, where f-bombs are uttered every other word by players, coaches, fans. This evening, another member of my household trying to get the computer to work, "Fuck this piece of shit." After dinner, my other brother, inspecting my broken window shade in my room: "These fucking cleaning ladies…They think they can break shit without any financial consequences."

And with that, have a great fucking night!