On language

A couple of thoughts:

1. Where did the pejorative meaning of the term "womanizer" come from?  Bear with me if I sound a bit Carlin-esque, but the definition of the suffix "-ize" is "to treat in a certain way; to make into."

By definition, then, wouldn't a womanizer be someone who treats me like a woman?  After being with one, would I be *more* of a woman? 

Sign me up!  I mean, how and when did that term come to mean something bad?

2. A CEO I talked to this week told me that, despite his company's impressive revenues and growth, he and his business partner are hardly ever approached with takeover bids because of their reputation for being "cantankerously independent."

Needless to say, he was a very cool interview subject, even if it didn't provide the most juicy M&A story. "Cantankerously independent" seems like an awesome way to go about life in general.

Alec Baldwin on wanderlust

I found myself appreciating (and, surprisingly, identifying closely with) Alec Baldwin in the latest profile of him in the New Yorker. A key outtake:

“I always think, What if you just took your hand off the wheel, and slowly, over time, it all went away, and your life became about, you know, ‘Is the mail here yet?’ I always think about that.” But this dream of disengagement quickly gave way: in the space of a few minutes, sitting in weak sun on a New Jersey driveway, smoking a cigarette, Baldwin imagined himself as the restaurant critic of the Times; the proprietor of an inn near Syracuse; and the presenter of a classical-music show on public radio. “I could do that,” he said, and he wasn’t exactly joking.

...“To sit there in the studio and just say”—a rich radio voice— “ ‘And now Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, with Charles Dutoit and the Montreal Symphony Orchestra.’ Click. Hit a button, and then you sit back and listen, and they pay you for that. And I can’t imagine they pay you as much as the movies, but to me it’s getting to that point where there’s just something else I want to do. I don’t know what it is.

Seriously-- if you have a conversation with me for any decent amount of time, I start saying these exact same things. 
I want to do *so much*, but I also dream of doing absolutely nothing. I'll fantasize about 'taking my hand off the wheel' for a while and doing no work of consequence at all.  At the same time, I love being a reporter-- and I'd also love to own a bed and breakfast in Bruges, or operate a lighthouse in Mendocino County, or be a jazz singer in Tokyo, or a screenwriter in Los Angeles, or a personal trainer, or a masseuse... and I genuinely believe I'd be great at any of these endeavors. 

In my senior year high school yearbook, I wrote that in 10 years I'd be "Playing serious [career] hardball in New York City, dating a high-profile lawyer, a hip-hop mogul, and Prince William." It was obviously a bit tongue-in-cheek, and I still have a few years left to get such an active love life... but it's an example of a general lifestyle wanderlust to which it seems Mr. Baldwin could relate.

Tell me something good...

Now that I have comments enabled on my blog!  :)

In good form

The Brits have a number of excellent turns of phrase, and one of my favorites is to say a person is "in good form," as in, "Giles was in good form at the party last night."

I like the implication that people comprise different forms-- the implication that one could just as easily be "in bad form," and that somehow that's natural and an OK part of being a person.  That your friends can acknowledge when you're in good form, and in bad form, and that they understand you and accept you either way. 

To be "in good form" sounds far more natural than its American counterpart, being "on your best behavior," which to me connotes more effort and strain than just happening to be in good form. You know?

Today was in good form.