Countdown Clock

I sit down to write sometimes and find myself staring at the flashing cursor on my empty page, fingers heavy and sedentary on the keys. That cursor is like some kind of countdown clock, tick-tick-tick, gently reminding me that every second I’m not writing is indeed a second gone by, one I can’t retrieve and have done nothing with.

When writing about a cause as close to my heart as this one, those wasted seconds pound heavier and heavier on my conscience as they fall away. There is simply so much I want to address—the [sad] truth is that the universe has given me an abundance of material.

A professor of mine told me, after reading the blog so far, that I need to remember to pace myself. I come from a generation of instant gratification—I would like to see it all fixed now. I would like my friend and my cousin and my mother and my grandmother and your grandmother and every woman everywhere to realize how much they love themselves, mind, body and soul.

But I’ve realized that, while looking at the endless to-do list is immeasurably important, it’s just as important to look at successes, things that have been “crossed off” so to speak. To understand that what’s still to be done is do-able, we have to remember where we as women have come from.

For instance, it’s so infinitely exciting to wonder what Betty Friedan would think of this:

Thanks to my roommate Kate for posting this on her Facebook wall!