days upon days upon days
I don't use this space as much as I should. I created this el-jay so that I could write. I haven't written in a long time. I don't even know why I'm writing this. I've been in the library since 8a working on Miss Lovelyhearts and look at West's work from a feminist perspective. Who am I kidding? I'm no feminist. I like pretty things and like it when guys open the door for me. Actually, I get kind of annoyed when they don't. I wonder what will come of me... eventually. I've begun reading The Feminist Mystique. It's quite interesting. I believe in the achievement of womankind. No doubt. But I need to write, otherwise I'm no better than other non-feminist writer or non-writer... Oh jeez, I need to get out of the library.
The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States. Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night--she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question--"Is this all?" -The Feminine Mystique
The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States. Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night--she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question--"Is this all?" -The Feminine Mystique