Today, after a successful series of meetings here at the ol' workplace, I am still
at my desk, late, thinking about what I want to be when I grow up (a writer) and
that somehow, I will crank out a book at some point in my life (sooner rather
than later) and that somehow, my blog will become something that will allow
me to 'work' and be two places (ie, in two countries) at one time.
I started thinking about women and blogging and how much super-bad writing
there really is out there, and how few blogs I find myself relating to, and making return
visits to, when I stumbled upon a Forbes list of top 100 websites/blogs for (by) women
(says them) --I clicked on a few, mostly disappointed (Divine Caroline was on there,
my pick for a vacuous blog for idiots).
Just as I was despairing for the younger generations, for the twenty-somethings,
for my niece, the women of tomorrow, I clicked onto this,
The last name drew me in, I'll admit. Anyone who knows me well knows who
in my life had this same last name.
I clicked on the article about this future New-Yorker writer (to me, the New Yorker, even after Tina Brown, is still a veritable force to be reckoned with) and was filled with sadness.
I was also filled with a sense of how brief our time on this planet can sometimes be. How unfair things turn out to be sometimes, and how, even when some of us do get to live to a ripe old age, we let our years be barren, we litter them with regrets, with the should-haves of life, instead of the "I dids".
I'm at a point in my life where I really need more "I dids".