Having a new baby made you psychotic with exhaustion and self-doubt. Professional success could make you delirious with insomnia and anxiety. Living abroad rendered you lonely and infantilized. And no matter what road you took, you still had to brush your teeth every morning, pay your bills, do your damn laundry, worry about taxes, check your breasts for cancer, argue with your loved ones about whether to defrost the refrigerator. Nobody, after all, it seemed, was exempt from banality.
... This was it. I was doing something I'd dreamed of. I was living in the middle of the world, and all of us were in it together, each one of us extraordinary and yet, really, no different from each other. I flung my arms back and for a minute, it felt like I could levitate. Then I laughed, loudly, like an American. Like a defiant bride. Like a seven-year-old girl with a rhinestone earring clipped to her nose. I had absolutely no idea what would happen next. But then, I suppose, no one ever does."
-- Susan Gilman, Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress