The end of innocence?

This is me on my first birthday. Tomorrow will be my thirtieth.

Strangely I don't feel especially anxious or excited about it, just a bit numb. For some time now I've thought that the third was a respectable decade, a time to set schedules, settle into routines and become a productive member of society. Graduate school allows some deferment of these prospects, but they still loom large, they press down harder every year, as a deadline that will soon have to be met.

Two years? Three? Perhaps academia was not as far removed from dehors as I expected. I have to update my vita.