There’s a strange loneliness to being a grad student, up late at night writing, hanging around the stacks, dozing in your little carrell, passing solitary hours up in the rare books collection, trying to finish something that’s difficult and doesn’t really matter. It’s almost dreamlike, the drifting, procrastinating, proofing of paragraphs that almost nobody’s going to read, and now and then thinking that you aren’t that young anymore, and wondering what’s next. John K Samson, himself an adjunct professor, knows it all so well.
This is the point at which those of us with no particular talent end up going to law school.
the needlefish 