A Year Later I'd Traded in That Shirt For a Chamois. . . or At Least I Can Pretend

The Window Was a Mirror in Disguise

A few moments ago, I was excited to see one of the highly specific Google Alerts I've set up had appeared in my inbox. "Wow, I thought, maybe I'll finally get the lead I've been looking for. Or, even better, a contact who shares my research interests." And then I opened up the message:

Somehow, I find this reality check deeply depressing. Increasingly, it seems like the thinking I most want to pursue is thinking I am destined to do all by myself for longer than I care to be alone.