I was driving home from school tonight and had a very bizarre
epiphany as my car sped across the unusually barren
405 freeway. I was sitting there, listening to
Tori Amos sing her wonderful song
Winter, and realized something quite profound.
I can't picture myself when I'm thirty.
Thirty is only five and a half years away, and yet when I try to conjure some image of me at thirty, I draw a complete blank. I don't know where I'll be living. I don't know what I'll be doing. Hell, I don't know if I'll even be alive.
Is this normal?