This is gonna be a bit of a weird post, but just read it through to the end. It's important.
My parents are moving, so I was cleaning out my room and trying to get all my crap packed up. At some point in the middle of this process, damaging in and of itself, I came across my old O-Chem lab books.
At this point, my current plan is to go back to school this next year and take a bunch of undergrad chemistry classes (more on that in a forthcoming post), so I paused: should I keep these notebooks? They might be useful reference tools! But almost immediately, I decided to throw those bitches in the trash.
It's like this: if you're taking more chemistry classes, and one day you're doing a lab write up and want to know how you did it in O-Chem, you'd be much better off asking the professor for some previous write-ups from his or her other classes, and not just because you're more likely to be on the mark with his particular standards. It's because if you open those old lab books and look in them for more than a single grade or a bookmark, you'll find yourself in an existential quandary with only one possible conclusion: you, on the couch, eating Cheetos and watching Teletubbies. You forsake your homework and don't get a damn thing done the rest of the day, which puts you in an even worse spot for tomorrow, meaning you'll be even more tempted to look in the O-Chem lab books for help. You wind up in the You-Cheetos-Teletubbies menage-a-trois day after day, watching their creepy plastic faces and listening to their inane trollop talk. Then, one day, you're sitting there in what has become your accustomed fashion, and they get that glowy excitation in their geometric head protrusions and static on their TV tummies. It bounces from one to another, and when it finally stops and the picture becomes clear.... it's you. And you're sucked in, becoming the newest Teletubby, of the largest size. The rest shrink down a size, and the smallest one vanishes. And you don't even care.
Let this be a lesson to us all.
