A pile of tinker toys is sits haphazardly on my floor next to the latest issue of
Entertainment Weekly and my pair of Vans that are living on borrowed time. Ok, ok. I'm 21 years old and have celebrated most of my birthdays emblazoned with a rite of passage. Thirteen, my first teen year: braces and awkwardness. Sixteen, the year I was too chicken shit to get my license. Eighteen, lottery tickets, cigarettes and pizza -- party stores only roll one way. The Michigan 21 at 19 years of age (hello Canada!) and finally, the legal pinnacle. The next big thing will be AARP in the mail at 50 and qualifying for social security at 65, if it's still around. So why exactly are tinker toys in my possession?
Organic chemistry is her name and ruining GPAs is her game. (Was using she in good taste? The mother that sometimes comes before earth makes me think so.) It's a course requirement to purchase a green tackle box full of component parts called Molecular Visions and as my professor quipped last class, it's to my benefit I try constructing some ball & stick molecules. Red, pink and blue sticks attach to black and white orbs while gunmetal grey double bond doozies link two plastic oxygen atoms. Thanks to pdf files and the Internet to clarify instructions, I know how I'll be spending my Monday evening...
P.S. it's a pity the fundamental element organic chemistry is based on, carbon, is not included in the picture...c'est la vie.
Photo courtesy of freshphotons
I'm not sure how many practice problems I completed today but it has to be near 9,000. It's to the point where I don't care because my brain cannot possibly comprehend any more information tonight. With that, I keep singing my own version of the Black Eyed Peas hit I just can't get enough but y'know with the words "I just don't give a fuck." There is so much to know! Blehhhhhh, another potential retake in my future.
