I think this is going to be a fairly varied collection of posts on stuff to do with art, science, culture, geekery and science communication. But we'll see, eh?
Dear Lecture notes
There’s no easy way for me to say this, but I think it’s time we split up – I think it’d time for you to go. I’m sorry.
It’s not you though, it’s, well, it’s me. You see, I’ve changed, I’m just no interested in the same things any more, and, I, I just don’t think it’s fair to keep you hanging around. 
It’s not like the old days, do you remember them? When we were nestled at the back of the lecture theatre at Appleton tower, merrily learning all sorts of things. What fun we had in the maths base, all of us students huddled up with our notes, it felt like we could never be apart. And how closely we stayed together for those four years – we went everywhere together, from the computer lab back to mine, and over to friends too, day and night we stuck to one another like glue. And even as we changed, and you grew bigger (which I didn’t mind, I was changing too – just look at my handwriting) and I changed subjects, we were so close. And you really were understanding when I had my exams, and had to stay up so very late.
But it is just not the same now. I don’t think I’ve taken you out for years. You moved down from Edinburgh with me, and I really hoped you’d be involved in my new life here. But, well, I’ve changed. I never continued my career as a research scientist, and even though I carried you from Tottenham to Earl’s Court to Greenwich, I don’t think I ever referred to you once, in all those years. And when I do need some advice, or a reminder of my youth, I… well, I guess I’ve found other ways to satisfy my needs. Yes, I still see one or two of those books, that I used to have in my bag next to you.
So I think it’s time for you to move on – and move out. Don’t think of it as being thrown on the scrapheap though, think of it more as a fresh start – for both of us. And though it would in some ways be nice to stay in touch, I don’t think that will be practical. I guess we may bump into each other again, in the toilet-roll aisle at Tesco, or in the stationery shop, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t recognise you – you’ll have changed, for sure, and probably for the better too.
Take care
Scott
Last updated: Saturday, 15 Mar 2008 - 17:27 GMT
© 2008 Nature Publishing Group
Goodness, this brings it all back. In my quest to decrease entropy earlier today, I was reshelving books on my daughter’s bookcase (she’ll be 10 next week). I came across some notebooks of hers I didn’t know ab out, which contained germs of very amusing stories she’d started. I hope she keeps these, so that when she grows up to be a famous novelist, she can … auction them off for millions and keep me in my old age.
This is so true. I kept mine for 6 years!! Lugging them up to London and back, taking up valuable space in my flat in Southampton. And why? If I’d even remembered what topics we’d did at uni, I would never know which folder to have found such topic, never would have trusted said content, and would have known that any content I did trust was well out of date. Yet they still remained with me. So much hard graft went into writing up those lecture notes into a revisable format (to the extent I was sporting a plaster on my right index finger); different coloured pens for words of differing importance (words in red couldn’t be forgotten). I couldn’t just chuck them! But the time came when I had to move back to Mum’s for a while, space was at a premium, so they went into the green bin. And I’ve never looked back.
And I’ve never looked back.
That’s wonderful to hear! They are somehow some sort of totem, some sort of representation of my past glory, that I have been so reluctant to part with them. But you’re absolutely right – what’s there is pretty much unintelligible and unreliable now – as evidenced by me looking for my notes on why the queue in my local Somerfield is worse than in the post office, and being unable to find the page in question (queuing theory is important in computer science for modelling networks and flows).
So thanks for aiding my resolve!
Scott, not to imperil your resolve, but I’ve got a genuine tear in my eye. Can’t you see those pages looking at you imploringly behind the plastic recycle bag? It’s not too late, they’re saying…listen, can you hear them?
The sack was so heavy, it started to tear as I lifted it up this evening to move it downstairs to go out. It too was trying to encourage me not to part with them. And the thought of them sitting outside, waiting to be collected by a recycling truck was… too much.
So I bundled the bag up into my arms, and carried it, much like a mother carries a child from a warzone, to the recycling bank, where I let the pages fall from my hands into the bin. Handful after handful fluttered down. If I was going to say goodbye to a significant portion of my life, I should at least be there to see it off, no?
A transatlantic move is good for cutting these ties, especially when your parents refuse to store them for you on the grounds that their own notes have been festering in the loft for many a decade and really should be thrown away. Any year now.
Should we have a notes recycling day? When we all recycle those festering loft notes. We could even collect them centrally, and turn them into recycled tissues, for us to dab away our collective tears with.
Scott, Scott – what have you done? Think of all the origami and papier mache fun you and your notes could have had!
But by not origami’ing my notes, or creating the world’s largest mathematical structure from mathematical notes, I’m reflected on the opportunities that I did not take – indeed, “wasted”.
And I recycle business cards without making them into fractal cubes too…
I’ve still got some of mine…my sister might be able to use them in her final exams though. I can’t completely let go of them, especially considering what it cost to get them in the first place. :\