There are a lot of things, material possessions, that we accumulate over the course of several years of doing something. I don’t have a lot of attachment to material things, but because of their practicality, I’ve kept most of my textbooks (yeah yeah, nerd, I get it…)

I moved today into a new apartment, one I’d like to think I’m staying in for the next few years and nothing was sentimental (the furniture is all IKEA stuff, less than 2 years old) and I don’t have any of my “childhood” goods here — those are all at Dad’s in Florida.

But, when I was putting my textbooks/books back on my bookshelf, textbooks I’ve accumulated over the last 6+ years of education, I realised how many memories each of them held. Biology 101 book was freshman year with Josh Filina in the old 24-hour study lounge and my first college class I really enjoyed. Microbio book was given to me by Dr. Caruso because he thought I was “smart enough to have my own copy (after I’d sold back my old one). I have my teacher’s edition of the Biopsychology class I taught for Dr. Stackman and remember all the stupid drawings and diagrams and mnemonics I spent hours in the lab making up so students could learn that class better. Organic Chemistry reminds me of Lisa Plotkin and I sitting in our shared kitchen trying to learn how to name a chained alkane. My Biochemical Basis of Neuropsychology book that I used to read in the Lion and Eagle Pub in Boca and the bartender always made fun of me. Animal Phys reminds me of dissecting sharks and Jeff Guertin! College Physics is newer, reminds me of Chicago, studying with friends right before an exam, trying to cram that last equation in our heads and also the night that Brendan stayed until 5 am tutouring me before my exam (92%!) Molec and cell bio is also a Chicago memory — dragging that 10 pound monster on and off the El to Evanston so I could meet up with last year’s MAMSers to study in the “echo room” of the library.

Thing is, most of my books are in poor reselling condition. Dog-eared pages, highlighting, and in fact, now that I’ve seen them, most have coffee stains because I’ve spilled many a cup over them. I guess I never tried to “take care” of them because I never planned on reselling them, I knew which ones I’d be keeping.

I guess in retrospect, it’s funny that the only memories from the last few years are held in books. Nothing struck a sentimental note throughout this move except those!