I wouldn’t necessarily classify myself as a teetotaler, but I’m fairly certain everyone who knows me wouldn’t hesitate to slap that label across my sober forehead. It’s not that I have anything against the imbibing of drugs or alcohol, I just haven’t ever tended toward any sort of relationship with chemicals. And yet, even freakishly squeaky-clean me has seriously entertained the idea of dipping into the family of oomph-producing drugs.

On two separate occasions I gave at least an hour’s worth of deep thought to obtaining and using something speedier than caffeine. (Dork that I am, I was immediately shaken out of these moments of idiocy when I realized I hadn’t the faintest idea how one goes about acquiring any substance stronger than green tea.) Both of these flirtations with chemical dependency occurred when I was in school and was so buried I felt like I was at the bottom of the cold, dark sea and I would never have the time nor the energy to finish all of my papers, labs, exams and assignments in time to swim to the surface and breathe again.

When the mental image you have of yourself at the daily grind is a fully-clothed you walking along the sea floor, dragging your responsibilities behind you, and everything is cold and dark and devoid of breathable oxygen and the weight of the water above is crushing the life out of you, it’s probably time for some reevaluation. Or, for the modern-day super student, it’s time for some ass-kicking neuroenhancing drugs. Margaret Talbot has an eye-opening article in the New Yorker that makes me feel like I have simultaneously missed out on being a more incredible version of me, and have dodged a big fat, expensive, chemical-laced bullet with crazy numbers of strings attached.

Previous Posts and Further Reading:

Joe Schmoe, B.S.*, M.S.*, M.D.*, Ph.D.*
More Students Turning Illegally To ‘Smart’ Drugs
Brain Enhancers: ‘Professor’s Little Helper’?

Posted by Alexa Harrington


image source