I. Melting Point Determination (first page)

The first true page of the notebook provides an opening that demonstrates both a lack of imagination and an amateurish timidity. The style leans gingerly toward the archaic but fails to embrace any but a few examples of roundabout phrasing, which come off as awkward rather than stylish. The tone is not scientific, nor is it colloquial, but instead limply lingers in the unhappy realm of early twentieth-century educational science writing for the once-intrigued (but soon put off by stilted prose) amateur. The urge to popularize science can lead to the dampening of science's rather dry style, but this is an ill-advised path. Better to write a palatable piece from the ground up than to gnaw on dense technical rawhide to soften it for the masses. The masses deserve better, and you owe it to your sense of self-respect as a writer.

In all likelihood, this page also demonstrates the peak tidiness of an ever-deteriorating formal rigidity. As the journal continues, the flourishing of creativity goes hand-in-hand with the decay of order, and I'm fairly certain the two processes are related. While the chaos never reached the heights of discord attained by some of my classmates, the handwriting loses its tone, the margins begin to wobble, and the shards of white space dwindle and wane. Enjoy the crispness of this page, if that's your cup of tea, because it won't last. In my opinion, it was a change for the better.



Transcription:

8 September 2008
I. Melting Point Determination
The determination of the melting point is one technique that allows the chemist to identify the compound with which he is working and to determine the purity of the sample. The melting point (MP) cannot be used as the sole criterion for identification, however, as, among the myriad organic compounds, many melt at the same temperatures. Still, the technique can be useful in differentiating amongst a small set of known compounds, as will be demonstrated in the present experiment.

Potential Compounds:
-benzoic acid [bond-line formula] 122.12g/mol
MP: 122.4°C
-o-anisic acid [bond-line formula] 152.15g/mol
MP: 98-103°C
-m-toluic acid [bond-line formula] 136.14g/mol
MP: 111-113°C
-trans-stilbene [bond-line formula] 180.25g/mol
MP: 122.4°C
-dimethyl fumarate [bond-line formula]
MP: 102-105°C 144.127g/mol
-acetanilide [bond-line formula] 135.17g/mol
MP: 113-115°C


[Edit: Apparently being in a foul mood is detrimental to my spelling and grammar. Just mending typos.]

Table of Contents

A table of contents was mandated by the lab instructor's decree, and space was allotted at the beginning of both the book and the term for such a list. It was updated each week with the newest experiment. The pages were also numbered at the lab instructor's command.

Yes, I know this is boring. Don't worry: it will get (slightly) more interesting in the coming weeks. But, then again, you're reading a blog that is centered around someone's organic chemistry notebook, so you have surrendered your right to complain about not being thrilled and stimulated.


Transcription:

Organic Chemistry

I. Melting Point Determination.........................................3
II. Recrystallization............................................................5
III. Simple Distillation........................................................9
IV. Fractional Distillation and GC Analysis....................12
V. Liquid Chromatography...............................................16
VI. Extraction.....................................................................19
VII. Resolution...................................................................22
VIII. Nucleophilic Substitution of Alkyl Halides............25
IX. Synthesis of Ethoxynaphthalene...............................28
X. Isolation of Caffeine from Tea......................................30
XI. Infrared Spectroscopy.................................................32

Inside Front Cover

I realize this is somewhat less than exciting, but in the interest of completeness and consistency, I feel obliged to post it. Perhaps the only thing worth commenting on is the symbol I've appended to my name. It looks something like this:
It is one of a number of 18th-century alchemical symbols for phosphorus, which really is one of my favorite elements. Time constraints prohibit me from going into too much detail, but look up the history of phosphorous - I promise it makes for an entertaining read. Anyway, I chose the symbol for various reasons, the chief of which is this: the word comes from the Greek, φώς ("light") and φόρος ("bearer"), and refers to the elements, well, phosphorescence. The idea of bringing light to the darkness jives well with scientific endeavor. Also, a quick translation Φωσφόρος into Latin reveals another science-friendly allusion to someone who was not big on arbitrary, dogmatic authority. Knowledge, as we have learned, must not be based on imperial ex cathedra pronouncements, but on empiricism and experimentation. Thus, phosphorus.

Somewhat perversely, too, my adoption of the symbol was something of an experiment, to see if anyone would notice. I appended it to my name on every piece of paper that I handed in to my lab instructor, including a quite prominent inclusion on the title page of my lab report. It was never questioned, or even mentioned. This was a little disappointing, but I'm not sure what I expected. Chemists, I find (and perhaps I should say "most scientists," in order to broadly smear as many people as possible), are rather concrete and not given to frivolity. Perhaps, unexplained and apparently unrelated, the symbol merely glided into insignificance and invisibility. Sometimes, I can't help but think that the keen focus required by science narrows the mind and perceptions a bit. There is a richness that can be discovered in contextualizing, a certain kind of aestheticism, if not significance, that comes from broadening of perspective. In other words, when synthesizing 2-ethoxynaphthalene, I think it's really rather nice to stop and smell the orange blossoms. But more of that later: we didn't synthesize nerolin until Lab IX, so you'll wait until we get there.

The Cover

I bought the book itself in Italy a number of years ago; I believe it was from Florence, but I could be mistaken. It had been sitting neglected on my shelf since its purchase, since nothing seemed quite worthy of its leather-bound extravagance. But when the time came to prepare a notebook for my Organic Chemistry lab, I decided that I would strive to make the fineness of the viscera match that of the skin. Like the cover, what lies within is only the pale facsimile of something greater-- an imitation of erudition, a shadow of a grand ancient tradition-- and its meagerness does rankle somewhat in the scholarly part of my soul. But in sum, I feel like I've achieved something here that is worth at least preserving, and maybe even sharing.

The photographs are of dubious quality, so I'll do my best to post transcriptions of the text along with each image.