After watching this how-to viral video about building a personal handheld burning laser out of an ordinary flashlight, I realized how disappointing I must be to the 10 year-old version of me.

10 Year-Old Me: Oh. My. God! Did you see that?
Me: Yeah. Pretty cool, right?
10 Year-Old Me: Pretty cool? A handheld laser gun? That’s a dream come true! C’mon, lets go make one!
Me: Ugh. Forget it, dude. It’s way too complicated.
10 Year-Old Me: What do you mean “too complicated”? We just watched a step-by-step instruction on how to make one!
Me: Right. But one of those instructions involved owning a soldering gun, which would necessitate me knowing how to use a soldering gun. Or even knowing where one goes to buy a soldering gun. No thanks. 
10 Year-Old Me: What’s wrong with you? We’ll figure it out. And then we’ll burn things with a laser beam. It’ll be amazing. C’mon, lets go to the store!
Me: Oh, okay. And which store would you like to go to first? The Soldering Gun store or the Axis-Laser-Housing store? Guess what? They don’t exist. Go away, I’m working.
10 Year-Old Me: Wait. This is where you work?
Me: Yep.
10 Year-Old Me: This is super depressing.
Me: Look, I’m not happy about it either.
10 Year-Old Me: What about the NBA?
Me: Uhm…the NBA doesn’t really pan out the way we thought it would. In fact, you might want to devote less time on basketball and more time on reading.
10 Year-Old Me: No way! Reading is for losers.
Me: Exactly.
10 Year-Old Me: I don’t think I like you very much.
Me: Well, I don’t like you much either.
10 Year-Old Me: I’m out of here. Have fun at your job, loser.
Me: Have fun grooming your rat-tail, you little faggot.
10 Year-Old Me: (Gasp!) You said the other F word!
Me: Yeah, that’s right. It’s called irony, idiot.
10 Year-Old Me: …
Me: Look, I’m sorry I called you the other F word. I only meant it in the colloquial sense.
10 Year-Old Me: It’s okay.
Me: Look, all I’m saying is you might want to consider expanding your scope a little bit.  There’s more to life than Sega, Cheetos, and Weird Al.
10 Year-Old Me: Okay.
Me: And, seriously, stop with the basketball. It’s hopeless. Mom will be taller than you at your Bar Mitzvah.
10 Year-Old Me: I feel really sad now.
Me: I know. Believe me, trying–and failing–to make a laser gun won’t help you feel any better.
10 Year-Old Me: I guess you’re right.