8.) While the chips are clearly defined and immediately recognizable, they're also incredibly delicate. It's not hard to imagine that, with a little bit of focused and unrelenting force, those chips of your identity can be completely crushed until nothing identifiable about the original chips -- their majestic peaks, their admirable versatility, their edge -- remains intact. All it takes is some careless, selfish, bitch-faced handling and those once sumptuous chips will be reduced to mere crumbs, utterly indistinguishable from the cracker crumbs, cookie crumbs, even specks of pure garbage with which they will forever mingle in hard-to-clean kitchen crevices and beneath the refrigerator.
9.) What you want to do -- or, rather, what societal pressures are going to force you into believing you want to do -- is invite the meat-and-cheese mix from earlier to "move in" with the chips in the in-retrospect-too-small baking sheet. Start small by just pouring a thin layer of the mixture on top of the chips. Throw some more chips on top of that cheese, because it's nice to at least temporarily think the chips still have some control over the sheet. This will pass, you realize, when you have to layer even more cheese and meat on top of the second layer of chips. Note that the top layer of cheese is now dripping down, invading every available nook and cranny that the chips were foolish enough to think would remain free and open forever. You can throw an additional layer of chips atop this cheese if you want, but just know that more meat and cheese will find its way on top of that layer, so you might just be better off saving yourself the trouble. If you're not sure what to do, just keep pouring more and more cheese mix on top of everything. Really ... really smother those chips.
If they were a person with goals, those chips would be saying, "I can't breathe" right now.