I returned home for Winter Break hoping to rest, relax and have some good times with old friends. However, bad weather soon trapped me indoors with my own thoughts. I feel my columns prove my thoughts are often quite idiotic, and it wasn't long before I plunged into insanity. Although I've come to my senses now, I submit sections of my journal entries to take you down the path of my dark demise.
Jan. 3, 2008
My family has returned to work and school, leaving me home alone for up to eight hours a day. I called up all my friends and plans of hi-jinks, shenanigans and antics abounded. And what did we do with our day of freedom, Diary? We bought window chalk and drove around drawing penises on every car in a 15-mile radius, then collapsed onto the couch to watch a mind-numbing three hours of TV. Though the Penis Brigade had a successful run, I must find other ways to entertain myself.
Jan. 6, 2008
Dial-up Internet makes contact with the outside world a painful process with few rewards. Made contact long enough to hear from college friends in Australia and California. It is in the mid-90s in Australia and mid-60s in California. It is 7 degrees here. Will avoid Facebook from now on to ward off depression.
Jan. 8, 2008
Heavy fog has enveloped the small town, condemning me to stay within its boundaries. I ventured out to get the mail and spent three hours wandering around completely lost. Recalling Stephen King's The Mist,"" I decide it is best to stay inside and wait out the fog.
Up until now the journal entries seem harmless. However, the thick cloud of fog rolled in and hung over the tiny village of Dickeyville for days. I had no hours at my part-time job and the cable went out for several hours on the 10th of January. This is where the slippery slope into insanity began.
Jan. 10, 2008
Today I drew smiley faces on each of my fingers for company. We played a game of cards, but things got out of hand when Righty Pointerson accused Ringo Lefterfield of cheating. Thumbs McGee broke things up just in time, but tension is high. Rumor has it The Toe Gang from the South side is causing trouble, and now is not the time for civil war between my hands.
At this point in the journal, I am afraid of the lunacy of my own entries. The cable returned but I was beyond ""Bonanza"" and ""Three's Company"" reruns now. Increasingly I would talk to myself, hide in the dark basement and search for my Precious. There were dark times ahead of me.
Jan. 11 2008
All my friends from yesterday have disappeared. I fear they may have drowned, or my toes may have been involved. This is a tragic loss, and I am too emotional to write more.
Jan. 12, 2008
I have turned to soap operas. I have hit rock bottom and all I can think about is whether Anneliese will regain her memory before she gives birth to Slater's baby in the mineshaft. And how could her twin have pushed her down there in the first place? I will update you when I know more.
Thankfully my mom had a snow day around this time. Through tender care, gossip and chocolate she brought me back from the edge. As my delirious rage returned to its normal level of gibberish, I began to pick up hours at work, read books and round up the Penis Brigade to escape boredom.
But should the day come when I am trapped at home, or stuck in the dorm due to freezing temperatures, I know I have some very special friends I can count on to save me from returning to madness: Thumbs McGee and the gang are only a sharpie away.
If you also have nicknames for your fingers, e-mail Megan at mcorbett2@wisc.edu.
