Day 01: Hello to whoever finds this in the future. My name is Chad Spike, and I’m quarantining in Whipple Park because I got COVID-19. I know that I should have tried harder to be careful or whatever, but like, I’m not gonna die, so what’s the point, right? Anyway, they left me this notebook here in this room, so I thought I might as well write down my journey.

Day 02: That bed is awful. Holy cow, that bed is awful. I either got no sleep, or fell asleep and dreamed that I was awake. Either way, I am not looking forward to my two-week sentence.

Day 03: First day of classes in isolation, and I have to say, having nothing to do really makes you look forward to class. It was still boring, but at least I was entertained.

Day 04: After the second day of classes, it gets a lot less entertaining. I have resorted to learning TikTok dances to pass the time.

Day 05: I definitely pulled my delticep or something doing the Renegade.  It certainly doesn’t help that I slept on it wrong. I also could barely pay attention during Freakonomics.

Day 06: Kyle just posted on Instagram that he’s going on a double date with his girlfriend and mine and says that they all miss me. At least I now have some internal pain to match my back.

Day 07: I decided to download Duolingo. Maybe I can spend this time learning a new language; who knows?

Day 08: They say when you learn a new language you can dream in it. I got no sleep. That owl haunts my dreams.

Day 09: I meditated for eight hours straight and have realized that life is suffering. Everything is pain. The only way to be free is to break the cycle.

Day 10: My senses are enhancing. There’s a fly in my room, and I can sense its presence without seeing it — just by hearing it. I call him Hubert, and he is my sole ally in this cruel, cruel world. Also I think that I have a super-smell. Or maybe I have no smell, who knows?

Day 11: If I clench my fists and concentrate, I can make sparks dance along my knuckles. Can I use this as a power source, or as a taser?

Day 12: I have learned to levitate. The ability is limited; I can only do it for 5 minutes at a time. You know what they say, practice makes perfect. And boy, do I have plenty of time with this upcoming one-day study break!

Day 13: Hubert is dead. I killed him with my mind. I stared at him, exerted my power, and he fell over writhing in pain. So much pain. I absorbed his life energy. 

Day 14: Being in isolation has taught me a lot. I learned to be more careful and I learned a lot about myself. That being said, I can’t wait to get out of here.

Day 15: I’m still here. Maybe it’s 14 days plus the one when you get your test? That has to be right. Right?

Day 16: I constantly hear people passing my door, waiting for one of them to open it, but no one does. No one does.

Day 17 through 56: [pages are either completely covered in graphite, torn out, indecipherable, or gibberish.] 

Day 57: [page only bears what appears to be a pentagram with characters unknown to the english language drawn around the outside in red pen.]

Day 58 through 66: [pages are either completely covered in graphite, torn out, indecipherable, or gibberish.]

Day 67: [page is blank, but wet with small drops of what appear to be tears.]

Day 68: Apparently it’s been cloudy the past few days, and I thought that whenever the clouds passed over the sun it was a new day. It’s actually still day 17. So as not to confuse readers in the future, I will be continuing with my current number system.

Day 69: “Lol.”



Flirting with your hiring managers

If you’d allow me the pleasure of gracing the hallowed halls of your esteemed company, it would endear me greatly.

The ‘wanted’ posters at the University of Rochester are unambiguously antisemitic. Here’s why.

As an educator who is deeply committed to fostering an open, inclusive environment and is alarmed by the steep rise in antisemitic crimes across this country and university campuses, I feel obligated to explain why this poster campaign is clearly an expression of antisemitism

Please stop messing with my pants

It started off with small things. One morning, the cuffs of my pants were slightly shorter, almost imperceptibly so.