After two weeks I think I finally have recovered. It wasn't easy for my brain to return to its normal consistency -- from mush back to nice firm gray and white matter. But now my brain processes are back to operating at full capacities.

It all happened over spring break. I caught the fever -- "the fever for the flavor of a Pringles," that is. Instead of travelling to far away lands, relaxing on a beach or cruising the Caribbean, I was among the first of the millions of people to see Madonna's new controversial Pepsi commercials.

I opted for a regular vacation at home complete with good food, familiar faces and a bed which knows my every toss and turn. And now I know half of the McDonald's jingle -- even though I hate hamburgers.

This vacation was the first in a long time that I did not schedule myself to work, so I really didn't know what to do. To ensure a relaxing and uneventful spring break, I decided to set up some mental guidelines:

I will eat as often as possible, regardless of calorie content or nutritional value and attempt to watch at least three hours of prime-time television each evening.

I began my lazy mission by flipping the channels to see what would be the first show to entertain me. My family -- disregarding my opinion -- already knew what they wanted to watch, and for the next hour I was whisked from my living room to the somewhat city-life of oil-rich Dallas.

Personally I thought the show had been discontinued. Then again, old television series never die; they just go into syndication. I should have known.

Within two minutes, I was taken back six years to when watching the show was a weekly activity. The characters still were familiar to me -- just a little older.

J.R.'s once trim figure had expanded and his dark hair had grayed; however, the changes did not stop at physical appearance. J.R., once the crude, success-oriented, money-hungry person seemed nearly spineless to me.

Although a hint of deception still exists, he has done things that six years ago, for J.R., would have been unfathomable -- such as marrying someone who is far less than half his age and who he really only married in the first place, to get out of jail. Six years ago, he wouldn't have married her. He has lost his ambitious streak as well, for his younger brother now controls J.R.'s treasured oil business

Highly disappointed with the plot, characterization and bored beyond belief after "Dallas," I could not sit through another show. Rather than force myself to do so, I put aside my couch potato mode and went to sleep, determined tomorrow would be a better day.

The next evening, I resumed my place in front of the television once again, this time for a Saturday night sit-com. It proved to be yet another night of disappointment.

Again, I missed character, plot development and originality. And the characters' incorrect grammar really annoyed me.

As a mass communications major, I am well aware of the time it takes to develop a plot and all of the stylistic things that make a storyline. And I do realize that 30 minutes is not a long time. However, the storylines could be beefed up to fill that time limit.

Looking back on the week now, I think Saturday was the first time I felt any of the symptoms of my illness -- television delirium. Just a little mushiness in the brain and slowly I was changing from the sensible to the silly -- analyzing life in a Norman Lear sort of way.

I got progressively worse. It started to happen slowly. I was beginning to sing the commercial jingles. I didn't know all of the words but, subconsciously, I was catching on.

The shows passed by. I hardly remember their titles or their plots, I just remember that with each passing show, I began to hate television more.

Slowly they passed, David Copperfield escaping from a collapsing building saving his life by only a few seconds. Frank Sinatra guest starring on "Who's the Boss?" and not even singing. And last and far from least I remember "Roseanne."

"Roseanne" is enjoying relatively comfortable ratings because the show claims to be a show everyone can relate to --everyone, I guess, except for me. Some of the events are vaguely familiar, but for the most part, I cannot relate to people walking, jumping and performing other physical activities on the couch except sitting.

Nor can I relate to the incorrect grammar. After awhile you begin to question whether or not she really is speaking the language.

I found only a handful of shows worth my attention: "The Arsenio Hall Show" and sports. Neither are on during prime-time.

And only one prime time show proved to be more than mindless.

"The Wonder Years" offered some creativity and is based on the old story of initiation theme. Real-life situations were presented in a way that seemingly everyone could relate and respond with a pang of nostalgia. These type of shows I noticed were rare and continued to be overshadowed and outnumbered by the basically "no thought required" television shows.

These shows seldom are filled with sexism or poor actors, nor are they insulting to my intelligence as is prime-time television. From these shows, my brain does not turn to mush because of plots lacking in originality.

I'll give prime-time television a chance again to impress me sometime soon, but I refuse to become a human couch potato.