A fork in the road is before me. Where should I go? I am now before this very fork that all writers have reached at some point in their careers. Great writers, and not so great writers. The sign at this fork reads “up or down.”

I can advance on to some kind of greatness. This would be writing movies, best-selling novels or writing for the “The Simpsons.” Or I can always take the road most traveled, which would be down. I can let myself deteriorate into the sort of degeneration that would make the British blush. There are many examples of all kinds of professionals – not just writers – that have traveled either path. Many have used their accomplishments as stepping-stones to the next level. Some of these professionals become great. Others let their minds turn into potato soup.

If the choice is down, how should this degeneration be written? I would think that the way down should be something extraordinary that far surpasses anything others have accomplished. I suppose the quickest and messiest way down is “The Hemingway.” But that cannot happen for the obvious fact that I am immortal and cannot die.

The Hunter S. Thompson model is one of numerous choosing. A drug induced fall-from-grace. Thompson took acid to such an extreme that his eyeballs melted. Then, to top it all off, he wrote about his experiences.

It would be prudent to note that this is not necessarily the choice of down. Some would consider it horizontal movement rather than vertical movement. Of course, some would actually consider it upward movement. Therein lies the beauty, that movement about the fork in the road can be any direction. However, the person doing the directing determines the actual direction.

The Hunter S. Thompson model is a bit overplayed. Not to mention that acid just won’t melt my eyeballs. I have manufactured, or “fake” eyeballs. This is due to being conned into spraying my eyes with WD40 when I was younger. Freddie was right; my eyes did feel glassy, for about half a second. Then it was all downhill for my eyes as they proceeded to melt.

For my last column for the Iowa State Daily, I did in fact try to do something unimaginable that no one has yet tried. While writing my final column, I decided to get a lobotomy. This is to project that feeling of being in a world outside of the real world (as in “Swordfish,” the terrible John Travolta movie). I did not take any drugs for this procedure, because the drugs would not allow me to write my column. Instead, the doctor hit me over the head with a board to numb me.

As I am writing this sentence, the doctor is sawing into my head. This is the most painful thing I have ever experienced. Thoughts are now entering my head suggesting this may not have been a grand procedure . Jesus went to the market, to cross the road. In the sky with diamonds, the pale wept sore.

Those two sentences were the last things I wrote as my brain was taken out. The doctors then placed my brain back in, and sewed me up. This venture was a complete and utter failure. The doctor said I started blurting out incomprehensible sentences and making messes all over the floor. So my downward fall from grace is to be nothing extraordinary. I was hoping to make an impact on the world. People would read my column and say “wow, what a crazy bugger.” I would be hailed as starting a new degenerative trend. The mind would be grilled on a skewer for all to see.

Perhaps I am meant to travel upwards. The stars are the limit. Writing is so much fun, it would be sad not to continue writing regular hilarity for the masses. I have enjoyed this writing experiment that the Daily has given me.

I hope to take it upwards and onwards to something more. I would like to thank the Daily for this opportunity. I would also like to thank the readers for putting up with this experiment in writing. I will not look at this as the end, but rather the end of the beginning.

Someday, you might hear about a writer that wrote a novel after a lobotomy. The writer will be hailed as a genius and a madman all in one breath.

Jason Bruen is a senior in engineering operations from Lake Bluff, Ill.