I’ve been trying to dodge this week’s topic forever because it just seems to easy to do, but the events of the last few weeks have forced me into this position.

Once upon a time last semester a friend of mine asked me if I watched “Days Of Our Lives.”

I was like “No! I’m not much into soap operas.” She laughs at me and says everyone watches this show, and I must be some kind of social moron because I’ve never seen it.

Well, I don’t want to be a social moron, so I guess I better figure out when this holy grail of television is on.

I come to find that this thing comes on at one in the afternoon. I sit down with a bag of chips and a soda to watch …

And I am lost.

They have this bad actor over here mumbling to himself about how he loves this bad actress and so-and-so is attracted to yada-yada-yada, and I just can’t figure out this show’s appeal.

I turn it off and decide this is one of those things I will never understand, much like calculus and women.

I come to find out that “Days” (as the fans call it) is bigger than I expected.

I soon discover that for this hour, thousands of people on this campus are glued to television sets in their dorm rooms, their apartments and their greek houses.

It’s like this show provides some kind of fix for drug addicts the way people tune-in for this stuff.

I have found people who schedule class around this show or tape it and watch it with all their friends in some sort of occult communal gathering where they wear garlic around their necks and pray to this huge hourglass slowly counting down the hour episode.

So I asked my sister about this mystical force called “Days” and she said “J.R., don’t start watching. It’s addicting.”

And I’m thinking, “Here’s that drug thing again. How can television be addicting? Cocaine is addicting. Is ‘Days’ on the same level as cocaine? Does someone need to invent a patch or gum to stop watching? Do people go into violent shakes when they don’t watch?”

I was so confused.

Over the next months I forgot about “Days.” I would tune in for a minute or two if I was really bored, always hoping to catch the fervor all these other people have jumped on this cosmic “Days” bandwagon.

A couple of weeks ago, the most bizzare thing happened. I was on the couch in my apartment (surprise) and low and behold it’s 1 p.m. “Here we go again,” I thought.

The show opens with a scene at somebody’s wedding.

All of the “Days” fans know whose wedding it was, so I don’t need to rehash the obvious, even though I really don’t know what’s going on.

This blonde girl, Carrie or somebody, punches this other girl, Sammy. (Please don’t hold me to the names. I’m sure you people know who I’m talking about).

Anyway, Carrie lays this girl out and as soon as this punch makes contact, I can hear my entire apartment complex cheer.

Men and women alike all rejoicing from this one act of violence. And I find I feel better even though I don’t really know this Sammy person.

That night I headed out to the bar (surprise), and I sat at this table where we all started talking about today’s show, and what we think is going to happen, saying that we don’t want this girl with this guy and so on.

My head is spinning (from the drinks, as well as from the show) and I begin to discover that the one punch has drawn me into another world (not the soap).

I find myself spitting out names of characters and their romantic strife, not really knowing what is going on. I find I’m not myself anymore.

I’ve had “Days” injected into my veins like heroin, and it feels good.

I begin to wonder how this happened. How did I start to like people who live in luxury but never go to work?

How did I begin to understand this twisted-love spiderweb that winds its way around the characters tying this child to this guy (but not really) and this guy to this girl, (but not really because she likes this other guy who is in Italy or something with this girl who IS ADDICTED TO DRUGS) and there are these flashbacks and dreams that I still don’t understand.

There are hidden wine cellars, private planes to jungles and even Elvis.

How did this show drag me to the point where I’m talking at the screen? (I know you people do this.)

I come to find the show is a drug sending viewers on this magic carpet ride of the emotions.

A combination acid trip with a touch of speed.

So the sands in my hourglass continue to fall as I try to understand just how this show attracts so many viewers.

Maybe it is like calculus and women.

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J.R. Grant is a senior in public relations from Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.