The UMAI Technique

Last week a funny thing happened to me.

It dawned on me that I'm a hypocrite.

I know I've said previously that I like the word hypocrisy because it conjures up the picture of a big, fat, hippopotamus sitting on a throne.

The word hypocrite is not as entertaining.

It reminds me of nothing.

Except it's actual meaning … which sucks.

I began writing this blog because I felt like I had a new understanding of life and it's systems and working machinery after the Vipassna camp.

And a LOT of what I've written is an expression of this new found 'wisdom'.

And last week showed me… it's easier said than done.

Because last week, something happened.

I was unexpectedly and mercilessly dropped into what is universally regarded as a 'dangerous situation'. Almost like, thus far, I had been preparing myself for a walk in the park and I was just told that the 'park' is actually an obstacle course which involves alligator filled moats, shark tanks, rope jumps over spikey thorny beds of nails and snake pits.

For the sake of simplicity, let's say, I was told that I have to perform a motorcycle ramp jump, Evel Knievel style, for a week.

The possible scenarios:

• I could live and get through the week unscathed.
• I could break a few bones. Lose a few limbs.

Evel broke 443 bones during his lifetime.

That means he broke each bone at least twice and a few, thrice or more.

Oooh… f-u-n. Can't wait. 

• I could, basically, die.

Please bear in mind, this is a highly exaggerated version of my predicament.

But of the same nature, nevertheless.

What did I do?!?

To put it mildly, I broke down- nervously, emotionally, physically.

And I wrote a little letter in my head, addressed to God, Bruce Almighty style:

Dear God,

What's your problem?

Just when I thought things were going to go well in my life, you decide to mess things up. What is it with you, huh?!?

What?!? You don't think five years of bad luck is proof enough of my tenacity?

You want to keep testing me?!? See what makes me snap?!?

Well, A BIG, FAT CONGRATULATIONS to you Mr. God.

This is it.

I've snapped.

I can't take anymore of your tests.

Why can’t you allow me some peace and quiet?!?

Why do I always have to be jumping over hurdles?

I've let you have your fun for five years … and I've forgiven you for it.

Then you dangle a little cookie crumb in front of my eyes and then you take it all away. What is wrong with you?!

Anyway… now what's done is done. You can't undo what you've already done. But this letter is to inform you that I'm not talking to you anymore.

Go find someone new to test and trip over every step of the way.

I'm done with you.

From your once loyal follower,

Pious Hippie

P.S. The only way you can make this right is to, somehow, miraculously, change what you've just done. I don't care how. But CHANGE IT!

Then we can talk.

P.P.S. If you try to smite me now, you're only going to make it worse.

So don't even think about it. 

This letter drew a big question mark on the claims I've made in each of the following posts:

My Tryst with Masochistic Meditation

Yay for spilt milk

Broccoli Sucks

Wimpledon

Fizz-less Cola is just Sweet Water

All those quotes I've used, all the times I've asked you to trust God, all metaphors and drawings - were reduced to dust with just one letter.

With one unexpected twist in the tale- I forgot everything I've said since I started writing this blog.

It's not that I didn't try.

I tried.

I tried to think of the good parts that might come out of this ordeal.

Maybe I'll like the ramp jumps.

Maybe I'll enjoy the adrenaline rush.

Maybe the wind in my hair and wind beneath my feet will feel good.

Didn't work.

You can't brainwash your own brain.

So I realized that when the best case scenario is survival- it's hard to keep a positive outlook.

Every time I thought of stretching my imagination beyond what is humanly possible and putting a positive spin on things- the gremlin inside my head would say:

'Wake up and smell the concrete sis-tah.

The sooner ya get a reality check the better it's gonna be for ya.

NOTHING good will come out of this. Don't give yah-self false hopes, mahn. When ya get on that two-wheel death machine, you're gonna hate it. Ya'll let go of the clutch, and ya'll lose yah balance and ya'll fall off. If that doesn't happen, I'm pretty sure yuh're going to break at least five bones and lose three arms.'

'Um. Excuse me Mr. Gremlin, I don't have three arms'

'That's even worse.

That means the toxic air on top of the ramp is going to mutate yah body and yuh're going to grow an extra arm.

And then ya'll break it. And the original two as well.

There's no two ways about it, sis-tah

Yuh're in deep truh-ble, mahn'

Yes.

My gremlin has a Scottish accent with a twist of Jamaican.

Thereafter, I spent three days planning my own funeral.

I couldn't even bring on a fake smile when I wanted to.

And then I went for this movie.

Or should I say the universe sent me for this movie.

And in that movie, the protagonist wrote this poem.

Or should I say the universe made the protagonist write that poem.

And I listened to every word. I understood poetry for the first time in my life.

Or should I say, the universe made me understand every word.

And I could swear I felt like it was meant for me.

Like those four lines were written for me.

Only me. NOT the gazillion other people that were watching with me.

I bet they didn't even hear it.

The poem, loosely translated, said this:

When my heart is afraid, I ask it why its crying?

Every person has his share of deep, sad, silences

And every person has his share in the sunshine-

Every moment is a new season,

Why lose even one such moment?

Why are you afraid? Why do you cry?

Holy Cow. How did he know?

Is this some sort of joke?!?

Then I realized that such a 'joke' would be much too elaborate and only mildly funny and I'm not popular enough to play a joke on, so I snapped out of my paranoia.

This special broadcast of the message, specially for me made me feel so much better. Like a slap on the forehead.

I had dreamed up something for myself and I had attached myself to it.

And, as is always true, it wasn't happening the way I thought it would.

And I was feeling bad about it. And I was worrying.

Before you jump the gun and assume I'm going to tell you that worrying is useless and that you shouldn't worry, let me stop you.

This post is not about that.

Worrying, I think, is a natural instinct.

Babies probably worry but we won't ever know because they don't talk.

Kid's worry too.

When I was a kid, I used to worry before my swimming class every Wednesday - that the coach will push me into the pool and I'll drown. So I'd scratch my arms and legs real hard and claim to have a rash and skip class.

Anyway.

I think, it's impossible to NOT worry.

Unless you're Buddha.

Or maybe a baby.

Or a turtle.

I don’t think turtles worry.

I think they stopped worrying the day  one of them beat the hare in that race.

I'm going to give you a technique that might help, when you're worrying.

I'm warning you though… it's going to sound stupid.

Really stupid.

You're going to think I've lost the plot.

But if you're brave enough to try it, it WILL help.

So this is only going to help if you muffle, strangle and drown that inner skeptic in you- and try this a few times. Without being afraid of being weird.

I'd like to call this technique: 'Universe magnification, amplification, intensification' or a more catchy UMAI.

Pronounced: Oooh-my.

It rhymes with Loomai.

Or Boomai if you prefer.

It involves training your eyes, ears and mind and heart to receiving random signals from the universe. An exercise in signal recognition.

 

You know the scene from Bruce Almighty, when Jim Carey is driving on this bridge- venting his frustrations aloud, questioning God's competence?

And he keeps asking God for signals?

And there are 'Caution' signs all around him but he's too blind to see?

That's what I'm talking about.

Whenever I used to ask God for a signal - and I'd get something inconsequential- like a bee buzzing past me, I'd think,

'Well that couldn't have been it. You need to give me something more explicit. I'm not exactly asking for a miracle, but something that isn't really open to much interpretation-ary errors'.

I know 'interpretationary' isn't an actual word, but God's not a language freak. He forgave me.    

That's where I think I missed the point.

The point is that we need to think of God and the Universe (I use the terms inter-changeably, by the way), as Bumblebee, the autobot from Transformers.

You know how he talks?

He uses little excerpts from different movies and TV shows and songs to say what he's got to say.

It really is the coolest thing. 

But with the universe, it's not just random words and sentences, it's also signals using everything under the sun and the sun itself. So instead of looking for something 'special' just look at anything.

For me, it was a random poem in a movie.

I'm going to sound completely delusional, but I had goose-bumps on my arms and tears in my eyes- at the cinema.

And it wasn't even an emotional scene.

It might as well have been the universe's voice, specially for me.

Actually, I'm going to go ahead and say it.

It was the universe's voice, specially for me.

.

.

.

I'm the centre of the universe.

The universe was telling me not to worry, because it's there with me.

Telling me that I'm not alone.

I've done this a lot of times in the recent past.

Practiced UMAI.

And I'm picking the least weird one to narrate to you.

A few months ago, at the Vipassna camp, which, as I've mentioned was in the middle of nowhere, I was worrying about another major problem in my life while walking to my room. And I saw a bird. An olive green bird with a brownish tinge and a long tail. Nothing like any bird I'd ever seen before. And for some reason, I thought of my grandad- who passed away a couple of years ago. And almost immediately, I felt better- like my grandfather was sending me the message that he's around. He's going to take care of me. And I don't need to worry.

See? I told you - it's going to sound stupid. 

I know what you're thinking.

Coincidence, right?!?

Okay … some of you are thinking 'mental'… But I'm not talking to you.

I agree.

My problems have nothing to do with a poem in a movie, much less, a random bird in the middle of nowhere.

For all you know, the bird was lost and was finding it's way back home to Alaska. It had no idea that a random human being was staring at it - a little strangely even-  as a sign from the universe.

But here's how the technique makes sense.

It's a well known fact that anything can be viewed one way or the other.

Either positively, negatively or completely ignored.

So when you gift someone two shirts- a pink and a yellow one- and he wears the pink one the next time you go out, you may think (a) He didn't like the yellow one (negative thinking) or (b) he liked the pink one (positive thinking) ( c) you don’t notice either way (indifference).

Or when someone asks you, where you bought your handbag from. It could mean (a) I love it, I'm going to buy one just like it (positive thinking) or (b) I hate it, I'm never going to enter that shop (negative thinking).

I'm not asking you to look at everything in a positive light.

That’s impossible.

If that was possible, I would have looked at the motorcycle ramp jump in a positive light and wouldn't have needed to write this post.

It's impossible to look at something so glaringly negative as something positive. Those who say it's possible are either Buddha or they're lying.

Or maybe they're turtles.

All I'm saying is looking at something that is unrelated and neutral as something that may help is a LOT easier.

Not easy-peasy-Japanesey.

But easi-er than looking at something negative as positive.

And it helps.

And we're looking for anything that helps when we're faced with something negative. Anything to help us when we're drowning in worry.

Finding a connection between two unrelated things is a skill that the right-side of our brain possesses. Dan Pink called it 'Symphony' is his book, A Whole New Mind.

Quoting him here might be a little out of context, but I'm doing it anyway, because he doesn't read my blog:

'Symphony is the aptitude to put together pieces. It is the capacity to synthesize rather than analyze; to see relationships between seemingly unrelated fields; to detect broad patterns rather than to deliver specific answers…'

'Modern life's glut of options and stimuli can be so over-whelming that those with the ability to see the big picture- to sort out what really matters- have a decided advantage in their pursuit of personal well-being.'

Bingo.

I'm saying-what really matters is personal well being.

And so if a little weirdness and a stretch of the imagination can help me when I'm worrying, then I'm willing to stretch baby. I'll stretch to the moon and back.

I researched a lot, and after many complex calculations and analysis, I was able to depict graphically, what I'm trying to really say:

Weirdness is generally under-rated. It takes a lot of courage to be weird.

You're going to fail when you start out on the path of the UMAI technique. You'll feel like an idiot. You will want to abandon it half way.

But once you get the hang of it, you'll be hooked.

I'm not an expert practitioner, but I'm an intermediate level UMAI-ist.

I still need a semi-explicit signal from the universe. The subtle ones just pass me by and I don't even know.

But once I recognize the signal, and I know that something as powerful and omni-present as the universe has got my back- I feel a lot braver.

How many people can claim that they have the universe as their personal life-coach/bodyguard?

.

.

.

And how can I claim that, you ask? Ummm… did you forget about the lost Alaskan bird?!?!

And the best part is that it's okay to forget about the signal after a few days.

When you start worrying again the universe will just send you another signal-

a reminder signal.

You just need to pick it up.

Like sushi on those conveyor belts in those fancy sushi restaurants.

How's that for connecting two unrelated things, huh?

I'm a symphonatic genius.

Try the UMAI technique.

It's got a money back guarantee.

The only word of caution though, is don't talk about it out loud.

Everyone's going to think you're deranged.

And they'll give you their shrink's phone number.

You must NEVER call the shrink.

Shrinks are evil.

Okay not really.

But they won't understand.

They're going to brainwash you into thinking that the UMAI technique is a figment of imagination. That it doesn't exist.

But they don't know what you know.

Never retreat. Never surrender.

Death on the battlefield in service to UMAI is the greatest glory you can achieve in your life.

Never retreat. Never surrender.

To the tyranny of the shrinks.

Sorry, I get a bit touchy when it comes to shrinks or therapists of any kind.

Long story.

And you'll lose all respect for me if I tell you.

***

The Universe's Kryptonite

When I go in to shower everyday, I have this funny habit of pretending to be a celebrity and interviewing myself in the mirror.

I interview myself for five minutes everyday.

In the mirror.

Pretending I'm a celebrity.

Complete with the fake laugh, and the flicking of the hair and the story of the funny prank that George Clooney played on me while shooting a scene.

.

.

.

Oh… George is just such a riot!

*Hee-He-Hee*

*Flick hair behind the shoulder*

I like being interviewed. But I think I'll like interviewing other people too.

I've always wanted to interview Edison.

No, not because I'm interested in the invention of the light bulb.

I think he did a great job, but I'm pretty sure if he tried to explain the process to me…

I won't get most of it.

Actually, I won't get any of it.

.

.

.

And then he'll think I'm a twit.

And then he'll call for security to escort me out.

And I'll be dragged out of the room, with my arms flailing around wildly and me screaming…

'You're going to regret this Tom. I swear you'll regret this.'

I'm interested in his words. More specifically, when he said:

Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.

I want to confirm that I've understood him correctly.

Given the fact that I'm quite sure of the role of the universe in the story of our lives, his words seem to fit my beliefs perfectly.

I'm pretty sure Edison's saying that the universe is that 1%.

What I'm unsure of is whether that’s the correct order.

As in… does the universe play it's role before or after the perspiration?

Because Edison himself made almost 10000 attempts to get the light bulb to work but he couldn't create vacuum correctly and he gave up momentarily. Then he heard about another scientist who'd managed to create a vacuum better than him in some other part of the world. And the light bulb in his head went 'ping!' and he created the same vacuum for his (actual) light bulb and the rest is history.

Yea. If I show Edison that I know all this, I bet he won't think of me as a twit then.

Get your grubby hands off of me…  stupid security guards.

So the 99% perspiration came first and then came the 1% inspiration.

I know that perspiration is an important ingredient to success.

And I know hard work and luck feed off of each other.

I've lived my whole life on that belief.

I've always been a hard worker.

That's the reason I got good grades in high school. 

That's the reason I landed that coveted Canary Wharf job at university.

I put in that 99% perspiration, but the shoe just didn't fit.

It wasn't my fault.

.

.

.

I'm soooo tempted to blame this one on the universe.

.

.

.

I know I shouldn't.

But I'm so so so tempted.

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.

.

.

Oh what the heck…

It was the universe's fault.

Okay.

There, I said it.

It was all the universe's fault.

THERE I WAS DROPPING 99 BEADS OF SWEAT INTO MY LIFE'S PIGGY BANK AND THE UNIVERSE … WENT BACK ON IT'S WORD.

IT DIDN'T PUT IN THAT MAGICAL 1%.

Okay.

I'm okay.

I'm calm.

I'm okay.

The reality is… that it's not the universe's fault.

It did put in the 1% because if it hadn't, then I wouldn't have got the job.

But the fact remains that I wasn't recognized as a genius.

I sure didn't feel like one.

So what happened?!?

Now, I'm really glad you asked.

I introduce to you, dear readers, the result of 27 long years of research:

My award winning* 'Theory of Success'

*A highly coveted self-awarded award of Geniusness from the one member Advisory Committee of the Institute of Super Cool Research into Random Stuff (ISCRRS).

And given that I've been on ALL sides of the spectrum ('Successful banker' to 'Glaring failure' and 'Confused career-less loser'), I have considerable credibility and expertise in this field of study.

For those universities that would like to talk to me with regard to awarding me an honorary PhD, please contact me on the email address given at the bottom of this page.  

So without further adieu, here's the meat of what my theory states:

Early in our lives, we are to choose a path. A path that we have to walk on, to reach the goal of our lives.

But before we choose, the universe does it's job.

Often as early as kindergarten.

It gives us that 1% inspiration when we can barely talk.

Before you dismiss that as stupid, I think the reason it does this is because that, unfortunately, is the age that we are the most receptive to it.

Trust me.

That's really why.

I had a long heated discussion with the universe.

And that's what it told me.

When we are toddlers, we don't feel societal pressures. We don't care about looking cool in front of our friends. We don't care about getting rich. We don't care about being made fun of. We just do what we like.

And that's the only window of opportunity that the universe has to put in it's contribution.

The 1% inspiration.

That's why most geniuses start young.

Van Gogh was a 'peculiar child' who started sketching and drawing the world around him when he was about nine years old.

Einstein was awestruck with the compass his father gave him at the tender age of five. That convinced him that there had to be something deep hidden behind things. And it got him interested in the nature of the magnetic field for the rest of his life.

Tiger Woods was playing with a putter before he could walk. His parents say he possessed a passion for the sport.

Warren Buffett bought his first shares at the age of 11 and filed his first income tax return when he was 14. 

A note for the skeptics:

It is NOT because their parents forced them into it.

If you believe that they were forced, just do me this favor please.

Try to force a pre-teen to do anything.

Anything… let alone make him play golf when he wants to watch cartoons.

If you survive, you'll know why I'm so sure that they weren't forced.

Yes ladies and gentlemen.

It's sad but true.

The universe gives us it's 1% before we even know what '1%' means.

Those who are lucky -heed it's signal. Somehow.

And they become the geniuses the world reveres.

Notice I said 'somehow'.

See?!

I wasn't kidding when I said thorough research and keen observation.

But what about the rest of us?

Are we all doomed to never ever receive our 1% ever?!?

Just because we missed it the first time around?!

Well that's obviously not true… but it definitely gets harder to receive it.

Because as you grow up, you start feeling pressures. The above-mentioned pressures. Also, you start thinking you know what you're doing. So it get's harder for the universe to get through to us.

You pick a path and start laboring down that road.

You pick a path for some random reason.

The path to a six figure salary.

The path to comforts and pleasures of life.

The path to a holiday abroad each year.

The path to having an island named after you.

Whatever.

Then you work hard.

You do your 99% and BAM… you get that 1% and you make it.

Herein lies the crux of this theory.

Hard work is the weapon of choice here.

It's the universe's kryptonite.

Even the universe has to bow it's head before the power of hard-work.

I used to do that.

Quite a lot.

Bully it into submission using hard work.

And this very fact lies at the heart of the problem.

Because once you put in all that hard work and leave the universe no choice but to hand you the 1%, that's the end of you.

Unless most of your nerve endings have died on the way- when you get there you feel a sense of emptiness. Along with the emptiness you feel one or more of the following:

• Restlessness
• Void
• Intermittent feelings of what am I doing with my life… often.
• Lethargy when you wake up in the morning.
• Insecurity
• The need to extract your sense of self worth from other people's opinion of you
• The urge to mention your accomplishments to others for no rhyme or reason
• The longing for retirement- early or scheduled

And if you're a little over-dramatic like yours truly, you will also experience:

• A part of you dying inside
• Hyper-eating: Food's the only good thing left in your life
• Achy feeling in stomach before stepping out of the house for work
• Daily morning crying ritual
• Nervous breakdowns
• Premature graying
• Stress pimples on your cheeks and forehead

I'm not kidding.

So then you look at the universe for help.

After blaming it for your misery of course.

Either you spend all your life hoping that the universe will make it better.

Or you get used to the symptoms above and realize that most people are living their lives like that anyway, so there's no reason to complain.

Or you realize the mistake you've made. So you decide to change paths.

And roam around listlessly till you see a blip on the 'Universe communication' radar- telling you which path to take. 

And then it hits you.

You get your 1% inspiration, the universe sets you onto the path you were meant to take in kindergarten and now you start ploughing all over again.

And you plough and plough and plough away.

And BAM you get your 1% and you’re a genius.

Note 1: Genius here is defined as the absence of the above mentioned symptoms and the pervasive feeling of ecstasy.

Note 2: Pervasive feeling of ecstasy is defined as the absence of the above mentioned symptoms and happiness and a sense of purpose in everyday life.

In between the changing of paths and the hitting of the inspiration, there's pain. And despair. There's hopelessness and ridicule. There's depression and doubt. And there are repeated attempts at opening up to the message of the universe.

You just need to keep going.

And it serves you right for ignoring the universe in the first place. 

How long does it take, you ask?

This process of changing paths and your geniusness blossoming?

My thorough and deep research suggests it depends on three things:

• Your willingness  and ability to overcome the fear involved in changing paths
• Your receptiveness to the universe's signals
• Your willingness to do the time; to put in the manual labor.

Bullet points number 1 and 3 seem to be under our control.

What do we do about bullet point number 2? Where do we even begin?

*sigh*

Like all theories this one, too, has it's blurry parts.

It's unclear how one can become fluent in 'universe'.

But fear not, for the Pious Hippie has ventured forth in search of an answer. I suggest one of the following:

• Renounce the materialistic world and camp out for 13 years in a small cave in the woods.
• Devise a new code language of your own and teach it to the universe.

I'm not sure how you can resolve a small problem that might crop up in pursuing this path. What language will you use to teach the universe this new language? Hm… ?

• Go back to how the universe tried to communicate with you in kindergarten. How would it have tried to tell you about that 1%? How did little Van Gogh or Einstein understand what the universe was trying to tell them? I'm not sure but my guess is that unlike other people (whom we hear using our ears), we can hear the universe through this weird combination of mind and heart. 

We just do what we like  doing.

We do what we feel like doing even when it's not that easy.

We do what we feel like doing even if no one pays us.

We do what we feel like doing instead of sleeping at night.

To most sane people the third method seems to the simplest.

Unless you're a professional language inventor.

Which would be such an awesome job!

.

.

.

What do you do for a living?

Oh… I invent languages for a living.

WOW!

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.

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Anyway the third method, as easy as it seems -is no cake walk.

Because:

(a) you can think you like something and then get bored of it after a few months;

(b) You might think you don't like something because it's not really a thing. Examples would include: brain paragliding; information simplifying; funny chart making; dirty story telling etc;

(c) you like more than one thing a LOT and can't make up your mind about which one the universe is pointing to;

(d) you think the universe is an idiot because it's pointing you towards a field that is already so saturated that you'll never be able to make a living in it. So you think, 'I must be interpreting the universe incorrectly'.

Maybe it's saying to me- 'dog lighting' and I'm hearing 'blog writing'.





I told you it wasn't easy.

But nobody said the quest for geniusness is easy either.

In conclusion, I conclude that you ignore the universe at your own peril.

The result: A semi-happy life in which the 'happy' part is extremely fragile and originates from a place outside of you- not from the inside. That's the birthplace of insecurity.

I also conclude that it takes a lot of guts to follow the path of the universe.

To not sell out half way and take up something less arduous and more lucrative. You can't rule out the possibility of a tragic ending either.

Even with my constant harping on the subject, I'm not sure if I'm completely up to it.

Only time will tell.

Van Gogh died at the age of 37 from a self inflicted gun shot wound. He had a pretty hard life having to deal with commercial failure, difficult personal relationships and eventually mental illness. No one knew or cared about his art while he was alive. But his fortitude gave me goose bumps. In a letter to his brother, he wrote:

'What am I in the eyes of most people - a nonentity, an eccentric or an unpleasant person - somebody who has no position in society and never will have, in short, the lowest of the low.

All right then, even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart.'

Immediately after his death, Van Gogh's work became sought after.

He died in 1890, but I'm still talking about him in my blog in 2011.

And the third conclusion is that hard work is the weapon of mortals against the universe. Van Gogh produced about 2000 pieces of work in his short career.

Okay. I know.

Van Goghs are like one in a gazillion.

His is a case of extreme geniusness and extreme hardship.

But all I'm saying is, that we can scale his life down to a millionth fraction and face a millionth of the hardships and get one millionth of the ecstasy.

That's not too bad a deal.

Yes, I know.

My calculations and mathematical accuracy are phenomenal.

I work quite hard at it.

The lesson that Van Gogh's life is screaming out is:

'Just show what's in your heart!'

So it turns out the order isn't important.

Recognizing your 1% when it hits you just gives you a head start.

And missing it means that it probably won't 'hit' you the same way.

You'll have to grope around in the dark for sometime.

The result, though, will always be the same.

Geniusness.

Provided you add the kryptonite to the concoction.

The 99%.

Again:

Note 1: Geniusness here is defined as the absence of the above mentioned symptoms and the pervasive feeling of ecstasy.

Note 2: Pervasive feeling of ecstasy is defined as the absence of the above mentioned symptoms and happiness and a sense of purpose in everyday life.

Okay. This is my cue to stop.

If I don't, I'll keep repeating what I've said before.

Did I mention I won an award for this theory? From the ISCRRS?!?

The institute for super cool research into random stuff?!

Hm.. You're right… I did mention that.

Okay.

Don't forget.

Those who have the authority to award honorary PhDs, my email's at the end of this page. Just scroll down. I'm available all the time.

Can't wait to hear from you guys.

And I'm so excited.

I have my acceptance speech ready.

And I'm also planning an acceptance dance.

On Michael Jackson's 'Man in the Mirror'.

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And don't worry… I'm not going to make a fool of myself.

I'm taking moon-walking classes.

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