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|Social Singularity (standard:non fiction, 12851 words)|
|Author: Chard||Added: Oct 21 2011||Views/Reads: 2557/2218||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|This is an account of the most important time in my life. It's outlandish, stratospheric, like totally out there, but also contains numerous humorous anecdotes and social ideas.|
Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story I said, “Yeah right. I bet all you do is color the food pyramid.” 4. My friend Nathan was looking for the paper towels, so another friend told him they were behind the pizza box. I tell Nathan that he has to think outside the box. 5. By just my third day at the Citi Records Center I had already gained a reputation. My supervisor introduced me at a company meeting. I said, “Hi. I'm Chard. I'm new and innocent.” Every woman in there said “Yeah right.” My supervisor then said “Okay, now you know to watch out for this guy.” 6. My friend's cat stepped all over him and he said, “Come on cat, quit stepping on my nuts.” I said, “Why? That wouldn't be the first time a pussy's stepped all over your balls.” 7. This one I'm most proud of. My lead and I flirted at the Citi Records Center even though she had a husband. One day she decided to alienate me after thinking things were going too far between us. She performed the well-documented MacGyver effect, where a girl in a relationship runs away from you after starting off friendly, like MacGyver from a building about to explode. Living my life as the retaliator, I alienate her right back. Then she tried joking with me again but I wasn't having any of it, so she got quiet after realizing what she had done. Back at my lead's desk, my partner for the week showed me where we put our timesheets, across from where my lead was sitting. I said “So I put my timesheet here, and I don't have to deal with her then.” I could gauge from my lead's body language that she got the message. My partner thought I was joking so (you couldn't have scripted this any better) she said “Did you hear that? He doesn't have to deal with you.” After the weekend my lead gave me a drawn out, apologetic “Hey,” and when I asked if I could greet her husband when he met her for lunch things became fine between us. To build the confidence a practiced MA exhibits, I recommend you learn a skill. For me, it was dance. Other options include learning to play an instrument, good story-telling so people will defer to you in group situations, or become good at a sport. Find ways to relate the emotions you feel while practicing your skill. Share an embarrassing story from when you first started out. For dance, I describe the first time I hit the clubs. I'd get a couple pairs of eyes to glance my way, but even those eyes seemed unsure of what to think of my moves. I'd perhaps hang out too long by one group of women, thinking they were into my dancing style when really they were waiting for me to leave them be. As I practiced more and hit more clubs though, two pairs of eyes became fourteen pairs and a smile to match each. My attention on the dance floor became the most valuable thing in the club. There would be the nerdy girl wanting me to stay and dance with her for longer than I deemed fit for one person, the cute girl who would back her rump into me wanting me to grind on her then falling on her ass because she's too drunk to stand, and the girl saying “Chard this guy just won't leave me alone,” an obvious invitation to dance with her. Be sure to also incorporate sensations in your stories. For my trip to Cancun, I like to talk to women about the short walk barefoot from the hotel to the beach. They can feel the plush carpet in the hotel room, then the rock slab with tiny bits of grit out in the hotel hallway to the gingerly walking down each step and finally the sand between their toes as I describe it in detail. If you see that you can use all kinds of observations in your stories I did my job. The step up from mood acceleration is people acceleration, which is obviously much rarer. It confounds me that no one seems to be doing anything about those that are able to change other people. The first thing I would do is study their brains and compare them to the brains of people that aren't so good socially (like me currently) to see if there is a chemical difference. I hope to be the first to document that a chemical is released in the brain based on a person's social ability. I hypothesize this because I felt the wonderful drug myself within my first couple of days working at the Citi Records Center. Obviously, I wasn't the only people accelerator around, so why don't any other PAs make a similar claim about a chemical in the brain? I believe it has to do with transition time. My transition from an average MA to an extremely powerful PA was so quick that I was able to notice the difference in my brain. The transition for almost any other PA happened too gradually for any one step to feel different from the previous. They still are high off the drug, they just don't realize it. I attribute the quick transition to a particular strategy that at the time I didn't like and wanted to change immediately. I only went out on Friday occasionally, other than that I didn't have a ton of social interaction. I had high social ability and knew it, just little opportunity to showcase it. In the meantime, I was building quite a look for myself by working out regularly and shaving my head, which after the crew cut I noticed people holding doors open for me when I was twenty feet away. I also continued studying dating and body language advice online. With my new look and compendium of social knowledge, I was finally thrown into an environment where I would get plenty of social interaction. I started work at the Vault in the Citi Records Center (CRC). I am aware of the first impression I gave when I started there: a womanizer with no appreciation for anyone's feelings but his own. I cut my finger while handling a folder and while a woman happened to be complaining about how needy her husband was. She said, “Aw, you cut your finger?” I responded, “Yeah, I performed self-mutilation after getting depressed by your story.” Colby took me to where the bandaids were and as I was cleaning the wound I asked him, “You let her tell you depressing stories like that?” He seemed taken aback by that and said, “She talks, I listen.” I passed the time filing by trying to throw people off guard. I read off names to Rick so he could see if they were on the shelf and threw in a “Rick Sucks.” He missed it the first time, then when I threw it in again he smiled and said, “No, Rick does not suck.” There was one very hot woman that worked there and I used a technique to build attraction with her known to some MAs and most PAs. Extremely hot girls are addicted to attention and you can use this trick as long as you're physically fit; otherwise, they'll just think you're not confident enough to make eye contact. What you need to do is completely ignore them. They'll notice something out of place, as in someone who won't stare at them, who won't even give them a single glance. This will drive them nuts, especially if they see your skills in social interaction with other people. Those feelings of insecurity will translate to “Okay, I'm going to approach this guy and see what's going on.” And that's it. You let hot girls approach you. Otherwise, as the man, you should be doing the courting. After our initial conversation, I saw her at lunchtime sitting at a table by herself, so I joined her. Hot girls will usually just sit there and the only positive signal they give is to make eye contact, but she began elaborately fixing her hair. Not knowing what else to do, I stared off into space until she was done. Then we began a wonderfully tension-filled conversation, both of us trying to extract information out of the other without revealing too much about ourselves. Then came the slow nodding, where she perfectly mirrored me. I then squinted at her to try to relay to her that I was perfectly aware of body language and that she wasn't going to impress me by just copying me. Then she did something that did impress me and that I had never seen before. She opened up completely talking about her last job and how she ended up at the CRC. But not to me. She opened up to a guy at another table who was unaware of the sexual tension between us. I watched her the whole time, listening intently. She looked back at me when she was done, and I did my best to look mesmerized by her story. Looking back, I regret not playing a story off the bystander as well, to let her know I was just a college student looking for summer work and I could play games with people too. I realized I was going to have a profound effect on the people I was working with before the effect even took place. I remember telling Keith, a buddy who worked outside the Vault but in CRC, that this was going to be a fun place to work. He asked me, “What if it's not?” I told him with conviction, “Then I'll change it.” The girls at the desks around us were listening in to our energetic conversation and were all eager to make eye contact with me. As I stated previously, it was two days in that I felt the chemical change in my brain. This drug increased social and environmental awareness. This is where the term “quick-witted” comes into play. One thing I disagree with that dating advice websites suggest is to take your time when answering someone, this shows that your time is your own and you consider it valuable. PAs understand, though, that what you really need to do is answer someone while he's still asking the question. I remember two instances where my wit was instantaneous. One is where I changed what I was saying midsentence to accommodate what my partner just said. It's always important to respond to what people say rather than just wait to talk. I began the sentence saying “Well we are...” and he mentioned the floor being wet and I finished the sentence “in the 69 aisle,” for a full sentence of “Well we are in the 69 aisle.” The other instance was when a cute girl passing me said “Hey too-tall” and I answered before she could even finish, “Hey baby.” Everyone began laughing and I apologized, “I'm sorry, that came out too fast.” She said that it was okay and that she liked it, but I was apologizing more to my lead than to her, partly because it put her in an awkward position as a person of responsibility and partly because we were trying to keep the flirtatious thing just between us. The only problem I can see I had while working in the Vault was that I was a bit risqué, but you have to be if you want to be a PA. I told my partner about lines and how I always cross over them, have a look around, then hop back over and just hope no one noticed. I got my single warning from my temp agency when a woman with an accent thought I was making fun of her when I corrected her on the pronunciation of some names. I told another woman that if she brought in éclairs for food day I'd hug her, which she did, and I attempted the hug. She ducked out of it and I smoothly recovered with a casual lean against the shelf. She felt a bit embarrassed for me so she said she'd bring in more éclairs for me some time. She later tried to have a heart-to-heart with me to tell me it was inappropriate to just hug people out of the blue. I remember ignoring her and thinking “How about I change the world to where I'm the one who determines what's acceptable socially.” I prided myself on having a big head and not having a single heart-to-heart while I worked there, even though I thought it would be inevitable with my lead. But no, everything was conveyed through flirtatious means. You must treat yourself as a conduit for the happiness of others. Part of that is being quiet. I came up with a great motto for PAs after my world accelerator phase and society placed mischievous reminders of sex acts all around me. The motto is “Be careful when you talk, because every time you open your mouth it presents an opportunity for someone to stick a dick in it.” Anyway you slice it, you're always moving toward or away from a penis or toward or away from a vagina/butt/mouth. This is called ultimate deciphering of body language. What I consider the biggest edge for PAs is quiet confidence. This is what separates the mass PAs from the one person at a time PAs. When you enter a new social environment you must establish your role as a “will display social ability when requested but other than that will work hard quietly” person. This will get people wondering what you're after. Is he happy because he wants to get laid? To gain money? Power? Attention? If you're consistent and keep your penis in your pants in the early going, eventually they'll eliminate all those possibilities and realize you're happy to spread happiness. I wasn't at the CRC to make friends and I in fact did not make very many friends; I was there to change the world. I wanted the majority of my coworkers to think I was too good to be their friend so I could lead by example in working hard. My male lead got the message quickly; after the first few days, he began to expect me two hours early and was ready with an assignment for me. When I started there, I would wait silently by to talk to a lead when they were talking with another worker. By my last day there I was able to walk up while two managers were discussing something important and they would quickly stop the conversation so I could pick one of them to speak to. I remember two coworkers that either didn't get the picture or were being defiant about me and Colby, who wasn't on my side originally, telling them “Hey guys, let's see what Chard needs first, then you can keep talking.” I had found my niche at the top of the Vault's societal ladder; I liked being there, my coworkers liked me being there, and I know we were all envisioning big things for the CRC. There's no feeling like being at break with everyone one day and the conversation being blah and joining the group a week later and the conversation being exuberant, maintaining silence the whole time as the conduit for the happiness of others. I wanted to smile at my lead and tell her “This place is so weird. Everyone's changing,” with a wink, but I never got the chance. That about does it for the PA phase, which is about wit and charm, and it's time to move on to the world accelerator phase, which is about body language. Reading this so far you may have certain impressions about me, but the main one I hope to impart is that I'm a man who, at least at one point in his life, had decent social ability. Reading on you may begin to wonder how the same person who wrote about mood accelerators and people accelerators can now start saying these strange things and expect me to believe him. Just remember there are things out there science is still working on explaining and that it's always a possibility that everything is a hallucination made up by your brain to entertain your conscious. I was kind of sure I would have some effect on the world when Megan was describing the different people who worked with us at the CRC and when she came to me, all she could say was that I was an odd duck. That was halfway through my two-week tenure at the CRC. One week later, I was absolutely certain I had an idea that would spread like a virus and change the world at a mud volleyball tournament my friends invited me to. The method was that I would perfect my body language for every situation, and in turn everyone in the world's body language would become perfect as well. I did indeed perfect my body language if only for a moment; as for the world, something completely different happened. The night before the tournament I visited my friend's apartment, wondering how long it would take for him to notice I had changed. It didn't take long for him to see I was a bit more quick-witted than usual and he could definitely see that his cat settled on my lap and would not move. Later he started gently pushing his cat around after it finally got up, watching its body language and glancing over at me. He saw I was well into the social game and he wanted to join in. When we were about to crash, him on his bed and me on his couch, I finally broke the silence on what was going on and said, “You know, two weeks of work can really change a person.” The law of attraction brought him over to me and he brushed against my feet dangling over the couch's armrest. We talked a little bit about what was going on, then he went to bed while I stayed awake all night on his couch. I didn't catch any sleep the previous night either, I was just too excited to sleep and I didn't fatigue after being up 50 straight hours, and it went on for one more night. I began to wonder if we even needed sleep. We left early on the morning of the mud volleyball tournament. On the way I came to the realization, based on how fast my friend was catching on, that becoming an expert in exuding powerful body language doesn't take years of studying and practice; it just takes some time in the presence of a WA. When we arrived we met with our group. A girl in our group named Vicki who played me every time we met continued to do so. She walked on by and said “Chard, pose for the camera.” So I whipped out a pose and she continued to walk by, ignoring me. I wasn't quite down for being played at the moment, so I walked up to her and said, “Vicki, I'm ready for my picture.” She looked up at me and said “Oh I was just joking.” I walked around the group to her and said, “Hah! I caught you in a lie!” She gave me a look then said “Oh, shut up.” As the tournament moved on, we lost two of the most pathetic but most fun matched I ever played. I got plenty of smiles from the opposing team and the judge threw witty comments my way to see how I would respond. This is where you're going to have to bear with me for a bit because this is when I became aware of the social fabric. People around me began to act in slightly predictable ways with the focus on me without them even realizing it. My teammates would say my name one after another in quick succession, sometimes two in a row, sometimes three in a row. Also, they began directing me, telling me where to stand and me moving right as the words came out of their mouths. It was as if they were trying to perfect my body language for me. Other than that brief whiff, I didn't sense the social fabric again until the next day. In the meantime, I came up with my favorite way to approach people. You walk up to someone, catching them slightly off-guard, and say “I'm aware of body language, and this conversation may startle you. I'm sorry did I startle you?” The answer is almost always yes. I shared this idea with a group of kids and we started our own spontaneous flash mob. We began making fun of all the people looking our way, yelling “Staring people! Guy in the white bandana, you're not staring yet! Look this way, everyone else is!” At that moment I planned to gather everyone not currently into one group and have them cheer for one team while I was alone at the other end cheering for the opposing team. This I was unable to do, and I would like to issue this challenge to anyone who thinks he has the skill: don't go online and arrange a flash mob; instead, go alone into a public place and see if you have the ability to get everyone there into one group. This is the holy grail of powerful body language. I was able to use the law of attraction to draw a couple of people directly to me. The first was the guy that actually ran the tournament. He walked up, smiling, and we shook hands before a word was spoken. When I found out who he was, I thought this was too good and brought him over to my team and introduced him. After a short talk I wanted to display exclusivity, so I told him we didn't want to keep him from his job. The other person was a cute girl with freckles who offered to wash me down with the hose. My teammates later chided me for not doing more than touching her shoulder. After the tournament, my friend drove me to my car. I don't remember all that was said, but I know he likened what was going on to telepathy, which I hadn't thought of. I also remember I was able to take him through a whole range of emotions in a very short amount of time. I did this by asking him every time he switched emotions, “Why are you getting so <emotion>?” He eventually laughed and just said “Why are you drilling me?” After sharing some more of my ideas with him, like attention being a drug hot girls are addicted to, he said, “I can have anything I want.” I didn't have the heart to tell him that this was going to change everybody and the only difference between him and everyone else was how close he was to the guy who started it all, me. Later I would discover that this expectation, too, was dashed. On the way home by myself I began matching the voice on the radio as soon as it sang the words to a song I didn't even know. As it turns out, you can exactly copy, maybe flubbing a word here and there, voices based on intonation and inflection. Do it well enough and a tingling sensation will travel through your brain. Back at home I headed downstairs while my mom and grandma were talking at the kitchen table. It didn't take long for Mom to invite me upstairs. This is the part of the story I don't like so much as the idea I came up with is new and exciting for younger people but threatening for older people, so my parents weren't as gung-ho as my friends about this idea that body language can change the world. Here's the interesting part about body language: most people are unaware of when theirs changes. I sat at the kitchen table and began speaking about how to create instant intimacy with anyone you meet. You just let them know you're aware of their body language and afterward it's like, what can they do but submit then try out powerful body language of their own in a stand-with-hands-at-sides/on-hips, deep-eye-contact, projected-deliberate-voice-in-a-group-or-quiet-unassuming-voice-one-on-o ne-fest with you. I then talked about being able to get everyone in a p ublic place together into one group, and my grandma said, “You can't do that Chard. I love you, but you just can't do that.” Since she was spe aking loudly I asked her, “Why are you getting angry?” And thus began t he same emotional range my friend showed earlier. “I'm not getting angr y.” “Now you're in denial.” Then she gave a frustrated “Ooh,” crossed her arms and turned the other direction. I said, “Well now you're alien ating yourself.” Now here's the funny part: she turned halfway back to me when I said that. The body language change in my mom was more subtle, but still there. She went completely still, not moving an inch, and just made eye contact with me, tearing up in the eyes. I did an attitude comparison with Grandma and asked my mom whose attitude would attract more friends. Then she said something weird, “Who needs a bunch of friends?” I couldn't stand the cloud of negativity around them, so I pretended to concede to my grandma, stood up with a wink to my mom, then headed to my room. I predicted that they would be following soon after, and sure enough, here came my grandma to apologize with my mom not far behind. I had reached excitement level and didn't want to lose it with the sad faces around me so I left home to walk around a store, basking in the glow of the social chemical and enjoying the smiling faces. After another sleepless night, I began the conversation anew with Mom in the morning, me trying to get her to join for the ride and her antagonizing me along the way. She even gave herself away once when she gave me an exasperated look when I told her her speech was becoming more deliberate. When my dad came home, this is when I started utilizing the push-pull social dynamic. If you want to send waves through the social fabric, try this: follow exactly people's movements in a public place by allowing them to push you when they approach and pull you when they walk away. I use push-pull to also refer to quickly swapping from a slight personal space intrusion gesture to a widening the gap between us gesture. What I did with my dad was walk slowly toward him (push). After I got so close, he made eye contact (counter-push) and I ran off to a back corner of the house (pull), saying something I don't remember (push again). He turned back to the fridge and I approached him again and repeated the same running away motion when eye contact was made. He then sat at the table with Mom, where she said, “I don't know how to communicate,” so I began talking for her. A couple of things I mentioned were how this was the greatest social experiment in the history of the planet and that Dad wouldn't have to worry about financial problems again. As an MA or PA, the law of attraction only works directly. As a WA, the law of attraction works both directly and indirectly. As an example, when I walked outside, my neighbor's dog ran all the way into our yard and jumped at me, tail wagging, something he never did before and hasn't done since. That was direct. Indirectly, a kid followed the dog, running straight at me until he realized he was about to step in our yard. Speaking of dogs, it's time I tell you about my first encounter with ESP. My dog had long before recognized my strong body language, coming to lie down next to me anytime I was in the recliner. Now, when we were outside a certain distance from each other, we perfectly approached each other. After meeting up, we rubbed heads and the neurons in my brain fired at the spot our heads touched. It happened completely involuntarily, the first of three instances during this time that I had no control over my body. All I could say immediately after the encounter was, “Wow!” Later on, I got a call from my temp agency telling me about an incident at work, and since I had had my single warning I was done on that assignment. With everything that was going on, the irony that the only job I ever got fired from was the one that I gained the social respect of every coworker slipped into the back of my mind. So I properly thanked her and hung up. Not to be deterred, I wanted to be around the people who all helped make it happen. I could sense the changing of the world coming, and as I was heading out I caught on the TV a newscast on the “Charm Offense” and wondered if they were already reporting what was going on. It also showed a bunch of kids cheering with a “One World” stone sign behind them. Only later did I realize they were talking about China preparing for the Olympics, not a global phenomenon of people becoming more charming. I stopped at a gas station and after walking out the door noticed a couple of girls who wouldn't make eye contact. So I did what I highly recommend you try sometime: I crossed my arms and turned my back to them as I walked past, making fun of them. Then as I was pumping gas I tried a push-pull on a girl at a pump next to me. I stood clapping at her (push) then as soon as an annoyed look crossed her face I skipped away (pull). When I returned I greeted her and she turned to me with a smile and said, “Hi.” It was during the drive to the CRC that the Big Moment happened. You may have wondered by now that if this guy is a WA as he says, then how come no one noticed anything. I will address this here. I mentioned previously there exists a social fabric, sort of like the fabric of space-time. The space-time fabric is affected by different celestial objects, but most notably by black holes, which warp it all the way down to the singularity. Well I became a social singularity, completely warping the social fabric around me. As the focal point of that warping, I was able to notice the changes in society that other people who weren't the focal point were oblivious to. It does sound convenient, but you don't get to the level of body language I did without something bending. Anyway, the Big Moment was a literal jolt to the nervous system. I felt a pulsing sensation travel down then back up my spine. Soon after came the second instance where I had no control over my body. Somehow my left leg was tickled as a man drove past me on the left, whose passenger was holding up his phone and smiling out at me. I bounced my leg up and down and words began flowing out of my mouth without me even thinking them, “Stop tickling me, I'm driving.,” Other than that one man driving past, I was pretty much isolated during the time around the spinal sensation, which turned out to be extremely unfortunate for me. When I arrived at my workplace, I parked a good distance down the road, and expected everyone to come out and greet me. After a good 10 minutes with no one coming, I parked in the parking lot and stepped out of the car. The first thing I noticed was that a bird flew low right over my head when it had all this space to fly around me. Right after that a plane in the sky turned toward me. Obviously, it had to turn to land at a nearby airport, but I contend just the fact that it turned toward me meant something. Then I entered the CRC. The security guard inside stared at me, tearing up at the eyes, and asked me for my Citi ID card. He knew my social ability from interacting with me before, and seemed torn between letting me venture farther and doing his job, so I walked on before he could make a decision. As I crossed between rows of desks and saw everyone intent on their computer monitors, I said, “No one's talking.” I couldn't tell at the time if I was a glowing beacon for society or a sore thumb, but one thing was for sure: I stuck out. Keith was out for the day but his friend was at her desk. She was the one person who made eye contact with me. I thought, “It sure is quiet in here,” and she replied out loud, “I know.” Strangely, it didn't surprise me that she seemed to have just read my mind. My body language should've elicited such a response, and she may have mistaken the look I gave her for one of incredulity at being fired, which the same response would have been appropriate. In any case, my attention quickly shifted to the Vault entrance, where my supervisor and a security guard walked out. The best word I can use to describe her steps is “programmed.” She walked directly out, not looking at me, stopped, turned back to the Vault and walked toward the security guard who was just coming out, then made a bee line directly for me. She seemed to have tried the perfect approach on me, but I had long since forgotten how to do that. She said “Let's go,” and I followed the guard with her behind me, expecting they had something glorious planned for me, like a news crew called to the spot. I made fun of how the guard was walking by turning to my supervisor, nodding my head at the guard and marching like a drum major. He turned around right at that moment and said “You trying to get me in trouble?” When we reached the lobby, I sat in the chair, then my supervisor said “You need to leave,” with a look on her face that clearly showed she meant business. I walked out of the CRC a little confused, and she followed me as I started to talk to Colby and his friend out by their truck. I told her, “You're getting good at that.” She asked me, “Good at what?” “Learning to control your body language.” Again she said, “You need to go.” Right before I entered my car I waved at her and gave a thumbs up. She returned both gestures. What a mixed bag of signals. That was the last time I would (and hopefully will ever) see her. A gorgeous day set into a beautiful night as I stopped for gas. Of course, I still wanted to explore this odd new world, so I walked into the station and said “Hey” to the clerk. He looked at me wide-eyed, then glanced at another customer and gestured with his head for him to come over. After their transaction, he told me I needed to move my car. So on to another gas station. I realized I was a little short on cash and since I still wanted to see people's interactive body language, I approached a man pumping intending to ask for a ten. Same wide-eyed response as before with a loud and deliberate, “Look, you're coming up to me and I don't know you. My daughter's in the car and you're making me feel uneasy.” So I left him alone and entered the station, dancing very subtly to the store music. The man came inside, and he and a small group of people including three older teens formed a circle, where he said, “I don't know what's going on here, but obviously there's a problem.” I thought, “Finally, something's going to be done about me.” The group broke off, and I walked outside, crossing the street not far behind the three teens. They stopped and I caught up to them. Meeting new people was absolutely no problem for me before the Big Moment, but now I was struggling. The girl in the group seemed to have no qualms about showing her affection by hanging onto her boyfriend while I was around, leading me to believe they still sensed my social ability and respected my physical presence. The third teen told me to stay there. I sat on the grass outside the sidewalk and waited. Getting famous was taking longer than I thought. Finally two police cars arrived and I thought, “Now I'll get to see some meaningful social interaction.” Three cops talked to the teens low enough to where I couldn't hear, then came over to me and asked me for my phone and the number to my parents' home. The officer with the phone walked off while the other two stood casually in a circle with me on the other side, with warm looks on their faces. Still no one talking to me except brief utterances. The female officer then started talking. “You know, we talk about how to solve different problems in the world, like global warming.” I said “Yeah?” She said “Look over there.” I looked to where she was pointing and saw a rabbit close by. It seemed my magnetism was still working on animals, if not humans. I said to the policemen, “You know, you guys do a good thing,” to which one officer replied, “Not me. I'm just an old fart.” The same officer and I later got into a discussion where he started to get upset with me and told me to lie on the ground. He then walked away, and another officer spoke over the radio, and to this day I swear he mentioned the word “checkers” for some reason, as if he were joking with me. I was growing frustrated and saw a guy walking past on the sidewalk, so I chased after him saying, “Hey! I just changed the world!” He turned back to me with a big grin on his face very briefly and at the moment he turned back around I was tackled straight to the ground with my hands held behind me. The police opened the door to their car and asked if I would like to sit inside there and wait. So I obliged before I realized that I wouldn't be able to re-open the door from the inside. My parents arrived and spoke with the officers. I was getting bored so I started knocking rhythmically on the window and an officer reply-knocked on the back window, syncing up with me. I followed his body language with my own as he circled the car and reached for the handle. I reached forward with my hand and made an opening motion as he opened the door. He said, “Striking a pose?” then abruptly shut the door. Eventually I would be let out and I entered my parents' car. They were quiet and started driving off with no mention of where we were going. My dad asked for my cell phone and mumbled out a question, “Will he be needing that anymore?” We then arrived at St. Anthony's Hospital. The night was weird enough already, but the experience at St. Anthony's took it to a whole other level. The first thing I noticed was everyone in there looking at me. My parents talked to the nurse on duty while I took a seat across from a man and thought to him, “I want to shake your hand.” He said out loud to me, “Well are you going to do it already?” So we shook hands. That's another example of how our thoughts are written on our body language. Soon a sick man on a hospital bed was wheeled into the entrance area. The workers at the hospital seemed to invite me closer to the man, as if he wanted a better look at me, this novelty item in the world. After I got so close the workers told me "That's too far," so I backed up and apologized. A while later I saw the sick man with his eyes still fixed on me. Right at that moment my dad walked right in my line of sight without looking my way, blocking my view of the man. This is when I became aware of the phenomenon of using your body nonchalant to block a person's view of someone/something, or using your body and someone else's to frame somebody. This is the first of three instances my dad blocked my view of someone and I became annoyed because I couldn't tell if he was conscious of what he was doing. In any case, the sick man was wheeled out and a new hospital bed wheeled in, one that was empty. I mentioned before that you should get your cell phone out ahead of time so a girl gets used to it by the time you get her number. I began to get this sneaking suspicion that that was what was going on with the new hospital bed, a spot I would eventually be acclimated to but at the present moment I was too nervous and didn't want to go anywhere near it. I wandered off in different directions but kept getting called back to the entrance room with the bed. I could not for the life of me read the people around me and didn't know if they were going to just kill off the guy who did the most important thing the world had seen because he didn't fit in. Fewer paths were available to me until just one: onto the hospital bed. I almost fell over on my own resisting but a bunch of people caught me. I said, "I feel like you're trying to kill me," with a nervous laugh, then realized that was a stupid thing to say when the people around me just saved me from a hard fall. So I finally hopped into the hospital bed. A nurse must have sensed my nervousness as she walked to the head of the bed and held a reassuring face over mind. Not smiling, just reassuring. I realized my finger was already touching her arm by the time I saw her, either of my own volition or unconsciously, so I withdrew it. I tilted my head to the left and someone said "Not that side again." Then I looked up to the top of my head and another person asked "Hmm...what's up there?" A male nurse mentioned the word "ecstasy" and he looked at me. Now, he could have been saying, "Maybe he's on ecstasy," but the way he emphasized the single word and looked wide-eyed at me as he said it made me feel as if he just promised me ecstasy in the near future. So the nervousness faded and excitement creeped in. I knew my idea had profound implications for society, but I didn't know it would net me ecstasy. They wheeled me into a room with a TV at the top of the wall opposite the bed. The ecstasy nurse told me to take my pants off and I responded "You take your pants off." He abruptly left the room, then an officer in the room said the same thing, so I obliged. Afterward my parents took seats on the left side of the bed, and a nurse left a sample jar, asking for a urine sample. No one pressed that I give that sample though, making it seem secondary to what was really going to happen in that room. I tried leaving the room a couple of times. The first time I followed my parents out and I was greeted right outside the door by a plethora of people flocking around the exit; everywhere I turned a new person would walk right up to me. None of them seemed to mind being so close to my personal space. It seemed to me my only choices were to learn to interact with these people or go back in the room. The ecstasy nurse walked up and asked for my shoes. I said "Here you go. You can keep them as a souvenir." He didn't laugh, but he did turn away immediately then walked off when I said that. I called after him, pointing at him and saying "Awp, yeaaahh," amazed I could say something that would amuse such a tough crowd. Before I shuffled back into the room I heard a nurse talking to my parents put a deliberate emphasis on the word "sarcasm," another word very near and dear to my heart, while exchanging a look with me. That was the outside world I so wanted to join but was being blocked from. The second time I tried leaving the room involved what I thought was a machine beeping outside the room in steady cadence. It sure didn't seem out of place in a hospital and I noticed it shortly after reentering the room. It produced two short beeps, but as I lay on the bed I noticed I could focus the two beeps into one. I wondered if they were a symbolic representation of the two hemispheres of my brain. I decided to check things out and no one blocked me this time as I walked out. My mom stood back at the entrance to the room and called after me. Then I heard the beeping float through the air right back over to her. "Great," I thought. "Even my hallucinations are telling me to get the hell back in the room." So like a loyal little dog I re-entered the room a second time. Now for the main event. As I lay on the hospital bed I noticed I could, for lack of a better term, wind my brain from left to right. With some effort, I cycled focus in a semicircle from the left side of my brain to the right side. After the first cycle, I would start a new layer, again left to right. The TV in the room showed cheering crowds at a football game, but I started thinking "What if they're cheering for me? The individuals they focused on were looking directly into the camera." After three or four cycles, I felt like I was peeling away from an old skin. The TV stopped showing the football game and on a black screen showed me an arrow pointing right with a circle passing over it, left to right. As if I hadn't gotten the picture already. My dad moved from the chair on the left to rest on the floor to the right, so after each cycle I would end up at him. The TV showed just a flashing circle, whatever that meant, and that was the last thing I remember before falling asleep for the first time in days. My parents left sometime in the morning and when I woke a nurse drove me over to an outpatient center. There a therapist evaluated me, saying a lot of negative things. I noticed he was wearing my CRC ID card and I pointed it out, so he added "hallucinating" to his list of things wrong with me. After he left I sat there wondering where I would go from here. I wondered for how long would I be alienated and felt very much alone. I didn't know at the time that my mind and the world had made an intimate connection, one that would sporadically persist for two months. I walked out of the room after a long wait and entered the lobby, where I discovered a phone to use, presumably to call my parents. The receptionist told me it was okay to use it, so I called my mom and asked her to pick me up. I took a seat in the lobby and waited. A man seated there was looking over at me, but I was too caught up in myself and ignored him. Then he crossed one leg over the other and began wagging his foot around, the way people do when they're nervous, impatient, or bored. I glanced at his foot, wondering when it was going to stop, and he started pointing his foot toward his head when he saw me looking at it. I thought that was a neat enough trick to warrant my attention so I started a brief conversation with him where he talked about his son. He didn't press the conversation, but did start wagging his foot around again when I stopped talking. I turned my attention to a group of officers who just walked in and formed a circle just to the right of me, enjoying an exuberant group conversation. Some of them made eye contact with me but none invited me to the talk. Soon after my mom arrived and we left together. We met up with my dad and stopped at his friend's house to install a peephole in his door. My parents introduced me to the woman who owned the house and I said, "Hello. I'm that one guy," at which she laughed. My dad and mom stood outside and asked me to look through the peephole with the new lens. I saw them and thought "Well if this isn't an obvious message that I should focus on my parents..." Later that night I found I was able to wind my brain again. I joined my parents in the family room where they were watching the swimming Olympics. Two announcers seemed to be making fun of a swimmer's baldness. Looking back, I can't tell if I completely hallucinated the announcers or if it was just a new way of looking at something that was already there, but they were the two funniest people I listened to in my life, I laughed that hard. Maybe someone can confirm or refute this actually happening, but I remember them showcasing a swimmer's stats on a black screen with "It's My Life" playing in the background and the song title in bold letters at the top of the screen, as if they were making fun of the swimmer for spending his life practicing swimming. During the swim I heard the announcers mentioning "one final test" as I was winding my brain. I pointed at the green world record line and it followed my finger in front of the top swimmers then to the back of them. I know from looking it up on Youtube afterward that no such thing happened. Then I lost control of my body for the third time down the final stretch as I stood up and began cutting through the air with my arms as if I was swimming, syncing up with the American as he caught and passed the lead man just as the race finished. I could feel the resistance in the air. Of course this alarmed my parents, so I walked downstairs and watched a different program on nature. The narrator hit me hard with the phrase, "And so the creature becomes another anonymous member to contribute to the larger community." I went to sleep on that. I didn't quite wake up in the morning. All I can remember were these fits of consciousness. My sister makes eye contact as I was coming out of the bathroom and immediately walks off, like I did with my dad. Black out. My parents try to get me out to the car by coming up behind me, touching the front of their knees to the back of mine and walking forward, forcing me to bend and walk forward with them. I yell to the neighbor "They're making me do something I don't want!" Blackout. We're at a building in the city and I walk to a corner to take a piss on the world for what it was doing to me My parents stop me. Blackout. Now I'm in a waiting room and I walk up to the TV to see if the people on there were responsive to me. I'm called out so a woman can ask me questions and she seems to get impatient with me. Blackout. I'm on a bed in restraints, not knowing why, just that I'm conscious for the punishment of something I don't remember. Blackout. I'm sitting at a table with a doctor and nurses, and they seem to be beating around a subject. Finally one of them asks, "Do yo believe in God, Chard?" and I answer "No." Blackout. Nurses are sticking me with needles. Blackout. A nurse cheers me on as I dance to some music while walking to a room. Blackout. My first memory after regaining consciousness for good was of a guy who looked like an old manager of mine who told me this was a place where people with qualifications help people with mental illnesses. He said "Think you belong here? Yeah, you belong here." He left unsaid whether I belonged to the former or latter. Then a mentally handicapped guy named Jack who had been rocking back and forth came up to me and stuck out his hand. I gripped it and we shook, me grasping a crushed hand afterward. He was a strong little fellow. I regret not immediately asking for tests of ESP during my early days at the Metropolitan Psychiatric Center (MPC). I found that the world was more responsive to my mind than just random chance. I soon began this countdown thing where I would tell the world to do something in 5,4,3,2,1... For example, during a UFC fight I told the competitors to kick each other at the same time in 5 seconds, and sure enough they did. Or flash something red on the TV, or say a particular word. There were all kinds of things responding to my mind during that time, not the least of which was alienating people. I would say that if anything could be noticed from this time from what I did, it was people's speeches being interrupted and being alienated on CNN, the channel that was on in the mornings at MPC. I justified it by thinking that none of these people have something more important to say than I do. I met Allie as I walked out of my room consciously for the first time. She asked me "How's it going?" while everyone else behind the nurse's desk froze, sort of emphasizing her to me. As an attractive woman, I thought I would get her to approach me by getting everyone to alienate her except me. So as I was doing laps in the hallway I let the thought drift out there to alienate her until she approached me. I saw two nurses standing with their hands on their hips and backs turned to Allie while she was grabbing something off the printer. She then walked right up to me. Score! I began looking at things as having three different interpretations: a surface interpretation, a dirty interpretation, and a meaningful interpretation. My mom (this happened later, after MPC) set a lamp in my room and said, "The more you touch it, the brighter it gets." Surface: the lamp grows bright when you touch it. Dirty: genitalia become engorged the more you touch them. Meaningful: people become happier if more people touch their arm or shoulder. My doctor at MPC would keep asking me if I was cheeking my meds, and in the world of those two swimming announcers that meant I wasn't getting laid. My doctor's name was "Nguyen," as in "when" is this kid getting laid; my medication was "Haldol," as in "how it all" happened. Tension began to grow between me and a nurse named Patricia, and not the good kind. She kept laughing as she tried to put a blood pressure cuff on me; every time she touched me she got the giggles. Then out of the blue she became angry with me. Later she took me to wash my clothes, telling me impatiently to "Put it in there." I really pissed her off once when I went to a drug counseling session when I wasn't on drugs. She said, "I'm not even talking to you." I responded "Do you have a grappling hook?" and she started to walk off. I finished the thought by saying, "I feel there is a wall between us and would like to grappling hook over it." We would reconcile by the time I left MPC. The woman who let me go to the drug counseling session was named Betty. I thought she was an average-looking middle-aged woman, a thought reiterated when she took me to wash my clothes and said "Just medium, huh?" about the load for her and about her for me. In the early-going she was very flirtatious with me. I thought "You're too old for me," and instantly she repeated the thought back to me, "I'm too old for you, Chard." Well, thanks for agreeing with me. My family visited me everyday. They actually mentioned ESP once when my sister, her boyfriend and I grabbed some cards, paper, and nonlethal crayons to play "Pass the Trash." Her boyfriend told her to pass him that joker she just gave up while it was still face down. It was indeed a joker and she said, "You must have ESP or something." Again I heard the acronym when an announcer during a football game mentioned the channel ESPNU, but he put a deliberate pause between the P and the N, making it sound like ESP and you. It was mainly my parents that visited. My dad would bring in peanuts and the patients were getting used to it. Will, a high-functioning patient, was standing close to me during a conversation and I thought, "Isn't this a little gay how close we're standing?" He then said "Want some peanuts?" when he didn't even have any on hand. There could be only one meaning there and I had no choice but to crack up at that. Just then another patient named Max started yelling at the staff, calling them the “N” word then storming off to his room. Not too long after Max joined me, Will, and my dad at the table in the common room. I was only talking to my dad at the time and it was the first time I mentioned I did the most important thing the world's ever seen, crossing the body language threshold. Will and Max hopped right into the conversation, switching back and forth between downtalking and uptalking me, trying to praise me and convince me I hadn't done anything important at the same time. I looked at my dad and he pointed back at them, letting me know I should be listening, either because what they were saying was important or because they would eventually defer to me if I spent my whole time listening. Max brought up a point telling me to compare what I did to what Martin Luther King Jr. did, a point I would have taken more seriously from him if he didn't just use a derogatory term on the black workers there. I said this was all just a joke to my dad, who quickly looked off into space when I glanced over at him. This theme that my dad was respected by the world that started when he rested to the right of my hospital bed continued long and strong. A woman on the phone who didn't even know my dad said, "So you're becoming a clone of your father, huh?" after I mentioned I had something to do. My mom mentioned that she believes "there is a Father who watches over us," emphasizing the word "Father." When she said it again, I pushed the point that by "Father" she meant Dad, which she conceded, something she would never do at any other time. At a later time at my friend's apartment I helped him load a kid's seat in the back of his car and his brother walked up and said, "You just reminded me of your dad, Chard." So weird to say that when he had never met my father. One of my fondest memories during that time was again a volleyball tournament, this one at MPC pitting the different wards against each other. Instead of mud, we played with sheets and water balloons. After I walked into the courtyard I could see people reacting to me. One guy told me "So you get a lot of girls coming after you, huh?" Four groups of people were there: one group in a corner, one group to the left of me, two groups playing. And there was me, just sitting alone on the sideline. One patient couldn't take it anymore and he walked up to me and sternly asked, "What are you doing?" A nurse looked at me and smiled then turned to him saying "It's okay. Just leave him alone." During the game, a balloon splashed near Allie, and I told her "Allie, you just got wet." She then asked me if I wanted to go in, and I told her I would just sit on the sidelines. She asked, "So you see it as more of a spectator sport huh?" I laughed at that and said, "I can go in there anytime I want," and walked off. She called after me saying "Yes, you can," looking almost confused that she was playing into a little double entendre word game with me. After the game I stood up on a bench and a nurse told me to get down. I asked, "Am I too high?" and as Allie was passing she muttered, "You're way too high." That night I lay awake in my bed, feeling the nerves in my body tingle randomly at first, like a stormy nervous system. Nothing new there, I've been feeling tingling sensations since I was born. They then became localized around specific organs: my kidneys, liver, and to top it off, they pulsed around my heart. I fell asleep for a short time and woke very early in the morning. I waved to the nurses behind the desk, not realizing they were sleeping, but a man down the hallway did wave back. I started doing laps in the hall again and each time I passed the man the progression would be he would make eye contact, then smile, then chuckle a little and nod his head back as I passed him. He did this every time, so I introduced myself to him. The next lap I thought to him "If you can read my mind, say my name." He said "Chard," but then followed it up with "can you throw away this piece of trash for me?" Later in the day, I walked up to a nurse and asked her, "How do we learn?" She answered matter-of-fact "By listening to other people." She then walked over to another nurse and talked to her. I noticed that they were framing Jack, who was rocking back and forth, as usual. This was the first time, though, that I thought, "It sure looks like Jack is giving a random guy a blowjob." There were all kinds of reminders of sexual things inside and outside MPC. An orange sprayed juice all over me as I peeled it. A woman stuck a long mop into the interior of a light indentation, rubbing it around the outside. People bent over with their backsides to me all the time. The TV would show people with their mouths opened wide. After MPC, I wasn't feeling amicable to my dad after we had brought some wood home in the truck, so I thought to him "You can blow me." He walked right up to me after that thought and asked, "Are you ready to unload the wood?" I got into trouble quite a few times at MPC. Being like a dog was a constant theme. My dad asked me to go get a National Geographic magazine which featured a dog on the cover, basically a very ironic statement that I should go fetch something. Once, when the staff was treating me like a dog, I walked away and then mooned the whole lot of them. A nurse started walking forward with mouth opened wide either in surprise or to service me. I was sent to the isolation room after that. A cute nurse named Denise came in after a short while with a sedative and I lay there submissive yet imploring her to talk about this with me first. She asked, "What are you doing Chard? You know better than to act like this." I couldn't tell if she was talking about my mooning the staff or my being submissive at that moment; maybe both. It's just an entire world of hidden meanings and double and triple entendres that I hadn't noticed until after my night at St. Anthony's. I stayed a couple of times at MPC for a grand total of about three weeks. After leaving it for the final time, a drum was beating loud and clear when my parents and I arrived at the parking lot. I thought, "Good way to announce my arrival in the world." When we got home my dad said "Well I bet Lady (our dog) missed you a lot." Maybe he knew something because when I got in she started whining and rubbing her head all against my legs. I've been away from home for longer times and she never responded that way to me. My dad and I went to go work on breaking down my car, but to get to it he had to drive through someone's yard, and he asked me if I thought it was okay he did so. I said yes, and after we got out of the car the owner of that property came out and greeted us and asked us kindly if we wouldn't do that again. My dad walked deliberately into my viewpath of the man. Then we got to work on my car, taking out the screws of the doors. I thought "Why are we messing around with my car when I should be getting my story out there?" My dad then mentioned "Screwing around" when I had trouble getting a screw loose. I responded, "Screwing around?" and he said, "Now look, I don't want to have this talk with you. You're in a lot of trouble." Two of my friends came to visit me that night. I had locked myself in my room saying I wouldn't come out until a news crew came to see me, and one of them put a candy bar in the space between the door and the floor and said "Look, I'm fishing for Chard. Remember when we fished for our dogs with treats? Well this is Chard-fishing." When he pulled the candy bar back he said "Now I'm pulling it back; it's having an adverse effect on Chard," as if he had knowledge of the push-pull social dynamic. I finally got out of my room and greeted them right outside the front door. Caleb said, "You know, news crews only cover something if it's important, they don't have time to chase down every story." Just then a light flickered on behind me and he said "Awp, I wonder what that means." We then took a walk down the rocky road, where a bunch of cars were passing by. Caleb asked, "What's with all these cars passing by?" as if he knew something was going on with me. It seemed to me he had more knowledge of what was going on than he was letting on, either that or the world was just using him to send me messages that he was unaware of. The messages would continue for a couple of months, slowly dying off. Of course, I regret not doing more with the time and pushing matters so people could see that there is a world of perfect body language out there that can exist one day. Instead I spent the time entertaining myself with what was happening around me. One moment stuck out to me in particular: at Altenheim where my grandma was staying, a bird looked barely on the edge of life lying on the ground. My uncle walked up to it and it fluttered off as he sort of raised it up with his finger. This was obvious: a youthful touch is rejuvenating to the old and dying. I know it seems like years off before we can live forever, but I say if someone can make this thing stick, it could happen sooner than you think. I believe our bodies will start responding to our conscious thought. So now my turn was up and I would have to wait for the next world accelerator to arrive and hope he catches his moment on video. End of story, right? Maybe not. In November 2009, I started having these special dreams. One theme they have been consistent on is all of a sudden during them body languages would sync up. They are the most wonderful, sometimes very scary dreams I have ever had. They paint landscapes that no artist could capture; one place my dreams know I'm fond of that crops up is a stone complex set high above a forest in an island with all sorts of waterfalls around it. I always reach this giant hallway with windows for walls so you can look out on the island. I walk down it and usually the dream will end right there. Ever wonder what it's like to fall into a black hole? Well that's one way my dreams have been nullifying my fear response; now, there's not much they can do to scare me. I can ask my dreams questions sometimes but unfortunately I don't remember the answers, or sometimes they're nonsensical. The reason for trying to scare me, according to one dream, is that otherwise the synapses in my spinal cord will close up. I have no idea if this is true or not. Light and darkness have been a theme in my dreams. A couple of times my nerves have pulsed to the tune of music. The best part, though, is the ecstasy. I'm not talking about some sort of mystical ecstasy anyone can claim to have achieved; I'm talking about hardline true ecstasy. There are four kinds: regular ecstasy, rollercoaster ecstasy which is accompanied by me falling through a tunnel or riding a rollercoaster (doesn't happen too often and is a real rush), buzzing ecstasy, and my favorite, liquid ecstasy, which feels like a euphoric liquid spreads out from the center of my brain to the outer regions. I would love to be hooked up to an EEG to see what's going on with my brain while I sleep. If anyone knows someone in the St. Louis area who does dream studies or works with an EEG, shoot me an e-mail at email@example.com, I'm willing to take a lie detector test to prove I have been achieving ecstasy in my sleep. Also if you have any questions about my story you can e-mail me. Thanks for taking the time to read this. Tweet
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