A) All hypnosis is self-hypnosis. Meaning it will only work if the person being hypnotized believes (or allows) in what is happening.
B) Hypnosis will only work if the hypnotist is able to lower the participant's mental/conscious guard in order to plant suggestive thoughts into their subconscious.
Although I'm a fan and (to a point) a believer in what hypnotism can do, I could not seem to muster up any sort of optimism for this challenge. I read several articles/videos, and honestly prepared a lot more for this challenge than I normally do for these sort of things. Not matter how much I prepared, I had a feeling that this wouldn't work.
My predictions were right about how things would turn out within seconds of trying to hypnotize The Roomies. It's just not how it's supposed to work you know? If you want to get hypnotized, then you go to a hypnotist. The act of going to somebody, and seeing their office, their business cards, the assortment of relevant books lining their bookcase, all do their part to reinforce the idea that, "maybe this person knows what they're doing". The same goes for used car-salesman and their tiny, pathetic, cubicles. The flimsy cubicle walls act to mentally confirm what they're trying to portray. But me, me I'm just me. Kyle, the kid that draws and skates, and sometimes tries new things. My roommates know that I'm not a hypnotist. They know that whatever nonsense I spout will be summed up in a quick blog post and slapped on Facebook for my friends to glance at while they're pooping. And I'm not opposed to that sort of fate at all. Actually, I feel like it's an honor to be considered worthy enough to be reading material while on the John. But it doesn't make putting on the illusion of being a qualified hypnotist any easier.
But I did the best I could anyways. I watched my videos and took notes of their tips. I turned down the lights, had Stef and Ivette lay down comfortably in our apartment. Then I began to read from the generic script I found off a Google search. The script was a word-for-word speech designed to relax The Roomies. It was supposed to lower their mental guard, and allow me to plant positive suggestions into their subconscious (or make em act like chickens). Within seconds they were laughing about how ridiculous this entire thing was, and I was thinking of different thinks I could try. But we got our poop in a group, and I plowed through. I read the script in it's entirety, and they sat still, soaking up every word (or daydreaming, I really have no way to tell). After the fact, they opened their eyes and yawned (which I count as a small victory for some reason) and proceeded to tell me how long and lame that ordeal was. They said that they were distracted, and that they couldn't stop thinking about itches that they wanted to scratch as I talked.
