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Penrose, Penrose, Penrose. Oh, how I LONG to know thee. I am becoming minorly obsessed with you and your work. I find myself pacing, for crying out loud. I am running in circles, opening and closing books, referencing and coming back, straining my eyes as if that will make me see the world as you do. Why do you elude me so? Why does your tongue speak as if attached to the left temporal lobe itself? I catch glimpses of this reality you see. I feel myself drawn to it, longing for truth and understanding. For some reason, I feel that to understand you, truly and completely, I would find some kind of wholeness within myself. Oh, someone save me, I am in love. I am falling madly and passionately in love with physics. It has been coming on for a long time, this slow fever. This lingering low hum that is exploding in tiny bursts. As with lovers of old, your elusive and coquettish nature has wooed my heart, oh physics. I want so badly to truly understand, not just some superficial knowledge, but some deep personal connective enlightenment. Cosmic, if you will. I pledge to re-attend school. My career be damned, I have to know you, and I can't know you without the mathematical background to do so. I can't truly understand you until I can follow this terse and sometimes insipid language of higher calculus. May the forces of this universe help me. I will not die until I know this form that physics takes. This is my pledge.