@Steak Richardson, you don't have to eat sprinkles if you don't want to; snacks will be available, and they will be salty. Actually, it's preferable if you and the other members don't eat the sprinkles at all. Those are for me.

As the new president of Psychic Crime Club, I would like to say a few things.

First of all, @Rex Turbo, Cerberus isn't that bad. (For a dog). He gets lonely sitting outside Spoonbender all night and probably just wanted to play; if he was really trying to hurt you, all fifty of his heads would have materialized and he would have dragged you back to his home realm, leaving you unable to post to your journal, let alone travel to Cincinnati.

Second of all, I am introducing "Casual Fridays" to the club. The suits may look "sharp" and "spooky" but they're kind of uncomfortable. And I prefer clothes that turn invisible when I do. Plus @Steak Richardson stained his with Cheetos and has to take it to the dry cleaners.

Third of all... umm... uhh... What was I saying? Uh.. Umm.... Oh yeah. Third of all, all remaining members now have monthly dues and fees, which are payable to me in the form of sprinkles. Lots of sprinkles. And they have to be the good kind, from Sprinkle Co., not the cheap illusionary ones from Dimension K47.

Fourth of all, as long as it works with everyone's schedule, we will now operate on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Wednesday is when @Walls and I play various board games. And crime can rest on the weekends.

What number am on? Seven? Four? Ninety one? I think it's four. And fourth of all, if anyone has ideas for our next heist, please let me know. I've made several good, complex, well thought out plans but I keep forgetting what they are.

Farewell for now,
Nobody
(Current) President of Psychic Crime Club

Dear Somebody,
I now have a temporary tattoo of a green chinchilla on my wrist, and have been told that Jazz is too soft and sophisticated and that I should listen to more Power Value Stance.

After the fiasco that was Psychic Crime Club's first heist, and finding out about @Rex Turbo's terrifying idea of "initiation" and what it should involve, I had come to the conclusion that the Crime Club was not for me. But @Walls pointed out that I am one of the only original members of the club not in a coma, and that while I was stressed out and terrified most of the time, I did enjoy it. I think. Plus it will look good on my resume. In certain circles. And when I found out that @Rex Turbo had changed the initiation ritual, I decided to give the Club another chance.

In other news, @Alra Mist, I, too get lost quite frequently! The halls of Psyhigh are confusing even if one hasn't been in a coma for a year. I have an extra map from my Psychic Cartography Class if you'd like to borrow it. Its fairly accurate and is enchanted to update itself when needed, although it has a tendency to get the hiccups if you leave it unrolled for too long. If you're interested, I can send my cat, Claude, with it; he never gets lost and always knows where to find everyone. Most of the time.

*rumbling and growling is heard*
I'd better go now; Claudette has indigestion from eating the game of Exploding Scrabble. I warned her not to eat the "U"s and "Q"s.

Farewell for now,
Nobody

Dear Somebody,
Today was the usual boilerplate of Psyhigh. That is to say, after I was rescued from the couch, I went to a myriad of classes, most of which consisted of the bromidic lessons from less than enthusiastic teachers. Except for maybe Mrs. Cansız, who is always very excitable. She's almost too excitable at times, to be honest. Like that time she found out that Blue Erizanian Chipotle Fries are available for pre-order at Spoonbender and her aura exploded, contaminating the entire wing of enlightened students and faculty. They had to journey across the galaxy for another hundred light-years before they rediscovered themselves.

In other news, Claude has taken up a new hobby; gardening. He's started growing tulips and lilies in pots, and has even began cultivating a field of catnip. He says he's tired of only being able to purchase non-GMO catnip from grocery stores. I'm not quite sure what that implies about the catnip he's growing, but as long as the sprinkle tree he planted continues to grow, I have no complaints. It's all quite natural and organic, anyway. I think.

Oh! I just remembered. There was something else important I wanted to write about. Something that really needs to be discussed. I'm glad I remembered it, it would would've really bad if I forgot. Because... Uh... Because I... Umm... It... I can't recall any it would be bad, actually. Anyway, as I was saying... Uhhh... Hmm... Uh... What was I saying? I can't remember. Oh well. It probably doesn't matter.

Farewell for now,
Nobody

Good morning *yawns*

Last night was very strange. We had entered the room, and were getting into our positions when the Heart started to manifest. I don't think any of us had calculated the effect of the Heart into our plans; not even @Tammy Reins. It was impossible to calculate, anyhow.

The feeling was all-consuming, it filled up every part of one's being, completing things that no one had ever suspected weren't whole. As the pulse resonated throughout the room, nay, the world, everyone connected, individual hearts shifting rhythm to beat in sync with The One. (I think a few pace-makers had to be replaced after the event). It was magnificent, it was unlike anything else, it was Utter Unity, it was... Kind of creepy, actually. When I noticed that everyone was blinking together, swaying and breathing in the same rhythm, it really freaked me out, and I, well, I left. No one noticed. Even if I hadn't been invisible, They were all too consumed by the singleness of the Heart that anyone who managed to maintain individualism became insignificant.

I think I'm the only one from the special ops of Psychic Crime Club that made it out. Except for maybe @Walls, but technically he wasn't a member, more like... An associate. I think. I hope Walls is ok. His projections seemed pretty upset when I slipped out. I would have stopped to check on him, but I didn't want to get pulled into the lure of the Heart's cryopods. I could hear it calling to me.

Speaking of calling, if anyone hears shouting emanating from inside a couch in one of the lounges, it's not the poltergeist. It's me. I lay down after the dance and accidentally fell asleep, at which point the couch ate me. It hasn't started digesting yet, but it's a little bit uncomfortable in here, and help would be appreciated.

Farewell for now,
Nobody

Dear Somebody,
Dress rehearsals are very rigorous and hard going. Every time someone makes a teeny tiny mistake, we have to start all over from the beginning of the heist. We've been going at this all day and night, and part of next Wednesday's day and night, too. (@Tammy Reins thought we needed the extra practice time). I apologized to Tammy for the gender confusion, and she was very nice about the whole thing. But other than a few words exchanged at the beginning, no one else besides Tammy really talks to me and I'm pretty much invisible throughout the whole rehearsal. Which is good, because everyone else is terrifying.

@Sef the Magnificent and @Wendy. Bullet Witch keep clashing; there have been several Incidents which almost caused several Fights. Even when they're not fighting, they're pretty formidable on their own. @Quinn Chastain-Anumi is very egotistical and intimidating. If he catches you looking him in the eye instead of respectfully at the ground, he gets offended, and trust me, you don't want to see him offended. The others on the team are just as scary.

Its a good thing this is supposed to be well paying, because I'm almost completely out of sprinkles. And Emergency Stress Sprinkles. And Emergency Terrified Stress Sprinkles. I'm even almost out of Singing Candy Corn flavored sprinkles, which are surprisingly gross. Thankfully @Walls has been helping me calm down after practice, with games of Exploding Scrabble, which helps as much as sprinkles do. He's also offered to help keep an eye or seven on things.

But the fact remains... We still have one more day until the big heist.

Farewell for now,
Nobody

Dear Somebody,
After a brief but enlightening conversation with @Tammy Reins, I have decided to join Psychic Crime Club. He assured me that there is nothing "sketchy" about it, and that it will look good on my resume. In certain circles. He also said that it pays, and I could use my cut of the profits to purchase sprinkles. Lots of sprinkles. And apparently invisibility is a really good ability to have if one is planning on stealing, er, permanently borrowing something. I've included it on my resume.

In other news, I thought I saw one of @Walls's projections in the halls earlier but I'm not sure. I haven't seen him in a while; maybe we could catch up over a board game of some sort. Like Cosmic Monopoly. Or 10-Dimensional Chess. Or Farkel. I just got a new set with glow-in-the-dark-radioactive dice, and I've been dying to use it. Claude refuses play Farkel with me because he says the dice hurt his paws.

Farewell for now,
Nobody

I'm really sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen! It was an accident! It's just that I was so busy collecting words and listening to the bagpipe player (who's name is Oengus. I think), that I completely forgot to check on Claudette, my weather afflicted dragon, and, well... She got loose and went on a rampage. Again. The cold weather is still causing her to be a little off-kilter, so when she breathed fire on @Emilia Plissken, it didn't burn the sleeping individual to a crisp. In fact, the only thing the fire seemed to do was wake her up. She looked perfectly fine afterward; her hair was just a little tangled from being slept on, but nothing was scorched, and she had both eyes in tact. Although there was a little dried blood around the rim of one. She said something about a "narrow escape" before rushing out of the room.

I just hope Emilia is ok.

In other news, I heard that there's a new club at the school. I don't normally join clubs, but on my unintended field trip to Undefined University, I discovered that I really need to start doing more extra curricular activities. So maybe I'll invisibly observe @Tammy Reins's new club before deciding whether or not to join. I can't quite remember what the club is, and I wouldn't want to get into anything sketchy.

Farewell for now,
Nobody

Dear Somebody,
They are everywhere! Everywhere I look, all I see is words. They're under the abusively pink sofa in my dorm room, they're stuck in the strange haunted chandelier that hangs in the cafeteria. Small words, big words, Greek Orthodox words; stationary words, moving words, dimension-shifting words. I tried chasing after a sentence I saw racing through the halls, but it just ran on.

I've been picking up the words and putting them in baskets as I find them, but I can't seem to find where they belong! If you're missing a few words or find a blank book, please come see me, as I've probably got the right words for you.

And that's another thing: S-Al (Self-Aware Library) has been acting bizarre as well. Instead of throwing an ancient forbidden tomb bound in eel skin or something similar at my head when I visited today, it feebly pushed a children's picture book off a shelf. The pictures were all grainy, as well, and as soon as I picked it up, the pages flew out.

Oh dear, there goes another one! Soaring along the majestic ceiling of the Concert Hall. "Phantasmagorical". Is that even a real word? And how did I get here? And is that a bagpiper on the stage?

Farewell for now,
Nobody

Dear Somebody,
Yesterday I somehow ended up in a part of the school I had never been to before; the Parking Lot. Claude had been sleeping, so I decided to attempt to find my way to Advanced Tea Leaf and Coffe Bean Reading on my own. Unfortunately I got lost. Again. As I exited a pair of doors that seemed a little foggy around the edges, a teacher ushered me onto a bus that was filled with people I had never seen before; I think someone said they were Juniors. I'm pretty sure that I'm a senior, because that's what everyone else keeps telling me, but I can't really remember. Anyway, the bus flew off as soon as I boarded, and before I knew it, I was at Undefined University. It's unclear how long I was there, since time doesn't seem to work along the same wavelength there as it does at Psyhigh, but we (myself and the Junior Class) spent a long while touring the boundry-less campus, watching the college's students think about what they should take as a major, and eating delicious foods of uncertain origin in a space that seemed to be a lunchroom of sorts. It had no official title.

When I returned, Claude was still sleeping, and no one had noticed my absence; except for Susan B., the ghost who haunts the section of Women's Studies in the Self-Aware Library (S-Al). She notices everything.

Farewell for now,
Nobody