Finally figured out a jingle @Matching by Mattie:

Mattie, Mattie,
She might be a bit batty!
Darling, Darling,
Makes your heart start soaring!
Matching, Matching,
All sorts of lonely teens!
True Love, True Love,
Is waiting in classroom 315!

Oh, I hadn't heard that some more oracles had enrolled at Psyhigh! Most us of prophetically inclinded individuals go to Delphi Academy, with all their fancy equipment and ancient rituals. Half of those students are complete fakes though. Fortune cookies are more accurate than those Delphi students! And yet they still recieve perfect GPAs and enchanted monkey paws! If I could have gone there... nevermind. I can't. Due to an intense allergic reaction to ethylene gas I was never able to even apply to Delphi Academy... but I'm not bitter! Quite the contrary, the diversity of this school has been much more entertaining than the stress and competition of 500 sybils squeezed under a Grecian hillside. And now there are other seers coming to Psyhigh! I'd love to meet you two, @Cole and @Elouise. We could discuss vision types, or how strict the Future Sight Tutor Ms. Grable is! There are a ton of nice places on campus to hang out at after classes. I know a particular patch of ceiling that has a beautiful view of the sunest. I'd say let me know what you think, but I get the feeling that you already know if/when/where we'll meet. That's one of the great things about people who see the future, we can RSVP before you've decided to throw a party.

Oh, and @Matching by Mattie, I haven't forgotten about you're jingle. I'm still working on it though, I want it to be just right. So many exciting things at school lately, it's starting to be overwhelming!

I apologize to everyone who had to put up with my insane ramblings lately. The Dream Manipulation course I've been taking was Accelerated, and apparently I'm not ready for that high level of learning. I've bumped myself down to the normal paced class, and already I'm feeling better.

In other news, I hear that @Scilph has decided to include me in her mural. Thanks Scilph, that's nice of you! I never really talked about what I look like before, did I? Weird. Well, no use stalling, is there?

Me. Gretel. How do I describe myself? Well, I'm short. And I have dark hair, black curly hair that bounces when I walk. I got that from my grandmother, she was really pretty back in the day. At least that's what she tells me. Though Grandpa says that she had so many freckles on her face it was like she was wearing a mask. That's usually when she sends a psychic wave at him and he gets the hiccups. She's got a weird psychic ability. Oops, I'm off track. Um, I've got brown eyes. And really dark eyelashes. And both my brother and I have pretty pale skin. Which is weird because my Great-Aunts are both blue as blueberries. Maybe my Grandma was adopted. That would explain her hiccup powers. Aaa, off topic again. Me... me... I... am... quiet. Wait, that's not a physical feature. Oh, I don't know how to do this. I trust you Scilph, what do I look like in your head? I think I saw your mural in one of my dreams, it turns out great. So just fulfill the prophecy, and it'll all be cool. Though I'm warning you now, lock the painting somewhere safe when you're not working on it. Or else somebody will try to "improve" it. *glares at @Matching by Mattie and @Kristopher*

I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.
When I'm in a crowd it's hard to tell which thoughts are mine.
And I'm sure you would say the same things if you knew.
This reality is screwed. Yeah.

Just think how real all these people seem.
How'd they get so lively is well beyond me!
But now it's hard for me to remember what's not true.
It's because this reality is screwed. Yeah.

If I stop posting then will you still call me Gretel?
If I go on forever will I become like big jim?
These thoughts keep bouncing around in my troubled mind.
Psychics? ...yeeeeAAAAAAHHHHH

If we stop posting then do we even exist?
If we go on forever will we be taking a risk?
These characters feel so real I must be losing my mind.
Psychics? ...YEEEEaaaaaahhhhh.





I think that our reality has been screwed into another reality. A reality within a reality? Sometimes the fake worlds seem so real I forget they're fake. Sometimes the real worlds feel so fake I forget they're real. Can I make the fake one as real as the real one turning fake? Prof. Fakanami would know.

Can't this apply to you the individual and everyone in the entire world? Or am I losing my mind?

Here:

Cause you're hot and you're cold.
You feel young then feel old.
You're dead and alive.
You flail and you'll thrive.

It's left when it's right.
It's friendship, it's spite.
We're completely the same,
We're so different it's strange.

You, can't be me. But I, can be you.

______ ___________ __________ __________ __ ___ ___
__ _ ___ __ __ _ ___ __ ___ ___
__ ___________ ___________ __________ __ ___
__ _ ___ __ __ _ __ __ ___
______ ___________ __ __ _ __ ___________ ___



___________ __ __ __________ ___________ ____________
__ __ __ __ ___ __
________ ___ __ ___________ __
_ __ __ __ ___ __
___________ __ __ __________ ___________ __

I was listening to this song, One Little Slip by the Barenaked Ladies. I thought the recipe for Disaster described in the song was a bit too perfect, and did some research. It was not easy, seeing as Self-Aware Library is still throwing hissy fits about being renovated. But I eventually figured it out! Apparently the drummer for the band had a cousin who went to Psyhigh. He saw his cousin's research for a school project, wrote down the Recipe for Disaster and Fusion of Confusion. He even threw in some of the directions for getting out of the Malicious Mind Maze. I hate that thing, because of it I refuse to ever go into the Northwestsouth wing of the school ever again. Oh, and I found something else while reading up on this song. Next to the Recipe for Disaster (which Barenaked Ladies botched by the way, don't follow their instructions) was the Recipe for Vibrating Molecules. The measurements don't really make sense, but I think I figured it out.

One, Two.
Fate's weaving tool.
Three, Four.
A ghostly score.
Five, Six.
Incense sticks.
Seven, Eight.
Porcelain plate.
Nine, Ten.
Spite from a friend.

If I can get some Spite and a ghost to play a sweet guitar solo, I'll be set to make this dish. I'm pretty excited to have vibrating molecules. The only thing more fun than sitting on ceilings is being able to walk straight through them!

Letters are funny. Look at them, staring up at us. Individually, they're just squiggles. The letters "I" and "l" are glorified lines. Don't even get me started on "O", "Q", and "C". But squish these scribbles and doodles together and transformations happen. "T" goes from looking terrible to Terrific. That lazy "I" suddenly becomes rather Intricate. "p" Pops uP from below the striPes of lined PaPer. All these letters make words that exchange epiphanies and emotions and experiences that could never be predicted from the idiotically simple structure of "e". It's really amazing how adding in a few zany "z"s will zap a sentence into something hypnotizing. Letters into words into sentences into paragraphs into stories into universes. Mind blowing. How sad that this revelation is dampened by the keyboard. Look. Look at it. All the letters confined to boxes, separated from each other. How can the miracle of word-smithing occur if we leave these beloved squiggles to wiggle and wither alone and jumbled? As long as I have working hands, I promise to continue jabbing at these keys on my computer. I promise to keep taking senseless symbols and making sentence symphonies from them. I promise to acknowledge and utilize every sound in my alphabet from "aa" to "zee". And I promise to come down from the ceiling soon, as the blood rushing to my brain has obviously begun to mess with my thought processes.

Seriously, what was I thinking? Letters are only letters after all. Right?

There are a few common nightmares that most people have at least once in their lifetime. There's the "I didn't study for the big test" nightmare. There's the "I forgot to put on pants" nightmare. And there's the "I'm being chased by an indistinct monster thing" nightmare. I had all three of those condensed into one horrid dream last night. The worst part of it was that apparently that was one of my prophetic dreams.

It hasn't been a good day to be me.

All you need to know about our adventure is that no one should ever go into that god forsaken forest ever again under any circumstances. *raspy cough* Oh... I won't be able to sing for weeks....