Don't you just hate it when your Other Eyes act up? Whenever I try looking at the college brochures my guidance counselor(s), I start stressing and the Flickering starts. And that just makes my headaches worse. Ugh. Being an upperclassmen is literally the worst.

...well, that's not true. Getting caught in the crossfire of a kinesis fight would be pretty brutal. Ever see a cryokinesis student and an electrokinesis student going after each other? Pro-tip: don't hang around to watch the carnage, or you will be part of the carnage. But I digress!

Yeah, upperclassmen-ing. It's the pits. Besides being expected to "get involved in student life/after life/reincarnation", setting a good example for the younger students, and dealing with AP courses that require you to settle your affairs before enrolling, us Psyhigh veterans have to try and cobble together a resume impressive enough to turn heads at occult universities. The really good colleges have been around since The Forgotten Age, so nearly nothing fazes them anymore. I've got to figure out something utterly amazing if I'm going to get accepted by anyone.... Maybe I'll get lucky and the next trans-dimensional disaster that hits the school will be something I can write an epic application essay on.

Hey, whoever fixed the drinking fountain outside the Anti-Aether classroom, kudos. I took a sip and I swear it unblocked at least three of my chakras instantly. Usually the water from that part of the school is... less than satisfactory. It's a toss up when you press the little button on the fountain whether you'll get a sticky cyan colored slop or a smooth rusty liquid that smells faintly of kerosene. I mean, neither of these are fatal. In fact, I'm told the kerosene one is good for your eyesight -- like carrots. But you know, I'm a picky drinker, so I was never really into trying that stuff. If I was desperately thirsty, there's always the vending machines in the sub-basement. Though trying to get a decent soda out of those little beast is a trial in itself.

So yeah. Whoever tinkered with the water fountains: thanks a ton, hon! I'd assume one of the janitors was responsible, but as well all know those shambling shades are mere figure heads. Teachers are always pushing us to "find our own solutions", and denying us proper maintenance personnel is probably another way to force us lazy kids to think critically with our abilities or whatever. I'm willing to bet money that Psyhigh administration stole most of these hollow-eyed odd balls from mental hospitals, or even Dimension O-23/rTT. My friend Herlio insists that whenever he tries to mind-jack one of them (don't ask why) all he gets in response is the dial-up sounds you hear from really old computer systems. Creepy.

Well, here we go again. New Years is closing in, and student scheming rates have increased by 76.334% (or at least that's what my roommate's T-89 seance calculator says. It also said that we sacrifice five virgin frogs to it before 2017 hits, but it always is asking for amphibian offerings so that's nothing new).

Every time one of the fifteen(?) calendar systems used by Psyhigh students hits a New Year, the secret parties start. Whispered plans, olfactory coded invitations, spirit animals sneaking contraband onto school grounds... and the Gregorian calender's New Years is when things get REALLY crazy.

I've already been invited to five separate parties, each more secretive than the last. Honestly, I don't know why everyone is so paranoid. The teachers have been acting brain dead for the past couple weeks. I could probably straight up invite them to the party and they'd just stare at me with those cold, blank eyes and mutter things about "GROTTO G.S.M. INC" or "UNIT LOST CONNECTION TO: psychic high ghost servers" or whatever. Yo, Psyhigh Administration if you're reading this, can we please go a couple months without the teaching staff losing their marbles? Seriously.

ANYWAY, I'm totally behind this big school-supported New Years party. Sure, it might not be as wild, but it means I won't have to use the Manifestor Fragmented Personality incantation to attend all these different student-hosted events. I did that last year, and now whenever I feel apathy or eat purple food Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24 plays in my left ear.

Not to mention, anything that the Student Activities Coordinators put together is usually pretty epic. I'm even willing to fill out this fifty-seven page "Suggested Mandatory Personality Test" if it means I get to go. Call me a conformist, but I know where the real action is going to be come New Year's Eve!

Uuuuuuuughhhh I am so bummed! I was doing some more college search junk with my counselor(s) and apparently my CACK test scores aren't good enough for University of Chillingois! I'm only off by, like, 10, but I guess that's 10 too many. My parents really wanted me to go there -- my mom went there for her degree in Botany and minor in White Witch Culture -- so I don't know what I'm going to tell them. Some of my counselor(s) suggested that I take CACK test-taking practice courses. I guess that's an option. I wish I could just drink a solution of mind-opening to temporarily upgrade my brain. Or maybe use my Other Eyes to see some of the answers. But with all the new rules the school has in place to prevent cheating, I'd be caught in a nanosecond. You can't even bring in charms imbued with good fortune anymore! What's next, banning water bottles from the testing rooms? Pfft.

Whatever. I don't have to decide about the CACK classes until next Thursday, so I'll just ignore it till Wednesday probably. For now, I'm just going to focus on finishing my Suggested Mandatory Personality Test (SMPT). It started out kinda fun, but by section 12-K it starts feeling tedious. Especially the Reincarnation Log. Though it was interesting to reach back to my existence as a wild cherry tomato plant in 1643 A.D. Heh, good times. I wonder whatever happened to that cute little sapling that was growing next to me....

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttttttttttt'ssssssssssssssss NEW YEARS! *blows party horn* Ha ha! Look at that, we've survived another year my fellow psychics! Yeah yeah yeah, I know that some of you use different time measurements, or live off planet, or originate from a different plane where time isn't one of the dimensions, but hey that's not going to stop me from wishing you a Happy New Year and shoving a glass of sparkling grape juice in your hands!

New Years Eve is especially exciting for me. When I switch on my Other Eyes... whoa. You can see so much shifting as the energies and nega-energies in the world around us scramble to reset. Right now I can see the inky purple and minty green streams of good and bad fortune flowing through the student common room. Most students' eclectic energies are pulsating at a rhythm matching a glowing orb the size of three football fields that's been floating outside. Beneath the sometimes-snow blanketing the visible grounds of Psyhigh, beneath the life force of grass, bugs, and various subterranean civilization, beneath it all something is bubbling up to the surface in an awing multi-textured mess. When the bubbles pop, they release these sparks that float into the air and melt the fabric of space-time juuuuuuust a little. In fact, if you walk the grounds today you might be able to spot the points of discontinuity. They're only about the size of a penny, but it's hard to overlook the points of erosion in our reality.

If you're bored today waiting around for New Years Eve celebrations to begin, I highly recommend investigating these world-benders. If I remember correctly, linking your mindscape to its center will-- well, you know what, I'll let you find that out on your own. It's better as a surprise. Just make sure you're not wearing your school uniform when you do it.

See you all at tonight's New Year's Party, sponsored by GROTTO G.S.M. INC.! I'll be the one wearing the hat.

I've been struggling with the New Year. Which is impressive, seeing as it's only existed for two days. Though it says a lot about that test we took for the New Years Party. It predicted that I'd have some emotional turmoil in the beginning of the year. Either that, or a chair would become my arch-rival. It was hard to hear, okay?

I don't know. Maybe this is all just the post-holiday funk, but I've been kinda depressed lately. It doesn't help that my best friend's telepathy walkie-talkie got taken away by her fifth and third parents. Who knew that losing one person could through you off so much? It's weird not hearing her randomly calling out "HEY do you read me? Rodger!" in my mind during the day.

I've been having issues with touching lately too. I was messing around with an old meditation ritual I found in the Self-Aware Library, but I was also thinking about my grandmother's caramel recipe, and when I broke out of the trance my being was a bit... melter than usual. My roommate and other friends keep poking me and squishing me because they think it's fun, but it's really awkward and I wish they'd stop. Just because I smell and have the consistency of a finely crafted candy doesn't mean you can treat me like one! #CandiesFeelToo

The nurse said that I'll start to harden again by next week, maybe sooner. I hope she's right. She might've just said that to get me to leave though. The infirmary is woefully understaffed, as everyone knows, and after the incident with the Students Rooming With Demonically Possessed Objects Support Group the place has been absolutely swamped. Take it from me little buddies: if you have a cold or need some ice or whatever, go to Minerva's room instead. She's got everything you'll need. She's got a very loose handle on her jinxing abilities, so her dorm is fully stocked with medical supplies. Just be forewarned, if you get on her bad side you'll leave with something worse than you arrived with.

Well, I guess I got student of the month. That's pretty nice. It's no Award for Anomaly Containment or Guttenhiemer-Wergner-Abbott-Johannes-Burtenburg Scholarship, but I'll take it. Anything to put on my resumé is definitely welcome. Thanks, whoever voted for me.

Sadly, this recognition comes with... recognition. Underclassmen that spot me in the halls keep asking me questions. I'm happy to lend you all a hand -- I remember all too well how disorienting orientation is -- but jeez, one question at a time guys. I'm not some sort of walking encyclopedia of the psychic world. I don't know how to find the derivative of a Will-O-The-Wisp's dopamine output, but I can point you to the Self-Aware Library if that'll help. And don't even bother trying to get information out of me regarding the Double Secret Society. You all know only upperclassmen of certain lineage can get in on that.

Now, I had like twenty different people today ask me why I keep saying "guidance counselor(s)", so I'm going to answer that question here and be done with it. For those of you precious little angels who haven't had to visit that part of the school yet, you are in for a rude awakening my friend. Our lovely Psychic High School puts a lot of effort into giving us as many opportunities beyond school as possible. The guidance counselor(s) work in, through, between, and sometimes outside of realities to get students to where they want to go. And as anyone who's taken Intro. to Dimensions and Timelines will tell you, that kind of work has consequences. Sometimes when I go to visit my counselor(s), I meet with a very upbeat auburn-haired dreamboat named Ray. Other times I have to meditate with a large swarm of bog pixies. One time my counselor(s) was an alternate version of my mother, in a timeline where she never married my dad, got several face tattoos, and developed an insatiable craving for herring. That was awkward.

So yeah. It's just easier to refer to your counselor(s) as your counselor(s). And while your counselor(s) may not be consistent in their physical form, their Psyhigh-spirit never falters. So if you walk into that office one day and are greeted by a pterodactyl wearing a top-hat, don't freak out. Just sit down, avoid looking them straight in the eye, and go ahead with your roommate change request. Trust me.

I swear to the Dean himself, I am going to jump out a window. That spazz at the end of my hall, Eddgarion or whatever, he knocked over some jars of live specimen he'd been keeping in his room. I guess they were part of a senior year project, but now it's a senior year disaster. Everywhere you go in the hall, ear-worms are wiggling through the floorboards and into your pockets, crooning noxious disco hits and obnoxious country pop that sit in your head and decay like rotting banana peels. If I hear one more song about "getting groovy together, my disco baby", there are going to be consequences.

There are some more species of nasty little bugs released in our hall, but my Other Eyes can spot those ones so I've avoided most of them. Another girl in our hall wasn't so lucky. I don't know how Eddgarion managed it, but he'd gotten five adult Authentic Earwigs. The poor girl is in the emergency wing of the infirmary right now, awaiting treatment for the Authentic Earwig eggs that were lain in her inner ears while she slept. Other creepy crawlies that are lurking in the woodwork right now include Homeric Hym Prophetic Bees, Japanese Soul Butterflies, Japanese Soul-Sucking Butterflies, Sundrop Scarabs (don't touch them, they'll melt your very being), and my personal favorites: the Ticks of Foreboding.

Psyhigh Emergency Response Team placed our hall on quarantine until all these infesting pests are dealt with. They're doing their best to keep us safe and entertained in the meanwhile, but they aren't very good at that second part. Whenever someone complains about the quarantine, they pass out jigsaw puzzles and suggest we play games like "Eye-Spy with my Third Eye". The PERT people all look to be around a thousand years old though, so I guess we look like preschoolers to them. Or maybe they're just that condescending. Either way, the cabin fever is setting in around here. Some of us are getting together tonight to try astral projecting as a solution. We have to be careful though, because of the Japanese Soul-Sucking Butterflies. But I don't need to explain that; everyone knows about what happens if one of those gets its grubby little appendages on a soul essence.

Oh my gosh, it's so good to be out of quarantine. Breathing in air that doesn't smell like insecticides or evil spirit wards is a privilege previously unappreciated by me. PERT caught the last of the malevolent bugs around noon today, and they finally finished checking over us "exposed" students for any ailments. I got some anti-melodics for the Ear Worms I've been suffering from. They're like anti-biotics, but don't taste as horrible. The nurse said that soon I will stop humming hits from 1975, thank the Spongiform Unimind!

While right now I'm just enjoying regaining my freedom (or as free as a kid is at boarding school) I did miss two days worth of classes. So that kinda stinks. I'm going to have to start my make up work soon, which is always annoying, but at least I have the weekend to catch up. Hopefully I didn't miss any huge projects. Last time I was in quarantine I missed a surprise field trip to the Semi-Decadial Gnome Fertility Festival. I'm still not sure if I'm lucky or unlucky for missing that.

Oh, and @Janitor Pete, I'll try to track you down in person sometime today, but in case I can't find you I'm saying this here too and hoping you'll find it. Sorry that I offended you, I honestly haven't met a maintenance person at Psyhigh that's like you. Maybe I'm talking to the wrong people? Am I mistaking golems for Psyhigh staff again? Anyways, I hope you can forgive me. Anyone who works to try to keep this place a little safer deserves student appreciation. I may be a Psyhigh veteran, but that doesn't mean I'm the smartest crystal in the cavern. Remember kids; don't be like Klarya. Learn from my mistakes instead.

Sometimes I miss my ex-boyfriend. And why shouldn't I? We had some great times. Playing pranks on teachers... eating Spoon Benders ice cream in the gardens labyrinth... studying for our AP Horoscope Science test.... It was nice. I'm not too proud to admit that I was happy being with him. But I knew it couldn't last.

No, he always had a bad seed planted in one of his three hearts. Academics were a joke to him. Rules were things to be challenged. Good people were fools and authorities were tools. If I wasn't going through a "I love bad boys and I can change him" phase I'd have hated him. In the beginning his attitude was a refreshing novelty. But after he joined that Black Magic gang, he just became a monster. His jokes about overthrowing society and replacing it with his own design became earnest promises. He threw out his guitar and started spending all his time practicing banned tie dying methods instead. Whenever we hung out he smelled like Smile Dip candy and bluebird tears. And his gorgeous cherry-red eyes turned the color of pond algae. He wasn't him anymore.

But sometimes you have to go different ways. As my mother always told me, "high school relationships are supposed to be fun. If you aren't having fun, get out!" And I'm happier now. A lot less stressed and paranoid. Everyday it gets easier. And when I see my ex in the halls, with his new viking-style teeth engravings and wearing eyeliner on his tail, I can't say I regret my decision. Sometimes, you have to put yourself first I guess. It isn't selfish, it's self-preservation.

Gosh, I got rather dreary today didn't I? Must be a side effect of the energy-sharing group I was at this morning. One of the participants was feeling bummed about their Calculus test, and I think the emotion bled into our energies web. It felt good to type all this out though. Well, here's a free tip kiddos: a good way to cheer yourself up is to snuggle under a blanket with a good book. Oh, and tip number two, @Matching by Mattie is literally the worst person to go to for relationship help. Don't you dare ever click that link.