Today has been a good day. I wrote like a banshee on laxatives all night, and God listened and provided me with some therapy that allowed me to accept myself more than ever before. As a result, I hit the ground running this morning, volunteering to fold extra clothing donations and abstaining from food and cigarettes. I had a cup of coffee, but if you try to use that to drag me down, brain, I'll scoop you out through my nose like I was mummifying myself.

Then, I passed the test. I don't know if it's the test, but I'm treating it as the final exam in CIA Spooking 401. What am I on about? I went fishing today in waters that I have cast my line into time and time again, and always resulting in no nibbles. Well, today I didn't just get a nibble; I got four! Two were cats who were not to be chased. What's that mean? If you've ever been on a dating website and contacted someone and shortly after you get a message from a sexy eighteen year old nympho, don't be an idiot. You're being tested if you're serious, faithful, and loyal. As a result, don't chase the cat!

Then there was someone picking a fight. Another test, this time of my temperament. But, anyways, after that, there was someone similar to me who started messaging me. Hold on now, I've literally just started talking to this guy, so I've got no expectations. Like, he's not even comfortable giving me his name yet, but we're hitting it off talking about a bunch of shiz; giant messages volleyed back and forth is a good sign I feel. I'm not going to betray their privacy, but they are very interesting so far. Have to chat longer to get to know them for real though. I just wanted to share that story because it's a statistical anomaly, and that's something worth reporting on.

I want to get more into journalism. I applied for a "free" school only to find out that they tack on charges upwards of a thousand buckaroos after you're enrolled. I don't think I need formal training to get started with making something interesting. I'm not making mind-control programming like the CIA does with the news; I want to awaken people to the fringe of culture.

There's this one nonprofit called like Keeping Portland Weird that I tried messaging, but the NSA prevented my information from sending. I gotta get on that so I can get involved with the cultural diversity and support my fellow weirdos and artists. Fuck, if the FBI weren't foaming at the mouth to make me their bitch, I might say a sane version of my cult might attract members here in Portland. On the other hand, I don't want to bear the responsibility of keeping the project in alignment with the light. With the knowledge that all it takes is one bad egg to ruin the whole thing, I'm going to keep it as an idea sapling that exists online as a conversion funnel for my content and eventually my book when I decide what the dicks I'm doing with that abomination.

(Side story: I told my case manager about the problem with sending Keeping Portland Weird a message and she rolled her eyes. I forget that even though she participates in the Truman Show simulation here in the shelter, the average person has no clue what life is like when you're a person of interest to Big Brother.)