I politely called out the sister missionaries for ghosting me as soon as I reiterated that I wasn't interested in coming to Sunday meetings, as I thought they should be aware of the impression that sort of thing makes. They said my number got lost because they all share a SIM card that switches between their phones. I misjudged them, and I'm correcting the record because I'm fair-minded and not just looking to make the LDS Church look bad. This sounds like a really stupid system their mission uses. I wonder if they've lost anyone who wanted to be baptized. Not by them, obviously, since women can't baptize people, but you know what I mean.

I went to a Saturday night ward activity that my landlord invited me to because of the, as he put it, "kick-butt food." He said he was trying not to say "ass" because he's been reading the Book of Mormon, but he says "shit" all the time without blinking. He personally financed this activity because actual church activities suck, and his friend who used to be my landlord cooked the chicken. This is a Young Single Adult Ward, but both of them fall beyond the prescribed age range of 18-35, and as it turns out, they're not the only ones.

The activity was called "Pitch My Friend" and entailed people showing slideshows and talking about why someone should date their friend, followed by their friend's contact information. During the dinner that preceded it, though, everyone was also supposed to wear nametags and traffic-light-colored stickers to indicate "Single," "It's Complicated," or "Taken." I didn't do that, obviously, but as I headed toward the food table, two women with green dots stared at me, and it made me self-conscious and downright scared. Why did they not ignore me like other women? Out of the goodness of my heart, I sat with a lonely-looking guy at the table next to theirs, but then one of them caught me glancing at her, and I looked away and made an absurd pretense of staring at the wall because there was nothing interesting for me to pretend to look at, God damn it. Why did they do that to me? If they had ignored me like other women, I would have ignored them and not cared that I couldn't say hi without immediately killing any potential attraction.

The main event wasn't awful, but it was more depressing than I expected. First of all, it brought up a bit of PTSD from that period of my life where I tried to participate in the dating scene because my church told me to, and almost nothing pleasant happened to me. Second, I felt sorry for everyone on the stage being pitched. I would rather stick a needle in my eye than stand in front of a crowd asking for someone to please date me. I wasn't even willing to wear a green sticker. What if some of them, after putting themselves out there, didn't get texted by anyone? They must have felt like shit all day today. Third, all of these people, according to their friends, had done more with their lives and had more to bring to the table than me. If I hadn't been an apostate who couldn't give them a temple marriage and didn't want to give them children, I still would have felt inadequate to text any of the women up there, nor could I in good conscience allow a friend to pitch me as an acceptable candidate. On that note, fourth, the restored gospel of Joseph Smith was very important to all of them. Years ago, I found that quality very attractive and wished I were worthy of it, but now I think it's sad that they're devoting their hearts and souls to a lie.

Honorable mention for the mild awkwardness I felt when both of the 38-year-old women being pitched expressed a desire for children. I was like, Ummm... who's gonna tell them?

And one of the guys being pitched was Stuart Petty! He's a minor Mormon celebrity I knew of from a Facebook group years ago, and I've listened to his classic children's TV show theme covers on Spotify. I don't understand why a good-looking, talented, funny guy like him has any difficulty getting married.

Oh, and none of these presentations mentioned the most important thing about the candidates. Who are their candidates? If any of them voted for Trump, they deserve to live and die alone.

When the main event concluded, some kind of dating experts started answering questions, and I went home. If I'm still alive in a few years when robot girlfriends are widespread and affordable, I'll get one of those, and I should get a discount because I don't want to have sex with it. If I'm not still alive, I won't worry about it. Until then, my needs are met by doing things that Mormons consider sinful, sometimes to an unhealthy extent, but loneliness is supposedly as bad for your health as smoking, so sue me. At least this activity reminded me what I've escaped from. Those poor bastards. With the caveat I just mentioned, I hope they all got dates out of it.

it means so much more. Thousands of attendees at Pride accepted each other for whoever they are, whatever they are, and whomever they love. They really can play their own parts and their own pieces, not the ones that Mormonism and other queerphobic religions have scripted for them and forced on them. It's so beautiful. I'll admit I think furries are freaking weird, but they've never hurt me, so I feel no compulsion to make their lives worse. Just let people live how they want and don't be a dick. It's not that hard. If your beliefs tell you to do something different, get less shitty beliefs.

Recently I went to a fundraiser for Palestine that happened to be a rave. Due to some BS with the police and a landlord, it was moved from its intended location to a beautiful park with lots of trees, which I think was for the best. It was pretty chill, probably not a "real" rave, but I don't have much basis for comparison. Some parents with a couple of little kids were on the playground when we arrived, and they left when the music started. A middle-aged guy showed up with his daughter or granddaughter to use the playground, and he bought something from the Bakers for Palestine table, and then after using the playground for only a few minutes, the little girl wandered around the proverbial dance floor playing with one of the bubble guns that the DJ let her have. Everyone was real nice and careful not to use drugs in front of her. I loved how she kept a poker face the entire time while her father or grandfather beamed at her.

For a while, I sat on the grass and didn't dance or talk to people. Then I joined a circle of people sitting elsewhere in the grass, and they talked about shrooms and weed, and the woman next to me passed around a vape pen full of weed for anyone who wanted to partake. Yes, the scenario of strangers offering me free drugs that I was promised in elementary school finally came true. Since I'd already eaten several THC edibles with no regrets, I gave it a try. She had to show me how. After that, my self-consciousness disappeared, I danced my heart out without caring if I looked stupid, I socialized with people I recognized from multiple protests but never got to know, and I had a great time. I don't think I've ever had such a great time at a social event surrounded by strangers. Richard Nixon can rot in hell for trying to deny me this experience. (And for many other reasons.) Because I wasn't in bed in the privacy of my room, I didn't get a lot of the usual dissociation and hallucination, but I still got some when I closed my eyes and surrendered to the music.

In the process of enriching every aspect of life, THC also makes me more attracted to women than usual. It's not typical for me to see a woman in person and feel compelled to think "God damn, she's cute," but that night, I did. She was just standing there doing the clone trooper dance.

She caught me looking and smiled. I was just about brave enough to go over and tell her that I couldn't help it because she was beautiful and I was high. And it's not like I was the only high person there by a long shot. But I didn't know if she would find that sort of thing amusing, so out of caution and respect, I didn't.

Then just yesterday, I read a study about a newly discovered correlation between THC and early heart disease. This is important to know about, and I'll be mindful of it in the future, but I'm not terribly concerned. This correlation was found in "people who smoked (not vaped) marijuana three or more times a week for at least a year" and "people who consumed THC edibles at least three times a week for at least a year." I haven't consumed THC edibles nearly that often or had any plans to do so. Recently, I've been doing it once every one to two weeks, and now that I've run out, I'm fine to take a break before I get more. I hope they're perfectly safe in moderation. If not, that's unfortunate, but they've had such tangible benefits for my mental health and spirituality that it was worth it even if my heart wears out faster and cuts short the years of old age where everything would hurt and nobody would visit me. I'd like to die quickly from heart failure anyway, not slowly from cancer or starvation.

My landlord is trying to sell the house. I don't know if he'll be able to do that in the economy that Trump singlehandedly broke with his moronic trade war, and if he is, I don't know if I'll have to move. Logically, unless the new owners have a massive family, they should let me and my roommate stay in the basement. It's a self-sufficient living arrangement with its own bathrooms, kitchen, and laundry, and why wouldn't they want to get that income without having to do anything? They'd probably increase the rent, though. And if I do have to move, wherever I go will probably have higher rent. Everything in this country is designed to make sure I'll never save up a comfortable amount of money. The more money I save, the more fucking expensive everything gets. And it's not like this is a great place where I want to stay for the rest of my life, but I really don't enjoy moving.

I'm really trying to let go of my desire and trust that the universe will provide, like I did when I moved here in the first place. It's a lot harder this time for some reason. I've had a lot of anxiety over it in the last few weeks, and the anxiety is an almost physical feeling in my chest that doesn't go away just because my brain tries to talk sense into it. It didn't help that my landlord forgot or failed to add me to the group chat about when people are coming to look at the house, so I was in the shower when some people showed up, and then he was upset with me, and I was like WTF, I didn't do anything wrong, I'm not psychic. I wonder how old that group chat is. All those times he pissed me off by not warning me he was going to make an ungodly amount of noise with his renovations and render my quarters unliveable, maybe he thought he had warned me.

That same day, I went to the dentist and learned that I'll have to get a crown for $1229 (with my membership discount). Hooray. When the receptionist came back to tell me about that as if it were a normal thing I should be okay with, she asked if I was doing anything fun that day, and I said I was going to watch the finale of Andor, and we talked about Star Wars. I said Andor is great because it has a lot of political intrigue, and she said, "It's interesting that a lot of people don't realize how political Star Wars has always been." I fell in love on the spot. Not really, but I felt like I did. Then she called me "love" when I left. She wasn't even British. I understand that her job requires her to smile and be nice to people, but is it really too much to ask for women who aren't British to not call me "love" if they don't love me? Really? The word is "love." Do I need to draw a diagram?

That morning, I had been content with my solitary lifestyle, but then she gave me the smallest taste of the affection that's routinely denied me, and all it did was remind me how hungry I am. Then, because I wanted to have a positive attitude about life and not resent getting screwed out of $1229, I figured at least I'll probably see her again when I go back, and maybe that will be worth $1229. Probably not, but in my defense, last year I got financially screwed to the point of suicidality and it led to me establishing a real relationship with my uncle despite our political differences and spending a bunch of time with his youngest kids, who turned out to worship me, and it taught me that relationships are more important than money. So this isn't just about the receptionist being attractive. But, like, money is still important if you enjoy having any of the basic necessities of life. Don't get it twisted.

I had the best experience yet getting high last week, but I'm not getting high today because I've decided to take a break for at least two weeks so I don't destroy my brain's pleasure center. Some of my family members are wary about me using drugs, and some people get addicted and get into worse drugs and ruin their lives and stuff, and I ought to be more cautious about that. To be clear, though a part of me does enjoy telling people I got high because it's taboo and "bad," I don't do it for pleasure or to escape from my unpleasant emotions. I do get pleasure and escape from my unpleasant emotions, and I won't apologize for that, but I do it for spirituality. And though I can't prove it, I think the intentions and the preparation that I've brought to this have shaped the experiences I get out of it and made me less susceptable to the potential pitfalls. I came for spirituality, and I got it. I use the drugs as part of my journey, not a crutch or a shortcut. But drugs are not toys, and I'm sure they're not right for everyone even if they're right for me. I'm not encouraging anyone to use them.

This last time, I felt like I was in contact with the spirit world, reaching out to other people's consciousnesses, people I used to know and people I still know, learning about the plans we'd made in the premortal existence, apologizing for how I'd wronged them. I spoke to them with my thoughts. I'm sure none of them heard me. I'd love to know if any of them felt anything at all. I also got an impression that I might die in three days, and then I felt like I was pleading my case to some unseen, unheard personage (not God, I don't think, but maybe, who knows) about why I needed more time and could do so much more to bless people's lives while I'm here. I didn't die in three days, but I don't think that was ever really going to happen. I feel like I just needed to prove to myself how much I want to be here. (For now. After I do die, I sure as hell don't want to come back.) Even though it was just my own brain talking, it felt like a revelatory experience. I'm well aware that I might have just been delusional, but I've already lost much of my fear of death, made peace with a very traumatic past event, and made positive changes in my life as a result, so maybe the world could use more of that kind of delusions.

And I had another little psychic moment that helped to validate the experience for me. I'm not making any real effort to get a girlfriend, but once in a while I'll get on Bumble and swipe for a minute. I can always see that a few women have swiped right on me, but I can't see who they are because I won't pay for Premium, so I just have to hope I'll stumble across them in the natural course of things, which rarely happens. This time, I looked at the first woman who came up, reached out to her consciousness, and somehow found things to say about her profile for fifteen minutes or so. During this time I came to an implicit understanding that she had swiped right on me. And finally I was like Well, I'll feel pretty stupid if she didn't swipe right on me. I swiped right on her, and boom, we had a match. And then she never messaged me, but it was still cool. I also telepathically thanked a woman who had stopped messaging me for briefly coming into my life to tell me I had "the most soulful eyes." I also gently telepathically scolded a woman from Ukraine who said she was "apolitical" even though one American party supports her country and the other does not. I was nice about it, but I was in tears as I pleaded with her to take more civic responsibility.

I debated how much to share because this is my special personal experience that doesn't need to be broadcast to the world, but I do want to share things that might benefit and uplift others in their own spiritual quests. I decided to err on the side of not broadcasting it because I'm too lazy to try to describe this experience in words. You'd never be able to feel its intensity through words alone. So I'll just mention one more thing. I got the real or perceived revelation that Donald Trump chose to play a villainous role in this life so that others could have the opportunity to exercise moral goodness by fighting against him. Obviously I was inspired by the claims of near death experiencers that this life is like a play and we're all just performing roles. Whether my insight into Trump is objectively accurate, I can't say, but it makes me hate him less, so I'll stick with it. I thought, I hope I'm not a villain. And then I immediately thought, I am to some people.