I want to make love to the world right now...

This is a summary of my week. A lot happened. I wasn't sure If it belongs here or on my writing blog, but seeing as everything that happened on here is true, I guess this is where it belongs. It is lengthy though. I apologise.

"I someday suppose that my curious nervousness stills into prescience, clarvoyant conciousness..."

I have been feeling so high lately that I feel like making love to everyone, anyone, the next person I see, that will be fine. Just as an act, an expression, a something, a climax, a peak before I topple over, back down. This is positive. Everything is going well. This week in particular, everything is going really well. It all started last friday. After a week of wanting to throw my work in the bin, I have a day of tutorials. All of which very positive.

Sunday. Eddie is at my house. He is here for some water colours. I am tired. Bored. Andrew is also here, he offers him a lift back to his. He does not live too far away, but we are bored and want to leave the house where we seem to be suffocating. So we take him home, armed with a wallet of CDs and the tom tom, we will drive somewhere else after this. We don't drive anywhere else after this. Eddie says bye. He is in his house. We are parked opposite and to the left. I am choosing a CD, Andrew is trying to find a tom tom destination (in need of a tom tom shuffle.) An old lady leaves her house and is hovering outside the car.
"She is going to ask us to move," andrew says, "When she comes over, tell her we are just going." Ok I say, flicking through the CD wallet. They are all old tired CDs, I do not feel like listening to any of them. The old lady approaches the window, unsure, looking a little confused. She does not look nuts. She looks like a normal old, curly cropped, lady. I wind down the window.
"Hi,"
"Oh hello love,"
Silence, still flicking through the CDs.
"Can I help you with something?"
"No love I'm fine." Ok this is strange. She is standing right next to the door. ("Tell her we are just leaving, we were just dropping off our friend," Yes.)
"We're not staying, just dropping off our friend. We are leaving now."
"Oh yes your friend have you just dropped someone off?"
"Yeah, just over there. We're not staying, don't worry."
"No no that's fine love." Her hand is precariously close to the handle. In fact, is she? Yes, yes she is she is trying to get in.
"Are you trying to get in?" I am confused and my speech sounds awkward.
"No no love, not trying to get in. I'll move my hand away." I look at Andrew, he is still messing with the tom tom. This is weird. I pretend I don't care. Look through the CDs. She is still there. It is really bothering me. She is standing right next to my window. She isn't moving. She is looking at us. The curly crop is looking at us and I am feeling awkward as hell, my face is flushed, and I know that Andrew is as confused as I am. I repeat.
"Are you ok? Can we help you with something?"
"You're just dropping someone off?"
"Yes"
"Sorry, it is Amanda and Andy isn't it?" What!? My eyes widen. I am unable to speak. I want to cry a little bit. It is too much. I turn to Andrew quickly. His eyes are also wide, he is looking at her. We are silent, then Andrew replies hastily. "No no. That isn't us. You are mistaken." Under my breath, "but it is us!"
"Oh sorry love. I am sorry."
Andrew mutters, urges me to wind up my window, let's just go. I am still looking at him. He knows what I am thinking because he is thinking it too. But he is more rational and logical than me, "No. It was just a coincidence." He says, unconvincing. He is talking to himself. We drive round the corner and stop. "It was just a coincidence. Are you shaken up?" He asks me. No. I lie. I am fine. But really I am very shaken up. It was all too awkward, too weird. Too much of a coincidence. We decide against the drive. He drops me off at home and leaves.
Now let me put a stop to all this rational thought going through your mind.
1. We were out side Eddie's, so if it was a long lost relative or anything in that vain, why is she hanging round Eddie's?
2. Andrew has only been driving for a week. That has not given us enough time to put the Mandi and Andy stickers in the windscreen, over our respective heads. This also means that there is nothing in the car incriminating, or suggestive of our names.
3. How many Andy and Mandi's can there be out there? It is too ridiculous a coupling.
Any explanations for the strange curly crop? We are all stumped. Maybe it was just a coincidence.
Libby, Brig, Ben, Alex have a BBQ. We burn Alex's bread and sit by the warmth of it's fire until 12.

Monday: In the past I may have had a few freaky things happen in relation to foresight, and I also once vividly dreamt that I was enrolling into a college, a magnificent building ran by nuns. I was flicking through a book of old warrington photographs, a book I had never seen before, and there it was. The building. I read the passage by it. It was a college. It was run by nuns. It was destroyed by fire in the eighties. I am not claiming clairvoyance, or anything paranormal, (although technically I am a little bit.) It is all coincidence. There was a few dreams of my Grandad before I knew about his illness and the progression of his illness too, I will not go into that. Actually I'm not convinced about prescience. I like the idea of it but not the practice of it. I think it's all to do with perception. The subconscious picking up and interpreting messages differently to the conscious then trying to tell you about it. But that is all in the past. These things don't happen too often. But just lately I predicted something. Unknowingly. The proof is in the blog. It was predicted in Je Suis Un Petit Parson... I kept thinking about pregnancy and being pregnant and maybe that I was pregnant, with no reason to think it. Then I got a phone call off my mum.
"Has Daniella rang you?" No "You need to ring her now," Why, "Juts call her." Why, "Just do it please." Can I not just wait. "No, do it now," But if she's going to call me anyway... "MAndi call your sister she has some news." I already know what it is. At least I know what I want it to be.
Mum she's not answering. Just tell me damn it. She does I cry with joy. Daniella calls me. She say don't tell anyone it is still early. I don't (This is not breaking that promise, nobody will read this.) So now I am saving books and planning mix tapes. This will be brilliant. This will be like being a parent with none of the responsibilities of being a parent. I want to make love to everyone!

Wed. Eddie's birthday. We have a mexican night. I wear my shirt which confirms what every one is thinking, yes, I am in fact a Pepper. I do not wear my poncho. I eat four plates of chilli, endless nachos, one and a half cakes and some fizzy sweets. I feel ill. Drunk off chilli beans. I need to sit and not talk for a bit. Aimee arrives late. Her and Rachel discuss tattoos. We are sat on the floor. Aimee looks at me. What are you going to do next Mandi? I do not know what she means. What do you mean? What crazy thing will you do next? Nothing. I am going to be sensible, I am going to grow up having no tattoos, no (more) piercings, I will not re-stretch my ear. No that isn't what I meant, you're going to do something. I can see it you're on the brink, there's something inside and I can see it, and it is going to come out, I don't know what you are going to do, but it will be something big. I think she can see madness. I am unsure if it is a compliment or a condemnation. But I think I know she means. I'm bored I want to do something exciting. Feel something new. I try pressing her, what does she think I should/will do. Jake spills gin and red bull on us. The discussion is abandoned. Good. I did not tell her my plans to make love to everyone. Later Jake spills beer on us. He keeps spilling things. Eddie has had a good night. We have all had a good night.

Friday. I was assertive. Actually I felt like shit. My head hurt. I needed an inkjet printer. All booked out. The mac suite has this thing where you can book computers you see. I spot one that is free. I use it. Booked for nine. It is twenty past. If it gets to half past the booking is cancelled. It does. Ten minutes later, two girls appear. Excuse me we have booked this computer. My head ache has got the better of me. I am in no mood. I do not want to make love to the world today. What time did you book it for. Nine. And what time is it now. Twenty to ten. Yeah so you no longer have this computer, you have half an hour before it is canceled. It is canceled. They look devastated. I don't care at that point. The next booking arrives on time, i leave promptly and apologise for any delay I may have caused. I book bind all day. My headache shifts. I feel I am becoming more competent with book binding. My book looks nice. It fills me with pleasure as I can finally see an end. It is all finally coming together. A bible. A religion based around celebrity. I want to make love to the world. There is this thing, twice a term. A review. It is essentially a tutorial with an air of formality. Only I no longer feel any kind of formality as I have formed a sort of bond with my tutors and no longer feel intimidated or scared when it comes to speaking in front of them. It all feels so much different than the beginning of the year anyway. Everything does. At the beginning of the year, curling up into a ball as people stepped over me felt appealing, and although that does still sound quite nice from time to time, I now have found my life having more of a direction. And I am still not scared of the final days of university. Maybe it is because others have confidence in me. It is certainly true that tutors this year have encouraged me and found in me something that only very few have seen in the past. And I thank them for that. Makes me feel much less useless. Much less like the fraud I was in second year. So the review goes well. It was fun in fact. Today something throws me a little bit. Something that I am now dwelling on. Something possibly imagined. Something that torments me a little. I dwell on it, fall asleep, wake up and go for a few drinks. Aimee thinks I am going to do something big. Nothing crazy, just big. I am happy but I am bored. I think she might be right.

Saturday. Hungover. Hungover from over-thinking yesterday, hungover from lust for the world. Lust for someone. Lust for dancing to early 2000's indie, to the Rapture, to the strokes, to Hot Hot Heat, Be Your Own Pet, to the days when everything was uncertain because the rest of my life was always going to happen tomorrow not today, now it is nearly tomorrow and I am hungover from too much vodka. There is a horrible taste of greasy chinese food from the night before. Am I about to topple over? I decide not to dwell on it too much. I finish a book and get dressed. I am hungry which normally means my hangover is subsiding. I am a little distracted and tormented today. I decide today is the day I tell someone what is bothering me. Lately I have been thinking more and more about fronts. About what people hide. How sometimes it is too late to catch a person, how sometimes they are on the floor before we realise they need help. I do not need help, I need an outlet. So now, at least today I want to shift this facade. I want to tell someone. There is only me and Emily in the house so I choose her. The thing I love about my house mates is, above anyone else I know, that nothing I ever do or say is too much, too weird, too strange, it is just accepted as something that has been put out there, that has happened, that is now part of the cosmos, nothing I say is too much or too little, nothing I wear, nothing I listen to, every opinion is open for discussion, there is nothing that can be said that will offend, or hurt, or upset (well there is always a line but we think a like so there is no fear of saying something that may offend or hurt. That said we are all very different.) They will never judge me. I will never judge them. There are four of us and we have seen all sides of each other extreme darkness (really exteme) to extreme happiness (really extreme), we have seen it all. We are the most insecure house in Manchester. Possibly Britain. And after everything we have seen and heard, inside and outside of the house, we know that nothing is certain, but for now we are all good, we are all ok. No matter what happened the night before we will always sit next to each other the next day. We do not judge each other. No matter what. I call Emily out of her room. She stands by me whilst I make some food. Whilst I am waiting I clean the tops. She joins in. Before we know it we have cleaned thoroughly and leasurly, the whole of the downstairs, leaving gaps with enough time for cigarette and Coke breaks in the sun and the invention of a new game which essentially involves throwing pebbles at a pot until it breaks. Destructive and pointless yes, but also satisfying and fun. We do not care about the pot. It has in it a dead plant. We talk a lot. Our friendship pushed to a new level. I share what is haunting me. I am not judged. She is understanding. We are both excited but fearful, there is too much uncertainty. She reassures me on many levels. I no longer feel like making love to the whole world. I am level again. Level and tormented. Ruth returns home. We eat fish and chips and watch three films. A really good day. An ending to a truly uplifting week.