up or down

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

My fingers hold far tighter to this cigarette than the few pence it's worth. Trouble not for a light, I only wish to hold what can kill me in sight.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

I am this city

These four walls, surround me in my times of weakness. When my feet can no longer withhold the weight of my body plea for these four walls. I've yet to memorize their rivets and cracks the way I have these old cobble stone streets that mesmerize my eyes, lending a parting view from my feet.

The wind hasn't tasted sweet in months. I can't remember the last time I saw your smile in the sky the way it used to part the clouds so effortlessly. Now you just bring in the rain. Everyday, falling faster begging for a cobblestone to capture what my umbrella so rightfully repeals. 

It's these four walls that have kept me sane and dry from the endless stream of troubles that forever falls from the sky. I wish it wasn't you I see in the hazy night sky. Illuminating what shan't be lit but you'd rather torture my tired eyes with your never-ending gaze. A thousand miles away and I can't escape your troubles. This city is you. You are I.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

The view from the top might be rare and seen by few but it's always worth it. Watching the glittering skylights of a sleepless city caressing my cheeks, I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. I've made it. The climb was hard. I thought about turning back but instead I stuck to the path less traveled. With the help of friends I find it easier to keep on going in a city I can't help but feel as if I couldn't have made it through alone.

The view is grand. The view is unforgettable. It's brandished across my eyelids, never to be forgotten. London, you lounge so longingly as I continue my climb. Where will I stop? Not even I know. But I hope it's somewhere with a view.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

As my first semester abroad nears to an end I find it hard to say goodbye to some of the most amazing and odd semester long friends I've ever met. Though it's only spent a few months together, we have all been brought together for the same reason, our love of travel and our faith in adventure. It's very humbling to know that there are people out there with the same drive and goals as myself.

Although goodbyes are soon approaching I know it will not be goodbye for long. We might live all across the country but from my many years of long distance friendships I've learned that distance only makes the heart grow founder. We've had our adventures together and soon life will bring us back together, it might not be in London and who knows where it will be but if it is meant to be it will be.

Goodbye is only ever for now.

[laurntaylor]

Back home in the grand ole’ USA it’s my best friend’s 21st birthday and I’m absolutely heartbroken that I don’t get to spend it with her because once again, I’m somewhere else in the world on her birthday (bad best friend, we’re all thinking it). Instead of missing out on it entirely, I’ve decided to do my best to wish her a happy birthday in my own little creative way.

With the help of tons of people all across the world I’ve managed to put together this video full of birthday wishes that I can’t give her myself. Happy Birthday Nicole and let it be a good one! I’m sending my love and best wishes from the UK!

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Today I'm missing out on my best friend's birthday which is something that logically, might occur whilst one is traveling abroad. Being that we have had made plans to celebrate our big 21st birthday's together it leaves me feeling somewhat left out. I'm 8 hours ahead in time zone and that's hard enough but here I am, stuck in England missing out on my best friend's big day. I wander the streets wondering what she's up to knowing that not a single soul accompanying me even has a clue who she is or why this day is significant.

It's things like these that really remind me just how far away I am from the ones I love but just how close I am to where I should be. Thank you to everyone who came together from all across the world to help me create this montage. I cannot thank you enough.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Followed

Deathly afraid of stepping on my own toes, I shuffle along the cobblestone path placing foot before foot as I had practiced. People pass by but nobody seems to notice my own concentration in the worn shoes that have carried me from alley way to abbey. I step wrong and my ankle bends into a crevasse in the pavement, my cheeks burn as I reclaim my footing.

'Did anyone see?' I look up but nobody looks back. It's just me and this cobblestone pathway leading me forward. A heavy sigh followed by a cough catches my attention and I notice in the reflection of a windowpane an older man following behind me. I speed up to distance myself from his presence but I can still hear his footsteps.

Everything I've ever learned leads me to believe I'm being followed. Suddenly my sense of loneliness engulfs my body. 'I'm here alone. He could take me and nobody would notice.' The sounds of footsteps fade down an alley way near by and I look back to find myself alone again.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Fall, I'm falling for you.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Unexpected Paradise

Abstruse sounds ring through my ears as I make my way down a road I’ve never quite paid attention to before. I’ve heard rumors. I’ve read stories. My book of references to visit this mysterious place is nearly overflowing and now my time has come. I am no longer a Brick Lane virgin.

Since my arrival I’ve been looking for some form of an excuse to get curry on Brick Lane. Something, anything, anyone at all would suffice. As one of the most famous curry spots in London and around the world, I had to experience it first hand for myself.

While walking up and down the street trying to make my blind decision, being that I have no idea about anything curry related, I ended up at Clippers. I also ended up with a food baby and an extremely satisfied set of tastebuds. It happened to be one of the only curry houses lacking a loud man standing outside shouting about the best prices and curry in town, which was appealing to anyone with ears and a soul really.

Despite my initial nerves set on by trying food far from what I would normally try, my meal was delicious and I’m sure I will be back for more soon (most likely tomorrow).

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Falling Asleep at the Wheel

Here I am, sitting sixteen stories above a sleeping city that I can't seem to find sleep in. The hum of late night commuters and anxious taxi-cap drivers narrates my stare at the ceiling. What makes this ceiling any different than the countless ceilings I've stared at before? It's British. It offers shelter to my weary legs that have carried me past pub and primrose. It leaves wondering what ceiling will come next. May it be the worn tiles of a hostel I can't seem to remember the name of or a lavish hotel room, embroidered with golden pastels and figures of gods.

I can't tell you where life is taking me. I can't even tell my feet where to take me anymore. London, you've offered me a far from dull roar in the ceilings that will rest so casually above my head. When I think back to my memories I'll never lose the sight of chipped white paint or the countless bells tolling the hour in my restless ear. I can't find sleep but neither can this ceiling.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Dare I Say

Christmas: A word that means so much to so many. If you were to look it up in a dictionary there would be far too many pages to decipher it's true meaning. To some, it means nothing. To others, it means a cool winter day flogged with brightly lit bulbs and the smell of cinnamon engorging one's nose. It means a warm cup of cider clenched in your hand begging to be sipped, tantalizing your throat on the way down. It means the jingling of bells and jolly chants of Santa look-a-likes singing carols on street corners. Christmas. The holiday in December that everyone celebrates yet not everyone knows as to why. Christmas. The holiday that starts in October for anyone lucky enough to find themselves in England. With brightly lit fir trees already dotting the skyline I can't help drowning in a holiday that shouldn't even be happening yet. What about Halloween? What about Thanksgiving? They don't exist for you are in London and the only relevant thing to do is don your dweebiest Christmas sweater and stocking hat and call it a day, for Christmas starts in October and it's here for a while to stay.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Home sweet simply a place to rest my feet for a little while. Home sweet say goodbye to last years memories. Home sweet 'I'll see you soon' knowing that every word is a lie.

I hear 'home' mentioned so emphatically, like it's a final destination. Once you've found your 'home' you don't dare lose it. You may venture, you may explore but you don't just leave your comfortable place at the kitchen table without knowing you'll one day return. If home is this wonderful, unforgettable comfort blanket that wraps you so gingerly in its embrace than why do people choose to leave it without their fingers being broken as they hold so tightly to a kitchen table?

I ask as a homeless nomad, where these people think they're going when they leave their seat empty for a while; how do you know it will be theirs upon return? I've called a million and one places home. I've been across the ocean and back again and back again and back again. Yet wherever I end up, I'm back again to this place. I'll pretend it's home but it never will be mine.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Hostal or hostile?

This weekend marked my first stay in one of the most dreaded and often horrific experiences of most study abroad students, the Hostal. Upon first glance you'd think, "Hmm, doesn't look too shabby if you ask me." Au contraire mon frere for this room has secrets not even the blackest of blacklights could illuminate.

Lets start from the beginning. Much like any user of a Hostal, affordability often trumps aesthetic appeal and sometimes even ones own comfort. "Well the room somewhat resembles an outdated mental asylum but at least it's under 20 quid." But does cheapness really outweigh a sense of security? For example, when we turned our keys in at the front desk to leave for the day, all our bags were left unattended in our room, likely to riffling from the front desk man who smelled of Pringles, old coffee, and sketchiness.

Moving on, we have the lovely aspect of possible skin, respiratory, and/or venereal diseases resting dormant between the obviously unwashed sheets, awaiting their next victim unbeknownst to the tragedy that might be their next GP visit. Undoubtedly something lived in this mattress at some point and I'm praying to the health gods that it did not make it's way inside me, although it did leave a terrifying mark on my soul.

Lastly, we have the aspect of mysterious stains. I will leave some of the mysterious stains up to your own interpretation but lets just say a lot of them seemed to resemble various bodily fluids. Not only did the dreaded stains dot the likes of our sheets, towels, and carpet but they also spread upwards toward the ceiling and even into the bathroom.

This one night stay left me with a lot of questions about my life choices. For example, why couldn't I have just coughed up an extra £20 for the night. Or, why did this room come equipped with two showers one of which did not have a faucet or shower-head yet still contained a "Out of Service" sign? Better yet, what guest tried to use the shower without the shower-head or faucets forcing the Hostal staff to have to place the "Out of Service" sign there?

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Fade Away

I catch my toe on an uneven cobblestone, nearly landing myself off the curb and in the busy street, brimming with bikes that should not be there. ‘God I hope nobody saw that.” It’s cold but not cold enough to prevent my cheeks from burning garnet as I shuffle my way back into the ebb and flow of a crowd filled with fellow commuters. They have now become my audience. I dig my hands deeper into my pockets, longing for warmth or something to distract myself with – whatever comes first.

I’ve lost count of the days. Those late summer afternoons where you would roll the windows down in your car have faded into a mix of cloudy mornings, sitting effortlessly a top the high-rises, church steeples and my shoulders. The once sun kissed buildings that surround my shrinking body reach higher and higher yet remain more dismal than I ever remembered, cold to the touch. The buildings have begun to blur together, much like the days we spent hanging on each other’s words like they were the last words we’d ever hear; like they were the lyrics to the song we’d been searching for. As I lose track of time I fade further into this city I always hoped I’d fade in to. I watch your contact disappear further back into my call log. I feel your name fading violently from my lips. I sit back quietly as I watch the words I love you fade from my pencil tip, nearly vanishing from my vocabulary all together. This wasn’t the way I expected to fade into this city.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

A forever changing skyline caresses my windowsill each morning, leaving behind what was once yesterday. It might be a simple change of direction as the wind shifts the haze. It might be a forgotten sun blessing rain-soaked steeples, leading my eyes toward an era not far from forgotten itself. Often times it's a man made attempt to reach higher into the unknown that captures my unfamiliar gaze.

Arching itself well above the cloud line, grasping for the heavens it will never find, I'll stare longingly waiting for the next, contemporary design to breach my window sill. Might it be a shard of glass sitting comfortably next to a wall of stone or a twisted metal staircase leading man further into the unknown. When will my skyline stay the same? I'll pray for fog in the hopes it will mask an ever changing landscape, prevent an ever changing escape for man to mark a city that was never his to begin with.

But not even the thickest of clouds could blanket my window sill from change. Not even the heaviest of showers could wash away a crane lined sky. Not even the brightest of suns could dry the tears of stone, torn from it's home soon to be replaced with metal and concrete amongst this ever changing jungle of built to tear down bones. What's wrong with yesterday's skyline?

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

What to do in a moment of Panic: As an international symbol of London, I try my best to avoid the chaotic tourist groups constantly flogging beneath to have their photos taken to send home to jealous friends and family. If you find yourself immersed in the crowd of sweaty, and often confused foreigners, don't panic as they can sense fear. Slowly, but surely, back away and out of the swarms of aggressive iPad users. You will be okay. Try not to focus on the overwhelming sounds of millions of different languages that seem to have merged into one, loud hum. For me, it is sad to see such a beautiful place made ugly by its high demand among tourists.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Stranger Danger

I find myself actively avoiding eye contract with any and everyone I pass by on the bustling, rain-soaked streets of a city I'm still so unfamiliar with. It's like the unspoken London rule; never make eye contact. If you were to make the mistake of staring into the eyes of a stranger, even if only for a second, they know. They stare into your eyes, blankly and without interest but really they can see your soul. It leaves you wondering what their second of contact with your life left them concluding about yourself. Did my black lipstick turn your glance away? Was it the solemn smile that lays dominant beneath my nose that scared your eyes offwards? I wonder what assumptions I've made of you in that split second? Your black suit case held closely to your side, uneasy posture as you wait for traffic to pass bye, tapping your foot uncomfortably. If he wasn't on his way to work, he was on his way somewhere. Somewhere, important if not to him, if to someone.

[petticoatsorscratchythroats]

Ride to the other side

I have motion sickness, bad. For anyone who has ever experienced motion sickness you can sympathize with my agony and the constant ramblings of concerned parents telling you to, "face forwards" or "look out the front window." Well guess what mom, you're a liar because I'm staring out this front window and my stomach is still flip, turning, and upside down similar to the likes of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air's life.

It's hot. Besides feeling sick now I'm feeling sick and I'm sweating in all the wrong places. This seat was warm when I sat down which just makes my Will Smith stomach flip-turn even more. I mean really, how much body heat does one have to give off to leave a residual and lingering warmth on these already disturbingly worn seats.

Three stops have passed by, not that I'm counting or anything. Now the woman, who for some god forsaken reason chose to sit backwards in front of me (obviously she never listened to her mom's car sick banters), is growing suspicious. We've made eye contact an uncomfortable amount of times at this point and I'm almost positive she thinks I'm trying to write her a love note. Listen lady, this is not a date you chose to sit facing me.

Woah. A very sweaty man just got on the bus and he's walking this direction. You know it's bad when you can see the beads of sweat formulating on someones forehead before they're even within 10 feet of you. Thank god the woman next to me chose to place her massive, you could hide a body inside, bag on the seat next to me diverting sweaty man into the row before mine.

It smells like sausage, coffee, and sweat. I'm getting off at the next stop I need oxygen and most likely medical attention as well as a strong drink.