Not much time left after my emails to update, so I'll do it quick. I found an awesome cafe about 5 blocks from the hostel. Pretty hippy-dippy with a taste of punk like most of Camden Town. This area is like a mix between St. Marks Street and China Town. It's cool. Bought myself a nice little shoulder bag for £10 which has done me a great deal of good. Jet lag wore off, and I got a somewhat proper shower this morning. Beds are decent too, I'm on the top-bunk in an 8bed room. Girls giggling and loudly "whispering" in spanish last night kept me up later than I'd like, until some old brit began to whisper yell at them and suggestively cough loudly. I'm going to make my reservation for Paris in a few, and from Paris tomorrow morning I'll head down to Barcelona to meet up with Heather. Should be nice. 3 Minutes left! Damnit.
Well, love and kisses to you all. Mike, read your email and I love you. Tammy, they've got the coolest clothes here, you'd love it!
Time's up! Bye

Jet lag and the tube

Here I am in London. I didn't sleep well the night before, but it was def. worth it to wake up with those baby blues. The flight was long, and being in a space smaller than the box office without a smoke break and unable to sleep was a little less than enjoyable. I arrived in London at about 6am, 1am our time, into an immense fog. Getting out into the fresh air to smoke one, it felt like when I arrived in Paris last year. But I suppose all airports are pretty much the same. It's nice to arrive and hear english, very nice, even if I can't understand them all the time. It's funny because I was so intent on listening to the accents on the plane, and I realized that it's because I've never been so bombarded with the british, and I guess I feel like I'm watching a movie and have the right to listen in on whatever they my be saying. I met an Australian kid on the tube when I got on from the airport. We both had big backpacks, so I guess it warented a conversation. I couldn't understand half of what he was saying and ended up staring, doe-eyed and confused when he looked to me for coversational cues. I was offered weed right out of the tube in Camden Town, which my brother had warned me about.
I have Tammy's charms looped through my belt loop and tucked in my pocket. They play well as worry stones.
After passing my hostel a few times, I finally had a very nice fruit vendor point out that I was standing in front of it. I bought a pear for 20 pence, and ate it ravenously like eve straight out of Eden. I couldn't check in (meaning for me the one thought which was sleep, should be delayed) but the girl at the front showed me to a couch downstairs. I slept for hours, but not uninterupted. I slept with my travel pillow/blanket and my pack under my head. People ate around me, talked loudly, a man swept the room and knocked the couch a good number of times. I eventually passed through some good rest when another girl found the other couch and camped out as well. When one of the guys (mr. sweepy-sweepy-knock the couch) touched the bottom of my foot to tell me I could check in, it was 2pm and I couldn't possibly go to sleep then. Thus far, I've wandered around and come here, to this little internet place. 1£ an hour- not bad.
I miss mike so much it's hard to breathe just thinking about it, and his email made me tear up in front of complete strangers. I could go on listing all the things I miss about him, but to make it short: everything.
I wish Tammy, Tanya, Lauren or Ann were here for a cup of coffee and a smoke. I'd like a real friend right now.

To anyone that reads, love you all.

Will update frequently. Going to Paris either tomorrow night, or Friday morning, and straight on to Barcelona via train from there.

In the frequently heard words of the brits, "cheers"

Cage lining and toilet paper money

I might as well wipe my ass with the US Dollar. I'm dizzy from the exchange rate when ordering my pounds and euros. Euros weren't half as bad as Sterling. For 75 pounds it came to 155 USD! 200 Euros came to 307 USD. When I said pounds, the girl on the phone (citibank) asked me which country the currency was for. Curious.

All I have to say is, Fuck Bush- our money is now worth NOTHING.
If I had a bird, I'd line its cage with my paychecks.

The time before the beginning, the end of the first part.

I'm sitting here in the kitchen with maps spread around me, a full cup of coffee that's growing cold and marking possible rail-way paths with a sharpie in the gray morning light. It's strange, because I've been planning this trip (or planning on it rather) and catering to the idea of it for nearly a year now. My mentality was always that it was far on the horizon, untouchable almost. Now, it's a week and a half till my departure and it still doesn't seem real. People keep asking if I'm excited, which is sort of irritating really because I don't know if I am or not. I'll be excited when I'm on that plane hopping across the Atlantic- that's when my heart will catch in my throat with anxiety and anticipation of who knows what. I'm going into this without expecation or any clear form of a vision. When I'm asked what I'm expecting or what I'll do, it's like asking a blind person what their favorite color is. I'm quite fuzzy on all of this, like I'm groping in the dark.
As of late I've been "settling my affairs." Finishing up my reapplication to SUNY New Paltz, changing the oil in my car, cleaning through my room, and setting up my journey's finances.
I had a small moment of freedom when I took the stud out of my nose and replaced it with my old ring, something that isn't allowed at the theater I work at. Thursday is my last day of work and I'll be bleaching most of my head and dying it pink again. The bleach kit I bought is sitting on the backseat of my car, wrapped up in its paper bag. I stare at it from time to time, thinking I'll be back soon. Here comes Ashley, where has she been?
There're small creature comforts that I'll miss, the tiny little parts of everyday that we barely notice. Large cups of coffee, mmm. My bed, my shower, the smell of my house and the stacks of books filling my room. The larger things are a few friends, and Mike. Those blue eyes. Climbing into bed with him to watch a movie we've seen a million times. The way he smells. Things I can't take with me.
All of those things I'll return to, they'll be waiting for me when I come home with arms wide open- they're constant and there's no need to worry about all that.
You're going alone? people say with such disdain. Are you scared? they ask. That's a stupid question, of course I'm scared. But if I didn't do things because I was scared I may never have left the space between my sheets. Alone? Of course. If I had to wait for someone to go with me, I'd never leave the shores of Long Island. I'm going. I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm tired and worn out and I need a change of scenery. I don't know what to expect. Here goes the great leap of adventure, the small step to new.
Wish me luck. I'll be updating this as I go, sort of a mass email to any of you who may actually read this. I'll miss you all!
Drink up baby, look at the stars.