A useful tip for everyone who's ever typed "meaningful gifts boyfriend" into the google search bar: Any idea you get from that won't be meaningful anymore 'cause you didn't think of it on your own. However, *she said as she was happily noticing the beforementioned tab had finally loaded*, I have accepted a long time ago that I am just not that person who can read their loved one's beautiful mind. Except sometimes in conversation and stuff. But I guess that's not enough of a meaningful gift, either.

Is it smelling like catfood in here? Ew. So, I might have thought of something romantic that wouldn't make me wanna puke right away - but as I'm notoriously running late I'm not sure I'll find it in time while aimlessly roaming the city. Now it's the age-old battle between accepting the fair-but-expensive-sounding amazon price and the shipping fees or hoping to find the same thing as a bargain at some weird little store. The latter could go completely wrong and I'd have to pay even more/not find it at all, but the amazon thing is time-bound and I'd have to decide quickly and I hate to do that.

Okay, so I want to get him a tiny silver box with a quote from "The Little Prince" engraved, namely "Puisque c'est ma rose" meaning "Because it's my rose", referring to the little prince saying that his own rose is different from the other roses in the world because of the special bond they share together, and put a petal of the first rose he gave me in there. Does that make you sick? I'm kinda feeling it (while you're at it, please tell me why I talked like a Kardashian just now).

Just realized in striking horror that our one-year-anniversary is coming up - I'm not that terrified by the fact that it's been so long but rather by the fear of having to make yet another present up out of thin air. Do people give each other gifts for that occasion? Does only the guy do it? Can't we just go out to dinner, please?

No way am I gonna acknowledge Valentine's Day, that much I know.

Maybe I should hold back on the romantic, useless gifts until the anniversary, though, just in case. Gotta be prepared for him doing something cute. If he doesn't, I'll just keep it around until next Christmas.

So now I was finally getting ready to get serious and order the box on amazon for whatever occasion as well as the material part, a golf ball monogram thing, when I made the fatal mistake of reading its reviews. 6 out of 10 people are pretty mad about it, it seems. So either way everyone's doing it totally wrong or it's impossible to handle. Great! Now I can't buy it anymore with a clear conscious. I mean, I wouldn't use it but I'd feel bad about knowingly getting him junk (NOT intended). Also, about the waste of my money.

Let's see, now I'm only sure that I want to get that box, but probably not for his birthday, and probably not get that golf ball thingie at all, so that leaves me with, oh, yeah, the sweet gift of nothing for now.

That went astonishingly well.

Plan C: I'll hit the city every day starting on friday until I find something. Oh dear. 

UPDATE: It's five days later and I hit the city once and realized that I will only get more confused if I spend hours running from one random store to another contemplating whether he might like Pottery Barn sheets WHO AM I KIDDING nobody wants sheets for their birthday, do they? Now I can only hope amazon's delivery time will be accurate and no one of my family will make stupid comments about why I am getting a tiny silver box because I will definitely freak out if someone dares to question my choice of gift. I'm that bad at it.


Love,

Rosy Smith

....or not, we don't know yet. See, at that party there was a sweet girl in attendance whom I've met before among that same crowd and she sat next to me during the poker game; on my other side was someone I once named as "cute guy" even though since then, he has turned out to be more of  a "cowardly guy with astonishing self-confidence" but that would be too long to use now. Anyways, my bestest friend sat across from me and sometimes we broke into insider conversations about things like our lit class teacher from high school and the other two couldn't quite catch up with that so they would start to talk to each other instead, asking the polite, interested questions people ask when they first meet strangers, and he somehow managed to mention the time "when I lived in Paris" and that seems to really get the girls. Or maybe the astonishing self-confidence is intruiging at first. But I shouldn't be so judging, since he's one of the best friends of my certain someone and I should be "noble". So I'll grant the fact that to someone who doesn't know him, he could seem witty and smart, I guess. Because even though those conversations across the poker chips were the only close contact I witnessed between them that night, and even though he was making out with other people's girlfriends later on (after the sweet girl already left, bless her), they are on for a date today. What a turn of events.


I'm on the home stretch for this semester! The day after the day after tomorrow, I'll hold my presentation. I absolutely dispise the kind of presentations we have to hold at my school. It's never "look at this power point slide. That's how I did it" but always "spot on me, look at my contemporary dance moves, do you get what I'm trying to tell you? You better, 'cause I'm not gonna just say it even though it would be sparing both of us a lot of precious lifetime". It's ridiculous how the word "creativity" is being misused to justify the unnecessary trouble they send us through all of the time.

To celebrate, I'm hitting the city with the abovementioned friend on saturday and I'll buy everything that brings me joy. I forbade myself to do so the last time I was wandering by all the beautiful sale signs, because I didn't want to reward myself before having finished that stupid presentation. Aren't I disciplined? It's a new feeling, and it's not a fun one.

 Can't wait 'til friday.

Love,

Rosy Smith

I found a pair of berry colored velvet shoes that I find really pretty everytime I brush by them when I'm at the train station and go into my happy place (aka the shoe store) to keep warm. They are on sale in that very store and I got all excited and contemplated to purchase them as a gift to myself after I finished my last exam, but I couldn't be that spontaneous and now, I miss the enthusiasm I had for these boots . You know, sleepless nights, telephoning around, sending family members outside in the pouring rain in order to get them onto my feet. So I ask myself, should I be looking for something that makes my heart ache that way instead of just buying them for the hell of it? Help a girl out here.

I just researched vitamin b6 which I'm obviously lacking 'cause my hair is like, gone (I'm not balding but it's still bad) and supposedly the symptoms of a shortage only show up after four to five years, so I'm mad at my past self for not consuming enough fish and avocado (I love avocado but they go rotten so easily) when I was 15.

So I was at this party saturday night where all the guys wore bows and were serious about playing a grand poker tournament and since I love every reason to wear a twirling dress that's exactly the kind of place I like to be. Some guests were doing inappropriate things in the kitchen, though - I had to look twice until I realized that that one couple was not only fondling each other but also another guy and gal who weren't each other. Um. I was hissing "Look at that! Are they doing what I think they're doing?" at my friend who really didn't want to look at that, because I was so freaked out by how no one else was freaking out - maybe it's a reoccuring situation among that crowd. A lot of orchestra musicians, and someone told me they were often playing each other's instruments, you know, so maybe I just got to see an open rehearsal.

Advice for guys: Play poker. It can look pretty hot, sitting back all concentrated and then shuffling the cards and leaning forward, throwing the chips onto the table and announcing stuff like "Check" in that matter-of-factly voice. Also, if you gift me a red rose while getting down on one knee, I will be likely to get very fond of you. I'll also be losing the game pretty fast (I had bad hands all the time! I swear!) but sit back smiling because well, I got given flowers that match my dress while the others might have gotten some plastic chips.


Even though the game stretched out until 6am (okay, so after about eight hours, it can get a bit boring to watch, no matter how hot a guy), everybody was still chipper when they left - the swinging couple (oh gosh I'm so blowing this out of proportion here) was practicing some interesting contemporary moves in the middle of the room, for instance. After everyone left, me and him sunk onto the couch and took in the situation. It was a balanced mess: Wine was spilled, chips (plastic and edible alike) were scattered everywhere, glasses and bottles in multiple states of emptiness were left on all horizontal surfaces, but at least no one puked or lost other body fluids in weird places, neither was anything broken. "That's what it should look like after a good bash", I told him. Of course, I wasn't the one of us who had to clean up the next day, but it was supposed to be a compliment, I swear.

Hope you had a fabulous party, too.

Love,

Rosy Smith

When I was graduating and supposed to be studying for my final, final exams, I once procrastinated by sketching out my dream loft in New York City. I have the draft somewhere but it's not exactly gonna win me an architecture prize; still, I can tell you exactly what I pictured drawing that. You're supposed to come into the main part of the loft, a wide space with windows to the floor all across the wall and wooden tiles. There is nothing in it, except for long, fluffy white curtains and a concert piano in the center, with a single rose on it (judging from experience, that rose is probably dead and there are about a million pieces of sheetmusic clattered around). As you turn left, you realize I actually thought of living amenities and have a sofa (no leather 'cause that's cold and slippery), a coffee table and some cupboards with a TV set. Oh and by the window, I have my desk to sit and write at. The kitchen is a bit hidden by a half-wall (what a word). In it, there's a free standing counter as well as a long table for dinners with other people, and everything will look sparkling new because I can't cook. On the right side of the main part, there is a more cozy corner with armchairs and a fuzzy rug where you sink in, and lots of bookshelves and a side window. In that corner, there also is the only door of the room that leads to the bedroom. Inside, there is a vanity table and one of these sunk-in window seats and a really high four poster bed and more shelves with personal things. Another door opens to the bathroom and the door next to that will get you to the heart of everything: The closet.
When I discovered the New York based storage service MakeSpace (they pick up everything you'd like to store, provide the storage location and bring your items back to you if you wish; all in all, it costs less than self-storage, I hear) I got the idea to describe that place in more detail, and since talking about myself and clothes is obviously a pleasure for me, here we go:

First of all, my dream closet takes up a whole room, about 24 square yards big. There's cream colored, soft carpet on the floor and a cream leather chaiselounge as well as one of these leather bean bags but formed like a cylinder (get it?) to lounge on while picking out what to wear: I always sit down in front of my closet because it can take me a while to scan everything. There is a small coffee table in here as well, with a glass top and sort of vintage-y legs, to scatter magazines and pictures onto.

On the wall across from the door, there is a huge mirror covering the whole middle part of the wall. On each side of it, there are lightly polished wooden racks (they might even be soft white) where all of my shoes, which will hopefully be plenty and luxurious, have a place. There are small glass doors every two lines, though, to avoid all that dusting.

All images are from Pinterest, none of them are mine (sadly)

Okay, onto the side walls of the room. On the left one, there are two grand wardrobes out of the same wood as the shoe racks. Between them, there is a rack of the same kind but with handbags instead (I'm not that into bags so one rack will do). Inside the left wardrobe there is a row of pants, a row of shirts and sweaters and tops and blouses and a long row of dresses and skirts (I'd say that 66% of the time I wear thights).

The right wardrobe is reserved for evening gowns, jackets and coats (those things tend to take up much room, hence the own closet). Turning to the right wall of the room, there are two cupboards. Above them, there are framed magazines and artsy ballet and fashion pictures. The cupboards hold drawers full of thights, lingerie, dance wear and lounge stuff such as teddy pants and fuzzy socks. When you go through the door and take a sharp turn right, there is a piece of wall leaving just enough space for a third wardrobe but with drawers instead of double doors. When it's summer, the winter clothes are kept there, and when the seasons start changing I gradually exchange the wardrobe's contents, too.

Oh, and there's a mini fridge as well for when my friends and I dress up together in my closet before going to a fancy event: I'll put sparkling wine and Oreos (cookies don't smudge) in there. And some loudspeakers need to be installed onto the walls and connected to the stereo in the living room area; Dressing is way more fun with good music to prance around to in front of the mirror.

Goodness, now I want to live in my hypothetical closet right away.

What would yours look like? Just imagining it could make you happy!

Also, check out MakeSpace's website
and their nationwide locations
for more info on their service as well as dream closets!

Love,

Rosy Smith

....while juggling January duties. It's final's month for me and I'm going to the printer's tomorrow for the first booklet, then dart back home to study for my written exams next week and write an essay, a report, an interview (for which I need actual people to interview and I haven't asked anyone yet. Good luck finding someone who lets you watch them perform a body modification when you're not sure you wouldn't puke) and an article as fast as I can. I'm sorry for going into so much detail, but listing things makes me calmer about them. Or more hysteric, depending which time of the day it is. I found out that none of my classmates has really done anything more than I have, and even though you shouldn't measure your success in comparision to others not being more successful, it does help a bit. Fuels the fire (what?).

But through all that, I can see February twinkling at me in bright, hopeful colors! There's so much to do, I get these ideas all the time but keep putting them off until I'm done with all that stuff. Let me get a grasp.

I've been reading a biography about F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda and I'm intruiged and heartbroken (which is probably not a rare effect their story has on people). I went right on to reading about the fabulous yet sad Dorothy Parker, and all that reading about brilliantly creative people who led these rapid, extravagant lives and still lost at happiness no matter how hard they tried makes me want to book into the Plaza and let everybody visit me for Martinis, kiss the wrong man and pour my feelings into a typewriter. However, I prefer to write chipper endings to all the stories concerning myself. Maybe that's why I wasn't born into the Round Table.

What I really want is to figure out my hair, which is not in a good place at the moment, let me tell ya. I just realized, horrified, that it must have been miscut for approximately the last five years now. I'm alarmingly tempted to just grab some scissors and cut it right off. But that sort of behaviour doesn't have the sanest reputation, I hear.

I also postponed getting worked up about finding an internship for the fall - but hey, if you got a cozy, paid creative writing spot for me, hit me up! At a newspaper, not your couch, obviously.

And I need two things desperately: Shopping and dance class. The latter because I feel like my muscles are gradually vanishing, I might have increased my candy consume, and I miss dancing with every fiber of my being, so there's that. And I can't quite remember the last time I really went shopping and I crave new material things intensely. Isn't it almost spring? That's as good as any excuse to be brand new.

Then, when I'm wrapped in fresh clothes, have great hair, stretched fingers, and lots of time on my hands, I'll sit down and write and write and go out at night. It'll be just fantastic.

20 days to go.

Love,

Rosy Smith