Hello, welcome, hi, so good to see you here! Lovelies, it's been a while. Last time we talked, I was still figuring out my hair and freezing in my nylons, now I am on my second round of tapes and cannot bear to wear anything other than a bikini because my Gosh it's hot. So we got a lot of catching up to do....

I am sososo close to being done with university altogether - I have handed in my dissertation yesterday (and found a spelling mistake on the very front page two hours before the deadline, so we swerved that bump in the road that would've haunted me for the rest of my life; by the way, the title is '"I choose my choice" - Portrayals of "The Housewife" and "The Working Girl" in "Sex and the City" versus "The Best of Everything"', if you wanna add me on researchgate or whatever) and the only thing left for me to overcome is the viva voce in two weeks. I'm very pleased with myself, thank you very much - getting my BA is sort of a passion project of mine (I know, I have wild passions) in order for me to feel better about myself, and I need to capture that feeling, because....

Now I am job hunting and I hate it already. Please refrain from telling me how lucky I am that my parents aren't throwing me out as soon as the ink on my diploma has dried. If that wasn't the case, I would've started freaking out in January, okay? So far, I am waiting for five feedbacks, four of which are unsolicited applications to publishing houses that have a bunch of magazines each, so technically it's many, many offices I've covered. The problem with unsolicited applications is that no one wants you to call and ask, since they didn't ask you to apply in the first place (which is probably already bothering them, so pestering everyone answering the phone with my fear of failure = not bound to be helpful). It's just that the sheer uncertainty of whatever is gonna happen within the next few months - will I move somewhere? get a job? an unpaid internship that'll force me to live at home and take the train everyday? - is bothering ME very, very much. So the bottom line is, if you know someone who'd pay me a living wage to write stuff for them, you got my email.

Let's not think of that too much, though, 'cause it is summer, after all! I went to Rome to see my bestest friend and it was wonderful and way too short - I didn't even eat any pasta, there was just too much to devour in such little time. The weather! The sights! The scenic streets with bars in front of which you can drink! No Italians for me though; their curly hair and general tendency to be short in height rules out most of the locals for me. My friend, however, is basically in a country filled with her type, and the fact that she can speak more Italian than my "Ciao, studio giornalismo di moda, e tu?" and is obviously gorgeous should rev up her chances pretty high.

This just to get you up to speed - since I have loads of free time now, between scanning job offers and crying about them, I'll talk to you very soon about the truly exciting stuff.

Stay tuned!

Love,

Rosy Smith

Hi, hi, hello, let's skip the "yeah I kinda didn't post all month last month again" sermon and get right into it, shall we?

The first semester of senior year is almost over and I'm nowhere near confident about my project deadlines. I think so is everyone else in my class. We're a fun little group with great shoes and panic in our eyes, ordering too much coffee and spending the first half hour of every lesson down at the vending machine, eating our nerves. I got five seperate To Do lists and it turns out that "writing the whole pr concept" does not get any less time consuming just by putting a little dash in front of it. What a nasty surprise.

On the move to the copying machine. How very dynamic.

Some people do sports to reduce stress. I went to my beloved ballet class yesterday, with all the best of intentions. However, when the ballet baby (my teacher always brings her eight (or nine? I'm new with this) month old boy, who used to be a total delight, lying peacefully on his back, listening to the classical music; now he's still absolutely delighful, just way more mobile and sound-intense) began leaning out of his little car seat, and the others were all talking about the choreography and looking the other way, horrors began forming in my mind, but before I could alert his mom, his cute big head threw off his balance and he rolled out of the seat and onto the floor. He wasn't seriously hurt (though he sure cried like he had just been pushed out of a moving car) and his mom assured me that things like these happen all the time, but I'm deeply ashamed for not having said anything sooner. I don't even wanna know how much of an annoying helicopter I'll be if I have children one day. I'm already dancing the dying swan scene with an alarmed twitching in my eyes because I can see the baby in the mirror, grabbing the power chord of the stereo behind me. I mean, I love this class with all my heart. But I'm still a teensy bit stressed.

I'm more of a "carbs fix everything" kinda gal

Focus on the little things. I am sitting in my car after riding the train home for an eternity, parked in the parking lot, and I am devouring a cold slice of cheese pizza and washing it down with coke from a plastic cup while blasting Taylor Swift. That scenario might not sound especially desirable to you, but think about it: I got my own car with a drink holder. I got enough time to enjoy my lunch in here all by myself without rushing. I had just the three dollars for my pizza floating around on the bottom of my purse. I'm not lactose intolerant. And I get to decide what music to put on.

Plan fun things for when it's over. I booked a hotel room for September. I got no way of getting there yet, but we won't be nagging about details, are we? "Book as many trips as possible without digging too deep into your pocket, because you don't know if you're gonna get a job right after graduating" is....probably too long for a new bumper sticker.

But honestly, like I'd ever put a bumper sticker on my car.

Love,

Rosy Smith

4th of June: Me being completely, honestly happy and watching ducks ducking.

10th of June: Me being slightly confused, but still very happy. Also, "Alien - Covenant" is the worst movie I've ever seen, and I have seen bad ones.

16th of June - now: Me being inconsolably sad. And yes, here's the disclaimer: Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely aware that I am a very lucky girl in so many aspects of life. But reminding yourself of that doesn't help all of the time. In fact, in some cases, it just keeps you from dealing with whatever's hurting you, because you'll feel guilty for feeling bad on top of everything. So let's just keep that in mind.

Wow, this is my second draft and let's just say it reads even more depressing than the first one even though it's not half as oversharing. Well. Priorities, I guess?

Let's liven this up a little, lets see....I've finished watching The Nanny and even though the lovey-dopey-ness of Fran and Mr. Sheffield got a tad annoying in the end, I can't believe I haven't watched this sooner because I bet it would've inspired me during my teens. Maybe I'd be married by now? Ha.

I think I'll close this now before I try to sell you the fact that my loveliest friend and I made it to the ice cream parlor 30 seconds before closing time yesterday night as some kind of achievement.

More of this hard-hitting investigative journalism to come.

Love,

Rosy Smith

"Sorry about that", says the ticket control lady as I confidently open my bag just to realize I left my purse in the car. "Yeah, I'm sorry too", I say. Sorry for myself, of course. In fact, it's 10 am and I am ready to pronounce the day to be over. I fiddle with the trash in my bag (like, actual trash. I'm one of those persons who are too ashamed to ever allow you to fetch something out of their bag because you might get old popcorn on your hands and never speak to us again), searching for something to confirm my name with. "I'll take anything", says the lady. Little does she know she's in to prove it, 'cause the effed-up paper I hold out to hear is an info brochure on STDs that has my name on it because my gyn seems to think it's somehow neccessary to personalize these things even though she routinely gives them to everyone. However, that this is pretty misleading and the control lady is even more sorry for me now because she not only thinks of me as a criminal but is also concerned about my sexual health, did not occur to her, I suppose. Now I'm crouching on some one-horse train platform in the middle of nowhere waiting for the next train back home to fetch my purse, 'cause no way am I gonna go through this again today. Plus, I'm going out tonight and you can't do much fun stuff without money. Like, eat.

I just perfectly wasted an hour of my life and I'm enormously late for class, and as expected no one else will be there on time so we're making a grand impression once again, and I bet not everyone has had a morning as unfortunate as I had to excuse themselves with. See, when I'm late, I usually don't have fun during the delay. That's why I don't cut, 'cause it always backfires at me. When I got my purse out of my care, I was very tempted to crawl in there and cry and let school be itself for the day (why did this man not sit in the empty space across from me but had to get right next here and is now inadvertetly touching my coat with his backpack? Why do bad things happen to good people?) but let's face it, I'm too goody goody to do that. Or rather, I would love to, but I kinda cut the same class last time to cook dinner for a certain someone so I already had my shot there. God, now this man put his freaking lunch next to me and is starting to munch on it and I can't even form my thoughts on that into a sentence 'cause, ew.

So it's the afternoon now and we were lunching with one of our teachers, one who nonchalantly tells you about their cheating husband while ordering a panino and a gay interior designer who's a man on the street but likes to be treated more like a lady between the sheets, if you get my notsosubtle drift, while we're innocently slurping our juice cartons. Anyways, at the table people wrinkled their noses about something hideous other people do, as usual, and this time, it was like "ugh, these days all everyone cares about is the label, and like, if it looks pretty. Like, sometimes, people are not even in season" and I was glad I had a mouthful of mozarella because I'd have loved to ask what's so wrong about wanting my clothes to look pretty instead of resembling abstract art / something the dog spit out but hey, it's "In-season" spit.

I hope your week didn't feel like your personal series of unfortunate events (love that movie, thinking about it. Weird but good).

Love,

Rosy Smith

....a couple of weeks ago, my precious classmates had a discussion that involved body fluids (in the literal sense. No one exchanged any. We're all into boys here). I like to keep quiet during those kinds of conversations, because ew, did I not need to hear that water bottle comparasion (please put it down. Also, that can't be true). Okay, so I was listening, but I can keep my thoughts to myself - most of the time. In person. But they started on such an interesting topic, I just have to share my views on that:

Is it okay to hook up (I mean sleep but that's not something I'd say) with your ex?

Well, that's not nicely phrased, 'cause of course it's okay. You do you, and everything. Is it advisable, though? Probably not. I think its confusing; just like staying friends with your ex (I'm not a big supporter of that phenomenom, either), the action is so familiar and closely tied with your bygone relationship that you're not really out of it. 50% of you (the physical part) still treats him the same - so how are you over? Why break up if you're still willing to make time for him? Sure, you might not be on the same page emotionally, or generally. But isn't it hard to remember that when your body has full access to and is getting response by his?

On the other hand, I never tried, and I'm willing to believe that, if you're emotionally unattached, such an arrangment may at least be easier than  "staying friends". Thinking "I hate that guy but he's hot so why not" doesn't sound totally healthy, but I guess that way, you won't have so much trouble stopping. When staying friends, it's just this weird "we talk on the couch like we used to, but we're not making out - and then there's this silence when we'd be supposed to make out and it's so creepy because I'm so used to this part being about making out that I don't know what to do next and it's really hard to just go home now and I think I still want him BOOM that friendship thing doesn't work" situation.

Oh, I'm talking about regulary throwbacks, just to make that clear. A one time thing is just a messy way of one last hooray. 

Questions left?

Love,

Rosy Smith