Me Shamelessly Cropping People Out Of Photos

Is it just me or does this month feel like it is never ever ending? Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, 'cause I have spent the last week doing absolutely nothing productive whatsoever and have a deadline coming up in February, so I could use a little timelapse, because lately I have been....

Let's not even talk about ghosting in (sorta-)relationships. That's unnecessary, childish demeanour and we all know it. But I'm afraid that this sort of misbehavior has latched over to plain, platonic, friendly conversations, and to that I quote the great Stephanie Tanner: How RUDE!

See, sometimes in a girl's life, one feels a bit lonely, especially on certain holidays that are otherwise known as "celebration of love". And in that case, one evaluates their possibilities: Whom to text to get a little pick-me-up? Not every guy in the phone book is suitable for this occasion. The ones with real emotional attachment are too dangerous, as that might lead to further confusion of the heart and a great big case of the Christmas blues. The ones who have ghosted before simply do not deserve to be honored with an outreach at this mushy time of the year. Which leaves us with the one category you hadn't managed to screw up yet: The Friendly Platonic.

The Friendly Platonic is someone who maybe sorta likes you in a non-platonic way but never did anything about it, and whom you like enough to not be totally appaled by the thought of him doing so sometime in the future. It is totally innocently fine to text him first, 'cause you haven't become involved in any texting games yet, and it provides just the dash of excitement and attention you need during this gloomy patch of yours.

It's nice. It's harmless. It's a bit awkward, for that matter, but it's only smalltalk.
Until he asks a nice, harmless, slightly awkward question and then fails to respond to your answer. He reads it, but the day goes by without a follow-up, and then another day, and by now the conversation is basically slandered forever and you are fuming and cursing this poor, friendly guy. And that's because basic rules of common courtesy have been set out of works by all the millenial-textinggame-crap that's out there. It has clogged our natural reaction pipes and fogged our minds and tricked us into thinking we have to have the upper hand in every last two-line exchange. I hate it with passion and fury and at the same time I know that it only affects me so much because I'm getting such a kick out of it myself, when it's playing out nicely for me, that is.

So here I am, a week or so later, in my kid's pyjama's at eleven pm, reading Dolly Alderton's "Everything I know about love" (which, by the way, is another work I'll add to the names I confusingly drop when trying to paint a picture of what I want to do with my newfound graduate status, all while talking so fast no one can follow along so they just assume I have a plan), annoyed with all guys and myself while I'm at it. See, New Year's went by as of today, and I am pausing my read to reevaluate the "Whom can I text on Christmas Day"-question that has turned into the "All the boys who did not wish me a happy new year and why"-saga. Obviously, I did not worry about that at the appropriate time of midnight on the 31st because I was in lovely company in a velvet nineties dress and sparkly tights, looking forward to mousse au chocolat. No, this is for the gloomy first days of January when your new year new me plan is not exactly kicking off to a quick start because you're still binging Christmas candy.

Anyways, see, now, not only do the "attached emotion" and the "currently not talking to me" options fail to surprise. The Friendly Platonic has not redeemed himself by saying "oh wow I got sidetracked, but happy new year doll, maybe we shall meet again soon, would certainly hope so" (please note my oh so visible attempt of a British accent). Well, his loss. I would have dead-on swooned about that for weeks to come.

Get this, lovelies. After getting worked up about the swooning I missed out on I was just over here scrolling through particularly nice messages from the "currently not talking to me" guy, reminiscing about a time when I would stay up until two chatting, get up at six, not eat all day and then meet him in my skimpiest workout clothes to make him text me again after hours (honestly, I know how that sounds, but I assure you it was fun), and whose name pops up as soon as I switch back into online mode (I don't like to see people online while I'm stalking my own conversation with them)? Yeah, indeed.

Am I supposed to wish him a happy new year back or call him out on how firstly, it's the second day of the year so really, it's old news to me, and secondly, how dare he ignore my "you up" text for the whole of  December and then try and slide that past me with a half-effed smiley face and a little fireworks emoji? Or does he want to make a move on me again?

Okay, maybe it isn't a clear indication that he wants to make a move on me again. It's not the "you have every right to be mad" speech he pulled off last time. But it's not like you have to wish someone you ghosted a happy new year. I certainly wouldn't do that. It's a bit much on the false sense of moral, even for him. Also, today is probably the last day you could use new year's wishes as an excuse to randomly contact someone (and ignoring their "you up" text in an elegant fashion): Not doing it around midnight could be due to heavy drinking and other people priorities, not doing it on the 1st due to the hangover and other people priorities still being at your place. So.

 It's been 45 minutes and I still haven't decided if/when/what to text him. Two of my friends are dealing with January troubles of sorts that do not call for unsolicited screenshots and me retelling my whole tale of why I still think it's a good idea to talk to someone they repeatedly claimed to despise. My loveliest friend is probably working and not looking at her phone; also, she very definitely despises him as well. Still, I can't be left unsupervised with this.

I hope you've had lots of cute texts from people you actually love, and if not, here's mine to you: Have a magical new year!!

Love,

Rosy Smith

 My lovelies, it's Christmas Eve again and me and my family are off to our holiday getaway! I've had my massage (I always spend about half the time thinking that I should saviour how relaxed I am and then I realize I'm not focusing on the relaxation and then it all starts again but the other half of the time I'm truly relaxed and it's all wonderful). Also, I now smell like a human honeypot.

Well made tofu is so rare in this world!

There's soup in there, though you can't see it

I think I got steam on my lense by this point

My loveliest friend wrote me a beautiful letter today - we had been reminiscing about our teenage years (I know, seeing how I look like I'm twelve most of the time that doesn't seem so far away, but trust me, I'm old) recently and decided to write a little something about that to each other for Christmas. It's a bit like trying to catch a moment in a jar, so you can save it for later (who knows where I stole that expression?). I think that's one of the things I love most about the power of words, the ability to save and saviour and keep and create forevers.


Speaking of keeping, I brought my camera, as I've told you - I sincerely hope that I'm not messing up the film, because it really takes some time to get used to not being able to see your picture directly after taking it, so you can't really tell wether you're choosing good lighting and things. But I do love the fact that I'll be looking at Christmas photographs again in a few weeks time, once I get this baby developed!

Oh but back to the writing, I got a book called "The Best of Everything", and it sounds absolutely fabulous; it's from the 50's and its main characters are women working in publishing in New York City and the plot follows their personal and professional ups and downs and I've only read a few pages but I feel so spoken to already! Maybe it'll hold some sort of fateful revelations for me, who knows.

I hope you are having a sparkling time with your loved ones right now.

Love,

Rosy Smith

(everybody now!) BUT I'M FEELING 22!

Well, lovelies, every age has its advantages, and one of this' is certainly the opportunity to shout out that Taylor Swift bop all. year. long! It has a line for every occasion, doesn't it?

I've spent last night ringing in my birthday with some of my bestest friends (those who aren't in Europe right now - which is, by the way, a fun thing I have planned to be doing soon!), eating pizza and drinking cosmos ( I know someone who didn't know what those were and I am still recovering from my sheer bafflement. Satc wasn't a thing for them, either. Like, you gotta know that to understand half of what I'm saying) and serving a mud cake that, if I do say so myself, is chocolate heaven (but you should refrain from eating anything else for two hours to let your body rest). I got the recipe from a blog called  Sweetest Menu if you wanna experience the rush!

Oh my, I just had a coughing fit from eating a chocolate foam thingie.

Anyways, I got a few more hours of being a birthday gal and having the prerogative to be surrounded by balloons and presents so I'm gonna proceed to shake my flapper dress now!

Love,

Rosy Smith

Someone took a picture

I'm in my car in a white linnen summer dress, strappy sandals and huge sunglasses (everyone insists they're too big for me but I bought them in 2013 and I'm bringing them back) - I'm not going somewhere special, I'm just determined to become the notoriously overdressed person you see at the supermarket. Anyways, I just spotted a tweet from the lovely Billi from Billi Loves Beauty saying that she nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award - isn't that sweet?

Now, I'm not sure what that actually means, but I imagine it to be kinda like one of these chain messages that moms send each other on WhatsApp, that say something really nice about you and then you send them to other people that you think are nice?

Yeah, that's not quite it.

I just read up on the VBA website as well as Billi's own post and it is done as follows: I am going to share seven facts about me and then nominate seven other blogs to do the same, so here we go!

1) I like even numbers. If I did, say, a fitness exercise (a far-fetched example, obviously), I'd do two or four or six sets. If I drew a house, it would have four windows. If I knocked on wood, I'd do it four times. Uneven numbers are just so icky, aren't they?

2) I hate the sound of vacuuming. Someone is doing it right now and it distresses me so much - I used to cover my ears and cry when I was little and what can I say, that reaction still makes sense to me. It's not only the loud slurping sound, it's also that you have to shout over it in order to talk to someone, and then everything automatically becomes urgent and stressful. Has no one invented silent vacuums yet? Probably, and they're probably worth a lil trip to Europe so no one in their right mind buys them.

3) I never colored my hair and I don't think I will. First of all, I like my hair color and am too scared that it will never be the same afterwards. Second of all, my hair is in such marvelous condition it would probably break off at the roots and then fall out of my scalp if anything chemical touched it.

4) I couldn't whistle if my life depended on it. My mouth does not do the thing with the tune coming out.

5) I am about 162 centimeters tall (or short, however you view the world). I can wear all the high heels that float my boat.

6) I learned to play the recorder in elementary school. I still know some of it. One day it'll come in handy and I'll get famous with a recorder band.

7)  I like handwriting. In class, there's usually a row of macbooks (I don't have one because I'm PC all the way) and me. That means it's much harder for me than for everyone else to subtly text while pretending to take notes.

That's all from me, now onto the nominations....

Lily Blogs Life

Becky Bedbug

VictoriaaHelenn

Jessica's Life

Thania's Beauty

BeeBecca Blogs

Sarah in Wonderland

 I'd love to see them do this and find out more about them. Thanks again for the nomination!

Next time we talk I'll be in Hamburg....

Love,

Rosy Smith

I will not rest until I walk around wearing all of this at once: Tie-up shoes with a block heel, net tights (I'm late to the party but it was way too cold for them, wasn't it) and a denim pinafore dress. That's the March call.

It's time for spring, lovelies! I'm so excited about every bit of sunlight I can get these days; there's few things better than not being uncomfortably freezing everytime you leave a building and being able to wear one pair of tights instead of three, don't you think so? And wearing sunglasses finally makes sense again; I love to slip them on not only to cover my eyes from the sun but also to look like I am on some kind of important fashion business-y mission, which I'm essentially not (unless you call snatching the last frozen Latte at the Deli a mission).

Break has been over for a month now and my calendar has started to fill up with assignments and things to do again and while some of them I could do without, I actually sorta like the main event this semester, which is to put together our own version of a known fashion trade magazine. My function includes chasing people down if they miss their deadlines and that is something that suits me well, I feel like. Also, I'm taking lots of notes which is what I do all the time anyways so it's not too much trouble. I still need to find a story to cover, though.

The internship thing is moving forward quite a bit but I'm pretending that it's not so I don't get freaked out about the job/ the move / the feeding-myself part before it's absolutely necessary. But we'll get back on that  - It's always nice to have something to look forward to!

What else? I have watched PS: I Love You yesterday for the first time in eleven years, and my friend and I noted a couple things; Firstly, we never seem to meet hot guys while disorientedly standing around in the midst of gorgeous landscape, let alone guys that are so enchanted by said disorientation that they propose to marry us at 19 (well, that ship has sailed already anyway, I'd say). Secondly, why is everyone so pushy on Holly to go and get over it already? Have some empathy, people. Especially you, Daniel. Hitting on her at her husbands funeral service, for crying out loud.
Oh and I have finally read Michael Ende's The NeverEnding Story (I've been meaning to since, like, fourteen years) and I loved it. It's a thoroughly good story, and those are scaringly rare. It's a children's book that also works for adults because it's just, it's so full of imagination, made-up things from scratch, and that reminded me that that is actually what makes books and fiction so marvelous, the fact that they can be a place in this world that has absolutely nothing to do with it.

Be all happy and jumpy in April, lovelies. That's what I'm planning on.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Do you ever text something feeling like you really got your point across, congratulating yourself on being so spot-on and eloquent and not at all whiny? And do you ever press "send" thinking well, this is so greatly phrased it's no big deal at all? And then, do you stare at your lock screen while waiting for the reply and start to doubt the fact that your message was your very own glad tiding to the person who received it? I did all these things. Truth be told, I'm sitting cross legged on my bed as I'm writing this and I'm nervously glancing at my phone every thirty seconds because actually, I'm not too sure as to what I wrote anymore. I mean, I really don't remember my supposedly excellent wording. So the possibility of it not being so excellent but rather totally not reasonable in relation to what I was replying to does come up (oh my God now it's buzzing with Twitter notifications and it's making me crazy). I swear I don't realize the sheer amount of possible accusations hidden within my cheery messages until I actively make them up. It's a thin line between "perfectly calm and alright" and "

DANG IT now a WhatsApp notification comes up and it's this sweet boy whose birthday I went to last year and he is inviting me again and now I feel a) old and b) uncomfortably reminded of that one guy whose jacket I was accidentally wearing (read up on that here).

Oh, here comes the real reply. Get ready.

TWO LAUGHING SMILEYS. Is he kidding me? Is that all he has to say to my passionate, censored, explosive speech? It wasn't even meant to be funny, except for the last sentence I put there to kinda buff things out. Maybe I shouldn't waste time on inventing buffers when clearly, they ruin the purpose of everything they're supposed to buff out.

Now, what do I respond to that.

I started to write "my inability to do capital letters with the new phone or my interpretation of the destiny of messenger services, what's so funny?" but I settled for "what?" instead. Obviously, my lovingly constructed puns are not getting us anywhere here.

Oooh he's typing. Why can't I ANOTHER FREAKING GROUP CHAT

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

Welcome to the last day of the year, lovelies! I hope you've all had a very glittery time up until and especially now! Let's tie up all loose ends before time's up, shall we?

Update our diaries. I let mine slide since before Christmas because I was too fazed by all the food and TV to get up and hold a pen and some stringent thoughts, but I'm determined to complete it today. Otherwise, I'll look back on this month and think that it was as exciting as some blank pieces of paper.

Discuss last details about how to get to our New Year's Eve destinations. Drive train train walk walk train cab? Train Walk train walk walk train walk? Drive train walk train walk drive? Do I even know how to walk to the train station?

Pack our handbags with the essentials. Meds, gloves, earmuffs, lipstick, power bank, pants to wear while watching the fireworks in order to not literally freeze our butts off in tights, toothbrush, cab money. I think that'll do.

I just got the info that I need to be at that station an hour earlier than I thought and now I've got only about three hours left to study today. Oh oh.

Where was I? Oh, find a sparkly outfit in case you haven't yet (better hurry! You might want to paint your nails accordingly!). I took the sparkly part serious as you will be able to see in case I manage to take a picture when I got it on. Sadly I was in too much stress to get a brand new dress, so I put a peplum top over a cold shoulder LBD to make it feel fresh.

Do a superquickfast thorough face cleansing and hope for a miracle by the time you leave your house. Considering the amount of chocolate and peppermint I consumed during the last week, I'm not a hundred percent confident that'll work, but if a sincere wish doesn't come true at New Year's, when will it?

Gather yourself for a split second and think of a New Year's resolution that won't hurt you too much if it's broken. Like, "put more music on your Ipod", or "don't spill popcorn in the back of your new car", or "don't skip meals to buy a Starbucks drink instead", you know, little things.

Shoot! I forgot to watch the TV special I wanted to watch! I even circled it in the program and no one reminded me. So the rerun in the afternoon it is. Even less time to study and get ready, but I'm not giving up my traditional New Year's Eve TV special for that, no way. Priorities all the way through.

Here's to a luscious, chimerical 2017! Be as gorgeous as ever.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Out of every context, I don't think an engagement ring needs to be three months' worth of salaries at all costs if it is the right one. I do, however, think that the guy should choose it - after all, it's a symbol of his love, so it should be something he likes that he feels she will like. So yeah, my opinion on that, if you were ever wondering.

Secondly, it seems to have become a Christmas Day tradition for my mom and I to go to the gym for half an hour after our spa arrangements and become so exhausted by it that we almost fall asleep at the coffee table. Gives us all the more reason to watch TV and eat the 140 calories burnt right up again.

Spa time - Oh Goodness, the lady left me in the dark with cottonpads on my eyes and now it's burning like crazy. Can't get up nor scream for her, though, as I'm tucked up in a blanket and well, have honey on my face. But I'm a bit scared that my eye will be twice its size when she comes back, which will be in fifteen minutes or so for all I know. Fifteen minutes of this burning! What if I take it off myself....Alright, now there's air coming through under it and I think the burning got worse. Please come back, dear dermatologist lady. Oh good, here she is. She's taking it off now with a hot towel and it's the most relieving feeling ever. Also, I just checked and my eyesight here is just fine. Phew.

So there we go, lovelies - another year, another blogmas! December's not over yet, so there's still more to come even this month, and with New Year's and all it won't be boring....


Love,

Rosy Smith

Lovelies - I'm in my Snoopy PJs right now, watching Home Alone 2 Lost In New York and munching on my Christmas chocolate and I think I just got lipstick all over my keypad. I've still got my makeup on because dinner and gift opening (we do that on Christmas Eve already) took a while. Come with me to witness everything from our traditional round of luggage tangram while getting into the car to me taking artistic pictures with my dress 'cause I'm irrevocably in love with it.

I didn't actually take pictures of all our traditional milestones, but I felt that not everything that's special to me would ring a bell with everyone, so a couple of snapshots:

Morning Read

Don't want to spoil my appetite

But these look so good....

Cozy Car Ride

That'll be my tree now

Just what is this supposed to tell me?

Hi.

Yes please.

Look at it! All these ruffles!

Couldn't help it, it's so tempting

Silent Night....

Always in for dessert

Have yourself a merry little Christmas....

Aw, I just inherited a fortune from some Indian woman who doesn't have kids and can't be bothered with keeping the money so she's gonna give it to some random person with a naive sounding mail adress. That's so generous.

Still, if this was a Bollywood movie, it wouldn't even be so sketchy. Just saying.

So, I could just link you last year's post "The Day Before Christmas", because it is literally the same - we pack, someone gets upset because we don't have anymore tissues in the house and if we don't pack any, one of us is bound to suffer from a life-threatening case of the sniffles. Who can even keep a straight face while speaking of "the sniffles"? Please tell me you laughed reading that.

I think I've got everything - I was tempted to pack one more sparkly dress but sadly, we're only there for two dinners and breakfast might not be the time to bring out the cut-outs. I'm even bringing fashion design booklet but I still don't want to work on it 'cause I plan on singing jolly songs, watching the family network and gazing into the landscape praying for meteorologically impossible snowfall. The rest of the time will be spent at the spa clearing my skin or the restaurant, stuffing my face with not-so-clearing food. It will be phenomenal and I won't waste a thought on fabric cards. 

And to top all that forward-looking off, I'm going to see some movie I never heard of tonight and I'm kinda feeling the thrill behind that; if it sucks, we'll just leave. I've never actually left a movie early, though. The only time I wandered off for a bit in between was during the Hunger Games because I really couldn't take all of these depressive distopian vibes. In 3D. Ugh. Oh, I just remembered, I left Jason Bourne 3 before it was over because I got dizzy-headed. Might have been those jumpcuts.

I'll have to get ready now, so I'll see you tomorrow, ringing the bells and throwing the glitter!

Love,

Rosy Smith

I watched the Winter episode of the Gilmore Girls revival today.
Let me stress that I was watching in style, with pizza, soft drinks and cakepops.
It was bittersweet; I mean, seeing a brand new episode after thinking that it was over forever feels like coming home, but I'm sensing a not so flattering character development for poor Rory and that's tragic. I still love it. It's triggering my journalistic ambitions to see her talk about job interviews and writing a book and having things published in the New Yorker.

I'm also one step closer to having all of my Christmas presents ready! Only one to go. Sharp call, but I can do it. It will be some kind of voucher and I need to craft it or something, so that it seems a bit more personal. Like, use straw to build a model of the actual thing.

I wrote this gift-explaining letter yesterday and I'm getting second thoughts on how attractive it will make me sound (I tried really hard to be my usual self and not, under no circumstances, be corny, and I'm not sure if that turned out witty and sweet or just plain weird and distant). I already wrapped it up, though, so I couldn't do anything about it if I wanted to. Except write another letter explaining the explanation.

I guess you wouldn't need to think twice to come to the conclusion that that would be weird indeed.

Love,

Rosy Smith

I just started a conversation by writing the two goat emojis on WhatsApp and asking "Are those supposed to be different animals? Or just two different animation styles? Weird". If you ever wonder how to make a guy think of you, I have the key. But seriously, what's with those goats?

Oh, he wrote back. And without asking me if I'm drunk. How sweet of him.

Today's one of those days where you swear you'll never have a bite of anything edible ever again after eating way too much Mexican food and a burger on top. Yes, I am aware that this blogmas, I talk about being full a lot, but don't we all stuff our faces way more often during wintertime? It's 'cause food makes us feel warm and sleepy, something you don't neccessarily need when you're planning to go swimming in July, but that doesn't sound bad at all on a foggy December day when your vision for the night included nothing more than a blanket and electricity. For light and TV and things.

The goat conversation hasn't moved to "So when do I see you again" yet but,  surprisingly, still revolves around goats. Maybe I don't have the key. I'm not sure. Give me a bit more time.

So, in a couple weeks (I fear that if I count them now, I'll be stressed out about my timing so I don't) I have this third-semester-exam that is more important than the first two rounds and my topic is gonna be "scars". If that doesn't sound exciting. Especially for me, someone who is incredibly paranoid about getting a scar because I hate them with a passion that is remarkable. I wanted to sue the last doctor that told me a cut that was bleeding like a knife slash didn't need stitches "because it's not that deep". Let's see how deep you'll have to reach into your pocket for compensation, shall we? Sadly, my mom didn't let me go to court for that. Anyways, I'm planning on using my bottomless hatred to trigger a flow of creativity for the exam booklet. It's a foolproof thing. As long as I get an interview partner, preferably tomorrow. As easy as that might sound, not everyone likes to get their words twisted by some time pressure fueled "fashion" journalist student. People are so demanding these days.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Dilemma: When doctor's ask how I am, I'm always unsure whether I'm supposed to say "thanks, fine, how are you" or something like, "well, actually my hair is pretty thin but I guess you're not the right doctor for that". The doc didn't comment neither option I gave him today. That's fine as well, I suppose. He did say I have a "beautiful organ", though, so he redeemed himself. Can tick that one off my list now.

The secret: My mom usually doesn't take the train, ever, so when we planned on doing that today instead of going by car, and missed it, she actually got upset about it. It was kind of cute. I had to let her in on the secret of the zen state of mind you just need to develop in order to survive commuting, and by surviving I mean barely making it home without throwing a fit and needing a plate full of noodle soup and an hour of tv in order to cheer up.

This week is rushing by already and I'm not even mentally prepared for Christmas yet, let alone in practice (gift-getting, exam-prepping, phone-call-making-wise), but of course I'm overly excited for it at the same time. Tell me you are, too.

Love,

Rosy Smith

That sounds like me, naming a post after the chocolate flavor I had today. But it's a really cute bar of chocolate I got for my birthday from a sweet friend who lives in Maastricht (in the Netherlands). It's pretty salty but also pretty tasty. Does anyone know why salt and caramel are such a great combo? My loveliest friend has made some cupcakes in that style a while ago and I've been meaning to ask her for the recipe for ages, they were so yummy. Even I would bother to bake in order to have them.

What else? I haven't done enough studying today, either, but more than yesterday, so we're on a good road. I also, and I'd like to applaud myself for that, finally gotten around to order part of the gift for my certain someone. I'll tell you what it is after he gets it, because if he politely seems to hate it I'll just pretend I never got him anything and not mention it again. Oh, we have also finally settled on a New Year's plan. I think. See, I had thought he hadn't decided yet in our last conversation about it, so I subtly (directly) asked him about news from the New Year's front and he responded "XXX's party, wasn't it?", like it was perfectly clear. I'll say it once more, texting isn't for me. But yeah, so the party it is (au revoir Paris for now. However, I guess a family vacation wouldn't have been the most romantic manner to go there). Now I can finally narrow down outfit choices! One important accessoire I already have (again, a gift. I have the most thoughtful friends)....

As I'm talking about gifts already, I can also mention that I picked up the copy of Jane Austen's  Persuasion that I got, just an hour ago or so. I've only read a couple pages so far, but what can I say - lovely Jane makes everything sound beautiful and witty and if I'd lived in her time, I'd have founded a fan club of hopelessly romantic, feminist, bookish, fun, 18th century gals. Thinking of that, why not do it now? Applications to me, please.

I should probably go on and work on my design booklet (oh the sound of that alone), but I could also, like, do something fun. That's the greatness of choice we have.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Good very early morning lovelies, or whatever time it is where you're at. It's been my first day out of school but I've been trying to directly get into studying and that hasn't worked out all too well to begin with so I wasn't really feeling the holiday spirit. One of my bestest friends texted me, saying "I'd ask you to come over....you'd just have to drive....and I haven't tidied up....and it would be after eight....but, yeah" and I replied "Well my hair isn't washed....and it would be bad if my car froze....but it would be better than lounging in my room, staring at my unfinished work/my phone/YouTube all evening long, I guess". It was all very affectionate and moving. I put on a dress and a swipe of lipstick and drove over there, basically from memory, 'cause I didn't put the AC on and the windshield was totally steamed up, making it impossible for me to see anything further away than three feet. I don't even want to know how much I trundled from one side of the road to another. But as soon as I got there, it became a wonderful evening - Saturday nights can be fun even if you don't feel like going out at all. Just stay in with someone else.

Love,

Rosy Smith