....Remember middle school? Yeah, I know you don't want to, but remember that guy who's new in class and the other boys don't really like him and he's trying really hard to be funny and you just can't bear that sad sight so you decide to be nice to him and flash him some smiles? Big mistake, as you find out when he develops a (thankfully not long lasting, since you're actually pretty mean) crush on you and starts to text you things like "What's for homework" and won't shut up when you answer. After a while, even his neverending chipperness and brazen-faced confidence faded away and he moved on to people more willing to put up with him. Everything's just fine, right?

Until one random morning in May he hits me up again without a warning and I feel like I'm back in 2011. Obviously, I screenshot (something I wasn't able to do then, I'm just realizing) our awkward "so, what are you doing with your life" (as if I really care) chat and send it to my loveliest friend (a witness of time who doesn't recall his name at first, that's how memorable he is).

Oh, now he's asking me to a party at his sorority's house. I'm not that familiar with sororities due to me going to a school where everything's done differently because that's so much cooler, and I'm not excited to see this guy again, so I don't break into grateful applause. Instead, I take a trip down memory lane and consider lying to him about having a boyfriend just to get him off my back, the way I stupidly did a long time ago, but then it hits me: I don't technically have to lie about that one. I mean, someone certain and I are not keen on discussing these sorts of terms exactly, but he exists (didn't I mention?), and he won't find out, so I demonstratingly ask "Can I bring my boyfriend?" - and he turns into a proud aunt/ totally annoying brat, saying "awwww" and stuff that makes it pretty obvious that a), he still thinks we're 14, and b), doesn't have anything fun to bring into the conversation. I'll have to lay this into someone else's hands....

Now, to make the throwing back scenario perfect, my loveliest friend and I are lying on her bed, team-texting. Team-texting is a word I just coined and the way almost every chat with any guy I've been friendly with has happened. The great thing about it is that your part of the talking benefits from the wittiness of not only one but two people, and it's way more objective. Meaning that if you're biased and feel like your perfectly funny response could be too far-fetched, someone else virtually (or literally) presses send on your behalf. Also, if you're with your loveliest friend, she'll bring out the humor in you and you'll be trying to get her laughs, so you'll be much braver. Anyways, it's just like good old times  - the noisy guy is becoming unnerving, asking for details about someone certain which I don't care to tell him about, so we reply criptically: "Green eyes, brown hair, it was a golden day in September when I first laid eyes on him...." I think that sounds much prettier than blahblah about a name and a college course. It's not even half-true, of course (tricked ya!), but that's not the point, is it?

However, even though it's very good fun sometimes to have a nice little play-pretend chat, it comes to an end, too. That is, when the guy gets irrationally stuck up about his sorority, I stop replying, he asks about that weird party, I see it but can't answer (I swear I couldn't), when I do (tell him no, I need to catch up on my schoolwork), he accuses me of lying (just because I wasn't behind when we were in school together. I'll admit I exaggerated a and could probably have made it, but doesn't he know that I tried to kindly blow him off?), and when I ignore that (I mean, that was plainly impolite), he goes "Well, goodbye Rosy" - seriously?

So obviously, ignoring someone's WhatsApp message equals breaking contact forever and ever and not on good terms, either.

Well, I didn't know that. But it's okay by me.

I'm busy, anyways. Stay curious!

Love,

Rosy Smith

Hence, another strike for my love of alliterations.

We are having a gathering today which basically is the yearly round-up of all December events, such as my birthday, other people's birthdays, Christmas etc. That might be the reason why I am feeling so holiday-spirity today; My term break started yesterday, but since I am supposed to study obsessively and then fell into bed, it didn't feel quite as jolly as expected - but today, what with the fancy food and decorations and presents everywhere, I'm ready for Christmas!

Did I mention we're away for the actual holidays? I told you about my love for hotels a while ago
so that's covered, and I'm only getting really excited just now! That's the only good thing about all that stress with college and whatsoever, that all the excitement gets bottled up and then explodes in colorful Christmas jingle fireworks once you can concentrate on it properly.

I should probably find my camera charger sometime soon - in fact, let's make that another New Year's resolution. Cause I can't take decent pictures with my phone since I hate to ask others to do it 'cause it seems a little egocentric to always want a picture of yourself; and if you tell them "it's for my blog", it doesn't help at all. Anyways, I got a lovely Maybelline 965 Siren in Scarlet Matte from my secret Santa this year, which really helps with the festivity mood once that's on your lips. These sweet dangly earrings have been a birthday present and the dress is one of these cute looking yet comfortable enough for consuming a full meal ones. As always, in utmost professional quality.

Tomorrow, one of my favorite Christ
mas movies is on: It's Miracle on 34th street and I am totally and irrevocably in love with it. The city looks perfect in it, the story is beyond miraculous and I am infatuated with the ninties vibe - it's barely noticably, it's not like that was a completely different time, but I feel like there's some sort of dreamy haze over everything from then - I see that in Friends, too, which is full of childhood memories for me, and even in the pictures from my parent's honeymoon all over the country, which are hanging on our walls. I find that haze so pretty, I wouldn't mind having it over all of my pictures, too.

Well, isn't it so lovely to indulge in memories and traditions and lots of red lipstick? I hope your holidays are being wonderful.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....across the room, your mouth slightly curling upwards, though not much, just enough to show you mean to make a friendly face, but you're getting kinda sad at the same time, so you just awkwardly look somewhere else and hope that she recognized it as a smile.

The kind of smile you give somebody who once has been your friend, not a close one, not one you shared secrets with or told about your dreams and hopes and crushes (God forbid), but a friend anyhow, someone you had a laugh with, could gossip about others with (bad, I know, but we actually did that a lot together) and who came to your birthday party. Somebody who you started to disapprove of more often as time went by, and by the end of one school year, you didn't even want to have much to do with her at all, as she acted loud and annoying at times and just very different from you and your actual friends. So, when y'all didn't talk anymore, it was alright somehow.

I don't mean to sound melodramatic, I'm absolutely fine, and I hope she's fine, too, and I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have a whole lot to talk about anyhow - she never really understood my concept of things, to be honest. Our taste in fashion, for instance, doesn't harmonize at all. If I was getting really serious here, I could add how I'm not guilt free of gossiping about her a little, but as you know, I'm not so much about being serious, so we'll leave that there (and it's just my loveliest friend I've been gossiping with and everyone knows that doesn't really count as we're basically one person).

Where was I? Oh, yes, sometimes I remember the days when we still had classes together later on and we wouldn't go up to each other to talk, but at rare occassions, we seemed to share a moment of mutual understanding, was it regarding a joke someone cracked, or something weird someone said, and then we'd smile that uncomfortable yet friendly smile, and I would feel a spark of that light and superficial but never the less existing connection we once had, and that would be a slightly melancholic but still a nice feeling, just for a few minutes there.

Today, she belatedly congratulated me on my birthday, and there it was again, that smile.

Love,

Rosy Smith

My teacher brought up the subject of culottes yesterday. Flared pants in general. You must know about them supposedly making a comeback, even if you're not in fashion school and your teacher is this absolutely cool lady who gossips about celebrities with you because that, in fact, is on the curriculum (or at least kind of). She asked us for our opinion on them, if we think they are a one-season thing or living on through next year's summer - and I had to hold myself back on that one. See, technically I know that they are on trend right now and probably going to survive into SS16: They can look pretty cool on tall women (or paired with some heels), since they show off the waist which serves for the femininity of the look, and they give off that cool, relaxed seventies vibe, kinda as in "I'm a grown woman, I don't need to wear a skirt to look hot and I can run around all day and sit however I want 'cause I'm freaking comfortable in these pants (except that I have to hold my breath at all times after I've had lunch)" In summer, this style is going to work perfectly fine in light fabrics such as linen and silk, being all flowy and airy so that one is able to survive working in business attire even if it's a hundred degrees outside. Also a great thing for everyone who doesn't like to / shouldn't show off their bare legs in a skirt due to whatever reason people have for that (eg. rashes, scratches, a bad tattoo).

But (and here comes my uprofessional but, as always), I'm not gonna hop on on that trend-train (had to work the bad word in here somehow) no matter how fashion and feminism foward it might be. I have left my desire for flare pants back around 2005.

In kindergarden, I desperately wanted to own some, as it was the new thing all the cool kids were wearing those days. I still remember my first two pairs: One of them was known as the "rose pants" (obvously having some roses stitched to their hemline, you can imagine why) and the other one as the "fringe pants" (duh). I still own them, and I treasure them dearly. But I have moved on: After going through all kinds of colors, patterns and styles of flare pants, I saw the future, and the future was tight.
A whole new world of tucking pants into boots, pants not crinkling on the knees, pants not crinkling where they hit the shoe, pants not making me look like a five year old, opened up right in front of me, and there is NO WAY I am going back, ever again. It's probably the fact that I connect flared pants either with me being a three year old or alternatively being eleven and yearning for some skinny jeans so, so badly, that makes them so unattractive to me.
Getting to wear skinny jeans was a key experience on the way to being mature and attractive for me, the ultimate goal of bottomwear and probably something my parents thought I was too young for (please), so I'll faithfully stick to them. And why not? They show off my legs. Why would I want to throw a loose-fitting piece of fabric over them? Somebody in my class suggested, quote "you can wear high heels and nobody sees them" - I really don't care if anybody sees my heels. Most of them are so pretty, people should definitely see them, they're expensive enough.

As you may gather, lovelies, due to childhood experiences as well as a need to enhance my features wherever I can, just because I can, I'll continue to fight for my beloved skinnies forever.
Everything, from a blouse over a crop top to a wide sweater, from a sandal over a ballet flat to a knee-high, looks good with skinnies. You've made my life so much chicer, even on comfortable days. If that's not a word, it should be.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Maybe you know these meetings with friends you've known for a long time-so long that you still wore braces back then- that turn into a trip down memory lane....Opening boxes and looking at pictures and generally discussing long bygone events like anybody besides you two would still remember them. That recently happened to me and with all the "we should have been more...." and a look into my old diaries, I decided to make some points clear to my young and foolish self.

You are NOT in love with him. You have absolutely no idea what love is. I must know, because I probably still don't have much of a clue about it, but you're most certainly not in love with this self-absorbed, arrogant, ordinary, stupid, weak, crooked-nosed, mean, absolutely uninteresting boy. So stop fussing around and getting frustrated when you could be so happy about the fact that you're not together with him, and forced to get near that gruesome person and spend time with his dumb friends.
He wears scarves in all honesty- how naive are you, lovely?
And STOP writing these pathetic song lines about him, 'cause they're no good and they're only making me cringe SO much because I never think about him at all now, and if I do, it's in complete astonishment (why? WHY?).

Anyways, you just might be a little in lust with this senior guy in the band, but you'll be fine. I mean, you're not gonna get any closer to him within the next four years (sadly), and you'll still loose all your senses whenever you see him and wish you could be happily ever after (badly), but you'll be fine. There will be someone else, someone you actually know something more about than that "he's so gorgeous".

Be mean when you have to. Tell your best friend to tell that psychotic person to screw himself, because really, he doesn't deserve a single second of her thought and he's got some serious mental problems - I guess it's got something to do with self-esteem/sex drive issues and someone has to tell him he needn't worry so much about his tiny....co mmon sense since nobody would want to know more about it after hearing him talk, anyway. Say that. Don't be sorry about it. Don't be polite, because in three years from now, you'll read those messages and see that he's been a douche at all times and you've been way to nice to him. So be more mean.

And while you're at it, don't be so annoyingly kind to that one girl- I know you secretly start to dislike her and hon, it won't get better, so cut the act and ignore her.

Please don't part your hair so deeply to the side. And don't you dare pair that parting with black clothes and pink lipgloss and call it punk-rock chic. It's hideous and I know you mean well and feel super fashion forward, but it's embarrassing to this day and makes you look like the awkward teen you never really were. And why would one want to voluntary dress like that?

Don't feel the need to invite boys to your 15th birthday. Trust me.

Don't filter. Simply make those fabulous sarcastic remarks you have in mind all the time. They're seriously funny and the people who are put off or worse, don't get them, are people you don't need in your life. Don't think so much - or rather, do think out loud, in front of everyone. It'll be fun.

I have to get back on that sidepart again. It's just so wrong. Also, get some heeled boots for winter and wear more skirts, because they look dang good on you. Take Anna Wintour's advice and don't ever put together an all black outfit until you know how to be elegant in it. Oh, and don't clip your hair up in that little curly wannabe-an-updo. Get a curling iron and use it, for God's sake. Your split ends won't get better, no matter what you do, so you might as well put heat on them as much as you need to get nice and soft curls.

I think I'll stop here, 'cause really, you're already doing pretty well. Write every day. Play the piano and sing all the time. And dance, always dance.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....There are a lot of them, actually. One very specific characteristic of this past two generations or so has been the breaking of taboos and the newfound tolerance towards speaking about subjects which had been banned by society for a long time. Which is great, really, since it helps certain groups of citiziens such as homosexuals, transgenders (very cu
rrently) and also women or pregnant teens to raise their voices and stride towards the equality they deserve. Consequently, it is definitely awesome that nowadays, a lot more people are able to say "I'm gay" or 'I'd rather have a women's body" or "I forgot the pill but I want to have this baby and go to college" without being chased by a mob of mads with pitchforks or something (at least, not as certainly as they would have been a hundred years ago).

However (and here comes my superficial point), I do think that there are subjects which do not neccessarily have to be publicly discussed by anyone at any point of their lives. By publicly, I mean with love interests. By anyone, I mean stupid boys, and by any point of their lives, I mean when talking to me.
I just don't get why I need to be all casual about things as, mhm, let's see, genitals. In which way, I ask you in all honest curiosity, does my refusing to name them, or talk about them at all, negatively affect our relationship? And in which way does it positively enrich our conversation? See, such things might be part of the reproductive system, but I'm fairly sure that we'll find our way around that without a detailed description via text. In fact, another thing I'm sure of, is that I'll never let you get this far if you don't stop harrassing me with your bad-mouthed expressions.
This is the point where I wish people would still have some of the spirit of bygone times. I betcha, in the fifties, no decent guy would have dared to speak like a guttersnipe in order to seduce the girl they liked.
And then there's stuff such as going to the bathroom. I don't care if you have to go to the bathroom. I don't care if you didn't take the Chinese we ordered well. If I'm completely honest, I don't even care that much if you get food poisoning. It'll do if you say you're sick. I'm sorry about that. But don't tell me about it, because it grosses me out, I'll be scarred by the images in my head for the rest of my life and therefore won't be able to continue our relationship. I'm not sorry about that.

Generally, I feel like we should remind ourselves that there are things in this world which have absolutely no effect on human progress or tolerance level but rather make this generation look as if we do not have any conversation standards at all.

I hope that like poufy skirts and Mary-Janes, appropriate language will make a trend comeback soon.
Until then, I'll be over here, passionately pleading for it.


Love,

Rosy Smith