....See, I was going through my post drafts just now and everything I've written in the last couple weeks and didn't want to publish right away is semi serious (you know I don't do full on serious by principle) and I'm not in the mood to try and carefully formulate catchy phrases, so here I am, improvising.

This weird inner peace I wanted to tell you about but didn't because I'm so damn peaceful seemed like a good thing to talk about just a second ago. You might have realized by now that I get hysteric when a person I don't even like doesn't text me back within 12 hours. However, when a person I have some sort of dating thing going on with doesn't text me after 24 hours since we last saw each other, I'm like "Well. He wouldn't just suddenly stop liking me. I mean, why would he." It's irritating and unlike me and it's freaking out my friends, but I'm good, I really am.

I'm just applying a peel off mask - I decided that a 2013 expiration date is completely fine to use. It's an emergency, really; I have to leave the house tomorrow and do not feel capable of doing so if this mask doesn't drastically change things, like, right now. I should also redo my nails. It's a shame I'm so awfully tired even though I'm not doing anything particulary exhausting (except for ripping off that mask without ripping off my skin). One of my closest friends is a pre-med. I don't even want to know how she feels because it makes me feel bad (aren't I understanding).

Since I have chosen to prentend to be a fashion victim instead of saving lives, I can brag about going shopping and consider it work experience. At least, that's my definition of things. I got some lovely items I have been longing for, such as a fake leather jacket without a collar ('cause those make me feel icky). Finally I can wear T-shirts and jeans and make it look cool 'cause of my jacket. A red velours dress 'cause I'm a nineties kid who would wear her velours leggins and velvet top and choker together and not give a damn. A little black dress with shoulder cut-outs 'cause there's no such thing as too many black dresses. And a lacey top in that emerald color I like to think makes my eyes look greener. It's scandalous how these things satisfy me, but on the other hand, it's never hard to buy me presents, and that's something to work with, isn't it?

Another note on collars: Please, if you must wear them, don't fold them upwards. I can't be with anyone who does. Just saying.

Love,

Rosy Smith

.... that I'm gonna have to spend my single evening off school traveling to some hotel I've never been to  and interview two people I've never heard of all by myself. So that's cool.

....First of all, I'm inconsolable about the fact how weak I let my promoting game become this past month; I mean, I'm back at school now, but I managed that just fine before so let's not even try to get to the bottom of this. I'll be better next month!

Currently, it's the first day of school after Easter - however, I've stayed at home today due to a weird case of feeling feverish. I can hardly remember the last time I took a sick day from class; I believe it was after that horrible Sunday night in 2012 when I got rushed to the hospital to get some fluids into me. I tend to not be able to do that on my own. Reminds me, I should probably have some water.
Yeah, right.

Anyway, onto more interesting stuff, such as spring: Where is it and does it plan on swinging by sometime this year? There's a party on friday and I don't know how I'm supposed to combine 30° Fahrenheit and "trying not to get sick, like, for real" with my usual attire of pantyhose and open toe sandals. That is a problem we have here, lovelies.
Two days ago, my loveliest friend and I actually took a chance onto forcing the season to change by acting as if it was and rode our bikes. Outside. Voluntarily (maybe the fever had been onto me already). And see, there were quite a few small hills crossing our way, but my bike was in fifth gear for some reason, and I don't claim to be the most accomplished biking person, so those hills really got me, and while my friend lightly rolled up there, blonde hair swishing behind, I made some attractive oof-sounds and half-hearted efforts to push the pedals down which seemed to suddenly be set in the stone that boy drew that sword from. Then, got down to walk. Meanwhile, an older couple was walking by, and as I gave up the man said to me "your friend could do it better". Can you believe it. This is how far it's come, people on the street advising me on how to live my life. I attempted some kind of dignified comeback and laughed, chirpily "oh I'm not in shape right now". Which could have worked if he'd laughed back and gotten on with whatever he was doing. But no, he had to be all like "well, now you have the chance to get back into it" and make me feel bad about never having meant the stupid shape thing at all.
Then again, it seemed to be the day for people to put their nose into strangers' businesses; about an hour later, some strollers came by, one of them pointed to my friend's feet and said, and I'm quoting here: "give that girl five dollars, she's not wearing any socks". Seriously. We just stared after them in disbelief for a good five minutes. Isn't America the country with the biggest amount of People Who Don't Wear Socks In Sneakers? Isn't there a real PWDWSIS community?

Two books I read and loved for different reasons: First, there's a true classic for you, namely Kathleen E. Woodiwiss' (isn't that a swooshy name) "Shanna". It's basically a romance novel set in 1750 during which an outstandingly pretty, rich girl marries a convict to not have to disobey her father's choice of a husband for her, because she is, naturally, outstandingly stubborn. That convict was supposed to get hanged and therefore not be any trouble for her, but as it goes, he's shipped off to, yes, her father's island where she meets him again and is furied with rage but can't help noticing his special charm and, erm, hotness. There's some plot twists including pirates and murder and such, but all in all, you get the drift. Why I loved it? Shanna herself is pretty cool most of the time, and Ruark (the designated hot convict) - he'll make you despise every poor dating choice of yours a little more than you already do. Who cares if it's cliché? They have those for a reason; most of them sound quite nice to live in.
Secondly, I finally got my hands on "It's not Me, it's You" by Mhairi McFarlane. She explained how to pronounce her, quote "unnecessarily confusing name" at the very beginning, making me like her already. The book itself is written so beautifully non-fussy that you actually enjoy reading about the break up of a couple that has been together for ten years. I mean, of course it is painful, but you feel the pain of the characters instead of artifically-added-through-words-pain, and I think that's just such good writing.

So, I'm back on track (a round of applause for the bad pun) and once again, I was reminded of the fact that children - while they can be cute, under certain circumstances - can also be incredibly annoying. They're fighting, five of them squeezing onto two seats, they're giggling way too loudly and the poor guy in front of them does look quite unhappy to me, resting his face in his palms. He's not bad-looking, either, so I try to make eye-contact and throw him a sympathic smile. If we get married, we'll have one kid, tops. Now he's leaving. What a shame. It's hard to find a man with the same opinion on children as mine these days.

I'd love to talk about the juicy stuff right now, but I'm afraid I took a look at the time and I have successfully avoided all schoolwork I had over Easter so I figure you'll have to be patient with me on this....it'll be worth the wait.

That sounded so doomful.

Love,

Rosy Smith