I actually haven't been to that many big concerts in my life yet which is something I need to change, because I absolutely adore everything about them: The mess of wires and obscure constructions on the ceiling (I know they all do stuff but I like being oblivious), the lights, the people-filled floor, the adrenaline radiating from the people on stage....I went to one of my favorite nostalgic artists this friday; my loveliest friend and I discovered a long time ago that we shared an undying passion for a certain singer since, like, primary school, and we vowed to go see her in concert someday and unlike many "somedays", this one actually worked out! 

What to note before entering a concert: "Okay everyone LISTEN If one of us gets lost...." "Yeah?" "....we'll have to find each other"

Unexpected downer: When you don't realize that there's a no-food policy (why oh why?) and your loveliest friend has to throw her chocolate rolls away at the door and feels bad about the food waste and general world hunger for the rest of the night ("I told you we should have just stuffed them in our mouth right before we went in! Dare them to touch us!)


Unexpected upper (in the most literal sense): The DJ who supported the opening act was either supposed to be a pantomime and illustrate the songs or his,um, strong body movement was the result of a couple colorful coins....at one point he was so estatically waving, I was scared he might put out a shoulder joint. And the whole time he had the enchanted smile of one of these bald monks from Asia. It was awesome.

Obviously we managed to stand behind two of the tallest people I've ever seen, but good for them that they each found a partner their height. I could still see fine, though, and that brings us to the next point:

I crush way too easily on people on stages. The opening act would probably also look nice if you met him on the street, but as I saw him up there, he had the most incredible cheekbones, his squinty eyed expression was a sign of concentrated passion and his comfy clothes expressed not his laziness but the nonchalance of a true artist. I don't know, I can't help myself. The guitarist of the actual act didn't fail to make me swoon, as well, because of his serious skill - later, I saw a picture of him that didn't impress me at all. Maybe it's cause I see them all a bit slurry from far away. You know, airbrushed.

The main event itself, seeing that singer live, was just wonderful: She has such an amazing,jazzy voice and still manages to be all bubbly and jumpy and sweet. Kinda wanns go again.

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

So I need to get going in an hour which means I gotta get ready in about twenty minutes 'cause I celebrate that process as much as the going-out part. I'm done with the first week of the semester and it was....endurable, even though it took some strength.

See, the one good thing that could be said about our private school, where white Apple products are a religion and ootd instagram posts the prayer, was the fact that we had free wifi and a mirror in the elevator. This week, however, both these gifts were cruelly taken from us, all at once. I had been in for barely thirty seconds when I realized that and got ready to turn around and leave. But I'm a good girl, so I stayed and tried to make the most of it, which wasn't much; the workshop I had was about local journalism and we were supposed to find something interesting going on in the city (pick the one thing. Goodness)  to write about. A connection to the internet would've surely helped us there.

I just had to google the third Jonas Brothers's name. Kevin it is. Like the one in Home Alone, he seems to be easily forgotten.

In other news, I got a new phone, and I tried to download Twitter (also, where can I sign that petition for Snapchat for Windows? Tell me it's not just a myth!) and I think I got to a point in my life where I need to write down my passwords. Just when I think of one for the Microsoft account I have to confirm that by checking my googlemail and I obviously don't remember how to get in there so I have to reset that by clicking on the link in another email in a different account....Let's say it took me  a while. Now I got the four apps that I actually use, but I still have to get used to the sheer size of the phone; I'm still in that phase where dropping it seems like dropping a newborn baby, because it is still so, well, unbroken. That will pass, too, I know.

It's a beautifully sunny Sunday,the first flowers of the year are out and my eyes are watering with the first cold of the year, just in time. Along with my hair proteins, my iron supplements and my dose of cranberry, I have three cold fighters nicely lined up in a pile on the table, reminding me of my late grandparents (except they were in their eighties when they had aquired this level of pills. Well.). I'm not a defender of the "meds don't help when you have a cold" theory, unlike some people. People who will, since they never take stuff to make them feel better and end up feeling like crap when they're sick, certainly avoid me if they find out that I am, so one more reason to eliminate this nuisance as fast as I can.

Hope your weekend runs smoothly and without the need for a tissue.

Love,

Rosy Smith

That's what I want right now. See, school starts on Tuesday, so I'm not having the Monday Blues yet; Today, instead, I am craving excitement to feel like I really made use of the free time that I had. Problem is, it's half past one in the afternoon already and I haven't done more than have breakfast, read a shallow Irish novel (I have about fourteen of them and they all start a bit boring by introducing about five different women, get a little better once you get into the story, then take a dramatic turn in the form of someone getting very sick, someone cheating/being cheated on, and someone's dark past catching up to them. Just when you think everyone's finally back on track, another life-changing event befalls at least one woman and the others, who didn't know each other before but are now a close circle of friends, help her get through it once more. The end) and send off another unsolicited application into the cyberspace. Not exactly an unforgettable morning.

I'm so restless, lovelies - Quick, tell me what there is to do to except painting my nails a horrid color? I have strived for a self-care pamper day and ended up unsatisfied, in leggins, and with the smell of acetone up my nostrils, often enough in an attempt to spice up the day without plans, thank you very much.

Okay it's 4 pm and I have made the heavy decision of letting go of the perfect tie-up boots I saw on ebay because sometimes in life, you just have to face the hard facts and accept that they are never gonna be in stock in my size again. Plus, I just saw that there's a 30 percent shipping fee and that is just plain rude. So I went and looked for another kind of tie-ups, namely those which remind me of the heroine of an old Western (or a Lucky Luke comic), and I found some that actually look pretty comfortable and shiny and I want those now. Tragically, I also want the same ones with a more pointy, uncomfortable seeming heel, but I thought to myself "When I'm a real grown-up with my own money, I'm gonna buy every single version of every beautiful shoe I want and fill a room with them" and that comforted me a bit. I wouldn't describe myself as especially greedy, but impractical footwear somehow has me voraciously stack my belongings and growl at everyone who dares to touch them. It's quite a charming quality of mine.

That's it, I'm going to buy myself those shoes as a Back To School gift for myself and I might even get a new phone while I'm at it and then I'm gonna unpaint my nails because they are sheer travesty and then I'm going to set up a date to have something to look forward to. No, not the one my certain someone just suggested. See, he asked for Tuesday which is when I have the only responsibility I have managed to carry out so far, church magazine. In fact, I'm pretty sure I missed the last meeting without excuse, so I sent them an apologetic email yesterday asking to come to the next one, and cancelling this time, I fear, wouldn't exactly redeem my impression.

Sounds like a plan, doesn't it?

Love,

Rosy Smith

Okay, so I'm referencing my url in my CV and have to make an impeccably organized impression, at least concerning my internship search, so I won't be giving out any details on how that's going (if you got a suitable spot, still let me know though). However, I'll say that it is taking so much longer to upload applications and churn out cover letters than I always thought - even once you pick up a certain routine, at some point or another, either your WiFi will leave you hanging or you'll realize in sudden horror that you didn't add "Attached, you will find my portfolio" before the complimentary close and you'll start all over again. Aside from that....
 
I actually despite penne now. The catering at college made me; they never use a different kind of noodles and the pasta dish is basically the only thing I eat there so I have seen enough of them for a lifetime. I feel sick every time I have them. It's a tragedy of enormous magnitude. And a week from today, I'll have to get on the train (and I'll be kicking and screaming) to the place it takes place, even though I have just cozily settled into the stay-at-home life.

 I mean, it's really not fair; the first couple of days after break started, all I could manage was to get out of bed and in front of the TV, munching on cereal and waiting for lunch, basically, before I could do anything substancial. And then, I have been going to the movies and actually going out with different groups of friends....

The older I get, the more categories of friends I develop. There's the ones I've known all my life, who have an entirely different circle of their own now: We're still close in a way that doesn't require a lot of one-on-one time, but it just so happens that I get introduced to their crowd sometimes and try to pretend that I wouldn't gossip about it if they weren't friends of a friend - not because they're particulary gossip-worthy, but because that's what I do. So I attempt to make interesting conversation and fall into fast friendship with them, which seems to get harder with age (that age thing is really annoying) 'cause neither do I know the struggle of dorm partners nor do I ever meet anyone who shares my loath of photoshopping. With my school friends, who have proven to stay the most relevant for me, there's no such thing as desperately staring into space while brainstorming for a fun thing to talk about: They know everything 'cause they've been there with me and we could probably analyse the color of a room together and still enjoy it somehow.

Maybe that's why I can't bond with strangers.

And then there's people, also from high school, whom I'm not actually friends with but whom I've been friendly with at school and who've known me in my glorious days of getting voted Trendsetter in the year book; I've met some at a party this weekend and even though we have absolutely nothing in common, it felt like I was making casual conversation in the cafeteria line on my solid (ugly linoleum) grounds. Refreshing.

I did Valentine's Day without breaking my principles, so props to me! I never wanted to get all teddy-bear Hallmark card-y and heart shaped truffle-y and surprise hot-air-balloon ride-y and, um, you know (I ran out of cheesy stuff I swore not to support), and I am proud to state that I didn't practise any of those things while still sorta acknowledging that the date has a name. I wore a red dress, though, 'cause I'm not fundamentalist enough to spoil myself the fun of treating myself to a new outfit in the color of love. I'm not the grinch of St.Valentine's, for God's sake.

Oh oh oh and I finally stopped whining about my hair and how little there is of it and combing it straight so one can really see the see-through parts and then whining even more, but I went and got some extentions - I will take flattering pictures of how they look soon, but for now you'll have to believe me that they do make the sun shine a little brighter (is that a saying or did I just make that up? You decide). I can snappishly flip strands over my shoulder to match what I'm saying. So cool.

Now all I need is a new manicure and I'm ready to go back to fashion school; physically, at least. In all other ways, I couldn't be lessed tempted, but it's not like anyone will be able to tell.

You'll hear it first.

Love,

Rosy Smith