....it's currently 4 pm on New Year's Eve and it just came to my mind that I have to put some rollers in my hair now or it won't ever be fixed this year (ain't I so original). I'd love to do that and try on my outfit for tonight while I'm at it (I'm cultivating the dangerous lifestyle of picking out outfits without knowing what they look like on), but I also really need to revise my Italian vocab as quickly as possible. Furthermore, I just remembered I'm supposed to write into a friend's scrapbook, and I'm currently juggling the installation of a (hopefully) free trial of Adobe's InDesign, which is stressing me out so badly, 'cause I'm honestly frightened of the Creative Cloud (I kinda hate it right now, to be honest. Why don't you tell me what you're doing? Why do you keep opening tabs and little windows? I didn't give you my credit information, did I?). What in Heaven's name is happening? This is taking so much longer than the commercial. And I feel like I'm clicking the same three buttons all the time.

Putting curling mousse in my hair while sitting at my desk probably wasn't my best idea ever. Thank God it fizzles away.

New Year's resolution idea: Write in my diary every single day. Yes, I keep a diary. Been doing so more or less every day since 2011, and pledged to erase the "more or less" part probably all four years long, but it's a nice, harmless, disappointment-risk-free resolution, and those are the best.

Okay, so I've made a deal with myself: If I revise my word list well, I can start preparing myself, and if time's left, I'll do some more. I'd probably have to stop writing about what I have to do now, in order to actually do it, so that I can write about what I want to do, and then do that.
Everyone still with me?

Alright. InDesign's at 81% (good) for the third time (bad).
Starting again at 42%. WHY.

Anyways, onto the important stuff. Scrapbook is done. Outfit planning is on the agenda.

Excuse the lighting and look at the pretty sheerness of the sleeves instead!



 Alright, lovelies, I'm off to a friend's house now where we'll watch Dinner For One, eat until we've got something to make resolutions about, and enjoy our little selves. I hope you have a miraculous, sparkling, and above all, fun night. See you next year.

Love,

Rosy Smith

PS: Thank you so much for reading, even if you're only here once. x

Now before you back off in annoyance, thinking you've already gotten enough insight this month via Blogmas, thank you very much, I'm not going to repeat myself, no worries! I rarely do, even in real life, though I have to sometimes because people insist I speak really quietly (in my opinion, they just need to listen more closely).

So let's just start twirling, shall we?

First of all, I know I've already virtually screamed out #twoyearsofrosysmith about 6 months ago; however, that was about Rosy Smith in general, meaning my blogging debut on tumblr 
, and today it's all about this very URL you're at right now! This day a year ago, I just threw a bunch of my already-written posts on there, which is why they're all dated the same, and received about 25 views that months which were all me being vain and looking at my own stuff because I like to see it online so much. Anyways, whoever it is that's doing so today, have a drink on me! (Metaphorically, of course.)

Shopping list: velours pants. Could be fake, doesn't matter, but I tried on some cool ones on Christmas day and they were too wide at the waist and now I'm aching to find a replacement. I'm actually going shopping tomorrow, because I haven't done that in absolutely ages (since the summer! Again, no winter pieces! Not that it's very wintery outside, but a girl's got needs, and they include velvet tops and tight black leather pants)! There's not much time left in the shopping year....

....which brings me to the real end of the year, New Year's Eve. Isn't it funny how many people seem to have a love/hate attitude towards this particular evening? Most of them say it's because they feel pressured to have a good time that night and then be totally hungover-free and ready to become a health guru by 1st of January. Take my advice, lovelies: Think of it as a regular night out - you'll have the same old fun as always - and then, at midnight, allow yourself to have a fairytale moment in which you get all dazed and enchanted by all the fireworks and glitter and champagne and feel the special haze of opportunity. Don't draw comparisions to confetti (thrown generously and then lying uselessly around the floor with the dirt), but screw your sceptical frown and wave your paper streamer in the air! That's what they're talking about when they say New Year's Eve is special. You can go on worrying about the same old things as yesterday on the 1st of January and no one will judge you for it. Personally, I believe that's why the 1st is a holiday, anyway. You're supposed to cure yourself, properly remove all of that mascara, and then, on the 2nd, you may proceed with being your fabulous self.

Reminds me that I just made plans for the 2nd and I'm already eagerly looking forward to that, for multiple reasons. One of them is that I won't have too much time to study that day, and that makes me really happy 'cause honestly, I have seriously thought about drafting a petition that requires the government to pass a law to forbid exams right after Christmas break, because while that might not exactly violate human rights, it definitely would be a step into the right direction regarding this "Heal the World" mission to ban them. Small effort is still worth something, lovelies.

Writing this has made me quite excited for the rest of December, and I hope you are, too! If I'm overwhelmed by all the studying I still have to do, like, now, and won't be able to elaborate on my precious opinion on the end of the year and all that blahblah, take this suggestion: Get yourself a nice sparkly dress, get together with your closest friends and store a lot of food to get through while you're waiting for that Cinderella moment. Just don't lose your shoe!

Love,

Rosy Smith

....I've been wondering about that for a while and then decided that it's still very much Christmas and I couldn't just stop without the appropriate pomp and circumstance, could I, lovelies?

Talking about pomp and circumstance, that happens to be the title of the first chapter of "Lady Almina and the real Downton Abbey - The lost legacy of Highclere Castle" by the current Countess of Carnavon, who has recreated the story of said castle (where she lives) which has been the inspiration for Downton Abbey, the series (can we all have a moment of silence for this wonderful, wonderful show?) ; I got that book for Christmas and will probably want to become a British Lady when I grow up after I read this ( I also watched What A Girl Wants today, so I kinda already want that).

Oh, get this: I, of all people, went to the gym today. It's been the second time of my life and I can assure you that I won't go at all for at least another year, but I did this morning; it's because there is a very nice one at the hotel we're staying at and see, we have a lot of leisure time here, and even more food to process, so we went. I'm more of a dancer than a gym person (I could tell you about my reasons for that, but it would take much longer, and that's the thing about blogmas: It was totally fun and I loved doing it - I felt incredibly productive, putting up a post every single day, and I very much liked the constant activity on here....it's just that sometimes I have a fun thought, and I write it down in the blogmas post, but it would serve for a whole new topic, and I can't elaborate on it as much as I would want to....just like the gym thing. So I won't be posting daily, at least not all year, but hopefully a lot more than I did before Blogmas!). Meaning that I'm not exactly familiar with the exercise machines. Further meaning that I spent the first five minutes tiptoeing around the bicycle thing trying to figure out how the freak to turn it on without appearing as if I didn't know how to turn on a simple....bicycle thing. That got ridiculous soon and I had to ask (there's no button. You have to start pedalling. Seems I'd been thinking a bit too complicated), but then I happily stayed on there for half an hour burning a single chocolate bar, which I reckon doesn't really compensate much of what I filled up on today. Afterwards, I got on a couple of leg machines or whatever, when some guy about my age entered the scene, lifting weights near me. By the way, I had my hair up in a ponytail resembling a palm tree, no make up on but skin exhausted from last night's look, an oversized nylon shirt and matching flares. Needless to say, I looked gorgeous. However, I wasn't even on about looking sportswear-commercial-y for this guy, who might be perfectly nice and all, but the fact that we were in a gym killed all romantic thoughts that could have ever crossed my mind. Nobody wants to tell the story of how they met their soulmate wearing nylon. Not to mention the sweat (on his part. I didn't exercise that thoroughly). How do you even start a conversation at the gym? "Hey, I like how you work that leg press"? No. Too far. See, there's really no fun in going to the gym.

We also went bowling. And we had a pretty intense game of foosball. All in all, I'd say we earned dinner tonight!

So, lovelies, as I said, blogmas had been fabulous and will surely be repeated!
Until then, stay around. We're having a ball over here all year round!

Love,

Rosy Smith

Sooo it's Christmas Eve everyone! This is what we've been waiting for all along, so I thought instead of simply telling you what my Christmas is like, and how the food tasted and if the waiter was cute (he wasn't, sadly), I'd just show you....

Takes more effort than one thinks, these leg pics. But look at my dressing gown!

Quiet morning except for some christmassy tunes

Red, of course

Driving home for Christmas....not exactly

Everything's so pretty!

Quick look at the shops and sparkly lights

See, they've got the fluffy robes covered

Getting settled

No Christmas w/out fairytales

Just insert the scenic snow in your head

My absolute fave!

Now put all of this on....

....and this lovely thing....

....as well as these

Dinner. Obviously.

I hope you're all having a marvelous time with your family, or friends, or your cat, whomever you love, and that it's been a red ribbon day for y'all!

Love,

Rosy Smith

....also known as the most stressful day of the holiday season. At least, for me. Cause it's the day before we go away and as people who are about to go on a trip tend to do, everybody decides to freak out a little and overstuff their suitcases with things they won't use to save their lifes and tries to think of the one obligatory thing they've forgotten but can't remember, which is usually something unessential like a bathrobe (they've got you covered at a hotel, duh) but knowing there's something you had thought of at one point can bother you for years.

Two days before we leave and I still don't have a clue what I'm gonna wear. It's not always that way - in fact, when we're gone for the whole summer, it's fairly easy for me to decide what to bring; everything.
However, since we're only staying out for two nights, I struggle with every piece of clothing I own. Is this really what I want to wear to Dinner on Christmas Eve? Are those PJs the right level of coziness?  Don't I have something even more appropriate for a tea party? What do people even wear to tea partys these days?

I have even tried googling "packing for three days", mostly out of curiosity, and was astonished that there were countless tips for people who are going on a six week adventure trip through the jungle ('cause that's obviously the majority of America, if you'll believe the internet) but not a single one suited for my specific dilemma (I'll admit that my research didn't go further than the first page of suggestions -hey, this isn't my dissertation). So, I decided to enlighten others, who are desperately looking for a similar instruction, with my realizations.

Open your closet. Don't be overwhelmed by all these racks of clothes and let them lead you to think that this is gonna be easy. About eighty percent of those are probably either summer dresses or plain shirts you never wear in your daily life and you're most certainly not going to start now, when there's only three days to dress.

Systematically go through them. Throw everything that doesn't scream "nice christmassy hotel, casually groomed, okay with flat shoes" into one corner and the rest into another. I suggest putting on Lady Antebellum's album "Own The Night" in the background, so you can put all of your past-crushes-passion into the task at hand while getting really emotional 'cause that music makes you want to have a romantic but sad country-song relationship so that you can smash out those lines with real pathos.

 You said you'd be there....you said we'd last forever....oooooh back when you were mine....

Now, concentrate and select all items that are long sleeved. If  you're anything like me, that's a good trick to get rid of about half of everything in any situation. I have just found out that I didn't buy a single long-sleeved shirt this year. That sounds so wrong to me. I need to go shopping before New Year's Eve or else I won't feel like I have done this winter-thing right. When you're on a winter holiday, you wear long-sleeved. Otherwise, how would that look, if you were sporting some three quarter length frilly blouse in front of the picturesque fireplace at the lodge.

Anyways, after that, look at all Christmas pictures from last year and ban everything you've been wearing on there. Sadly, I seem to choose the same three items over and over (another reason why I need to go shopping so badly), 'cause I feel like they're the most appropriate of all my things to wear for breakfast buffet, lunch in the lounge (sounds stupid) and a nice walk around the estate.

Personally, I think it's important to bring jazzpants to wear underneath those big fluffy robes for when you're plastered all over the bed watching festive TV and consuming your weight in chocolate. And some good thighs that suck in your belly for dinner.

Oh, right, that's actually the best part: For dinner, think of the prettiest cocktail dress you own at the moment: that's Christmas Eve. The second prettiest one, probably the one you wore on C.E. last year, is Christmas Day. There you go.

Yeah, I know, now we have to stress about the shoes, which are indeed a crucial and complicated part of the whole process. You'll need one pair for the previously mentioned walk outside, some chelsea boots maybe, then some flats for inside the hotel, as it's pretty warm in there and "real" outside boots would be way too harsh, and of course, lovely heels for dinner. I'd like to take one pair for each dress respectively, but I guess I'll have to settle on one so that we won't have to leave some gifts at home for my shoes' sake. Even though I hope that's pretty safely not gonna happen.

I hope I was helpful. If you're still in a mess, there's lots of  time left to figure it out. Or, to put it differently, a whole day to hit the boutiques!

Love,

Rosy Smith

....I like quotes. Not neccessarily those who pop up first on brainyquotes.com, or those who get printed on coffee mugs which then get posted on tumblr where the actual quote first catched the coffee mug printer's eye (and that, everyone, is the digital age cycle of life. Turn that into a quote!). I mean, I have scrolled through tumblr and been like: This might be "another one of those inspirational phrases", but it's a really good inspirational phrase. It's actually inspiring.

But additionally, I love real, literary quotes. You know, classic ones out of Pride and Prejudice and Gone With The Wind and Wuthering Heights, or contemporary ones, or even books I've read in school. I think it's so fascinating how just a few sentences, sometimes even only one, can express a certain feeling, or mood, or attitude, and make you feel like everything you've been trying to say and failed to before is now written out perfectly. It's even more thrilling that you might find parallels between your life and, say, Alice in Wonderland? Doesn't that make everything so much more exciting?

Oh, and Shakespeare. I admit it doesn't all make sense to me. But it sounds mesmerizing.

I've actually been one of those kids who really, truly enjoyed analysing (I have a feeling I spelled that wrong and that would be completely mortifying) poems, and scenes, everything. I don't care if you think that exclamation mark simply happens to be there. Don't tell me the author didn't think about that. He probably didn't - but I freaking do and I will put some meaning into that no matter how.

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

....do others do that too, schedule their clothes? Whenever I buy something new, I plan for the first time of wearing it. I've bought the outfit for my 18th birthday in Scotland in September last year and wore it three months later, for example. My loveliest friend was astonished that I had had the patience to have these new things in my closet and not be tempted to wear them, but I guess this is the only thing that I can bear waiting for - holding back an outfit until the timing is right and it fits into my fantasy plans.

Usually, I know the time and day the outfit is reserved for, as I do obviously when planning my
birthday clothes. However, I made one of these romantic decisions a few months ago, inspired by one of those "You never know" thoughts on which you definitely shouldn't determine your life, because unless you're living in a Disney movie, you can't count on these things to actually happen. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have a very disney-y attitude towards life, but I am aware of the fact that it doesn't apply irrevocably.
Though I didn't take that into account when appointing a new dress I bought that day  
as my official "first date with somebody I'd really like to see"-dress.

Now check your memory for that date.
Exactly.

And if that wasn't sad enough, just think of the poor dress. It's not neccessarily a summer dress but a versatile autumn number I bought early, so there's no seasonal rules keeping me from wearing it - but I couldn't bring myself to do so yet, 'cause of a totally childish and ridiculous thought: What if, if I wear the dress to an occasion other than said imaginary date, it's never gonna happen?

Of course, it's not more likely to happen just because I'm longingly staring at the beautiful thing in my closet everytime I open it. And it's such a tragic waste of an outfit option. So, I'm planning to release it from it's prison of brand-new shininess soon; maybe on a day I'll be at least seeing the person I'd really like to see....maybe it's gonna work as a magic "He'll ask me out"-dress, since I've laid a Disney spell on it and all. Actually, I'm very confident it'll work out that way.

Sounds like a plan, doesn't it, lovelies?

Love,

Rosy Smith

Ps: I know this was supposed to go up yesterday and I'm terribly sorry but I didn't feel well and had to go to sleep early. I'm all bright and chirpy this morning, though, and you'll get today's post in perfect time! x

Eavesdropping while losing all feeling in my arm....
Cause I'm standing on the train (New Year's resolution: Talk less about trains!) and a groomed lady comes in, in a beige trenchcoat and pointy heels and lots of massive jewelry. She meets an accquaintance and soon begins to tell her all about rekindling with her divorced husband. They'd been together for 19 years, which is an awful long time to overlook all those horrible traits he supposedly has, if you ask me. But the other lady agrees, revealing that she, too, is of course no longer married. However her husband still lived with her while he's looking for an apartment. That must be weird. Even worse, he didn't even bother to help with the kids while being there! He sounds like a douche. Poor woman. I feel like it's a good thing they split. Crossing my thumbs for the other couple to get back on, though - tomorrow they'll attend a fundraising together. That's your cue, George! (no idea what his name is, but he sounds like a George)

Class was good so far- the guy in our class did my make-up. He wants to be a stylist one day, so hit me up if you like what he's done (20 percent agency fee. Just kidding). If you're asking yourself now, what the hell do they do in class at this school, well, I have no idea. But I got perfectly blended eyes.

What I discovered about myself today : I can't take a selfie with someone else's phone. I did that horrendous smile you do when everyone's looking at you and you don't wanna put on your poised face. So I had to take a new one even though someone was so kind and edited the one with the stupid smirk for me.

When you're reading this I just might be at a karaoke bar, either making an absolute fool out of myself or rocking the stage. In the latter case I hope someone's filming. But we'll see!

Everything's possible, lovelies.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Ps: Didn't end up in a karaoke bar, sadly. But we sang quite a lot at the restaurant, so it kinda made up for that.
Pps: I'm home until New Year's! I'll take the car everywhere and eat three meals a day. It'll be fabulous.

There's a double meaning in my headline. Sure, I'm gonna rant on about public transport,  obviously. But this is the story of four girls whom it took four hours to get home....


It was all fun and games when our whole class (consisting of eleven, so it's not that big of a deal) sneaked out of the building before last period in a manner that would've done a Mr.Bean comedy justice. We were acting incredibly obvious, pressing against the elevator walls and then running head-over heels past the teacher's lounge, but trying to stay on our tip-toes, which totally doesn't look suspicious in 3 inch heels and a giant schoolbag over your arm. Whatever, it was one of these "you had to be there" situations which are actually really funny. Believe me. When one of us almost ran into the glass door, it really was a sight to relish.

But the thing with being bad is, while it's fun to do, sometimes you end up raising your eyebrow and seriously starting to believe in karma for at least five minutes.

We had a 15 minute delay, which is bearable, you know, you get pretty zen about little snickets like that after a while. But I guess the good start was supposed to trick us into thinking we'd be home in two hours. Ha! You wish! We made it to the first station; then, the train- well, it stopped. And stood there. For a while. And then, a little longer. People got scared, let me tell ya. One after the other, they stood up and got the hell outta that train. As for me, my phone went dead. Which is always a nice addition when you're already scared for your life (or your way home). Long story short, we got thrown out of the train. It was broken, as the lady on the speakers euphemistically put it. I'm asking you, how exactly does a train "break" in the middle of the freaking tracks?

Anyhow, so we were basically stranded in some station in the middle of nowhere (not as bad as the last time that happened to me, though) with about a hundred of other's who were all crowding onto the next possible train, so we didn't catch that. Meanwhile, I'm on my friend's phone with my mom, trying to explain to her that I had no idea when I was ever gonna be back. We were on 70 per cent, and you know how long that's gonna last an Iphone (oops, brand name dropped, sorry Apple).Exactly.
When our next train got cancelled as we anticipatingly stood on the track in the pouring rain (did I mention it was raining? Maybe not quite pouring, but my hair doesn't really care, it was totally done for), I remember letting out a choked scream that got two other girls' attention. Poor things had been even more unlucky than us, seeing as the phone of one of them had just gotten stolen. To the douche who ripped it off her, what kind of manners are those? The lady had just been thrown out into the dark city without public transport after a long day slicing up a corpse (med students, don't be scared)! How dare you take her only way of communicating with somebody who's not stuck here? She could probably find some important vein on you in absolutely no time, so better back off.

Naturally, we decided to continue our travels in a foursome (hence the bouncy headline) and managed to get to the next big station in only 40 minutes, which is basically no time (if we had a hundred years to live, that is). Running up and down the stairs, a few urgent messages to mom (no, I'm taking another line now! No, I have no idea where that comes from! And I don't care!) and soon enough we were positive to be going in the right direction. We were having a ball by now, hyped by the hysteric mood and the irony of me and my friend being later than we'd ever been if we'd only stayed for the last lecture.

Imagine our hair (two naturally curly heads over here). Imagine our physical exhaustion. Not to mention the psycho terror. Now, imagine a bunch of freaking dyed-blonde youtube wannabes or something walking past us, asking if we "had any idea where to find first class on this train?". On a public train, of which I only vaguely knew it was getting me home. I think I just laughed into their faces a little off-rockers. Another girl said "do we look like we knew that?" meaning, do we look as if we give a damn about where you're gonna place those acid wash jeans. "No, you certainly don't". Right. That's what he said. You should've seen the murderous look on our faces.
That's not how you gain subscribers, lovely. Bet you're not telling your audience about that entourage of yours.

Finally, we were on the last inches to my station- the others had to go one or two further. Under their applause, I was about to leave into freedom as the first one of us. Then I heard it: "This train will be stopping here due to people on the tracks". I turned to the others, who were about to be trapped for another twenty minutes.
That's the point where I sink down onto the stairs, hysterically laughing. It would've been awesome if it hadn't been so sad.

Soo, after I found my contenace again and stepped out of this madtrain into the real, comforting world, and about another hour, which added up to four in total, every one of us arrived, at last.

And vowed to never take the train again.

Until tomorrow morning....

Love,

Rosy Smith

Thoughts on college-very deep

I wonder if I could possibly be more bored. I am seriously reflecting this question. To what point can a person be bored? Is there the possibility of some kind of a boredom-implosion? Do people get hysteric or sad when they're on the verge of possible boredom? These are things we should be discussing here.

Citations, however, are definitely not a subject that should be drawn over two hours of lecture. I get it, I'm not supposed to copy someone else's work. Big news.

Right now, 3:15 pm, I can't decide if I'm really that bored (I'm actually doing something, so it's a little weird) or if I'm just tired. I'm really hungry, too - but I'm not sure if I want something sweet or hot pasta, or maybe chinese….I might just be craving something. Not sure if that's someone who'll watch Grease with me tonight and looks best in a suit or someone who rolls their skinny bleached jeans up their ankles and rocks a beanie without looking like a child.

See, I'm not in a very decisive mood today.

I'm one of these persons who has some sort of range of imaginary scenarious to choose from whenever I don't have anything else to think of, especially when I'm zoning out in class. However; and I wonder if others have this problem as well;  sometimes I even get bored of my personal fantasies. It's bad, isn't it, but I get picky with the products of my very own mind, going like "No, he keeps looking weird, I can't picture his face anymore and now he reminds me of that guy from middle school who was positively disgusting and I can't deal with the thought of that so nah, let me think of something else". It's not very calming.

My screen just did something weird.

Anyways, on those kinda days, I'm surprised I could string two thoughts together at all, apart from "I'm so bored" and "I wanna go home". And I was so happy about the last lecture being canceled (well, the cancelling was kinda student-initiated if you know what I mean) and getting home early and being able to listen to some music and writing some melancholic song lines....

If only I had known it would take me 4 hours to get home. But that's another story, lovelies, and I'm gonna tell you about it in all its shining tragic and hidden humoristic elements....tomorrow.

So stay curious.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....I have absolutely horrendous nails. It's not that mother nature carelessly made them inferior - they can be perfectly fine, but I'm not very good at keeping them that way. I fiddle on them when I need to keep my fingers occupied, which is the case most of the time. Taking care of cuticles? What? And if I try to be good and file them and put nail polish on myself, I'll be walking around happily for about three days, and then be too stressed to look for my remover, so I'd rather have scruffy, partly polished nails for three weeks straight until I get around to have them done. So, today was the big day!
The numbing yet comforting smell of chemicals welcomed me as I entered the salon. I dutifully held out my hands and tried not not take the sigh of the manicurist personally- at least she didn't laugh at me, like the man working there always does. I suspect him to gossip about my irregular nail lenghth  in Chinese whenever he's taking care of me. "Some long, some short" he says, and I'm like, yeah, why do you think I'm coming if not because I'm helpless? Very rude. However, I was assigned to the nice young girl who doesn't say much at all but at least doesn't make fun of me. I bravely held my breath while she pulled back the cuticles (but I'm crying with pain on the inside) and didn't say a word when she filed my left thumb nail which is so short that I didn't think it was possible to put a file under there. Anyways, now I'm feeling clean and proper again, no longer having to cringe as I put my change on counters and things like that.


 I believe it's CND's Copa Color shellac BUT I can't find it on the internet, which is weird. Also, I'm supposed to learn Photoshop in college and I can't even remove this shadow.
Today I also re-discovered Human by Christina Perri, which I imagine to be a great song for dramatically singing your heart out at a karaoke bar. Theme song of the day: But I'm only human....and I bleed when I bite my nails....I'm only human....and I break them using zippers....

Love,

Rosy Smith

....people I don't want to see, like, ever again. It's not that I hate them; I'd say I barely hate anyone, it's just that I have absolutely no desire to find myself in a face to face situation with them, because it would either be awkward or embarrassing, and definitely uncomfortable, and I like comfortable.
Thankfully, I can't think of too many yet, but here's the ones I'm filing under "avoid by hiding behind next available object":

That army guy who didn't get my humor. I've developed a serious aversion against his, well, personality. Come on, would you set me up with somebody who seems to lack the ability to understand sarcasm? Do you think I could hold a conversation with someone who apologizes every time I make fun of his opinion? The truth is, I couldn't, which is why we don't talk anymore (though I hope he didn't change his number just because of me, 'cause I wasn't that mean) and I would certainly have no idea at all how to react if I ever saw him again. Apart from the fact that I probably wouldn't recognize his face, I mean.

The man who made me fail my driving test. Twice. I'm not even that bad of a driver, and the second fail was totally not my fault, but that's not the matter here; He lectured me about half an hour after every test, which is a very insensitive thing to do to a 17-year old who is exorbitantly ambitious, not willing to deal with disappointment and who's looking at you with a kinda mad stare because she's trying to shoot little daggers into your ice-blue eyes which, in her opinion, show the coldness of your heart. So there's only one scenario I would appreciate him to see me in, and that's me shooting a music video in which I'm casually driving a fast, hot car alongside some cliff to the sound of an up-beat number one hit, giving him an ironic shout-out in a behind-the-scenes clip. I might have rolled over that sidewalk a bit, but at least I know a thing or two about timing.

The ticket inspector who gave me that fine today. I simply cannot handle two different bags - on Thursday, I changed 'em, being clever enough to actually take my train ticket with me. Of course, no one bothered to control me that day. Unfortunately, I didn't go as far as changing the ticket back into the original bag along with my other stuff, so today I realized I was spoken for, the very moment the inspector came around. Because it goes without saying that they're always coming at the most inconvenient time, just like death and babies or however that saying goes.
Lovelies, it was one of the most embarrassing things ever. I felt like some sort of criminal as he took my ID and printed out a little fine ticket and asked where I was going and everything. On the inside, I wanted to scream "I have a freaking ticket I pay way too much for each month, considering the stupid train is always late and I have to be standing up all the time, so don't come at me with a fine for processing my case, as if you're overworked". In reality, I didn't say so much, I was too mortified with my own mistake, the cruelity of coincidence, et cetera.
I also felt as if that inspector was full of disdain for this apparently impossibly wretched attempt of dishonesty (I'm not a criminal! Don't you dare make me feel like one!), so right now, I would definitely stop in my tracks and run if I saw him again.

Thinking about it, I probably should act all proud and sure of myself and me being a respectable citizien who pays their fees and is free of all faults except for not being able to manage rotating bags. I'll insist for the next inspector I see to check my ticket. Let them know I'm an example of correctness. And as soon as I can, I'll take a cab wherever I go. Cab drivers only wanna see cash. They're my kind of people.

Love,

Rosy Smith

If you feel like you could take another trip to the buffet after you've already consumed your entire body weight in rice, help yourself to a tiny amount. That way, you can enjoy the deliciousness once again without feeling like you might puke afterwards. Goes for any open buffet, really. How often have I made the mistake of gulping down an entire plate after I'd technically passed every point of being full, just because I wanted to taste that terrific pork sauce once more! But I'm older now, and if I've gotten wiser in any field of knowledge, it's eating.

Job idea of the day: Vlogger. I mean, I talk to myself about myself a lot of the time, often while driving, so that's kinda where I'm coming from. However, I can't even find the charger for my camera, so I haven't quite completely figured this out yet.

Introducing an eternal obsession: ABBA.  If you're not familiar with that band - Where have you been? Seriously though, they were at their peak back in the eighties, and no, I wasn't born then, but my dad owns nearly every single one of their records, so when I was eleven or so, I discovered their greatness. I'm proud to say that I loved them before Mamma Mia! (the movie with Amanda Seyfried) came out. It's still an awsome film and I think I might watch it for the thirtieth time tonight. One of my alltime favorite songs (of which I have many); Dancing Queen! As you can see, it's currently sitting on my piano in sheets, waiting for me to play it every day and rehearse my tribute performance for whenever the chance to perform it rolls around.
Isn't it lovely that there's so much good music in the world that whenever your song of the month starts to become a little boring, you can turn back to an older obsession and fall right back into it?

Moving on, there's 4 days of school left for me, which is fantastic since I can stay home for two weeks beginning next Saturday, but I'm actually dreading that a little since I'll have no excuse to put off studying any longer. Today, for instance, I decided that my room needed a good cleaning so that I can fully concentrate as soon as I'll start doing something that will require me to concentrate. That went pretty well - not a single book is piling on the floor anymore, my clothes are in my closets (well, most of them) and I've thrown all make-up into various drawers. Now I'm truly prepared to prepare.

Let's see if the whole movie watching project can finally be done this evening!

Love,

Rosy Smith

I got up quite early, actually, but it goes to show that it's not about how you start your day, it's about how sleepy you get by noon and how good your YouTube feed's looking this morning. There. Life lesson. Ha.

I printed out about a hundred pages of lecture and decided that I couldn't possibly go on printing ALL of my subjects in one day so I made a very subtle effort to get dressed and rushed downtown to buy some Christmas presents- I love the feeling of being out there with all those busy people running around looking for something, be it pretty things or the right ingredients for something or love or a bench to sit on....and I'm in the middle of it all, having a mission (can't tell you what or I'll ruin the surprise). I even made a nail appointment; if that's not proof of me being fully organized, I don't know what is.

Just so that you can picture it, on my little spontanous trip I wore a grey cozy sweater with a simple black skirt and tights (see, minimal thought went into this - if you want to be on the save side, wear a skirt and no colors, you'll do fine), but actually all one could see were my legs peeking out from underneath my furry coat (fake, if you must ask) and ending in some heeled boots. All of this was supposed to distract from the fact that my hair's on its third day. Gladly, the one person I talked to was the clerk in an interior store who didn't seem to mind. Guys don't notice chipped nail polish. Another lesson, but I guess deep down we all know that - nobody wears their polish for guys, though, so it doesn't really make a difference, does it, lovelies?

The good kind of yearning
Kind of changing attitudes here, but I felt that today, maybe in the middle of a piano session or during dinner; Missing someone or something but not being frustrated over not seeing them, just kind of looking forward to seeing them again, one day, you know, hopefully soon of course, but that's not the point of this feeling. The point is that you might be waiting for something, but you're still happy in the process of doing so. Well, at least content. If you've been in this state, hold on to it, before you walk down the dark lane of chocolate marathons and annoying your best friend with nonsense about how you thought this could be something. Not that chocolate marathons are a bad thing. But you get me in this context, right?

Dang it. I always end up losing track of time after dinner and around 11 pm I remember that I need to shower and I'd wanted to watch a movie in peace for once and oh, I have to get that chipped polish off. Then again, I'm getting cold and tired.

Well. I don't want to spend half of Sunday in the shower, so I guess hair is the winning prority here. Screw the rest. After all, I already planned to get things done tomorrow!

Love,

Rosy Smith

It's true though - I felt like an ice figurine in my suede boots, lace dress and lovely but bottonless coat. Gloves? Who needs those?

We were strolling along Fifth this morning, but not to shop - we were in school after all -  no, we were analysing shop windows (think window shopping, but being mean about the decorations and not the clothes). While freezing. Mostly freezing. How are people in series dressed in light coats which are open so one can see a transparent blouse or something equally inadequate, paired with ripped jeans?  "HOW are you not dying from the cold?"

Anyways. It's movie night again-seems we have a tendency to crave seeing the illusionus world of somebody else these days while stuffing our faces with pizza and caramel popcorn. No matter how unfunctional these characters dress.

Talking about people watching, I have taken a liking to discovering random things about strangers, for instance the way they tuck their thumb under their index finger like the blonde guy across from me, who might be sleeping - or he's just resting, like I am in between watching him. Gladly, he doesn't drool or snore; he's even closing his mouth which makes him a hundred times more attractive to me. Wait, did I say attractive? I probably didn't think so at first, but as I watch really intently, I kinda got to like him.

I'm terribly easy to impress. Though I'm frequently being told my standards are way too highly staked. Someone tell me how that makes sense.

Anyway, I'll go home later and defrost and then, I'll make sure I'm having fun. Pizza is a good start.

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

....so, yesterday was actually quite eventful, given the fact that I only got home at five. It's a huge shame but I feel like I haven't been able to do anything at all after getting home from school for the past 3 months and I'm slowly going crazy.

That's why me and my loveliest friend went to see our first Christmas movie of the year, "Love, The Coopers" in a little independent movie theatre on the west side - now we want to date an army guy we met at the airport bar. Quoting my friend: "I'll never be able to fly without expectations again." I second that.

Afterwards, we went for drinks in the cute bar that's in there and indulged in that certain feeling you get after watching a really good movie in which people might be messes but compensate for that more than well with some fantastically ironic remarks, so you begin to think you, too, don't have to have your life together, just punch out a great line and you'll be dancing around to Christmas music in an unrealistically huge hospital with everyone you love.
Sounds lovely to me.

If you know anything about my loveliest friend and me, we tend to go through many many completely unrelated topics in no particular order, so naturally (or maybe not), the topic of cheating came up. So now I'm asking you: Is it considered cheating if one person, be it the girl or the boy or whatever, sleeps over at a third person's house (the other person being of the opposite sex, yes, however, the two of them NOT having sex, supposedly)? And if your answer is no in this case, what about the one person doesn't tell their partner about these fairly regular sleepovers, on purpose? I mean, I know the topic probably won't happen to come up, but wouldn't you feel a little .....weird, not to say guilty, not mentioning it?

I want you to think about that totally objectively, so I'm not gonna put my personal opinion out there. Not telling how that casual question came up either.

Now I'd be ready to watch that movie again, wouldn't you? I mean, Jake Lacy made that uniform look pretty good. And would you look at Olivia Wilde's smile! And eyes. And hair. And I wonder what label that skirt was. 

Love,

Rosy Smith 


PS: Ha. I know that was yesterday, but now we're all up to date and running smoothly. 

So I'm here on my laptop, sitting on my wooden desk, I have two sheets with surprisingly readable handwriting sprawn out next to me (surprisingly 'cause I wrote them) with a report concept on them, concerning a report I am trying to write this very moment, and somehow I find myself looking at the total of my virtual shopping cart, thinking: How did I get here? And also: 50 $ really is a bargain for all this stuff.

You know what's sad: I don't know my jeans size so I can't add these high waisted ones to my cart, even though I need some to go with the cropped velvet top in there. Well, that might be okay, since these jeans are a kinda weird blue color, but it would have been so convenient.

I think the site is crashing. Dang, I wanted some high waisted jeans so badly.

Oh, here we go! Right, so I've found some nice grey ones that would double my total but I just remembered the size problem.

And now I know why the site crashed. It doesn't seem to take me clicking on the size chart very well.

Let's agree the second to smallest one could fit me.

I feel like finding jeans is only so hard because about 80 % of nowadays styles include at least two stupid holes right on the knees. I understand the concept of "destroyed", but I don't understand how looking like I conveniently fell on both of my knees or wanted to cut some funny eyes into my jeans is part of that concept. As if one could wear their jeans for a few years and they'd get ripped symmetrically. 

I can't be the only one feeling that way.

Love,

Rosy Smith

PS: If you've thought quick, you'd have noticed this doesn't really describe my day, but don't worry, we'll get to that!

....but I was researching vouchers and suddenly did a quiz on what I should give my loveliest friend for her birthday, which is in June. Internet access is an evil thing for somebody with my attention span. Have to get on with my article!

I'm done, you guys! It's about how buying gifts is so stressful these days and blahblah. Bringing to my mind the fact that I haven't bought a single gift yet. Thank God my parents are relatively uncomplicated and actually have specific wishes such as books and DVDs, so I don't have to go on my famous "walking around town hunting down a creative spark which will give me the perfect idea"-trip.

That's actually one of the benefits of not having a boyfriend around Christmas time; As I'm completely useless already choosing fabulous personal gifts for my very best friends, I can't even describe to you how much I loathe getting something special for a guy. Not that I wouldn't want to have something nice, but I can't, for the love of God, think of anything that wouldn't either be totally boring or make me barf with romantic overload. Also, if you're in a new relationship with somebody, say for two months, how the hell are you gonna know what they'd like for Christmas? I don't even know what I like most days, and I'd be embarrassed to death if I got something he doesn't like but pretends to. It'd be devastating. See, I am using a lot of italics here, I'm cringing already.

I should've written an article on that very problem. I wonder if there are any reliable sources for this. Apparently you need a lot of those in journalism, and that's the sad thing about it, since I usually just force my humble opinion on people in my writing. But I'll be good and not (too often) make up my facts as I go for school, I guess!

To close this off properly, would you look at what I got in my stocking today:

Love,

Rosy Smith

Meow?

....I mean, I wouldn't scream at them, or start crying ( I hope), but I would fire some really random and way too personal questions at them, so I'd probably get carried away by a security guy and that would be it with the close friendship.

That's why I am gonna keep these questions to myself and only share them here (or find an appropriate moment and be really subtle):

Avril Lavigne: Please tell me you and Evan Taubenfeld dated. Or even better, have always been in love with each other but respectively didn't want to ruin your friendship so you never adressed the subject but deep down, you're the perfect match and that's why your marriages never worked out - so do you plan on confiding in each other any time soon and live happily ever after?

Ed Sheeran: Is "Small bump" a non-fictional story? In other words, did you and a girlfriend ever expect a child?

Taylor Swift: What is "Innocence" about? Does it have anything to do with mental health? And what exactly would be the structure of your hair if you'd just let it air-dry?

Imagine that. I would sound either creepy and/or like an especially nosy Ok! Magazine journalist. Just the kind of sound that makes you wish to confide aaall of your innermost feelings and thoughts and the consistency of your hair, don't you think?

Composure is key, lovelies.

Love,

Rosy Smith

So, guess who's been sitting at the train station at 6 am, frantically buying chewing gum and applying her lipstick because her train was 15 minutes late? Yeah, that would've been me.

It wasn't until I stood in the rain for about ten minutes, the cold creeping up my thighs and the wetness ruining my hair, that I really felt uncomfortable, though. Yesterday, I was getting way too hot in a pair of wool thighs, so I opted for some sheer nylons today, only to freeze myself even more tired than I already was. And don't you tell me that's not possible.

Another pet peeve of mine that I noticed today is teachers touching my laptop. One of them had been eating some sort of croissant right before grabbing my mouse and clicking around in my personal files and I just sat there in that sort of disgusted freeze, thinking "Go away, go away, go AWAY" like a crazy person. Is that just me? I wanted to whip out the sanitizer but I deemed that to be impolite, which I was on the verge of being, but I've got some decency.

We went to a fashion exhibition and I do love fashion (which is always useful when studying fashion journalism, let me tell ya) so I liked it - sadly we couldn't take pictures but there was a classic Givenchy number that had bows on the back, a velvet (my favorite fabric this month) top and a long gowny skirt which I adored, as well as a recent Gucci one with a lovely fluttery skirt, but my teacher had to point out the poor fabrication, to which I can only say, I guess a good ironing would do for me to get that dress.
After that fun episode, the decision to wear nylons again took its tribute and now I'm safely home indulging in Downton Abbey to mentally prepare for the weekend.

Note to self: Must not forget to go to my own birthday party tomorrow. I'm a little confused these days.

Oh, do you know that feeling when you develop a brand new imaginary scenario and it's just so satisfying to really shape that one in your mind, to choose the characters clothes (mainly my own) and hairdos (solely my own) and the weather and the restaurant they visit and the witty yet meaningful dialogues they have? It's a fabulous pasttime. You should try it.

Love,

Rosy Smith

PS: Guess what happened today; An article of mine called "5 unreasonable reasons to not date somebody" got published here: http://www.onlydates.co.uk/5-unreasonable-reasons-date-somebody/
and I like to click on it just to see what it looks like to others. You can do that, too, if you like. x

....so as you know I call myself a writer, hence, it's probably no surprise to you that I am very happy if I get the chance to write in peace. This summer, the pages of my diary have been full, simply because I had more time to actually sit down and describe in detail what happened to me or how I felt or to jot down these random thoughts that hit me in the weirdest places where I don't have a notebook (working on that). It's not that nothing happens at all other times, it's just that I can't get my behind up to stay up late in order to capture my adventures for the rest of the world to enjoy. And I'm not only talking diaries, I'm talking poetry, lyrics, columns....Sadly, I can't put them on screen through telepathy, 'cause that would really help me.

Anyhow, today I had journalism class and I think I've asked some annoying questions. You've never seen me in class- I can get pretty active. Today, I felt the old spirit of raising my hand and being determined to get called because I wanted to tell everyone about my opinion, if they liked it or not. Which was, in short, that I thought research protocols are stupid (you might have seen me being nasty about that on twitter) and I don't see why they're neccessary. If I want to write a report, I know exactly how I want it to be and which opinions I'm gonna state, and I need my sources according to that, not some useless protocol with a pool of information I don't care to use. I'm not sure my teacher fully understood what my problem was, because if he did gather that said problem consisted in that I don't want to do my semester paper, at least not according to his task, he'd probably would've resignated from teaching me. To be just a tad more exhausting, I questioned the fact that there are always two sides to a story, no matter how illegal the topic of said story might be, which seems to be some sort of golden rule of journalism - you know, never be biased and all that. My teacher said that even if there was a murder, a valid explanation for his behaviour has to be featured in order to consider all aspects. I could barely hold myself back from saying that I don't freaking want to consider all aspects 'cause I really don't care how a murderer justifys stabbing someone, but I managed to just sorta mumble it. Because I have a feeling a journalist is supposed to care for those kind of things. Too bad.

Now I'm at home and I've written a little something in my diary and for this blog and even for one of my school projects, and I've felt perfectly content doing so. If this college thing only consisted of me writing lovely things, I would be so up for it (though I'm not sure just how much the train situation is affecting my opinion on this). Research protocols, I'll note here, are not lovely things. But I'd take one of those over burning textiles and guessing their consistency by their smell anytime.

Where are all these creative writing courses they take in the movies?

Love,

Rosy Smith 

I love my birthday. I'm so excited for it that I, in fact, didn't even take the unique chance to sleep in until nine am, but chose to wake up at eight and spend an hour happily sitting up in bed, answering texts.

Why, hello there

Then, I got dressed in a vintage red velvet slip-on, clipped my hair back in curls which had miraculously appeared during the night for once, smothered on Manhattan's Bite My Lip lipstick and my jewelry which I've had since I was born - just in time to rush down the stairs to open the door to my loveliest friend.
As you may gather, I like to dress up on my birthdays (any other day as well, but today I can justify it) - I always have. Actually, on my 3rd one, I've worn a pretty similar red velvet dress, to be honest.

Anyways, we had breakfast and cake (it was good, if I do say so myself, and I'm relieved 'cause it was basically all I'd planned on eating till dinner) and I unpacked my presents, which is my favorite part. I didn't regocnize my surprise present instantly (my loveliest friend guessed it to be an apron - thank God she was wrong), but it's a tremendously cute dressing gown, something I've been wanting a long time, and it makes me look like I'm straight outta the fifties (which I like).
I also got a Sleek contouring kit which I tried out on my loveliest friend. I'm not sure I've gotten the hang of it yet, but that's what friends are for, right?

Random Birthday Thought
I just really enjoy the thought of being brand new each year with this day: for some it's New years eve, but I feel like my birthday is the start of a new chapter. My loveliest friend send me this today:

I also pretend I don't have any obligations at all when it's my birthday. Today, for instance, after my friends had left, I sat with my family and read and watched Say Yes To The Dress and basically had the time of my life on the sofa. Soon we'll go out for dinner to one of my favorite places and then I'll sit next to my gift table and be pleased with the world....

I hope you had a fabulous day as well.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....it is actually, as a quick Twitter search has revealed! Here's how it works (well, how I'm gonna do it): On each day of December, I'll do my very best to post a teeny tiny snapshot of my day, in words, obviously, but pictures are welcome, too. Of course, I'll also be posting my regular stuff, so be super excited to hear a lot from me this month!

Enough with the administrative blah blah, here we go!

Last year, my mom had made the unauthorized decision that I was too old to need an advent calendar anymore. I, however, did not share that opinion, and when I didn't see a calendar on the morning of 1st of December, I was understandably unamused. I might have acted like a grumpy five year old, but my memory of that isn't very specific. Anyways, call me spoiled, but when I came home that day, guess what was hanging on the kitchen wall. It really only takes 24 small pieces of chocolate to make me happy.
So this year, I made it very clear yet again that I would be very sad (warning stare as a reminder how much of a five year old I can be) if I didn't get an advent calendar, and this morning I was pleased to see I got a fancy Milka one! Again, doesn't take much to satisfy me.

Right now, I'm trying to figure out if I should splurge on a mani today. The weather is positively awful, but so are my nails, and it is my birthday tomorrow (in case you've been living under a rock you haven't thrown at me yet for being so annoying about it)....

To stay on that lovely subject, I am going to bake a cake today! I can count the number of cakes I have made myself in my whole life on one hand. So wish me luck.

What else you do on the day before your birthday: Paint your nails, fan out your dress, hope for a good movie that'll make the time  till bed go by faster and giggle yourself to sleep.
I've got a tight schedule. See you tomorrow.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Ps: 18's been beautiful.

....in November I didn't take any notes for this episode (as if it were some new TV show or something), so that's a good start.

Let's see, lovelies, the first thing that's always on my mind during November is my upcoming birthday. It's next Wednesday (3 days, everyone!) and I get SO psyched about it, I start a marathon of telling people about it multiple times a day on the 21st of November, precisely. That's because my oldest close friend was born ten days before me and her birthday rings in the festive season for me. Now, I get to plan out a lovely brunch, a relaxed day at home (I'm so sick of trains), a nice dinner with friends....Thinking about it, I still didn't make neither my reservations nor my nail appointment. And I have yet to pin down an outfit. Oh my....

Random Fashion Fear: If it gets way too cold outside, I will have to find some super power thighs so that I can continue to wear nothing but skirts and dresses to school and feel great about what I'm wearing and therefore myself. Also, how do you prevent your nose from getting Rudolph-Red from the cold?

I'll be repeating myself, but Christmas is right around the corner and couples do seem to go even more cozy and cuddly and cutesy and co-dependent and annoying (sorry, couldn't think of a negative word with c, except for carnage and that seemed a bit too harsh in this context). Do I sound like a crazy old cat lady (crazy wouldv'e been one I guess)? Maybe, but I can assure you I don't look like one, I just subscribe to some (just one or two) of their principles. The one with the cats. And the one with the "I don't need a man to ever be happy" thing.
Honestly, I think they're taking all of that a bit too far, 'cause once you've made that clear, it's totally fine to fall in love and spend your life with a special someone, because everyone knows you're not sacrificing your identity and all that, so why not get a nice white dress and enjoy yourself forever? Just don't be as obnoxious about it as those people who take a perfectly lovely literary quote and then completely ruin it with a duck face pic and a tagged douche who comments something illiterate such as "your mine" (It hurts to write that). Thanks.

You know what's become evident about my current college situation (having a class of 11, 'cause 3 already quit, and being away from your social circle 4 days a week)? There's rarely any gossip. I just realized it thinking about what juicy insight I could provide you with. Isn't that sad? I don't even mean scandalous, friendship-tearing gossip, just something small to blow out of proportion behind well-manicured hands. I feel like I haven't talked about anything but projects and delays and stupid booklets I have to produce without a clue on how to do that in AGES. Where is the college chatter? The spice of studies? See, I can't stop making ridiculous puns about it! Tell me something sparkly, won't you?

I bet you will.

Love,

Rosy Smith


PS: Oh, there's something exciting- not my usual style to talk about this, but this month I've had over 1000 views and that made me very very happy and I just wanted to say thanks so much and come again, it's fun here x

   

....when you're sitting in bed, all set to go to your loveliest friend's house in the morning when she'll be back from her two months abroad, and she texts you: Gosh, I hate surprise visits!! And now you have to stuff the clowns back into the van and explain to them why you won't pay.

Thankfully, I was wise enough not to arrange fireworks spelling out my loveliest friend's name or anything like that, or I seriously would've had to think about how the hell to get out of a contract. Since the plan has only been to casually drop by her house with some cookies and another friend, however, we decided to go for it anyway; after all, she couldn't possibly have included us in her declaration of hate towards surprises. Or could she?? Panic-struck screenshot sending while fearing to mix up her and my partner in crime in my contacts followed.

11 pm Another complication: My loveliest friend ominously wrote: "It's not you who's coming tomorrow, is it?" Her mom, third in our conspiracy trio, had told her in preparation to get dressed appropriately the next day and hereby lit her suspiciousness. More screenshots and nonchalant answers as in "well, at least you won't be in your PJs, so all bad parts of the surprise are gone, technically, aren't they?"
Notice how I try to subtly change her attitude towards surprises.

11:30 pm Have to hold myself back from accidentally texting her about how excited I am to surprise her. That would be pretty stupid.

Day x, 1 pm Sitting in my car across the street from her house. I had to park twice until I got a space that wasn't in front of an entrance. Now I'm eying the windows and the street, feeling like a private investigator. It's actually kind of fun.

1:10 pm Her mom quietly ushers us in. Feeling very conspirative indeed as we tip-toe up the stairs, following the music coming from her room....

Good things are from Paris

And there we are, and there she is, her hands on her hips as she's laughingly scolding us for being so secretive before all of us hug and get all unicorn fluffy....and then we sit down on the fuzzy carpet and have cake and tea, as you do, and have a very lovely time.

So, if you ever plan to surprise somebody....hit me up, I think I like it.

Love,

Rosy Smith