....I'm proud to announce that after crampy, sleepy January, these last weeks have actually been quite eventful....

First things first, I finally found my camera charger! The second month of the year is not even over yet and I already fulfilled one of my (about three) New Years Resolutions! It was hidden in one of the jewellry boxes I keep all my cable stuff in. Who'd have thought. So, maybe there's a chance for me to improve my picture quality on here. Oh, and now there's always the option of becoming a vlogger. So many possibilities evolving....

My second resolution's been to talk less about trains, and I believe I've been doing quite well with that, too: However, I'll mention them now, since I'm currently sitting in one of  'em on my way to meet someone I wanted to see: remember me telling everyone important about how much I wanted that? I guess that did the trick, since he seems to be wanting to see me too. Anyways, I'm sitting here and getting really paranoid about my lips being dry - see, I've had lots and lots of balm on them this afternoon and when I took it off, it must have worked like a scrub as my lips basically fell apart in the process. So I did another scrub and now I fear I've missed a spot. My loveliest friend is texting me I should do a sugar scrub. If only I had a packet of that on me. I don't usually carry edible things in my purse, apart from gummi bears.
Furthermore, I need to press my lipstick down on a handkerchief which I, of course, never carry, either....I'd have an old tramp stamp, I guess that will do - what I actually was on about before starting to write anything is that this guy stared at me through the window and his shoes, studded black high-tops, are honestly the most hideous thing I've ever seen.

Staying at home on break is honestly a fabulous thing to do. I went skiing with my parents and everything (college, people whose messages I need to google half the time, etc.) nicely faded into the snow while I was doing my rounds and all I had to think about was what there's for dinner and if the ski rent guy would ask me out. He didn't, 'cause I only met him for about three minutes, but that's the point - I didn't really care. Now I'm back but still, I'm doing my papers, I'll scream if I need to read through another pet-related thread (my topic is clothing for pets. Feel free to share your opinion, I'll feel free to interpretate it so it fits my argumentation), but at the same time I love the feeling of making sense with my writing. I feel like it's gonna be great to be a freelancer - I might waste 3/4 of the day by looking at every single one of the 43 "Then and now" red carpet looks seventeen.com has put together and rediscovering Kelly Clarkson's "Already Gone", but by 6 pm I'll frantically be scribbling down designer labels for dogs 'cause I just had a great idea for an outro.

I also managed to get a new calendar for my beloved Filofax (yeah, I do adore my planner) - two months into the year, that ain't so bad, is it? I feel like I'm in control of things again, and I like it. I already filled it with lots of fun things before freedom as we (I) know it is changed again in exactly a week from now; shopping tomorrow, cinema twice, lots of the loveliest friend, oh and Ballet! I almost forgot, but I went to class for the first time in almost a year, and it was beautiful. I wasn't, during the length of it, 'cause I didn't have a good bun day and my cheeks seem to turn red after half an hour of exercise these days, but it's ballet - earthly things don't matter. I felt like I strained about ten different muscles afterwards, but I twirled around in the kitchen when I got home.

Where was I?

Right, my plans. Did you see Brooklyn, by the way? I did. Twice. Felt sick both times so that was good, but I loved the outfits. Give me a full skirt and oversized sunglasses and send me to Coney Island. Isn't it almost time for spring?

Stay sparkly, lovelies.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....and then there's three at once. Is that how the saying goes? It's definitely proved itself again.
I was texting away yesterday evening trying to give advice on things I don't actually have a clue of myself and suddenly felt very chick-flick character like. Isn't that sort of excitement what we're hoping for all along, wish for every time we get together and moan about the dullness of things?

Well, here's what we get for that....

Finding out the hard way that college choices suck sometimes. Problems like these are too complicated and tragic to explain; however, it generally seems as if no matter what you plan for, and how beautifully that plan would work out, sometimes it all comes down to nothing again and it's zero percent your fault. It happens to the best of us, lovelies.

My unqualified advice: Loose your plans. Make a list of every single option. They might all sound horrible, but that's okay. Choose one. Any of those. Do whatever it says. Yes, that might still sound horrible. It's still okay, 'cause it's not so much about what you do right this moment, the point is that you do something in order to move. Don't ever stop moving.

Enough with the deep talk for now and onto the less life changing events:

Why have a crush when you can have a complication? Imagine this: He's cute, he's clearly being flirty, he doesn't call. Someone else is nice, he clearly saw you being flirty with the cute guy, and he's quick to ask you on a date because he's probably scared you'll be a goner soon on account of said cute guy. Isn't that the most annoying thing ever? Nice guy could barely have chosen a worse moment to make his move. What if cute guy didn't call 'cause nice guy begged him to let him have the shot? What if cute guy isn't gonna call 'cause nice guy got rejected and there's some weird bro code that says to respect nice guy's pride? What if you and cute guy go out and nice guy flings himself off a building? Why does he have to ruin everything you've ever wanted?

My unqualified advice: Ignore the nice guy. Call the cute guy (a little initiative never hurt no one. Except for the nice guy). Live happily ever after and proceed to ignore the nice guy. He did it to himself.

Oh, and me? I'm on a 3rd date today. I think. It's kinda like with my A-levels when my whole family was sick and I just sorta handled my stuff on the side. I'm weirdly zen. A little concerned about my lack of inner fireworks and my pickiness with food. In no particular order.

Thankful for any advice. Qualified or not.

Love,

Rosy Smith

 

....Remember how people were talking about the January Blues, and how SAD everything seems after New Year's has passed and one doesn't have an excuse to eat all day and watch movies anymore, and how nobody needs snow after Christmas?

Well, turns out things don't necessarily get better in February. This isn't a personal concern, 'cause I'm actually quite cozy at home right now, but rationally thinking about it, these misfortunes come up:

Falling in love isn't fun in February. Nobody wants to do that at this point. All people want is get warmer, get a different job and go to a different place, and all of that is possible and probably better if you do it all by yourself, 'cause one is usually a bit cranky during this month and not in the mood to put up with a different opinion on top of it all. One should always try and fall in love in May. Or, even better, in August.

I mentioned it: It's still as cold as it can be. There's still snow, which is an unsolicited attempt of compensation for its absence at Christmas.  The past is the past, my friend, and all our thoughts go towards Spring, where we've heard it gets better.

It's one of those funeral months. That's probably not a statistically proven fact. However, I feel like February is especially suited for a crying sky.

Valentine's Day. Oh, please. Who thought it'd be a good idea to celebrate those butterflies at a time when all you want is be left alone with your blanket and a nicely unrealistic novel? See above: I'd suggest May or August instead.
And all this talk about how you don't need to be in a relationship to have Valentine's Day. I'm suspecting people made that up because of all the After-Christmas-Breakups in January, there weren't enough consumers who'd buy the cheesy cards and freshly cut flowers. Candy had no sales problems, though, 'cause no one cares for the heart shape as long as there's chocolate.

Times are a'changing in February. In January, while things might be dull, at least everyone and everything is still numb and unable to move (food coma and all). Now, however, life starts to roll again, and that means things happen. Some good, some bad, some sad. Still, people aren't in the position to deal with them yet. I know I'm not. In April, maybe. April seems like a good month to get your life together.

For now, I suggest we all take a break from the exhaustion February is confronting us with. Mine is to go skiing and pretend it's Christmas all over again. What's yours?

Love,

Rosy Smith

This is still a thing to me.

So I just saw a guy in moccasins, going all ew in my head cause I really don't appreciate that trend. Who even started that? Now I see fringes everywhere, like, this isn't a costume party! Anyways, I'm drifting off, it's just that I realized there's this boy I know who also wears moccasins and I actually like him. The thing is, I came to like him before I ever noticed his disastrous taste in footwear. When I did, I sorta went ew, too, but I couldn't think it with the same vehemence. I mean, he was still the same person, it would have been irrational to treat him differently because of his shoes-but thinking about it, people I meet on the subway (or, here in London, the tube) I actually do judge after their shoes, in a way. I bet you know what I mean, that little all-over-look you give people and then stare a little longer if they're hot or look away with a you-are-wearing-moccasins-why-do-you-do-this-to-me-look (just an example). The important question that hit me then and there- Would I ever have gotten friendly with that one person if I had seen him in those shoes first? And what meaning do certain style-standards of ours have if we skip them as soon as we started to like somebody? Do we only use them to rank total strangers we never meet again and get our mind set on things like clothes and shoes and hairstyles, just to waste time?

This is confusing me right now. Whatever, I hope people get over the moccasin-thing soon so there's no need for me to question my principles.

Love from a London tube,

Rosy Smith

....don't start on me, but it was too sweet a sight that presented itself to me on the train the other day. Firstly, there was a man beside me, with dreads in his hair and a canvas duffel bag on his knees, reading a book on capitalism. I know it's wrong to categorize people, but why wasn't he taking a look at the latest Danielle Steel? Because you rarely see people with canvas duffel bags clutching a nice tale of betrayal, even if it's second on the Time's best seller list. It's such a shame. I get that you care about our society, and the environment, and everything. In fact, I got you at "canvas". You can stop there.

"I'm scared to be caught photographing strangers"

Cut to two women across from me. The one on the right is prettily put together, in a fashionable blue dress with yellow flower print, a cashmere scarf 'cause she cares for quality, a light grey wool coat just right for this season and an impractical handbag. She's listening to music on her Iphone and as I let my gaze wander down, I notice that she's even taken the time to pick blue socks to match her dress. To me, that's the ultimate proof of having your life together. Everything about that woman seems to say: "I'm a grown lady, I have a good job and I'm damn great at it because I give all I have to get where I wanna go - that's why my tights don't have holes in them, too". A little intimidating, but also impressive.
As she left, she fumbled out a packet of rolling papers and impatiently put a cigarette together, then stuffed the rest back in. She didn't look too happy, but maybe she had just had a bad day. Maybe she'd tripped and fallen on her knee in front of her crush from work. Oops, now I'm doing it again, explaining all of life's troubles with men. She might as well have fallen in front of her female boss before a big presentation or something. But seriously, what would be the better story here.

The woman on the left is extremely different. To speak metaphorically, she's probably wearing socks that don't match and one of them is striped. She's still into colored jeans. She's wearing a rucksack, 'cause it's ergonomically wiser. That's also the reason for her choice of footwear, I guess; otherwise I'd have to say that she didn't find her way out of the child's section. Anyways, to compensate that impression, she's reading a book I won't name - however, it's very cynical and very "I'm a college student and the only girl in our IT class".
How did I get so mean? Just wondering.
I wish I could find some surprise element about her, but I feel like superficiality is frowned upon so much 'cause us poor superficial thinkers can't possibly tell how smart and fun and amazing someone is by judging their appearance, so all we say sounds like a roast. I'm sure she's lovely.

Last but not least, a look to my right and I spot a guy whom I identify to be Russian, as he's apparently speaking that language on the phone. He's wearing nice things. Lace up boots, which is a safe choice in a world where trainers are considered shoes by some. Random shot: He's a musician. He doesn't have typical musician hands, but they've got something about them I can't place. He's smiling to himself sometimes, then looking straight ahead again. He might be practising some really hard classical piece in his head and he's acing the best parts, so that makes him smile. Beneath his shirt, he's wearing a thin gold necklace. The Russian kid from my school used to do that, so let me jump conclusions here.

So, what do we learn from this? You shouldn't categorize people. But sometimes, you can't help but notice. It certainly passes the time.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....as you probably guessed by my waffling on about imaginary scenarios and the likes, I fantasize a lot. About everything. Going out for dinner tonight, dressing for parties - I even imagined the way I'd flick my eyeliner up the day before I met up with my ride or die. It's either an OCD or an overboarding fantasy induced by reading countless novels since forever. I like to think it's the latter.

Anyways, I actually experienced one of those scenarios yesterday, on my way to meeting her - I ran into a guy from high school at the station whom I used to think was cute. He still is; I just don't think about him anymore. So the situation turned up a little too late for me and instead of trying to convince him of my fabulous self, I was kinda distracted and "hm"d and "ah"d in reaction to him telling me news probably worth more than the occasional mouth sound and beaming smile. It was mainly because he'd blogged about the whole "year abroad gone wrong" thing and I'd read it because that's what I do, I read other people's blogs, too. Didn't mention that to him, though, 'cause this isn't the time to make him think I like him and it would be just my luck to give that impression now, when I have other people, I mean things, on my mind.

And now I've told everyone important about that, which is something I usually put off until I don't need to do so anymore, and it's such a weird feeling to actually be a grown-up, actively-taking-things-in-hands-person for once. It's nice, I feel like. It opens up so many more possibilities. And so many more "could-be"s. It could work out. It could be amazing. It could also be terribly disappointing. But I guess you'll have to take that risk in order to find out what exactly it will be.

Well, if that wasn't a perfectly philosophical start of February then I don't know what is. Don't worry, we'll still have a ball this month.

Let's see what we come up with.

Love,

Rosy Smith