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

So, I'm not too informed on how other people handle this, but I feel like in a relationship, there have to be two kinds of occasions to meet the other person. On the one hand, it's the nights in with a movie or some board game (can't you just feel my youthful spirit) where you just talk and make out and stuff and eat pizza on the floor. Those nights are pretty great, don't get me wrong. In fact, I went out all day yesterday with my oldest friend and her crowd and by the end of the day I was really wishing I'd been having one of those pizza nights instead of standing around all day in flat shoes and still getting back pain from it.

However, the other kind of thing is as important as those: Real dates. As in "taking someone out for it".  Obviously, you have to think these ones through a bit more, and I find that especially hard (I like to be the one who gets taken out rather than the taker), but I've come up with some ideas to make it easier, so here we go:

Make sure that transportation is taken care of. There's nothing worse than having to figure out logistics for what's supposed to be a romantic adventure, so don't even suggest me taking the train to meet you somewhere. I'm a big defender of the old value of a man picking up a girl in his car. If you don't have one, or can only break out your family's old station wagon, don't give up: Just rent one! There's a peer-to-peer car rental company called Turo that allows you to choose from lots of different types of cars (even race cars, if you like it fast) without having to deal with a big rental company. I looked up available cars in New York just now, and even for little money you can get some pretty cool rides, no matter if you just want something to flash your date with when showing up at her doorstep or if you plan on making the car the attraction and head off to a week-long road trip. Check out their website!

Choose a place that feels like a date. I'm talking restaurants with dimmed lights and discreet waiters who appear by your side with a ghostly swoosh; jazz cafés with low chairs and a twenties-feel to them where it's not weird to start dancing tightly intertwined; old-school movie theatres with plushy seats, cocktail service and classic Hollywood flicks on the program. Not your local steak house with an all-you-can-eat salad buffet and screaming kids in the next booth. Give me something to dress up for, won't you?

Or choose a place that you feel your date would like. Obviously you can screw all of the above if you know that your special company would die for the Mac n Cheese at the Red Lobster (I've never been there, thinking about it, but who knows) but no one ever goes with her 'cause her friends hate seafood (whatever). Or if she is a Disney freak who'll gladly be joined by a mob of middle school girls on their class trip to the newest installment of Frozen (will there be installments? I should do my research more thoroughly). Anything that makes someone happy will make for a good date, so it doesn't need to be featured in the ten pm newsflash to go well.

Don't give anything away. I am so into being taken out, my vision of a perfect plan is a plain "Be ready at seven" eg. the fact that I don't have to plan a thing. Call me unfeminist, but I have no problem at all with not knowing how it's about to go down - I trust him with knowing enough about my idea of fun to not make me jump off a building or something else that will ruin my hair. Also, it's so much more like a sweep-me-off-my-feet movie scene where the hero just grabs the heroine's hand and shows her the beauty of the city/the fun of being a streetcat (AristoCats is the joy of my existence)/basically a good time.

Have fun, too. I am aware that I mostly talk about the took-outs part of the deal, but you see: A date is, essentially, simply something to do while you're spending time with someone you like, and who wants to spend time with a cranky human who doesn't like what you're doing at all? Right, so the point is that whatever you're doing, both of you should enjoy. Mood is everything, ain't it so?

Love,

Rosy Smith

....Did you know there were real magazine articles about that phenomenom? Poor copy editors had to spend time on trying to figure out possible motives for a habit that is, honestly, only adequatly described as wretched, impolite, arrogant, unnecessary crap. If you have a problem, just freaking say so instead of not saying anything at all, because truthfully, that still leaves your intentions open to interpretation and you could have it so much easier than that. A downright rejected woman might set your car on fire, but she'll only do it once and vanish out of your life afterwards (if only out of fear of charges). A ghosted woman, however, will have enough time on her hands and anger slowly boiling up while she's wondering if you'll ever get in touch that she might have become an expert on how to get rid of a body without traces by the point she's done with waiting.

I guess some guys have figured out the travesty of their actions by now and tried to redeem themselves, but sadly, they only make things worse by engaging in some other modern-day excuse for cowarding, called "breadcrumbing". Just think about having to explain that kind of vocab to your daughter one day. It is when boys ghost you for only a little while, and then, just when you're starting to realize how stupid they are, slide right back into your life with a sweet message turning everything upside down and, in your mind, explaining perfectly well why he ignored you before. That circle goes around quite a couple times, pushing you back and forth between bliss and bitterness and once you finally make the jump out, leaves you with nothing to really accuse him of.

Except the fact that he could have had the pure decency to be a man and just spit out the fact that he doesn't really want to be with you after all, and that that should have happened before you started to waste time and feelings on someone who doesn't deserve you.

Feel free to copy and paste this to your ghosts and breadcrumbers.

Love,

Rosy Smith

So I'm back home after a few days of vacación on the island of Mallorca, Spain, full of the usual motivational spirit that always overcomes me when I'm away. It just seems so easy to make the ultimate plans to score an internship when you're dreamily staring into the sunset and your biggest problem is to take a picture of the single sailboat swimming there without getting it too bright, you know?

Also, one should ask beforehand if the shrimps you're ordering are prepared in any way. Because I didn't and I got them the way God made them, complete with legs and tentacles and whatnot. It was nasty to look at (yes I am one of those people who refuse to eat things when they look too alive) but there were about ten giant sea animals on my plate and I couldn't possibly leave them all uneaten, so I grabbed fork and knife and hoped I wouldn't slide off and send pieces of fish organs all over the place. I managed, but it took quite a while of concentrated surgeon work. The bread table looked like a cemetery afterwards. But the meat was good, if that's still of any interest!

Coast town streets are narrow as hell. I would have freaked out if I had to drive there, but my dad confidently steered us through what felt like every single population of the island. I really like the beige/reddish stones (I don't know the special term for that kind of stone but enlighten me if you can) most of these towns are made of; stone buildings are always so much prettier than steel, aren't they? Ever picture would look great here if it weren't for the lines and lines of parked cars practically everywhere. How anyone ever parks out without crashing at least two other cars is a complete mystery to me.

Palmtrees and a seaview don't automatically mean that it's nice and hot outside. If you, like me, refuse to bring your coats because you simply won't accept that you'd need coats in Spain, you might end up wearing three layers and looking like you gained twenty pounds all day. If you, moreover, don't figure out how to use the heating system in the hotel room, you might also wear a fleece jacket and use another one as a second blanket at night.

But that's okay, because at home, there will be snow, so clearly this is the better end of the straw.

On the bright side, I actually got plans for Valentine's Day that don't involve an Anti-Valentine's Day party - look at me evolving and trying new things. Oh, and I gifted my questionable silver box and got no complaints, so mission accomplished, I'd say.

Ready to do more of that.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....The good and the sad:

The really sweet girl who joined our class last semester and has been on my team during the many class quarrels is leaving again already. I'm gonna miss her; She made me take the stairs every day, kept me company on many coffee runs and faithfully took that last class on fridays that everyone else blew off with me. I'm on my way to her goingaway-night just now. This really weird guy in a cap and sunglasses in the seat in front of me is talking through the space between our seats - I accidentally looked at his reflection in the window while innocently looking out of it and now he's turning to me, saying "I'm married, but I like you" and I am somehow not as flattered as he probably thought I should be. Right now I'm really trying not to meet his eye again. I think it's working, he shut up. Oh, now he's asking for my name. Stare at the floor, pretend you're deaf. Dang it, I can't even say that one sentence in sign language (does one really say "say" something in sign language or is it "sign"? I'm honestly curious about that). Good, now he's taken to talk to other random people in that very slurry voice, holding up his paper bag can and, um, starting to sing.

Alright, let's get to the good stuff! I'm actually going away on Thursday! Three days of Mallorca, a Spanish island (I know it's a way short trip but better than this cold drizzle here). I haven't packed a thing yet. That's because I want to take some sarongs and my flappy hat but the weather forecast says sensible shoes and maybe a light cardigan and we haven't come to a mutual agreement yet. It's going to be lovely, still - just think Tapas and walks along the seaside and Flamenco performances and tiny European boutiques (maybe they got lace-up boots!)....

Spoiler Alert: I'm on season eight of Friends and just in the middle of watching Rachel have her baby, and I so want her an Ross to get together already but I fear that they're gonna push my personal happy ending way back near the actual ending and that makes me sad. Not sad enough to stop watching it like a hypnotized rabbit every single night, of course.

Okay, so right this moment I found the perfect lace-up pair on Ebay, and for very little money, too (so it wouldn't even be that much of a bummer if they weren't comfortable) and now they're seriously telling me that my size is out of stock. I am considering if I might fit into a size 5, after all. This might be my only chance!

Love,

Rosy Smith

I'm back! I'm free! I'm watching How I Met Your Mother in the morning and Friends in the evening and I only took the train once to go shopping and it was great. I'm on break aka the best two times of the year. Hence, I spent the last few days of January just sorta sitting there, recharging (and getting a weird neck pain. Now that I'm thinking about it, I might have gotten it from all the sitting in un-ergonomical angles). But now I'm getting bored and that means I need some missions!

I want lace up ankle boots with a square heel and I'm not taking a "we don't carry those" for an answer. I saw the perfect pair through the window of some store that was closed already, so I know they exist and I'm gonna own them. No one likes a good shoe challenge as much as I do. Also, I have already planned an occasion where I wanted to wear them so I'm in a bit of a rush.

Oh, now I accidentally closed this draft while narrowing down shoe choices. Haven't found the perfect one yet, but I'll let you know. It would be so much easier if people wouldn't keep making these structured soles.

Anyways, Jauary was, once again, crammy and way too casual when it came to doing my hair. A week ago from today, we had our final presentations and it they felt like being in labor for nine hours, just without the physical pain. We had a two hour delay and guess who was on last? By the time it was my turn I had a hard time remembering what I was supposed to be talking about, let alone which slide came on when, but I didn't really care because I just very much wanted to get out of that room that either smelled or got freezing cold and would have said anything to get it over with. I also got sent a picture of a naked Daniel Radcliffe with a horse (you know which one) and even though I'm still wondering why exactly someone felt the need to show me, it did kinda cheer me up.

Now onto the missions: It's time to go and fix my incredibly rebellious hair, start eating all food groups and find some dance crew that's looking for an unpracticed ballet dancer to do combinations to all my favorite songs. And that internship (I can start by September, just tell me where to show up), I always forget that one.

That wasn't really news to you, I know, but that's the beauty of January, it's just a big pause button. The actual start of the New Year is today (okay, yesterday, but I was busy yesterday so go with it).

Love,

Rosy Smith