#BLOGMAS DAY Four and Five - The End of an Era and The Fight of the Mouses

 The shrill ringing of the alarm clock at an unholy hour wasn't exactly the most charming start of the day, but I got up eventually and tried to ignore the fact that it was still dark outside (isn't that the worst about early mornings?) and I definitely shouldn't be up already.

Those were the first lines I wrote about my first day at fashion school many, many moons ago (okay so three years and three months, if you gotta know the cold numbers). Those are also very versatile phrases describing pretty much every other morning of my time as a student there. Yesterday night, I met up with my classmates and my journalism professor to eat Christmass-y food and drink wine (not me though, living the car commute life) and to celebrate the fact that we made it - seven semesters of early mornings, close-cut deadlines, hidden online shopping, creative differences and most importantly, so much progress. I am the definition of mixed feelings at the moment. I mean, I've anticipated this for so long - I struggled with doubts for about a year and a half that included lots of crying and craving soup, then stopped crying so much and ate a stupid amount of avocado - went to Hamburg, which was lovely in most ways, and after that it was what felt like two weeks of school, late night texting and boom I can delete InDesign. And oh my goodness, that's awesome. But there's also something mellow (and believe me, no one is more surprised than me), and I think that has mostly to do with a) having been in a comfort zone of moodily stomping the lofty hallways and talking back at the professors for so long and b) being very used to seeing that crazy chaotic bunch of people every single morning. See, we might not always get each others' vision, but at the end of the day, everyone appreciated the others' work and despite all the crisis talks and group therapy (you know), I get teary eyed hugging everyone goodbye. And now.

Enough with the emotionalness and onto my favorite topic to moan about - yes, of course, the ride back home! Hello darkness, my old friend, ain't it so. After a series of unfortunate delays that left some of us stranded at various stations, some en route to their beds after three hours and me kicking my heels on a lonely platform at one am, estimating the cost of a cab all the way out of the city and staring at the other side of the tracks, where two mice hid behind trash bags. Suddenly, they started running at each other until they met at their tiny mice noses and one of them flew straight up into the air, came back down and started chasing the other around the trash. I think my jaw hung open. I was close to throwing dollar bills and making a bet with the guy waiting next to me (we were having a bit of small talk since we were both hella annoyed with the delay of the last train, but small talk with guys I don't find attractive always makes me uncomfortable because I am astonishingly shallow). Right before my phone died, I saw the reassuring headlights coming at me in slow motion, which explained the delay but also seemed like pure cruel mockery at this point, and at around quarter past two (and after coughing my lungs out in the car because I ran to the car park like a haunted animal 'cause every bad crime series I've ever seen jumped into my head at once) I finally fell into bed. Only to set a painfully early alarm for a dentist visit at eight.

You know what, I'll think I'll take a nap.

Love,

Rosy Smith