Rosy Smith: January

Me Shamelessly Cropping People Out Of Photos

Is it just me or does this month feel like it is never ever ending? Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, 'cause I have spent the last week doing absolutely nothing productive whatsoever and have a deadline coming up in February, so I could use a little timelapse, because lately I have been....

....dead-tired, even after (or because of?) sleeping in as late as I've only done in summer of 2017, and that was post-breakup-depression napping, so I don't know what's up with that, but it has to stop 'cause it's getting on my nerves.

....getting the urge to clean out every single junk drawer in my room and replace their contents with stuff I actually use. Problem is, now I don't know what to do with the junk (I am NOT throwing it out, that is not the kind of person I am and we all have to accept that).

....watching How I Met Your Mother Reruns and listening to an old 3OH!3 album and Carrie Underwood songs in my unusally cleaned-out room for hours, listening to my loveliest friend's voice memos (she would have to tell way more exciting things this month, that's for sure) and feeling like I'm 14 again. Must be the impending doom of life responsibilities. Did I tell you I canceled a dentist appointment and just, like, never called again? I ghosted my dentist. It's unfair, I know, but I'm just not ready for serious commitment right now.

But on the other hand, there are quite a few reasons to look forward to February:

First and foremost, my hair! I get it done this week and all of my future fantasy scenarios focus on me looking fabulous with shiny, heat-curled, reasonably-full (let's not get ahead of ourselves here) tresses. For instance,

me getting my college diploma
me going to the theatre to see Romeo & Juliet in a jeans-and-white T-Shirt production
me attending the farewell-party of my bestest friend
me visiting my bestest friend in Rome
me going back to Hamburg and seeing my fellow interns again
me flying in to celebrate a family party (I'm the only single grandchild but damn, I'll have lovely hair)

January just got a whole lot more sizzling, didn't it? Let me see your lists - everything gets better when you write it down. Trust me.

Love,

Rosy Smith

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I didn't expect returning back to work to throw me off this much, but honestly, they produce five different weekly magazines at my new office and everyone's writing for each one and I can't even figure out how many letter combinations you can get out of a five letter word. And I'm not in the outlook calendar so I just run to the conference room when everybody else does. But I get to write several pages myself and run around with a notepad and sit in fast-talk meetings and that's very, very nice.

Me and the other interns stuck to our January plan which was essentially to go out a lot because that's the last month we're all here. Didn't say it was the most detailed plan ever known to mankind. But we hit the Reeperbahn (that's this famous partying/red light district street) and I have a question: Did the people in the first few minutes of Dirty Dancing know each other? And if not, did they at least ask for each other's names? Dancing culture sure has changed since the days of Elizabeth and Darcy skipping around each other while firing sarcastic questions with every twirl. But then again, Darcys are rare.

Someone took a picture

I'm on season three of Jane The Virgin and oh my Goodness, why oh why? I'm not gonna spoil you (even though it is unlikely because I am, as usual, late for the party) but I'd like to know who wrote that script.

Oh and I bought quite a lot of second-hand stuff lately, which is a first for me because remember, I get icky over hotel sheets. But my loveliest friend discovered a website where they inspect the pieces and give you their condition and the deals were too good to resist (granted, I didn't try too hard but anyways). The package is arriving tomorrow, and I hope they'll put it in the hallway, because I'm never home on weekdays and you had to give your neighbours full names in order to direct the package to them and I hardly know their last names (and that only because they're written out next to their doors).

So yeah, now we're up to date. Hope January's treating you well.

Love,

Rosy Smith

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....or not, we don't know yet. See, at that party there was a sweet girl in attendance whom I've met before among that same crowd and she sat next to me during the poker game; on my other side was someone I once named as "cute guy" even though since then, he has turned out to be more of a "cowardly guy with astonishing self-confidence" but that would be too long to use now. Anyways, my bestest friend sat across from me and sometimes we broke into insider conversations about things like our lit class teacher from high school and the other two couldn't quite catch up with that so they would start to talk to each other instead, asking the polite, interested questions people ask when they first meet strangers, and he somehow managed to mention the time "when I lived in Paris" and that seems to really get the girls. Or maybe the astonishing self-confidence is intruiging at first. But I shouldn't be so judging, since he's one of the best friends of my certain someone and I should be "noble". So I'll grant the fact that to someone who doesn't know him, he could seem witty and smart, I guess. Because even though those conversations across the poker chips were the only close contact I witnessed between them that night, and even though he was making out with other people's girlfriends later on (after the sweet girl already left, bless her), they are on for a date today. What a turn of events.

I'm on the home stretch for this semester! The day after the day after tomorrow, I'll hold my presentation. I absolutely dispise the kind of presentations we have to hold at my school. It's never "look at this power point slide. That's how I did it" but always "spot on me, look at my contemporary dance moves, do you get what I'm trying to tell you? You better, 'cause I'm not gonna just say it even though it would be sparing both of us a lot of precious lifetime". It's ridiculous how the word "creativity" is being misused to justify the unnecessary trouble they send us through all of the time.

To celebrate, I'm hitting the city with the abovementioned friend on saturday and I'll buy everything that brings me joy. I forbade myself to do so the last time I was wandering by all the beautiful sale signs, because I didn't want to reward myself before having finished that stupid presentation. Aren't I disciplined? It's a new feeling, and it's not a fun one.

Can't wait 'til friday.

Love,

Rosy Smith

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....and there's me on the street listening to Sparks Fly VERY loudly and pretending to walk down a T-stage, only that it's 8 am and way too dark to see anything resembling a spark.

I swear, I was on lovesong-level zero a few nights ago, seeing as somebody changing his hair can make me loose all interest I ever had in being the love of their lives (proving once again my unbelievable personal depth). At least I thought so for about three hours, and the worst thing is, I was actually fine with it. Usually, as you might know, I get seriously disappointed when I realize that my latest affections were given to the way somebody carries their jeans and quickly disappear as soon as they change into a bermuda. It's always a little sad to find out it obviously wasn't the real deal, once again. However, this time I just thought: Alright, saves me some complications during finals (what have they done to me, here I am, being reasonable).

I mean, it's not okay that your hair grows longer than mine does within three months. (Relative to one another of course. I can't tolerate long long hair, that's just....no.) It's not only unfair, it's against the rules. The rules, if you're wondering, include not getting a tattoo, nose job, or new haircut while I'm crushing on you, 'cause that's interfering with my imaginary feelings. Sorry if this isn't very comprehensible, but it all made sense to me around 4 am that night.

The thing is - and here goes my issue - that I actually think I got over the hair. Devastating, isn't it? Me, the girl who will scratch your name from her diary if you blow your nose in her presence. I know. My loveliest friend suggested that there is always some kind of backleash after you've not seen somebody for a while and went totally crazy for them in your head. Because after the first shock, you remember why you sorta kinda liked them in the first place, and remember how sweet they were, looking down at you and making sure you find a seat and smiling that little smile that can keep you up for hours wondering if they're an annoyingly, adorably polite person or if they like you just a little, little bit in a way that makes them, too, go....

....well, damn.

Not much to add here.

Love,

Rosy Smith

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