Lovelies, hold your Cosmos and have a sip, 'cause it finally happened: I got to take my diploma and a rose and turn my back on fashion school! Anyone who's been here since 2015 has heard me moan, gossip and exaggerate about it for so long, they probably feel like they went there, too. But sometimes even I had something nice to say about it all, as I do tonight:

There was a nostalgic "through-the-years"-power point presentation and I'm a sucker for that. Sure, the pictures of the first and last days of school were simply horrifying, but there was a clip of me being editor of a project and scribbling away into my notebook, wearing a green pinafore dress and feeling très important, and I think I went "aww" pretty audibly (audible? Language's caving in on me already).

Also, who cares about those dumb old photos, I got great hair now. And by that I literally mean now, since I've only had it for half a week - college made my hair fall out (at least that's one of my top five theories, allergic reaction to artsy neon light), so to mark this new glorious chapter of my life, I blew on all supplements, lentil stews and head massages and got tape extensions. I'm touching my head every five minutes to check if they're still there and not peaking through like in the nightmare I had the night before I got them done, but I'm irrevocably hooked on them. Everyone at graduation went "Oh my GOD your HAIR" and tucked at the strands; it's very sweet how much they emphasize.



Some of us were so hyped we didn't want to leave yet, after all canapés were munched up and the fizzy wine called for real food, so we relocated to the one restaurant that took us in (spontanously needing a table for ten on a friday night in the city isn't the brightest idea, but we're not known for our thorough planning anyways) and I had baked mozarella - a homage to my Hamburg days and the fact that I a) can't cook and b) have questionable food cravings.



Anyways, I posted some pictures to show the fitness guy what an amazing weekend I'm having, or rather, how amazing my hair looks. That's the main purpose here as well, actually, so did you take a good look?

I'll stop being this obnoxious sooner or later, I think. Maybe.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Behold, I am wearing a sweatshirt, for the first time in years. I will not keep it on when I'm leaving the house tonight. That would be sheer madness.

So, it is the first real day of the year (because really, who gets anything done on January 1st?) and it's time to start wrapping our heads around what that means....

'Tis the year I'll graduate. Huh. I almost wanna say I wasn't prepared for this, but who would believe me, after I've practically been counting down the hours since my first semester. Do I have to start looking for a job now? Do I feel capable of doing one of those? Lots of amusing things to think about at night. But honestly - if I did get one, I could finally buy myself a microwave and display all the candle holders and cakestands from my dowry box (you'd think I was kidding, but na-ah).

'Tis the year my loveliest friend goes off to Milano for four months. Tonight's the last time I see her before we both leave for our respective places abroad - that is, until I go visit sometime in between moving home and starting the semester. I'm so gonna do it. We'll be back to being belle ragazze in bella Italia, just like the summer before last (throwback here), and it'll be fantastico.

'Tis the year I started with an accidental mini-fringe. Let's just say that I have developed an understanding of that urge to clip off your hair with some nail scissors, and that got mixed with a sudden admiration for the hairstyle that Leah Remini sports in the first season of The King Of Queens that I've been rewatching. I have some sort of semi-permanent hair dye left from the office, too, so we shall see what we're gonna make of that.

Sounds like the plan is a very loose one this time around - leaves more space for imagination, though.  So it's really up to what we come up with.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....Remember middle school? Yeah, I know you don't want to, but remember that guy who's new in class and the other boys don't really like him and he's trying really hard to be funny and you just can't bear that sad sight so you decide to be nice to him and flash him some smiles? Big mistake, as you find out when he develops a (thankfully not long lasting, since you're actually pretty mean) crush on you and starts to text you things like "What's for homework" and won't shut up when you answer. After a while, even his neverending chipperness and brazen-faced confidence faded away and he moved on to people more willing to put up with him. Everything's just fine, right?

Until one random morning in May he hits me up again without a warning and I feel like I'm back in 2011. Obviously, I screenshot (something I wasn't able to do then, I'm just realizing) our awkward "so, what are you doing with your life" (as if I really care) chat and send it to my loveliest friend (a witness of time who doesn't recall his name at first, that's how memorable he is).

Oh, now he's asking me to a party at his sorority's house. I'm not that familiar with sororities due to me going to a school where everything's done differently because that's so much cooler, and I'm not excited to see this guy again, so I don't break into grateful applause. Instead, I take a trip down memory lane and consider lying to him about having a boyfriend just to get him off my back, the way I stupidly did a long time ago, but then it hits me: I don't technically have to lie about that one. I mean, someone certain and I are not keen on discussing these sorts of terms exactly, but he exists (didn't I mention?), and he won't find out, so I demonstratingly ask "Can I bring my boyfriend?" - and he turns into a proud aunt/ totally annoying brat, saying "awwww" and stuff that makes it pretty obvious that a), he still thinks we're 14, and b), doesn't have anything fun to bring into the conversation. I'll have to lay this into someone else's hands....

Now, to make the throwing back scenario perfect, my loveliest friend and I are lying on her bed, team-texting. Team-texting is a word I just coined and the way almost every chat with any guy I've been friendly with has happened. The great thing about it is that your part of the talking benefits from the wittiness of not only one but two people, and it's way more objective. Meaning that if you're biased and feel like your perfectly funny response could be too far-fetched, someone else virtually (or literally) presses send on your behalf. Also, if you're with your loveliest friend, she'll bring out the humor in you and you'll be trying to get her laughs, so you'll be much braver. Anyways, it's just like good old times  - the noisy guy is becoming unnerving, asking for details about someone certain which I don't care to tell him about, so we reply criptically: "Green eyes, brown hair, it was a golden day in September when I first laid eyes on him...." I think that sounds much prettier than blahblah about a name and a college course. It's not even half-true, of course (tricked ya!), but that's not the point, is it?

However, even though it's very good fun sometimes to have a nice little play-pretend chat, it comes to an end, too. That is, when the guy gets irrationally stuck up about his sorority, I stop replying, he asks about that weird party, I see it but can't answer (I swear I couldn't), when I do (tell him no, I need to catch up on my schoolwork), he accuses me of lying (just because I wasn't behind when we were in school together. I'll admit I exaggerated a and could probably have made it, but doesn't he know that I tried to kindly blow him off?), and when I ignore that (I mean, that was plainly impolite), he goes "Well, goodbye Rosy" - seriously?

So obviously, ignoring someone's WhatsApp message equals breaking contact forever and ever and not on good terms, either.

Well, I didn't know that. But it's okay by me.

I'm busy, anyways. Stay curious!

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, lovelies, I'm writing this at 1 pm in my leggings and a slouchy sweater on a Thursday, after sleeping til half past nine and having breakfast watching The Big Bang Theory until 11 while everyone else is at work or school. Get it? Get it??

I'm done with high school, everyone! Tomorrow I'll officially graduate and finally get my diploma so that I can brag about it with proof in my hands.

Of course, that is not the only thing  that comes with gradutaion: There's also the big ceremonial part which will last forever and probably not be very exciting, except for the chance to look your very best and shine your brightest at school for one last time- and get some very nice pictures in the process. Oh, and a whole new part of life and all that. What's not to love?

That's been my mindset regarding this day up until now. Because now, I've watched a YouTube Video on How To Get Ready For A Big Event. Oh my. Don't do that unless the event ist about a month away, or you'll freak out like I did.

For example, it says: 1 week before X, start working on your complexion. It is currently about 14 hours before X and I have yet to brush my teeth. And fix my eyebrows. And get a pedi. And I'm in the choir and I can't find my sheet music.

But hey, I've got my sparkly black dress and my sparkly black Steve Madden heels and I sorta know what hair and makeup look I'm going for - wait, I need to buy some blush and bronzer (mine broke on vacation. Big mess.)- so everything should be alright....I hope. I seriously have to start on all of this now.

Gotta run and turn into the Homecoming Queen version of myself in less than a day; wish me luck.

Love,

Rosy Smith