Hello, welcome, hi, so good to see you here! Lovelies, it's been a while. Last time we talked, I was still figuring out my hair and freezing in my nylons, now I am on my second round of tapes and cannot bear to wear anything other than a bikini because my Gosh it's hot. So we got a lot of catching up to do....

I am sososo close to being done with university altogether - I have handed in my dissertation yesterday (and found a spelling mistake on the very front page two hours before the deadline, so we swerved that bump in the road that would've haunted me for the rest of my life; by the way, the title is '"I choose my choice" - Portrayals of "The Housewife" and "The Working Girl" in "Sex and the City" versus "The Best of Everything"', if you wanna add me on researchgate or whatever) and the only thing left for me to overcome is the viva voce in two weeks. I'm very pleased with myself, thank you very much - getting my BA is sort of a passion project of mine (I know, I have wild passions) in order for me to feel better about myself, and I need to capture that feeling, because....

Now I am job hunting and I hate it already. Please refrain from telling me how lucky I am that my parents aren't throwing me out as soon as the ink on my diploma has dried. If that wasn't the case, I would've started freaking out in January, okay? So far, I am waiting for five feedbacks, four of which are unsolicited applications to publishing houses that have a bunch of magazines each, so technically it's many, many offices I've covered. The problem with unsolicited applications is that no one wants you to call and ask, since they didn't ask you to apply in the first place (which is probably already bothering them, so pestering everyone answering the phone with my fear of failure = not bound to be helpful). It's just that the sheer uncertainty of whatever is gonna happen within the next few months - will I move somewhere? get a job? an unpaid internship that'll force me to live at home and take the train everyday? - is bothering ME very, very much. So the bottom line is, if you know someone who'd pay me a living wage to write stuff for them, you got my email.

Let's not think of that too much, though, 'cause it is summer, after all! I went to Rome to see my bestest friend and it was wonderful and way too short - I didn't even eat any pasta, there was just too much to devour in such little time. The weather! The sights! The scenic streets with bars in front of which you can drink! No Italians for me though; their curly hair and general tendency to be short in height rules out most of the locals for me. My friend, however, is basically in a country filled with her type, and the fact that she can speak more Italian than my "Ciao, studio giornalismo di moda, e tu?" and is obviously gorgeous should rev up her chances pretty high.

This just to get you up to speed - since I have loads of free time now, between scanning job offers and crying about them, I'll talk to you very soon about the truly exciting stuff.

Stay tuned!

Love,

Rosy Smith

Hi, hi, hello, let's skip the "yeah I kinda didn't post all month last month again" sermon and get right into it, shall we?

The first semester of senior year is almost over and I'm nowhere near confident about my project deadlines. I think so is everyone else in my class. We're a fun little group with great shoes and panic in our eyes, ordering too much coffee and spending the first half hour of every lesson down at the vending machine, eating our nerves. I got five seperate To Do lists and it turns out that "writing the whole pr concept" does not get any less time consuming just by putting a little dash in front of it. What a nasty surprise.

On the move to the copying machine. How very dynamic.

Some people do sports to reduce stress. I went to my beloved ballet class yesterday, with all the best of intentions. However, when the ballet baby (my teacher always brings her eight (or nine? I'm new with this) month old boy, who used to be a total delight, lying peacefully on his back, listening to the classical music; now he's still absolutely delighful, just way more mobile and sound-intense) began leaning out of his little car seat, and the others were all talking about the choreography and looking the other way, horrors began forming in my mind, but before I could alert his mom, his cute big head threw off his balance and he rolled out of the seat and onto the floor. He wasn't seriously hurt (though he sure cried like he had just been pushed out of a moving car) and his mom assured me that things like these happen all the time, but I'm deeply ashamed for not having said anything sooner. I don't even wanna know how much of an annoying helicopter I'll be if I have children one day. I'm already dancing the dying swan scene with an alarmed twitching in my eyes because I can see the baby in the mirror, grabbing the power chord of the stereo behind me. I mean, I love this class with all my heart. But I'm still a teensy bit stressed.

I'm more of a "carbs fix everything" kinda gal

Focus on the little things. I am sitting in my car after riding the train home for an eternity, parked in the parking lot, and I am devouring a cold slice of cheese pizza and washing it down with coke from a plastic cup while blasting Taylor Swift. That scenario might not sound especially desirable to you, but think about it: I got my own car with a drink holder. I got enough time to enjoy my lunch in here all by myself without rushing. I had just the three dollars for my pizza floating around on the bottom of my purse. I'm not lactose intolerant. And I get to decide what music to put on.

Plan fun things for when it's over. I booked a hotel room for September. I got no way of getting there yet, but we won't be nagging about details, are we? "Book as many trips as possible without digging too deep into your pocket, because you don't know if you're gonna get a job right after graduating" is....probably too long for a new bumper sticker.

But honestly, like I'd ever put a bumper sticker on my car.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Could say this matches the marriage theme but actually, just wanted to show off the dress

 Because why the hell not?

I mentioned before that I'm going to the gym now. Well, I've stopped. Because as far as flirting with the young instructor goes, he now feels it would be unprofessional to further pursue our flirtationship at the same time as him being my instructor, so obviously I quit the instructing part for the sake of my satisfaction. You haven't seen the chest on that man. Also, what a way to save money, am I right?

Mind you, I don't want to be his girlfriend. I'm unhappily in love with someone else, thank you very much. The last thing I need is a boyfriend I have to explain my sudden outbursts into tears to. But oh my gosh, those arms. Anyways, I made that very clear to him. I have a feeling that he's also unhappily in love with someone else still, so we're actually perfect for each other, speaking unhealthy-rebound-wise.

Now we crossed that tmi-line for good.

Meanwhile, other people are getting married. Remember that one guy my bestest friend very, very briefly dated two years ago? That slightly weird one who seemed to support kitchen kisses with other couples at that party? Yeah, he's getting hitched next year to his former on n off girlfriend from overseas. I am feeling a multitude of feelings towards these news, which is probably more than I should be, considering that I'm not really much acquainted with the happy couple. But think about it:

Firstly, how weird is it that my friend can now say "That one guy I once dated is currently on his honeymoon" or "Oh I don't know her, but I went out with her husband a few years ago"? How did we get this old? I mean, sure, they're also on the younger side in the marriage business, but still, it kinda freaks me out. Remember, I'm currently being complimented on my butt by a complete stranger and that is the maturity level we're at. Secondly, I know this guy through my certain someone and I so wish I could trash this topic with him instead of just imagining his side of the conversation while staring out the window with an amused look on my face. Also, and don't ask me how the decision of an almost-stranger does that to me, but it brings up all kinds of sorrowful thoughts and general anxiousness linked to the fact that I'm not in a position to call up my certain someone for the aforementioned trashing.

I like to pretend time is standing still.


Love,

Rosy Smith

I'm in my car in a white linnen summer dress, strappy sandals and huge sunglasses (everyone insists they're too big for me but I bought them in 2013 and I'm bringing them back) - I'm not going somewhere special, I'm just determined to become the notoriously overdressed person you see at the supermarket. Anyways, I just spotted a tweet from the lovely Billi from Billi Loves Beauty saying that she nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award - isn't that sweet?

Now, I'm not sure what that actually means, but I imagine it to be kinda like one of these chain messages that moms send each other on WhatsApp, that say something really nice about you and then you send them to other people that you think are nice?

Yeah, that's not quite it.

I just read up on the VBA website as well as Billi's own post and it is done as follows: I am going to share seven facts about me and then nominate seven other blogs to do the same, so here we go!

1) I like even numbers. If I did, say, a fitness exercise (a far-fetched example, obviously), I'd do two or four or six sets. If I drew a house, it would have four windows. If I knocked on wood, I'd do it four times. Uneven numbers are just so icky, aren't they?

2) I hate the sound of vacuuming. Someone is doing it right now and it distresses me so much - I used to cover my ears and cry when I was little and what can I say, that reaction still makes sense to me. It's not only the loud slurping sound, it's also that you have to shout over it in order to talk to someone, and then everything automatically becomes urgent and stressful. Has no one invented silent vacuums yet? Probably, and they're probably worth a lil trip to Europe so no one in their right mind buys them.

3) I never colored my hair and I don't think I will. First of all, I like my hair color and am too scared that it will never be the same afterwards. Second of all, my hair is in such marvelous condition it would probably break off at the roots and then fall out of my scalp if anything chemical touched it.

4) I couldn't whistle if my life depended on it. My mouth does not do the thing with the tune coming out.

5) I am about 162 centimeters tall (or short, however you view the world). I can wear all the high heels that float my boat.

6) I learned to play the recorder in elementary school. I still know some of it. One day it'll come in handy and I'll get famous with a recorder band.

7)  I like handwriting. In class, there's usually a row of macbooks (I don't have one because I'm PC all the way) and me. That means it's much harder for me than for everyone else to subtly text while pretending to take notes.

That's all from me, now onto the nominations....

Lily Blogs Life

Becky Bedbug

VictoriaaHelenn

Jessica's Life

Thania's Beauty

BeeBecca Blogs

Sarah in Wonderland

 I'd love to see them do this and find out more about them. Thanks again for the nomination!

Next time we talk I'll be in Hamburg....

Love,

Rosy Smith

You know what, I actually prefer being permanently annoyed over being permanently crying -it's just less messy.

Having said that and brought everyone into a sunshiny mood, let's talk about the latest developments in the moving department!

My dad has gotten me this sweet book with hidden spots to visit in Hamburg so that I won't be totally lost on what to do on weekends. One of the first things I noticed about it, aside from the delicious paperbag smell (yeah, I'm a book smeller. Where are my fellow people?) was the cutesy layout with hairlines and vibrant blue divider pages which is exactly what we've been talking about at such length it beat eternity in design class this year. And I immediately saw it! I guess I must've learned something after all (make room for the collective breath of disbelief).



I need to keep buzzin' for various reasons, so I spent a nice half hour scouting out the nearest pizza delivery services, comparing their respective price/offer situation to one another and looking for something similar to a redbox (I need to have something playing in the background when I'm alone so I don't start talking to myself. I mean I would read, but that's harder to do while cooking/cleaning/working than watching TV).

It's the next day and it's so sunny and I feel very youtuber-y, sitting outside "working" (Youtubers probably work, I'm just watching vlogs and drinking pineapple juice. I do wear a hat and huge flower sunglasses, though.), so that's more intruiging, right?

I went to an office supply store this morning, along with what felt like hundreds of parents with their kids, ticking of the back to school lists. Me on the other hand, being a non-working lazeball for another ten days, aimlessly wandered around looking at random glitter pens. My loveliest friend (she's back from Europe, yay) pointed out that I probably won't need to bring my own supplies to work at a magazine where the product's made out of paper; however, I actually like to have notebooks and paperclips and markers around me wherever I go. (I just watched two minutes of an episode of Private Practice, I know neither the storyline nor what happened in this episode, but I'm on the verge of crying. That's effective screenwriting.) Okay, I got a stapler. It's pink. But I realize I don't know the secret way to actually put the staples in. Life is full of surprises.

Oh oh, I decided I will make use of public libraries, firstly because I recently rewatched Sex And The City The Movie and Carrie did it and made it look boheme, and also because of the living alone / talking to myself situation that requires lots of books. Since I can't take many from home (and have read those so often I constantly get déja-vu), lending just comes in handy.

Okay, so we're slowly entering the next phase, which is titled "putting stuff in boxes". Goodness. See you then.

Love,

Rosy Smith

First off, this is an old picture, but there simply are no nice ones of me this summer that don't involve a cat or a couch. Also, you are now a witness of the only time I ever went hiking and had the opportunity to meaningfully look back on a path.

My arm looks weird there.

Anyways, there's not much time left until I leave for Hamburg and I have not prepared a thing. Besides buying myself some really cool shoes, oh and some businessy pants; see, I had that impulse to go out and buy myself somethin' pretty, so I hit the stores all alone. It was a lovely, hot day, and I wore a tan mini skirt and a white crop top and my trusty chunky sandals (to kinda balance out the unwashed ponytail I was sporting. You know the drill). And then this man came up to me and told me I looked "mindblowing" and if I wanted to be an escort. Or, I'm not quite sure on this, if I wanted to hand out business cards for an escort service. Either way, I wasn't exactly falling over with excitment, so I told him "my parents do not want me giving my number away to strangers" (which, you know, is technically not even a lie) and he got all huffed up and walked out, which is always a sign of true professionalism if you ask me. However, it was the very same store I got my pants in, so it was all good.

But aside from a big suitcase full of clothes, there appears to be lots of extra stuff that I need to think of bringing with me to settle into the apartment (did I mention the apartment? It's nice and anonymous, just the way I like it). Like, a kitchen scale. And just before I was looking at a pile of folded towels and wondered if the guy who usually lives there owns a laundry basket. Who thinks of laundry baskets? I probably will not, ever again, unless I write that down.

So, when do I actually start piling everything into boxes? Do I even have enough boxes? Also, which set of candles am I taking? See, I have been gifted decorative lights and strings and such on almost every gift appropriate occasion and I couldn't possibly set them all up in my childhood room, so now's the time to actually go through with an interior concept. I mean, as far as that's possible witout changing the furniture, 'cause I'm guessing the guy who usually lives there would mind a bit.

I'm so ready to start packing and get it over with. I also need to pencil in some time to cry about being away from home as well as teaching my cat how to skype, so we better start sooner than later!

Start the countdown, lovelies.

Love,

Rosy Smith

The Harold Song - Kesha

Found this hidden gem (hidden because I filed Kesha under fun party anthems in my head) some time ago and I love the specificness with which she describes their relationship (although Harold is some unromantic name): "I miss your white sheets / I miss the scratch of your unshaved face on my cheek". Also, the chorus just hits it perfectly: "They say that true love hurts / Well, this could almost kill me / Young love, murder / That is what this must be"

Amnesia - 5 Seconds of Summer

They formulate the everlasting question: "If what we had was real, how could you be fine?". Also, the fact that sometimes, you wish you could forget all about it, because the pain is too intense; however, I personally wouldn't want to forget anything because even though it might hurt to think about good times gone by, those memories are still too precious to bury. "I wish that I could wake up with amnesia  / And forget about the stupid little thing / Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you / And the memories I never can escape / 'Cause I'm not fine at all"

Littlest Things - Lily Allen

If you ever feel crazy for wishing you had just a little bit more time, don't. Lily got your back, and if she experiences this, it must be legit. "I know it's not right, but it seems unfair / The things are reminding me of you / Sometimes I wish we could just pretend / Even if only for one weekend / So come on, Tell me / Is this the end?"

Pity Party - Melanie Martinez

I don't care what this is supposed to be about, it's a damn good song for any situation in which you just want to get into some fancy négligé and cry your eyes out while lighting something on fire. Happens fairly regularly, these days, doesn't it? "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to / Cry if I want to (cry, cry, cry) / I'll cry until the candles burn down this place / I'll cry until my pity party's in flames / I'm laughing, I'm crying / It feels like I'm dying / It's my party and I'll cry if I want to"

Writer In The Dark - Lorde

Firstly, this one's got such a pretty melody to it, and secondly, the whole "sitting in the dark, penning a song about how I'll pour all my love for you into this very song, but because it's so artsy it's not creepy but cool" attitude is totally my thing: "Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark / Now she's gonna play and sing and lock you in her heart / Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark / I am my mother's child, I'll love you 'til my breathing stops / I'll love you 'til you call the cops on me"

Diamonds And Rust - Joan Baez

I was actually researching Bob Dylan for a trend booklet when I found out about his romance with Joan and how this song is supposed to be about him, the bohemian outcast musician who might have just screwed things up between them by being too damn bohemian outcast-ish and solemn and melancholic. Still, I think they loved each other. "Our breath comes out white clouds / Mingles and hangs in the air / Speaking strictly for me / We both could have died then and there / Now you're telling me / You're not nostalgic / Then give me another word for it / You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague / Because I need some of that vagueness now / It's all come back too clearly / Yes I loved you dearly / And if you're offering me diamonds and rust / I've already paid"

Love,

Rosy Smith

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Yeah, just putting that out there. Okay, now let's get to this month's scoop....

Basically a month off everything. I did it all, the sleeping in til noon, the sleeping in the middle of the day, the series marathons, the eating nutella out of the jar thing - it was good while it lasted but it needs to stop. Or, at least be reduced considerably. This might just be the last summer break I ever have (excuse me while I go panic about that for a few minutes) so there needs to be some more disciplined self-treating.

Retail Therapy. I didn't try it yet, but just today I got the urge to go out and buy myself somethin' pretty just for the hell of it. I'm still figuring out what exactly, though. Maybe inspiration will hit me once I hit the town. But I'm quite optimistic that I won't return empty-handed and I've always been a defender of the theory that materialistic things can indeed make you a little happier than before; at least no one's ever gotten worse after shopping.

Comfortable socialization. I managed to see a couple of my steadiest friends at least once a week (seeing as I'm not exactly the most organized planner when it comes to outings, that's a success) and now my loveliest friend is off to travel Europe for the next few weeks, which is such a cool thing to say (and will certainly be cool to do, as well). So I'll try and fill my calendar with lots of fun dates because, well, the best things to do can be done during summer, and I'll be gone in September so I need to stock up on time with people I actually really like.

Planning stuff. I find it easier to not end up on the aforementioned sanctuary couch when I write To Do Lists with obvious, no-brainer tasks, like "stretch" or "write more lists". Okay, written out, that sounds a bit concerning, but whatever. Even though I don't even usually do all that, at least I had a plan, and doesn't everyone love to tick off chores and congratulate themselves (again, sounds pretty bad, but again, whatever)? I also started to make random sheets with things to pack for Hamburg. So far, I've established that I need about 13 pairs of shoes in total. I mean, the season's changing while I'm there, and I need my shoe variety to dress properly, or I'll get cranky.

I hope you got your summer down, lovelies.

Love,

Rosy Smith




 

....and I had it on in the store and I have been walking around in it and it feels amazing and comfortable and it looks smokin' good and I am hopelessly in love with that shoe. But now, the shoe starts talking and says "Take me off, you'll get blisters if you walk in me any longer, and I will get damaged" but I don't feel any pain and I don't see any blood, not even redness, and the shoe is so unbelievably pretty and exactly what I wanted. But it started talking so loudly and wiggling to get off my foot that I couldn't possibly get it to stay on, and now I'm crying in the store because I can't understand why I should leave these beautiful shoes that bring me so much joy. And people keep telling me that there are other shoes that are just as nice and waiting for me to give them the time of a day, but I don't want to see them, because my perfect match is right in front of me and it's still shiny and intact and I can't just leave them there.


Does this work for you or does it just make sense to metaphor-obsessed shoe fanatics like me?

Love,

Rosy Smith

4th of June: Me being completely, honestly happy and watching ducks ducking.

10th of June: Me being slightly confused, but still very happy. Also, "Alien - Covenant" is the worst movie I've ever seen, and I have seen bad ones.

16th of June - now: Me being inconsolably sad. And yes, here's the disclaimer: Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely aware that I am a very lucky girl in so many aspects of life. But reminding yourself of that doesn't help all of the time. In fact, in some cases, it just keeps you from dealing with whatever's hurting you, because you'll feel guilty for feeling bad on top of everything. So let's just keep that in mind.

Wow, this is my second draft and let's just say it reads even more depressing than the first one even though it's not half as oversharing. Well. Priorities, I guess?

Let's liven this up a little, lets see....I've finished watching The Nanny and even though the lovey-dopey-ness of Fran and Mr. Sheffield got a tad annoying in the end, I can't believe I haven't watched this sooner because I bet it would've inspired me during my teens. Maybe I'd be married by now? Ha.

I think I'll close this now before I try to sell you the fact that my loveliest friend and I made it to the ice cream parlor 30 seconds before closing time yesterday night as some kind of achievement.

More of this hard-hitting investigative journalism to come.

Love,

Rosy Smith

"Sorry about that", says the ticket control lady as I confidently open my bag just to realize I left my purse in the car. "Yeah, I'm sorry too", I say. Sorry for myself, of course. In fact, it's 10 am and I am ready to pronounce the day to be over. I fiddle with the trash in my bag (like, actual trash. I'm one of those persons who are too ashamed to ever allow you to fetch something out of their bag because you might get old popcorn on your hands and never speak to us again), searching for something to confirm my name with. "I'll take anything", says the lady. Little does she know she's in to prove it, 'cause the effed-up paper I hold out to hear is an info brochure on STDs that has my name on it because my gyn seems to think it's somehow neccessary to personalize these things even though she routinely gives them to everyone. However, that this is pretty misleading and the control lady is even more sorry for me now because she not only thinks of me as a criminal but is also concerned about my sexual health, did not occur to her, I suppose. Now I'm crouching on some one-horse train platform in the middle of nowhere waiting for the next train back home to fetch my purse, 'cause no way am I gonna go through this again today. Plus, I'm going out tonight and you can't do much fun stuff without money. Like, eat.

I just perfectly wasted an hour of my life and I'm enormously late for class, and as expected no one else will be there on time so we're making a grand impression once again, and I bet not everyone has had a morning as unfortunate as I had to excuse themselves with. See, when I'm late, I usually don't have fun during the delay. That's why I don't cut, 'cause it always backfires at me. When I got my purse out of my care, I was very tempted to crawl in there and cry and let school be itself for the day (why did this man not sit in the empty space across from me but had to get right next here and is now inadvertetly touching my coat with his backpack? Why do bad things happen to good people?) but let's face it, I'm too goody goody to do that. Or rather, I would love to, but I kinda cut the same class last time to cook dinner for a certain someone so I already had my shot there. God, now this man put his freaking lunch next to me and is starting to munch on it and I can't even form my thoughts on that into a sentence 'cause, ew.

So it's the afternoon now and we were lunching with one of our teachers, one who nonchalantly tells you about their cheating husband while ordering a panino and a gay interior designer who's a man on the street but likes to be treated more like a lady between the sheets, if you get my notsosubtle drift, while we're innocently slurping our juice cartons. Anyways, at the table people wrinkled their noses about something hideous other people do, as usual, and this time, it was like "ugh, these days all everyone cares about is the label, and like, if it looks pretty. Like, sometimes, people are not even in season" and I was glad I had a mouthful of mozarella because I'd have loved to ask what's so wrong about wanting my clothes to look pretty instead of resembling abstract art / something the dog spit out but hey, it's "In-season" spit.

I hope your week didn't feel like your personal series of unfortunate events (love that movie, thinking about it. Weird but good).

Love,

Rosy Smith

 

I actually got myself an internship for next semester! Shoot the applause! I mean, not getting one would have been very bad, seeing as it's compulsary and there's nothing else to do, but hey, it's still good news!

Moreover, and I expect a drumroll for this, the internship is far far away from where I live, so I am going to M O V E to....Hamburg, Germany, kind of really in the north (so I'll be freezing cold from September to February, but that's nothing new, really)! Now you may be rolling your eyes and yawning and asking yourself when the fun part is going to start, but let me assure you that it is indeed going to be an entertaining sight to watch me try and handle life aaaall byyyyy myyyyseeeelf, for the following reasons:

I have no clue as to how to operate a washing machine, nor a dishwasher, nor those sci-fi vacuumers that creep around the floor doing they're own thing. I'm actually a bit scared of the latter (it's moving! It's beeping! It's getting stuck under stuff!) It may sound bratty, but it's the undeniable truth.

I don't think I ever slept a single night in a house or apartment by myself. Even at summer camp, when I had a single room, there were kids I knew right behind the wall. Again, roll away, I just never happened to be alone at night. Woops.

I hate complete silence when I am alone; even when I was little, I would put on children's tapes on my cassette player, not neccessarily to listen to them, but to make for some background noise. I still do that with music, or YouTube videos about the manufacturing of ballet shoes or whatever, and sometimes, I'll even chatter to myself (I'm sorry you had to learn this) or, more sensibly, I'll sing. Like really training my chords. I wonder if the neighbours are gonna like my taste in songs. The best possible case would be a producer living down the hall who's gonna whisk me away to the studio, stat. The worst case, however, would be if said producer (or anyone, really) feels I insult their musical ear and votes to throw me out.

I'm always scared of being late when there's no one around to confirm my timing's right, so whenever that happens, I end up getting up at the crack of dawn, arriving so early that the doors won't be opened and I'll be awkwardly camping in front of the building on my third coffee when the editors arrive, and they'll throw a dime into my empty cups, and then we'll meet again when I'll get introduced as the intern, and we won't make eye contact, ever.

These are the points I can think of off the top of my head, but I'm sure that we'll discover some more while we're at it. Still, I can't help being really excited about this drastic turn of events - let me count the ways of that excitement another time.

Until then, join me on my level of psychedness!

Love,

Rosy Smith

....One of my bestest friends turns 19 today (a week ago, cause I was organized once and pre-wrote this)! So yesterday (you get it), she had her big birthday bash and it was absolutely everything a good party has to be:

There weren't enough glasses. This morning, the living room resembled a "don't step into the water" prank scene. People kept losing track of their glasses and getting new ones for every new drink and when I wanted some water by the end of the night my choice of cup consisted of some beer mug and something that looked like a tiny vase.

There was some emotional roller coaster trips. "It's my party and I cry if I want to" would have been a great gift for the lovely Birthday Girl who started to fear mortality about half an hour before her actual birthday (aren't we all a pack of drama queens. But I love her for that). 30 seconds before midnight, she went into the kitchen to get herself a drink and wouldn't listen when we told her to get herself back into our reach so we ended up trailing after her and congratulating her at the sink. Thankfully after that, she wasn't so sad anymore, because....

There was some unexpected kissing. I'm not entirely sure, but as far as I can reconstruct this night-changing event, it took place in the kitchen as well (everything important happens in the kitchen). Birthday gal was taken by surprise, but my (unqualified as usual) advice to deal with it would be: If it's fun, and he's nice (I think he is - I had my five minutes of unsolicited crushing already over with), is there really a problem? I don't think so. After we all reassured her that there was absolutely nothing to reconsider, we all sat outside, him bringing her a cup of coffee (aww) and holding her hand while she thoughtfully gazed into distance; it was very much like a scene from a music video, especially me trying to catch his attention to telepathically ask him about his intentions by meaningfully staring at him whenever she wasn't looking. Suddenly she stood up, let her hand linger in his while she did that and went on inside, facing him through the glass door. He got up immediately to follow her, which is when I realized that her getting up was meant as a sign for him to do that. I honestly thought he was just being clingy. Oh, well. I got all the insight after most people left, and us girls had locked ourselves in, yes, the kitchen: She had asked him what exactly he wanted from her and he cleverly responded "I only want you"(awww) and they'd kissed some more and he wants to see her again on Wednesday (tomorrow, as I'm writing this). That sounds good, doesn't it? I'm truly excited. He better continue doing so well or I'll be very cross with him and you know that I can be a lot more unflattering with my descriptions than I just was. But don't be disheartened, for that I'm quite fond of him as of now for making my friend smile so much that night....

Things broke. Some girl had made a special candy flavored Schnapps which the Birthday Girl accidentally dropped (on the kitchen floor, obviously). She felt so bad about it, but I took a tiny sip of it before it happened and in all kindness I have to say that it was absolutely disgusting. And the floor got unbelievably sticky. But at the same time, it was slick - so one time, when I leaned on the counter, I wanted to relieve my feet by leaning back onto my heels (to make use of the stickiness), and I slipped so badly I almost broke my back/neck/arms. Someone caught me, thankfully. Jeez.

There was dancing on tables. I didn't join in, but at some point two guys took the honors and did some weird choreography to a song that went a bit like "tadamm ta daaa tadamm dum dum tadaa", with a lot of snipping. Two grown men in dress shirts. Hitting the ceiling with their heads and snipping. I just....I don't know what to make of that, really.

There was climbing on roofs. No one actually got up there, but it sure was fun to watch them try. Oh, one of the guys who made an attempt is an IT student who fits the type, with glasses and a red tee (I once mentioned him as nice guy. He really is, just to clarify). "Look", I said to my loveliest friend, "that one's got some good abs". "Really?", she said, her eyes wide with astonishment. She clearly didn't believe me, but I know that for a fact as I've been to the beach with him a couple of weeks ago. "He does! Do you think I could ask him to lift his shirt for a second?" She shook her head. "I don't think so", she said reluctantly. I wish I'd have done it anyways, because it would've been fun to set the two of them up. Just kidding, N! I'm proud of the fact that I haven't become one of those absolutely unnerving people who need to see everyone around them in a relationship just because....

....I got to go home with the one I really wanted to see at this very occasion a year ago.   

Stay sparkly.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....in a conversation with my mom about applying for internships, my mind took an interesting turn to face this important question: When planning a wedding, does one determine the seating arrangments before or after getting everyone's RSVPs (I always forget what that means. It's French, 'cause apparently it was decided that invitation confirmations weren't cool enough and therefore needed some je ne sais quoi to them, and says répondez s'il vous plaît)?
If one does it before knowing who will actually attend (though I heard recently it's bad luck to cancel on a wedding. Or was it just bad manners? I'll have to check on that), the danger of either having to rearrange at the last minute or, even worse, having half-empty tables (in that case, I feel like that's the appropriate answer to the half-full/half-empty discussion). However, if one does it afterwards, you'll definitely have to have time left in the last quarter of your probably already busy planning process to make up some kind of decent seating arrangement and curse everyone who decides to show up anyways/forbid them to stay for dinner, because no way are you touching that seating chart on your freaking wedding day. You probably burned it already, anyways.

So, yeah, I'd really like to know what's the way to go here.
And no, I'm nowhere near getting married, as I already ensured my mom when I blurted this out at dinner.

Love,

Rosy Smith 

Here we are again! I feel like it was yesterday that I was writing the August insight from last year. It might have something to do with my slight obsession with last year's summer months, when I was freshly out of school, not yet in college, and had all the time in the world on my hands. The weather was great, too. So this year I was eagerly awaiting these months and pledged to make the most of them. Let's see if/how I suceeded with that within the last 30 days....

I have a ton of stuff to write that actually needs to be finished but I have postponed it for so long that I'm now juggling those assignments like raw eggs and pray that I'll have the darn discipline to get them done before the 12th of September. Which is when school starts for me. Two of these writing things are meant for school, so that would be a reason. The third one is way more cool  (not that I don't like writing for school as I enjoy it in general and should be, since I'm over here pretending I'm a writer) because someone else asked me to do it and you'll know all about it VERY SOON (the capitals are meant to demonstrate urgency. To myself.).

Fun Fact: Someone I wanted to see last August and I spent about 33 hours together during 11th/12th. It wasn't because of the fact that we've been seeing each other for six months that date, but I noticed it (he probably didn't but no sane person would if they didn't share my fixation on their calendar). So, this is the biggest amount of hours we've ever spent within 5 feet of each other and I'm pleased to state that none of us seemed to want to kill the other person.
I also met a friend of his for the first time. An excerpt of our conversation, during which I surely impressed the friend immensly: Him -"So, do you like motor sports?" (we were at a race car event, so that made sense) "My dad does." "Well....what about you?" "Oh. Me? Hm."
It was raining, too, so my hair made it impossible for me to at least blind him with beauty. Hm.

To tell or not to tell someone there's still a price tag on their clothes? Please, do tell me when I am in the safety of your home, trying to put together an interview on social anxiety with you, dolled up in a navy shift dress with white polka dots and heeled sandals and red lipstick to appear professional in a 30s kind of way, probably failing to do so because of  the bright red sales stamp dangling from my back zipper. Please, don't tell me when I am parking my car really badly in a public parking lot, leaving the windows rolled down because it's super hot and I'm wearing an autumn dress, ready to sprint over to the ice cream parlor, while you are driving by and I have no idea who you are but I'm already determined to never see you again because of the humiliation. That's my take on this.

I need to stop telling people all about my college identity crisis as soon as they utter the phrase "And how's school?". The girl who used to sit next to me in math and served me at the ice cream parlor - I bet she didn't care that much. The friend of his whom I already discussed my lack of passion for motor sports with - I bet he thinks I'm crazy now. The thing is, I can't vaguely say "It's okay" or lie for the sake of it and say "It's great". No, I have to look away as if in deep inner pain, make non-identifiable sounds and sigh "Oooh....weeellll...." and wait for people to be sympathetic. Note to self: People aren't sympathetic, they're irritated. It irritates me. Please talk to me about unsignificant stuff, like price tags.I can handle that with more grace.

I also met up with friends I'm not constantly sharing my deepest thoughts with in 4 minute voice memos consisting of my plans for the day when I really have none anyways. It's nice, too. I made approximately 100 bowls of noodle soup (I have a specific way of making it and I intend to pretend it's something extraordinary. It's the only dish I enjoy making, partly because it takes 5 minutes), went to the beach, read a book that makes me want to be the main character, just without the sadness and the tragedy - The Jewel Box by Anna Davis. I also bought a stack of new clothes and sewed (fantastic, if I may say so myself) darts into a skirt to have something to do while watching four seasons of 2 Broke Girls and 1 1/2 of New Girl.

Good times, lovelies. I got about two weeks left, and I'm sure that between being good and working on my assignments I'll squeeze in some fun.

Love,

Rosy Smith

First Evening Photoshoot - The Hair Flip

....scandalous questions usually follow this start of a sentence, and most of the time, you'd rather burn your mouth than answer them, because there's no way you can keep your decency no matter what you choose to respond. I'll demonstrate quickly:


Having stated that, I was recently asked a "would you rather"- question that actually made some sense to me. It might be of use to you, too, if you're as vague as me about decisions and can't ever just say yes or no (especially no) to something. I like to use weird metaphors instead, so in the end, people are even more confused about my opinion than they already were.

My close friend, knowing this and therefore trying to empathize with my untellable vibe, asked me in reference to my almost kinda sorta relationship:


The key to figuring out your status, really! I mean, if you're kinda sorta almost together with someone, you probably wouldn't call it quits just out of the blue for no reason at all. But going on vacation with each other takes some serious trust, devotion, and a minimal amount of fondness. You don't realize how much there is to be embarrassed about simply existing while on vacation until you share a room with someone who's neither your silbling nor your best friend who has as many spleens as you do. Let me just throw two things out there: Sharing a bathroom and a blanket. There's a good chance I'd break up with somebody before making that sort of a commitment - if I didn't like him a good bit, that is. So much, in fact, that I'd have started to toy with the idea of a vacation being really romantic and picturesque and all red roses and Paris skylines, and have forgotten all about the risky parts/chosen to ignore them until I have to deal with them for real.

In conclusion, when you're not sure whether you like somebody you're involved with or like, really like them (oh the differentiation and accuracy of this sentence), just ask yourself if you'd be willing to let them see the amount of skin cleansers you need in order to not break out or if, thinking about it, you could easily live your life without their presence in it.

My pleasure.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Summer has always been the most inspirational season for me. It's that time of the year when you make plans to blow everyone away the first day of school, with your new Converse sneakers and skater skirt and the makeup you bought at Sephora's and the tan you got while lounging around the pool, always hoping for the boy playing Volleyball (or....some sort of game that involves a ball) in the water to notice you in time for you to have a quick summer fling 'cause it would be a good story to tell. Summer means not eating out of boredom but nice meals in chic dresses at night; it means balancing on the small line between beach hair and dreadlocks but not caring; looking like an apple glazed in sun lotion but having a healthy glow at all times; see, there's no bad things happening in summer, and I feel like the sun makes me so light and healthy and the warm breeze hugging my body and the hot stones between my fingers when I'm at the beach are just so real, in the most satisfying way.

Sounds pretty desirable, doesn't it? So this year, my loveliest friend and I have chosen to go to Italy; to a small town named Santa Marinella, just outside Rome, to be exact. We arrived after a flight on which we've probably painfully entertained the people three rows around us with our overly excited chatter (we can't help it, we're just not blessed with a ladylike, low laughter) and a short train scare ( because obviously the employees of Trenitalia had to speak up for their rights by putting down work just the one day we come to this country and have us seriously consider sleeping at the Trastevere train station, as if we didn't spend half our lives stuck at stations), walked three blocks only guided by me memorizing what I'd seen on Google maps....And there we were!

Tried to not get people in and that's the best I did with that

The door we blissfully skipped in and out of all week

As were about fifty other people, on the piazza (I just found out I spelled that wrong on approx. five postcards, oh well) lying between four streets of slightly run down but impossibly European stone houses. They were sitting on the steps, at the green and yellow tables of the lit-up restaurant, on the benches under the glow of the old-fashioned street lamps....Running after their children, babies as well, all up and wide-eyed at ten o'clock at night, or singing "I will always love you" very enthustiastically, and very out of tune, with the karaoke set-up by a small cafe right on the corner, and everyone was talking to somebody, and my friend and I were walking through all of this, mouthes hanging open as we took in the vividness of the scene we stumbled into - then, somebody talked to us. It was our landlady, who showed us into one of the stone buildings, up two flights of stairs (I almost died tugging my bag up there), and into a thoroughly cute living room. Most of the furniture might be Ikea, but Ikea is great, because everything in there was white and wooden and minimal and we could drop our bags right in the middle of the room to catch our breath and for our landlady, a sweet gal named Georgia, to guide us through the apartment. She turned on the gas stove for a second, and we'd nod, 'cause it seemed simple enough even though none of us ever uses a gas anything. Once she was gone, we did what everyone (I suppose?) does when they move into a perfect little space - hysterically laugh and tell each other how great it is, and how you're not tired at all, which is notably enough since you'd collapse into bed after being awake for that long at any other given day, and then we got into shaggy sundresses to match our undone hair (and face) and ran out to get right in the middle of the fun that seemed to go down at the piazza (just to warn you, I'll be talking about that piazza a lot). We sat in front of a new looking bar with the umm poetic name "Jekyll&Hyde - Healthy and Cocktail" (a look in the menu gives reason to assume the "Healthy" equals the salad choices in opposition to the Cocktails speaking for themselves) and ordered, wait for it, two Cokes. Aren't we sophisticated yet? However, it was worth the eight Euros we spent on that (though we didn't do it again - I mean, four Euros for a kids sized bottle of Coke!). An hour or so, we happily sat there soaking in the fact that we were really, absolutely there.

Our street, aka Hotspot of Santa Marinella

Does that count as a first day? I'd say it does. Don't worry, there's so much more to come.

Turning off the lights in Italy for now - mind the bugs!

Love,

Rosy Smith

....Just to get you placed, I'm done with finals (apart from some kind of summer writing thing we'll ignore for now) and need to regenerate by squeezing as many exciting things as possible into the next two months! Today I was supposed to meet one of my bestest friends in the city and be all fabulous together, but she has a toothache, poor thing, so I won't start on the excitement as soon as calculated, but I'll be fine. Here's the plan so far:

I'm honestly considering cleaning my room. 
You have no idea of the cluttering mess that my room has magically turned into during this semester. It's so bad that even I have detected the irritation factor it has and that says something. It's not dirty - let's just say there's a lot of stuff on the floor that originally had a place somewhere else, like in a cupboard, or in folders, or in an entirely different room. My parents are off to Spain for my mom's birthday (which is today! Congrats, mommy!) and I remember saying something like "Everything will be tidy when I'm done with school", so, well, trapped myself there. But it's all good! I always feel -

Oh, my friend called - we'll do a cozy night in instead of girl's out and about. I'll be back.

It's the next day now, and I have decided to make brownies today, for several reasons. One of them is that I always wanted to be that kind of person who'll just get up and make a batch of brownies. I just looked up recipes, though, 'cause I'm not yet that kind of person who knows her brownie recipe by heart, and what came out of that is that I think I'll get a baking mix to spare myself some trouble.

When I clacked past the cheese bar, everyone looked up to see me stopping dead in my tracks to make a u-turn wondering where the hell they've hidden the instant mix boxes, because weirdly enough, I was the only girl under 43 strolling the baking section first thing on a Saturday morning in floral kitten heels, a sky-blue ruffled skirt and an oversized Calvin Klein promo T-Shirt.

Standing in a supermarket full of food and checking out Dr.Oetker's Fine Brownies for 2.99 as my only item actually pretty accurately describes me making life choices.
You know, keeps more money left for shoes.

Baking tip: Don't try to be extra savy and slowly add all ingredients one by one to have them melt together gradually. Just throw everything in at once. This way, you won't forget the eggs and therefore won't have to try really hard with the egg whip (a name that makes so much sense now) and doubt your (already minimal) arm strength and you also won't need to search the kitchen for the mixer, set it up and get it dirty. Furthermore, there won't be an occasion for you to clean the egg whip by stabbing it with a knife and getting that dirty, too.

Life tip: When there's no food in the house you're able to turn into an edible meal (except for brownies), order chinese. I know someone who's never ordered chinese. Can you believe that? I'll make him do it because we're commiting now and sharing my love for chinese at home is basically a commitment requirement for me.

He likes my brownies, though, and that's sweet, too.
The ones I said I baked. Get over yourself.

Since I'm going on vacation in a week I don't dare to wear any of my summer clothes fearing I might need them to be freshly washed and ironed (like I take EVERYTHING I own on a week-long trip. But you never know what you might decide to bring the day before flying). However, it is very summery over here as well so I dugged around in my closet and found a long wrap-around skirt I never wore before and paired it with a lacy top and my beloved strappy sandals. Heeled shoes might not be everyone's first choice for a walk and a picnic outside but hello, I can't wear a long skirt with flats or I'll look like a dwarf, and my company is pretty damn tall, too, so we'll just have to disregard pragmatism like we always do when it comes to fashion. What else would be the point?

The rest of the weekend went with cake for breakfast (once I polished off all the brownies I needed to fulfill my desire for baked things otherwise) and some midday sleeping - I don't particularly like to do that because I desperately want to relish every second of summer, but sometimes I just....kinda lie in bed and.....next thing I know I feel like it's 3 in the morning and I didn't just have lunch and watched four episodes of 2 Broke Girls. Anyways, there's still enough time to get ready for evening engagements - and by the time they come around, I'll be fresh as a daisy again.

I truly am now.

Love,

Rosy Smith