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Sunday, 6 January 2013

It's not the soap, aunt A

Woke up, went to the bathroom, walked into the kitchen to get something for breakfast and the first thing aunt A remarked is that my face is a fucking mess (not exactly in those words). Is it the soap I am using? It's the same I was using last semester and the one before that and maybe even the one before that. That's not quite it. Is it that the soap is somehow reacting with the hard water here and giving me an allergy? I don't think so, aunt A. Do I need to buy an expensive soap? I don't want you wasting money on me like that, aunt A. I already know what it is. It's the fact that I'm not on the birth control pills that kept break outs under control too, it's the stress that breaks me out and the compulsive face picking which makes matters even worse. It has nothing to do with the soap and all it proves is that a decent exfoliant can't work miracles on problem skin of problem people. 

To think all I had to write about this morning is a dream I had of running into a girl from school1 in a bus to university here, a dream about running into a guy from school1 again on a bus someplace else where I was eating, and a dream of kissing (though now I'm not so sure) and being about to sleep with SmTn if he could find condoms (most of it was implied, I believe... I now can't remember much of it with any certainty).

Today's Phantom of the Opera song is "Masquerade." 

(Here I was torn between this version and the 25th anniversary one. Costume design won this round.)

Yesterday's was "The Phantom of the Opera."

(No thinking about it twice. Ramin Karimloo is my favourite Phantom.)

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