Well, I'm not sure when things became so uneventful, but that's certainly where it's at now. Since the cyst-laden jawline episode, which is starting to resolve itself, I've had no new "actives", as us acne folk like to call it.

Ooh, I just figured out how to use smilies.



That's what I'd look like if I had my way. No need for make up then.

Anyway, so things are looking OK, and I actually think my cheeks are beginning to settle down and improve. I'm not quite so obsessed with covering absolutely every single red mark with foundation in the mornings. I'm hoping that when people at work see it, they think that the ones they see are the only blemishes I have, when in actual fact there's a whole load more of those suckers underneath the veil of make up.

On Facebook recently, a friend of mine did one of those silly yet intriguing quiz things that turn up on my profile page with something like "What do you think Jezika would call her fifth child?" or "What would Jezika say if you touched her left boob out of the blue?". This particular question that my friend answered about me was "What can't Jezika leave the house without?" and of course her answer was "make up". But, of course, this answer alone could have come across as saying I'm ugly as sin and therefore need to cover my face, so she'd added "Even though she doesn't need it". I suppose I should be flattered, or at least grateful, but instead I'm fearing that everyone who reads that will now think "Doesn't need it? Ha! Have you seen her face even with make up?" And the answer is no, this friend hasn't, as it's not a thing I go flaunting about and she's not in my inner circle of chosen bare face beholders, but I'm pretty sure she's just trying to be nice and polite. The other worrying thing is that my foundation addiction has quite obviously failed to go unnoticed. Damn. Then again, I'm not sure just how discreet 4mm of foundation and elaborate black eyeliner can actually be.

Oh, for the record, despite having been with Pedro for nearly two years and lived together for about one year, I am still not comfortable with him looking at me without make up on. Of course, he knows all about my troubles and I don't sleep with make up on or anything, but I will shield my face with my hand if I feel he might sneak a peek, and if he tries to do precisely that just to wind me up, I squeal and shout and sometimes even smack him in protest. I do recall sunbathing entirely make up free in front of my ex a number of years ago, but our relationship was at a point then where things weren't going at all well between us and so I didn't care what he thought (sadly). My acne was probably better back then though. Christ, I cringe when I think back to all the beginnings of relationships and courtings where hiding my acne was like a secret FBI operation. I know I've mentioned some instances before, but I recall now that one of my biggest worries was my lover at the time thinking I was having a poo because I was taking so long applying my make up in the bathroom.

*Sigh*

Well, Pedro's home now, and seeing as he's the most distracting person in the universe (yet doesn't listen to a word I say when he's on the computer - I could be dressed as a glittery elephant, dancing a jig and reciting Shakespeare in Swahili and he still wouldn't know I was even in the room), I think I'll sign off. I'm also so hungry that the Apple logo on my laptop is making me salivate.

Oh, Pedro just said "I don't think I'd like you without spots".

Well, I've uploaded the six week photos, but it was more out of courtesy, a formality. I wouldn't waste my time looking at them if I were you: there are no astounding changes or anything particularly noteworthy. In fact, these are from last night, so they don't even show the monstrous collection of cysts along my jawline. I'm guessing my diminishing blemishes got lonely and called the big boys in. Nice. Even my spots have more of a social life than I do.

One thing I did actually note, to be fair, is my right cheek looks scarred to shit in the photo. I obsessed about this all night last night, looking in the mirror from different angles, trying different light intensities. I wondered when I became so scarred. My left cheek seems OK, but I had certainly never noticed the ghastly craters on my right cheek before. Interestingly, this morning it didn't seem as bad. Is it possible that the dents pop in and out? Sounds doubtful (but fun). In any case, I'm not too happy about it. Looks like I will have to consider dermabrasion or laser treatment bla bla bla after all (way after the accutane course, of course).

Anyway, could this new cluster of cysts be the dreaded IB I thought I'd escaped? That'll teach me to prance from Victorian lamppost to Victorian lamppost in my petticoat and brag about having avoided it. Oh well. One day... One day soon...

I did, in other news, get some very helpful advice from my usually scary reception boss woman today (here's a side story: last week she was telling me about how this other woman in the company is really bitchy, saying "She is just very difficult to deal with. I don't like saying this, but she is..." and here I thought she would say "nasty", or "a bitch" at the most, but I certainly didn't expect her to say "a c*nt". I laughed nervously, but apparently this wasn't an appropriate response, as she was being utterly serious. In her defence, she is Czech, and it is reminiscent of the time my mother called her elderly colleague Margaret the same word many years back, thinking it was synonymous with "silly billy"). Anyway, so the boss woman sat down next to me today and conspiratorially imparted a very useful piece of wisdom. She knows I'm on accutane, but what she suggested was that I buy yeast and put that on my face. She said she did that when she used to have problems and she even drank the stuff. Well, I was thinking "Really? Yeast? Wow. That must be it. That must be the miracle cure. I'm sacking this accutane off immediately and running down to my local bakery. F*ck the dozens of topicals, antibitoics, supplements, diet changes, herbs and medication, it's yeast that will make my wildest dreams come true." But of course what I actually said was "Ah, I see. Well, that sounds good. Sounds natural. I'll, uh, definitely give that a go as well," not adding that even if I did want to, I'd be very unlikely to voluntarily make the 1.5 hour journey to the special Polish shop that allegedly sells the "best yeast in the city".

I'm kind of exaggerating. I don't like to be mean. She was just trying to be helpful and of course she doesn't understand what I have and haven't tried and where I drew the line between keeping trying solutions and turning to a drug like accutane. I should be grateful. But still: yeast? Come on.

Having said that, look at that face. Maybe I shouldn't laugh in the sticky face of yeast after all.

Left cheek
Right cheek
Front

Yesterday morning at my mum's, I presented myself to her just before putting any make up on in order to point out how the improvement is not quite as good anymore as the pictures I'd sent to her before (the same ones I posted here) led me to believe, and she said "Yes, I see what you mean," which is obviously always comforting to hear. Alas, I do not mind. I do have mixed feelings on the subject though. On one hand, the more time that goes by where I don't improve, the more likely I am to start improving, so I don't care too much about each day that starts with a painful spot. On the other hand, I just want results to be seen straight away. A couple of times last week I worried about what would happen if it simply didn't work for me, but then I regained my optimism and continued going about my business.

My skin was acting a bit funny this week. Used to being dry as the Sahara, I was surprised to find trace amounts of oil on and around my nose a couple of mornings. And whereas at the moment I can usually go three days or even more without washing my hair, on a couple of occasions this week I had to wash it after only two days because it got greasy. I think the hair thing may have more to do with the abundance of products that my hairdresser put on there.

Last night when I went to bed after having worn make up for about 12 hours, I found giant flakes of skin pushing their way off my face all around my mouth. My first response was horror, but I'm ashamed to say that it was soon replaced by delight at getting to peel the little flappy beauts off. I'm not sure quite what my fixation is with that, but I sure as hell find it satisfying. Of course, the skin beneath was red and tender, but a dab of Cetaphil overnight ensured it was good to go by morning and ready for another peel-fest by the following night. Anyway, after the surprise oiliness this week, I was relieved to be dry once more. I think my hair's gone back to being dry again, as has my face. I do wonder what it was that caused it, however.

Oh, oh, oh, also, a day or so after the little rash thing appeared on my wrists, a similar patch of rash materialised above my top lip and below my bottom lip. When I first discovered them, I happened to run my fingers over my lips and came across what felt like grains of sand on the skin around them. It turns out that the rashy bits were like little red pinpricks that secreted something bizarre and clear and then dried hard and grainy. Once again, rubbing these off was something of a tactile delicacy. When I let Pedro study them (with make up on) he declared "Yep, that's definitely herpes," which it isn't: he just likes to label anything and everything as herpes (a fixation I don't quite yet understand).

Actually, for those of you who've asked me about intimacy issues whilst on accutane, I finally have an answer for you. Yes, after several weeks (if not months, ahem) of sharing the same bed, Pedro and I finally found some mutual energy/time/desire to indulge in a little rekindling. Well, everything was fine (but if Pedro asks, it was sensational), except that the skin around my lips burned both during and afterwards. That's from the kissing, by the way. Traditional kissing. Mouthal kissing. Anyway, I'm beginning to think the mysterious mouthal rash was caused by our carnal actions, but who knows. Meh.

On a different subject, I'm keen to know how open everyone is about their being on accutane. I've been fairly open about it myself, telling anybody who I spend long enough time talking to to mention my dryness (which happens rather quickly considering the subject is naturally raised every time I apply my lip balm). Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm going "accutane this, accutane that," all day long, but I would be lying if I said I don't quite like mentioning it, to some extent. The reason is threefold. First and foremost, it explains why I am so dry, so people don't think I have flaky skin disease (or FSD). Secondly, I get a bit of sympathy, but it's the invitational kind of sympathy, not the soul-destroying type of sympathy one receives for having acne in the first place. I find the sympathy is more due to the side effects anyway, because anyone who knows about accutane usually links it to ghastliness ("She's so brave and strong," I hope they're thinking. "What a hero."). Lastly, and most interestingly, I am beginning to realise that because a lot of women deal with blemishes to some degree or other, and, moreover, because a lot of women really don't want to deal with them regardless of severity, they'd secretly quite like to find a way to mend their skin too, therefore I've received looks and comments that are suspiciously not unlike jealousy when I mention I'm on accutane. This is where the English language restricts me, because I don't mean to say they're actually jealous (that suggests there's some ill feeling there), just that they're kind of spending a couple of seconds wishing they could have an almost-sure skin fix of their own, however small their problems may be. I hope that makes sense. People have also kind of said this, so it's not like I think I'm a mind reader or anything. Although, they could just be trying to be polite...

Anyway, I'm going to call it a night and maybe try to make a tune or two on Garageband whilst Pedro's out. I might even sing (*gasp*).

♫ Ohhh, mysterious rash ♫
♫ Put your rashiness close to mine ♫

Peter Andre. No? Nevermind.

Alas, I have a rash. Feck it, let's do this...

SIDE EFFECT: Rash
LOCATION: Wrists
FEELINGS ON SUBJECT: Indifference tinged with mild intrigue

SIDE EFFECT: Dryness
LOCATION: Lips, face, eyes, feet
FEELINGS ON SUBJECT: Annoyance, particularly re: lips, plus dry eyes force squinting like loon at work

SIDE EFFECT: Ache
LOCATION: Hips
FEELINGS ON SUBJECT: Mainly indifference but also slight satisfaction/pride due to being misled to think exercise has taken place

SIDE EFFECT: Anger
LOCATION: Anywhere within 10 metre radius of Pedro
FEELINGS ON SUBJECT: Suspicion that side effect completely unrelated to accutane and rather related to Pedro's annoying habits

SIDE EFFECT: Poor night vision
LOCATION: In eyes, but could be mistaken
FEELINGS ON SUBJECT: Believed had run out of juice at work when looked in dark cupboard but turned out just couldn't see in dark cupboard where others could, therefore slightly perturbed but also secretly glad that no longer have to look in dark cupboard

Overall, I'm not too concerned about my side effects, though I do wonder whether the vision in my right eye has worsened. I don't currently wear glasses, but then I haven't been to an optician since I was a child. I know, I know, but up until recently I thought that because my vision was much poorer in one eye, I'd have to wear the type of totally mismatched lenses that my great grandad wore at age 101 (true story). Apparently, lenses are clever these days and don't have to be four inches thick if you really can't see, or look any different if they're not the same... focus(?). Anyway, who knows. There's nothing I can do about it so I guess it doesn't matter.

Oh, did you know that Cetaphil tastes sweet? Uh-huh. But why? There's no sugar in the ingredients.

Ah, and in case anybody cares, the supplements I am taking daily are folic acid, zinc and cod liver oil. I've not had an IB so far. Coincidence? Who knows, but I'd certainly urge any female out there to add folic acid to their daily routine, pregnant or not, acne-ridden or not. It's proven to promote normal cell production and even prevent cancer. Some countries have started advising all women to take it.

This beast between my eyes seemed to grow three tiny heads last night, so I caved and tried my best to squeeze them out. Turns out I was wrong about their contents, because nothing really came out, it just got more swollen and painful. A generous dollop of Sudafed overnight at least ensured that it didn't look any more repulsive by morning. No other hideous blemishes on my face at time of writing, just some under-the-skin ones and old, healing beauts.

In case anybody is interested, I fecking hate covering reception. I knew I hated it anyway, and I'd rather be spending three weeks picking cigarette butts out of gutters in sub-zero temperatures if it wasn't for this favour to my uncle, but it's honestly so terrible. Not because I think being a receptionist is an awful job, I'm just not good at multi-tasking or organizing things, and I get so upset if I realise I've done something wrong. Why why why? I can't wait to get back to closed captioning. The computer misses me staring at it. But anyway, at least today I learned some magic tricks. One of the guys there even gave me this promotional pack of three playing cards: you show the person the three cards, then when they pick the middle card while it's facing away from them, they've magically picked a card that has our company logo on it and a cheesy accompanying slogan about us being magic or something. I'm easily pleased.

Anyway, on a happy note (again, in case you care), Pedro and I have booked a long weekend to Chicago to see some friends of ours at the beginning of December. When we went last year, I accidentally left my acne wash there and they had to post it over to England for me. I was somewhat mortified that my secret was out, but then again was it really a secret after all? This time, I hope the only thing I leave behind is undetectable flakes of dry skin. Yummy.

I have only one complaint: my mouth looks like particularly messy roadkill. My lips themselves are fine, or at least look fine, but the two corners of my mouth are so dry and tender that no matter how much moisturizer I put on in the morning, by the afternoon the skin starts flaking away to reveal bright red patches on either side of my mouth about the size of a pea. Again, people must think I'm laden with mouthal herpes (I know, I know, mouthal isn't a real word and I should really be saying coldsore, but herpes sounds so much more dramatic). I perhaps shouldn't be peeling these flaky beauts off during the day, but it's just so much fun... followed quickly by painful regret. As with many cons, however, there's a pro, and in this case it's that I managed to get Pedro to pick up the ingredients for my soup (that he's not having any of as he's going out tonight) by feigning shame over being seen by other human beings in my state of mouth-peeliness.

On this flaky subject, I realise now why I couldn't find CeraVe in any of the Canadian drug stores. Pedro went to his contemptuous dermatologist again about his mysterious rash ailment last week and the derm decided to go completely off-topic and advise him to buy "Ceralip" for his chapped lips. The penny dropped almost instantly as I saw the little tube sitting there on our bathroom counter. I spent some time coveting it in the style of that creepy Gollum fellow before slyly helping myself to his supply whenever the fancy took me (or I took the fancy?). I must say that it's awfully greasy, but it certainly does the job, so I'll give it that. I suppose I should really invest in my own one of these days.

In other news, I'd actually decided that my acne wasn't getting better at all after last week's miraculous improvement. I am rather beginning to suspect that the culprit of the amazing reduction in spots that day was due to the incredible staying power of my Vichy concealer. I've noticed that the Spectro gel thing my derm recommended doesn't really do a great job of washing the make up entirely off my face, so I suspect this was a contributing factor. I wasn't too disappointed by this discovery, I hasten to add, because although I did grow a new set of spots the next couple of days (but no worse than before, really), I am quite confident that things are finally looking better (with the exception of a large fleshy dome that's materialised in the rare location between my eyes).

And here's a statement for you: I think I've managed to escape an IB. If it's happened, I've not noticed, and if it's yet to happen, I'll eat my words for supper. And cry. But come on, surely it would have happened by now?

Oh, here's another statement for you: bleach/hair dye doesn't necessarily irritate your skin/scalp whilst you're on accutane. I had my roots done (highlights) on Saturday and I didn't feel a thing. The hairdresser also noticed that my hair is very dry (no shit). I did tell her I was on accutane and that this was the likely cause, which I think quietly intrigued her, but she recommended some sort of chemical treatment, apparently not aware that accutane causes sensitive scalps (I forgive her). Well, I wouldn't even be able to say no to a stranger offering to relieve me of my life savings, so of course I couldn't say no to the treatment. Mind you, I think the $15 was quite worth it: four days later my hair doesn't seem too dry.

OK, well, my special Hungarian green bean soup is nearly ready, so I'll leave you with the tidbit that I spontaneously bought an electric violin over the weekend. It's a beautiful white Fender. Despite having been so undedicated to lessons as a child that I used to find different coloured pens to fake practice times on my practice calendar, I seem to have actually at least retained the ability to sound somewhat decent. At best I sound like an inebriated Vivaldi, but I think that may just even give the whole thing some edge. Oh, and when I say Vivaldi, I am referring to one song I can kind of play that isn't really that hard. With that description, I'm positive you know which one I mean.

I just put lip balm up my nose.

Also, I did a stupid thing today.

I had my bloodwork this morning so I had to get up quite early. I was a little annoyed because there was barely any food in the house to take my accutane pill with. In the end I was forced to settle on a small baked sweet potato with butter and cheese (yes, for breakfast), you know, to aid with the absorption and everything. Not a conventional choice, but I was quietly pleased with my innovation. So off I went to the lab. If you've already discovered what's wrong with this story, give yourself a gold star.

Just as I was about to enter the building where the lab is, I remembered that I was supposed to fast. Now, this was only ever mentioned to me at my very first derm appointment back in April, and it was sheer luck that I actually remembered for my first blood test. Of course, this requirement was scrawled on the form given to me by my derm, but he never reminded me about it, nor have I ever been asked at the lab beforehand. Not that I'm trying to shirk the blame in any way, which is why I unleashed a series of audible expletives on the street as soon as I remembered. It's tough, though, when it's early in the morning, you're tired as sin and it's ingrained in your mind that you MUST take your pill at such-and-such time twice every day with fatty food.

I nevertheless went in, waited two hours (busy lab) and had my blood drawn.

*Sigh*

Well, I had it done because I really and truly have very little opportunity to have my blood drawn again, nor do I think it's feasible to ask my extremely busy derm to write me a new form even if I did have time. Every lab's opening hours in the city I live in are joining forces with my unavoidably ghastly schedule over the next month to make sure there is no chance I can get a second blood test any time soon. I guess I'm kind of hoping that my derm will be "down with game" when I see him in a month and overlook my likely raised cholesterol levels etc once he knows I did not fast. When I saw him in April, he told me I could take the blood test there and then if I wanted to, despite having munched a Pop Tart only three hours prior. He told me that Pop Tarts aren't real food anyway so it didn't matter. I suppose the worst that can happen is he cuts off my accutane supply... then sets me on fire and throws me out the window, although I think the latter is fairly unlikely. He's quite a reasonable, charismatic guy, actually.

Does anyone know what I should do? I feel really bad, like I've bought a child a wooden rocking horse that turns out to be a metaphor.

I'm scared.

And also tired, so I will leave talking inexhaustibly about my eventful week till tomorrow or so.

Sweet mother of mercy, I've just got back from the gym and feel like I've been dragged for miles by a speeding truck. My stomach hurts. My heart thinks it's at Ministry of Sound. I have sweat all over me, which, by the way, seems to feel strangely pure, like it's just innocent dribbles of water and nothing more (not greasy and foul). Wow, I must have done a lot of exercise, you must be thinking, but that's unfortunately far from true. The machine alleges that I burnt 150 calories. I have no idea whether that's good or bad.

What I do know, however, is that if I'd gone on the running machine with Pedro, I'd have literally died. Died not just because my blood pressure increases even in anticipation of a mere gentle jog, but also because situated between myself and Pedro would have been this marathonwear-clad girl who was giving it utter beans, and would have caused early rigor mortis to set into my poor, feeble muscles just by putting on display the horrifically monstrous gap between our levels of fitness. Oh, but I watched her. How I watched her. From the safe and distant perch of my spinning machine, of course. I noted that she glanced over at Pedro's run stats roughly every ten seconds. They weren't even sly, careful glances. They were blatant, prolonged glances, as if to say, "Think you can outrun me, boy? Outrun THIS." I found it peculiar, but then I remembered what my friend had told me about gym competition. She regularly has "battles" with other runners on the machines. Feck. That. Anyway, luckily Pedro's a very good runner and regularly finishes in top positions in all sorts of organized runs.

Ooh, Pedro just got back from the gym (I gave up early). He ran 10km in 39 minutes. He's a hero beyond my capabilities.

I do apologise, as this isn't a diary about my fitness regime after all, but I guess what I am trying to explore is whether accutane might be affecting my exertion threshold. I'll be honest: I've never had anything near an abundance of stamina when it came to exercise, and luckily I've also never felt the need to, but I usually don't feel quite so at the mercy of death afterwards.

Now, before I order a Swiss Chalet, I'll leave you with the declaration that I wish for the three to four beasts on my right cheek to promptly vacate. They've developed hard shells now and are sitting on me like miniature tortoises, so I guess it's not too much to expect them to drop off in the next day or two. The thing is, I'm covering reception at the company I work at for three weeks starting this Thursday, and the last thing I need is for colleagues to start addressing me in the plural. Other than this, el face-o is shaping up quite nicely.

*Sigh*

Love to you all, pretties.

P.S. My actual job couldn't be further from a receptionist. I'm doing this as a favour for my uncle, who is one of the heads of the company and got me my actual job in the first place. I know what you're thinking, and to that I say: meh, a little nepotism never hurt anyone.

Just a quickie for the purpose of putting up some photos, although I will say that my left cheek appears to have improved to an almost unbelievable extent seemingly overnight.

The first two pictures are from less than a week ago, and the last three are from tonight. Tell me if I'm just imagining things, but when I looked in the mirror tonight, seeing my left cheek clearer than it's been in a long time was almost tear-worthy.

At some point I will do some magic thing where I put week 1 photos next to the current week's. I need to catch up with Paul Daniels before I can do that though.

Enjoy.

Left cheek less than a week ago
Right cheek less than a week ago
Left cheek today
Right cheek today
Front face today

Arrrrrrrrrgh. I feel like I drank a litre of vodka last night. Except I didn't. I did have a shot or two with some cranberry juice, soda and a dash of lime, however, but that was only because my friend made it for me, forgetting about my meds. I easily cave under peer pressure. I had my costume ready and everything, our friends were round and we were eating lots of nibbles whilst watching Paranormal Activity in my candlelit living room (didn't rate the film, by the way), and then out of the blue came a ferocious headache. Well, not ferocious, as such, but definitely persistent. Then I started feeling really hot. Everyone else would've been cold with the balcony door open, so I ended up standing outside to cool down. It didn't feel like feverish hotness, just... hotness, like the kind I imagine I'll get at the magical time of menopause. And my eyes felt really tired even though I'd slept plenty. Anyway, I ended up not going out with everyone else because I felt so rough. I wasn't really disappointed (apart from about having missed someone dressed as Larry David). I was much more relieved to be in bed. I did get freaked out by the clocks going back though. Pedro called me unnecessarily at 2am (or 1am?) to say they were heading back and watching a movie at our friend's place, do I want to go round there ("Pedro, I was asleep. I only answered the phone because I thought you might be in trouble. I am not about to crawl out of bed, put clothes and makeup on just to go out and watch another movie. Plus you brought my headache back. Thanks. If you dare wake me up when you come home, you'll find yourself homeless."), and a little while later he came home having watched the movie, which totally perplexed me because according to the time on my iphone, he'd watched an entire movie in three minutes. Mind you, even with the clocks changing, what movie is so short? Apparently it had zombies. I'm not sure if that makes a difference.

Anyway, I had about 11 hours' sleep and I am still knackered, so excuse my lacklustre effort. I think accutane may well be responsible for the headache and the tiredness. Vodka certainly never does that to me.

Also, I have no less than three pus-filled cysts in the very same spot on my cheek. It's like an almost-to-scale replica of Vesuvius. And the annoying thing is that I am scared to play with it too much ("Fetch!") in case in scars badly on my cheeks. I don't know the proper names for the different types of acne spots, but I also have one lower down on the same cheek that's painful and bulbous. It doesn't look like it has a poppable head, but I would not be surprised if it threw that in there for good measure in the next day or two. Other than these, I'm quite happy with my face. My forehead is getting smoother every day, in fact to the point where it's quite relaxing to stroke it absent mindedly. Another smooth patch has emerged on my well behaved cheek. The area of smoothness seems to be getting larger every day, and although it has lots of red marks on it, to the touch it feels like skin I've never actually previously owned.

Just looked in the mirror, and to my joy, the skin near my lips is peeling. It's fun to peel it, but with just one layer of moisteriser in the mornings, the texture's really not helping my foundation look very natural, plus my other mouth corner cracked yesterday. Oh well, I keep trooping on. It's 6:13pm and I think I'm going to have a nap (in addition to my 11 hours' sleep earlier).

Hope everyone's okay. Zzzzzzzz.

Day 25, eh? Wow, time does fly by.

Nothing particularly new on the side effects front. I woke up this morning for the first time without a very tender mouth-corner. It was nice. A few days ago I woke up with a sore throat and thought "What?! Again?!", but then I kind of hacked up a whole tonne of near-solid mucous that was tinted red, and after that my sore throat magically disappeared. That was nice. I think it was just an alternative exit for an unconscious nosebleed, so I'm not worried. It came not from my lungs, ye knoweth, thus thee hath no worrieth. Or something like that.

Actually, I do occasionally have brief headaches of about a few seconds where it's just a pang of concentrated pain in a random area. I very rarely get headaches, so it's quite a peculiar sensation to feel something inside my brain. Which reminds me of an article I recently read (Brain Magazine). Apparently in 1903 archaeologists found a series of human skulls in South Africa that were something like 33% larger than normal human skulls, which had all sorts of implications that challenged what we believe about our own evolution. Because of this, it was kind of forgotten about. With modern science, they've recently (or maybe not so recently: I don't know) calculated that these skulls' owners must have been a lot, lot cleverer than humans today, and possibly saw things around them with much more depth and had greater emotional intelligence. Anyway, then the article discussed why they would've died out bla bla bla and left the reader with a chilling mention that one skull was found amongst ordinary human remains on a settlement, but separate from the rest in an almost regal shrine-type-thingy. Ooh la la. Oh, and apparently they all looked like aliens. Boskops, they're called. True story, true story.

Anyhow, so some fantastic news is that I've discovered there are two types of parabens in my accutane pills. Interestingly, there's none in the 10mg version. I also discovered no less than three punctuation errors in the helpful accutane guide that my derm gave me, which appears to have been written with 10 year olds in mind.

Even more fantastic news is that after spending 1.5 hours in the most expensive Halloween shop in Canada, I settled on being a mime artist for tomorrow's apparently necessary festivities. Here's the fantastic part: a hat, some white gloves and a flimsy white plastic mask still cost me $59. Outrageous. To add insult to injury, the mask is pretty much redundant anyway because it seems to have been designed for ladies with beautiful, narrow, ovular faces, not Eastern European jawlines seemingly fashioned from great hunks of beef, like mine. Much like the infamous 'side boob' or 'muffin top', the edges of my cheeks stick out like meaty jowls. To be honest, it felt like I was suffocating in that mask even without it actually suffocating my wide, jowly face, so it probably would've been a no-go anyway. Which leaves me with face paint. Yes, face paint. With acne. The bastard mask was meant to help avoid such a ghastly scenario, but I see no other choice. So now I'm left wondering where I can get "healthy" face paint from and whether to put foundation on below it. And what about blusher? I wear blusher every day, but I can't really wear blusher underneath face paint. Then again nor do I want to wear the blusher beforehand and then redo my whole makeup in the evening because of it. See what I mean? Acne causes such logistical nightmares.

Grarrr. That is all. I think I'm going to drop in on some other logs and then contemplate those Boskops again.

Happy Halloween for tomorrow, peopleings.