There's a desert on my face...

I have naturally dry skin and I'm the only person I know with this diagnosis other than my mother, which is quite odd. Everyone else I know has "oily," "greasy," or "combination." Maybe it's a Puerto Rican-Irish mix thing? Mixed ethnicities tend to result in fantastic skin.

Anywho, I've spent the passed few weeks on a perfect-foundation hunt since learning that it's beneficial to wear make up so that your bare skin has a small layer of protection from sun and air toxins. Good idea, thought I.

Yesterday Friend and I drove to a Glendale mall for two things 1.) my foundation, and 2.) so Friend could reintroduce her lip ring that's been vacant of metal for quite a while. First I sat down at a Benefit counter (I hate it when you get stuck with those one-branders) and got some make up put on my cheeks and nose. The woman and I noticed my face was rather dry that day, resulting in little flakes around my nose and forehead. She moisturized me but it was still a little visible and the wet foundation she put on didn't have much coverage, so I politely abandoned Benefit as an option.

Sephora was was where I finally felt saved. An accented woman helped me in my search and first put their Sephora brand make up on my face in the lightest shade (I don't mind being pale). I still wasn't seeing the evenness I wanted, so we tried Stila. Stila foundation looked more like I had make up on. Then, thankfully, we resorted to Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer with SPF. I'd read about it's amazingness online. She put it on with one of those smooth spongey things and it was immediately cooling and refreshing and dewey. Oooh! It made my face all one color, like there were no flaws whatsoever. Mine. So mine. I grabbed it even though it was $42. Oh well, where else would I get something like this? And to help with the flaky dryness, I also grabbed a microexfoliater from Philosophy for $32. The two together pretty much make face magic.

Ugh. Blast you, fried food.

By the end of the day, I felt compelled to do some crunches and push ups on the floor of Friend's apartment. In a dress. I think it worked because I felt the same this morning. Not bloated or anything. Woo!

Mon 5.3.10

1 pack of 3 vitamin C gummies

1 small bowl of white rice with soy sauce

4 TJ egg rolls (I was starving)

1/2 bag of TJ cheese puffs (damn things)

1/2 bottle of Pom lychee peach tea

water

3 vegan chocolate chip cookies

Ok, I think that's all...

Hacking my brain for what I've learned about relationships.

Even though 4 months is somewhat of a puny timeframe compared to other relationships, you can learn a lot about yourself in that time. It was like being in the military or some new universal club, like new mothers, and you can't be in it till you're in it. Yeah, relationships are like that.

1. If he's independent, he's not going to include you as much as you'd like. Unless, you know, he's a freaking genius. SF was very independent of others. His mother called him 6 times a day and yet I only saw him answer her call about 3 times in those 4 months. Same with his father, who resorted to Facebooking him to get his attention sometimes. Yeah, it made me feel only a little special that he chose me to spend most of his time with, but once we went back to our schedules and couldn't see each other for entire days, I would only receive a text if I sent one asking a question. Kind of depressing. It was like luring in a puppy by dangling a treat in front of it all over again.

2. Outsiders are going to be bias, especially if they're you're girlfriends. I made the mistake of telling Friend and Roomie almost everything that happened to us on a daily basis. Getting that much feedback from girls who don't know who you're dating as well as you do is not exactly healthy and warps your decision making. So keep the minor things to yourself and only get their opinions on things that really do need a second opinion.

3. The only people who know what it's like to be in your relationship are the ones that are in it. Every relationship is different. There are only a few that have the cookie-cutter lifestyle of the perfect couple and almost all of us aspire to be Jack & Rose. Otherwise they differ, from decimals to whole numbers. So do what feels right for your specific situation instead of feeding off completely different ones, especially if they're more progressed then yours.

4. Women will almost always be more loving and caring and a thousand times more sensitive. It's in our nature. If he hasn't bought you flowers and chocolates yet, you better squash that dream to hell because it may not happen for a while. Too-high expectations are couple-killers, they really are. And even though it's hard to refrain yourself from thinking ahead or wondering what your engagement ring will look like, you have to think more realistically than anything. It will keep you much happier and less likely to have so many "talks."

5. I have no idea what I'm doing! You have to help me here! My situation, as I've just realized, did not crash and burn because of me, or because of him either. It was mainly because I had no idea how to be in a relationship and I only let him know once. He, on the other hand, was much more experienced, so I trusted him with certain situations like the texting thing (damn technology) and the date thing and almost everything else. I thought, Oh, this must be how you do it. Um, no. If you're confused about something, get some clarity because sooner or later you're going to start comparing yourself and feeling like a dumbass cyclops.

6. If something is bugging you, let it be known immediately. Don't "wait for the right time" because there isn't going to be one till it's too late. Oh yeah, I've done this way too many times. And every time I fantasize about what his reaction will be and if it will escalate to an argument. It never did. Ever. SF almost never got angry. It's not in his DNA, which is why he tends to smile, stay quiet, or crack a joke rather than interrogate. So unless you know your guy to be rather controlling, I doubt any movie-worthy argument will break out over a simple inquiry about your status. Guys are usually on the calm side unless they have a reason to become heated. So I'll spell it out for you: don't give him a reason. He'll understand.

7. Remain the cool girl he asked out rather than sinking into a needy little hover bee that won't leave him alone. Not that this happened to me, but it happens all the time to the most awesome girls. And the thing is, the girl doesn't normally acknowledge when this happens. The people who do are her boyfriend and the onlookers. It's so noticeable it's ridiculous.

If Anyone Has Not Seen Panic Room Yet, You Must Do So. Now.

Yesterday I watched Panic Room in all its grey-blue, clever, eerie glory. It came out in 2002 so for those of you who need a refresher, it's about a single mother (Jodie Foster) and young teenage daughter (an adorable Kristen Stewart) who move into a large and slightly lavish apartment in the upper west side of New York City. While going to view the apartment with realtors, they discover its "amenities" include 4 stories, I believe, a large sky light, French-style doors, a handicapped elevator (from the previous owner), spacious bedrooms and kitchen, oh, and in the master bedroom is a "panic room." Because a home isn't a home without a steel box you can hide use as a hidey-hole to view any intruders or terrorists or dinosaurs that may come charging through without permission demanding to sit in that steel box with you. And that's exactly what happens. On their first night in the new apartment. Of the intruders are Forest Whitaker as the smart softy, Jared Leto (with cornrows?) as the is-he-on-crack? leader of the pack, and a masked Dwight Yoakam, who is perfect as a nonchalant master robber. And what do they want? Three million dollars that's locked in a safe in the panic room! When do they want it? Now!

As soon as the threesome entered the house and Meg (Jodie) and Sarah Altman (Kristen) are watching them from the eight TV monitors inside, I found myself screaming and groaning and hissing at my laptop screen (I watched it on the Internet, okay?) with my big white headphones on, as most David Fincher films cause me to do. "Turn it on, turn it on! Go, go, go, go, get up! What are you doing?! Stop flashing the light! He's just gonna close the curtain! Stop it! Grab it! Light it!" probably sounding like I was playing the PS2. Thank goodness Roomie2 wasn't home for that.

According to Wikipedia, the screen writer, David Koepp, harvested the idea of the film due to a newspaper article in the New York Times in which they called the room a "safe room," but changed the name to "panic room" since the story was a thriller. Mighty good idea, sir. Most entertaining. I give this movie a "That was insane" out of 10.

The Average Munchy Food Diary.

Thank God Roomie is back so I can start working out again.

Sun 5.2.10

1 toasted peanut butter w/honey sandwich

4 TJ fried vegetable nests with soy dipping sauce

1 cup of fruit medley (watermelon, cantaloupe, strawberry, blueberry, kiwi, mango, pineapple)

1/2 bottle of Pom peach lychee tea

2/3 small bag of easter M&Ms

1 chocolate ladybug

(a handful?) of In N Out french fries

The Day-Of Food Diary.

I didn't eat a thing till about noon. Bad idea. I can't wait till Roomie gets back so I'll have a work out partner.

Sat 5.1.10

1 TJ vegetable egg roll

4 TJ fried vegetable nests w/soy dipping sauce (amazing)

2 TJ little brownies

1/2 glass TJ apple juice

1 small bowl TJ frozen bowtie pasta w/veggies

water

Pom peach white tea

I Am Now Entitled to Act Single. Very, very single.

Remind me to never act upon my impulses again so I can refrain from having a 100-lb regret hunch. As of 11:30 am this morning, I told SF that I think we should try dating again, focusing on how happy this made me inside since, you know, I figured the ball was in my court. I could tell within two seconds that this came as somewhat of a shock to SF here, which I tried to ignore and find the right words to make him understand. All my self-conscious, hesitant rambling boiled down to, "I still like you." After a long pause from him, he said he'd give it today to think about it. Bam. [Insert wrong answer buzz here.]

And just like that, the child in me was shot straight to hell, lying in a heap of ash and dead leaves with an arrow in her chest, tongue hanging out and all (that's probably the best way to describe it). It didn't help matters that I had a head and neck ache from sleeping so awkwardly these passed few days.

"Give me today to think about it," he says. And I know, just from that line, that we will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, get back together again. I won't even sleep in his bed ever again or go in his car or ask for a favor only he would say yes to. And that's okay, because I got what ever I needed from him in the 4 months we were together anyway... at least that's what keeps me from feeling quite sad about all this.

One minute we were laughing at phonetic lyric videos on YouTube, the next I leap out of his bed, pull my jeans on and grab my stuff like I'm late for the next happy part of my life to get here already. He dropped me off at my building and I wanted so badly to say, "Forget what I said. I was being stupid," before marching off. But I didn't. The opportunity came yet my mouth wouldn't open. There was a tightness in my chest keeping it in. But the marching off did happen, and so did the suppressed crying, as confused as I was about that. I couldn't pinpoint it to one thing; there were too many reasons to justify it.... He doesn't like me anymore.

Ah well. I'm already over it.