TMJ, Mermaids, Triggers, and Drunk People

I smell like maple syrup.

I hate maple syrup.

Anyway, my TMJ has started to act up again and today I can't close my mouth all the way. I took some tylenol, which helped with the pain, but I still can't close my mouth completely. It feels like my teeth are in the wrong place. I would just hot pack it, but I'm at work waiting for a pizza to arrive so I can leave. I am buying pizza for everyone that participated in our deep cleaning "party." It was a "party" because I dressed up like a mermaid and all the chores were attached to candy bars.

I didn't think the rubber band thing would work at all, but it has drawn my attention to what triggers my obsessing over "Johnny Depp." Ready for this:

1. Boredom. When I'm brushing my teeth, driving down the road, taking a shower, etc. my mind starts rustling through its locker of things to think about. If it can't come up with something really good to worry about or something philosophically original, it goes into fantasy mode.

2. Certain words and songs. Maybe places too, but I don't know because I've only gone to work and the supermarket this weekend due to staying out until 2AM on Friday partying with a bunch of drunk girls.

I've realized that it's not the pain that makes this work, it's the repetition of identifying the behavior, drawing attention to the behavior (snapping oneself), and ceasing the behavior. So I don't snap myself that hard because I've never really been that fond of pain. I'm not sure if aversive behavior mod really works anyways.

Okay, the pizza has been consumed. Time to go home.

Possibly the Last Short Story for Awhile

Something strange happened this month: I missed my 12 Short Stories deadline. There have been many things changing in my life, and I’ve realized that there are a few things I will need to put less energy into. That doesn’t mean I won’t write anymore, but that I may write less, or may just focus on longer pieces. That being said, I did write something, it just didn’t meet the word count. So here is one more story. It’s not a story about politics, it’s a story about human nature and human feelings. ——— The war is over, or at least that is what they say. But how do you stop such a thing once it is started? Charles sighed when I asked him, “You act as if you don’t understand politics.” “I don’t,” I scratched a sliver of paint off the window with a razor, “I’m not even sure we should be doing this.” “They said we could remove the blackout paint,” Charles swiped an even curl of latex to the ground. It fell among the budding roses, an artificial petal. “But there are still soldiers ove

Decay, Swine, and Beauty

We are staying at an estate that is like a beautiful woman with tangled hair. Neglect is slowly wearing away at her, and you know that in ten years she will no longer be beautiful. But right now, her unkemptness makes her eyes seem wild, and she is ablaze with a vibrancy no clipped hedge ever had. And there is a pig. I'm hoping to have a little more time to write while we're here. The kids have attended one day of school this month thanks to the snow, and they had some fierce cabin fever. I've been inching along with my mystery, but I really want to get sidetracked and write a little office romance for kicks.

Short Story: Distraction

It was an office, not unlike any of the other offices around the city. There were windows, visible to the lucky few cubes on the ends of the rows. Then there was Vera's cube, situated next to the row of manager's offices. Today she was lucky, someone had left their door open and precious slant of sunlight escaped, warming her back and washing out half of her computer screen. "I never realized your hair was red," Tracy dumped a large stack of paper on her desk, "The florescent lights make everything look so soupy." "What is that?" she pointed at the stack of paper. Tracy only offered compliments when he wanted a favor. "I need this entered," he smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "You have a secretary," Vera waved a freckled hand to her left, "Ask him." "He's sick," Tracy gave her puppy-dog eyes, batting his long dark eyelashes. Vera sighed and fought back a smile. Tracy was such a s

Refracted Neurons

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