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.

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...

Poetry and Stuff

Grief:Peripheral The flicker of bluish light filters out what is missing; there is only one set of boots by the door, an apple sits on the counter uneaten, and even if you don’t make a sound, the notch in your heart is nothing personal. ____________________________ Yeah, I know I said no poetry, but I lied. From The Culling, because what girl doesn't dream of owning a library with a ladder? I just posted the last chapter of The Bond, which I'm not 100% satisfied with. It is the end of this novella, but the story continues in the next book of the series. One of my biggest problems is I don't have a title for the next novella. The working title was "The Break," which doesn't really work. If you have an idea or two, throw 'em in the comments.

The things people say

1. "I don't know. I don't know what you do." (In response to me asking, "Why would I have a blowup doll?") 2. "What are you saying? I can mouse with my right hand." (From a lefty after he was accused of moving the mouse to the left side of the computer.) 3. "I (hic) gave this girl my (hic) my phone number (hic) and she (hic) she never called (hic) called me." 4. "You're hurting me!" "I'm stabbing your coat." "With a knife!" "So?" "Knives hurt people!"

Refracted Neurons

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