Tag Archives: lucid thoughts

Momentary Lucidity

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I’ve been under the influence of a trifection (my word) of the sinus, bronchia and ears for the past 10 days. I drift a little in the next paragraph, but don’t worry, it’s good stuff so read it, and then I come back to my point, or 10 11 points, actually. So … c’mon, let’s go….

The posts I’ve managed to eek out have been under the influence of those infections. The Ceftin I’ve been taking since Friday (so today is Day 3) has been nothing short of miraculous, completely eclipsing the inert but well-intentioned Zpack I was initially prescribed. I knew something was amiss when after I took the first dose, a double dose, and was feeling great that when I took the next dose, a single dose that I went back to feeling like a can of generic cream of minestrone soup (my soup, I just made it up and I won’t be cooking it… or maybe I might; that cream could be pretty good, actually, especially if I add in some lobster and rename if Newberg and buy it from a restaurant where they set linen napkins).

So this morning I awoke with these thoughts because last night I laughed at my sleepy-headed notions of brilliance saying to myself regarding other thoughts, “Ooh! That’s good! remember it!” quickly followed by, “write it down” which was immediately run over by the comment, “no, you’ve got this, you won’t forget it; it’s great… say it again to yourself…” annnnnnnd >poof!< it was gone.

Because I am clear-headed (well, as clear-headed as I was before the trifection, which I’ll admit is debatable), I woke with the following new thoughts you poor bastards:

1. We will all disappoint someone or be disappointed. This is a universal truth, just like its inverse: we will all astound someone and be astounded. Revel in the glory that is your humanity: that we make mistakes and that we achieve greatness, sometimes in the same hour. Know this and never forget it.

2. Stay away from drama and it won’t find you. We all know these people: they walk around without signs that say, “Touch my surface, you will get burned.” Or “Please be nice to me, I will vastly humiliate you one day.” Or “I am nice until you decide to do your own thing.” Just stay away from them. Learning the lesson once is all most of us need: heed it. If it keeps happening to you, I’m sorry but I think you like it… go away from here and never come back.

3. Women need to be nicer to one another. We need to accept kindness without suspicion and extend kindness without expectation. When I was waiting on my Ceftin, I saw a teenage girl at Target the other day shopping the make-up aisle with great intensity. She was already beautiful and didn’t need an ounce of anything on her skin. I told her so; she lit up like a sunrise.

4. I need an astronaut pen. Writing this stuff down on a pad of paper in my bed is hard enough as it is; I could use some anti-gravity pressure to help keep the ink flowing.

5. If I don’t write things down I will forget them. So will you. If a Fantastic Idea pops into your mind, it’s a gift from the muses. Please write it down; I want to read it one day under a blanket with a cup of coffee by my side.

6. If you have a hunch, follow it. I had a hunch Friday that my meds weren’t working and I went back to the doctors despite my inner suburban housewife telling me not to meddle. I don’t know who that bitch is, so I showed her the door — the fact that I thought I was meddling on behalf of my own health confirms for me that something was wrong. Asking for medical care is not meddling, folks. It’s reasonable; unless you’re a hypochondriac, in which case I can’t help you other than to say, “go for a walk, you’ll feel better.”

7. If you know what you want then go for it. I was talking to the publishing house liaison the other day and she asked me about goals for my book and I said to her that I didn’t want Danielle Steele fame; I am a writer, yes, and also a mother and a wife. I don’t foresee myself traveling around the world on behalf of this book to get people to buy it. I believe that if it is good, it will self-germinate. Homer didn’t have a publicist; Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John didn’t have agents (horrors! blaspheme! she’s comparing herself to the Bible! – no i’m not, so shut up); the Joy Luck Club was a fluke. My book’s intent is to help people, perhaps change a life for the better; encourage someone to seek professional help if they need it or if they see themselves in my writing. The goal is to write a solid, excellent book with good intention and near-flawless composition; I truly won’t put out anything short of that. The next thing I knew, the phone was making that >GAAK! GAAK! GAAK! GAAK!< alert it sounds after the other line disconnected 3 minutes prior to rouse the talker from its monologue. Just kidding, she was still on the line and she told me I made perfect sense and thanked me for my time. Just kidding again. She got it. As usual, I was getting ahead of myself. I just need to finish editing.

8. If you don’t know what you want: start with knowing what you DON’T want. I know I don’t want drama, I know I don’t want sadness, so I veer away from them. When you look at your haves and have nots this way with credence, you will often find that you have everything you need.

9. “You don’t have to get out of the trouble you don’t get into” was advice my dad’s old editor used to tell him all the time. It is SAGE.

10. The data suggests I don’t feel my blog followers don’t like fiction. If you like fiction and you like how I write, check out these links in this order: https://mollyfielddotcom.wordpress.com/2013/01/04/fiction-friday-1-garret-the-woodsman/ and

https://mollyfielddotcom.wordpress.com/2013/01/11/fiction-friday-2-years-later-garret-sees-cynthia/ — I really want to hear what you have to say. So far I have mostly comments from the other bloggers in this challenge and I think they’re being nice to me because they don’t want me to hurl a really nasty prompt at them next time.

11. I have considered doing a “week in review” post, but I frown on them; I feel like they give my blog some weird imagined importance. If you’d like me to do a wrap up, would you please tell me?

Well, that’s it. I said it was momentary

Thank you.