I know I’ve mentioned in previous posts my hesitance to put political and/or religious views out there and use them as a platform for debate. I prefer, instead to keep social discourse neutral; light and fluffy, if you prefer. I consider myself the Switzerland of party chat. I have no desire to change your opinion, nor the patience for you to attempt changing mine. But yesterday, as sweat trickled in rivulets down my face, baking under unfettered brilliance of another Texas summer afternoon, it occurred to me how a subject as universally benign as the weather, or used to be, has become a political football. I suppose it’s just one more marker of the age in which we live.
I’m certainly no meteorologist (although I played one on television for eighteen years back in the day), so starting an argument over the validity of global warming is not my goal. I just want to talk about the weather. I’ll leave the debate for the likes of Exxon-Mobil to tell us it’s all poppycock and for environmentalists to counter with a huffy, “No it’s not!”
To me, the casual observer, the weather extremes we’ve noticed around the world don’t seem all that unusual when the focus remains at each location, most having suffered the same fates before, and in some cases worse, from a historical perspective. As examples; Indonesia and Japan have experienced tsunamis before, Joplin, Missouri (or the area) has suffered damaging tornadoes previously and will again, I’m sure. Hurricanes will hit the Gulf Coast, snows will fall in the north and floods will happen along rivers. Even my wonderful home state of Texas has suffered droughts before, many times. Although devastating to livelihoods and lives, there is nothing terribly unusual about any of these events.
But, let’s change the point of view ever so slightly; consider the frequency of occurrences. Doesn’t it seem that weather extremes are becoming the norm from season to season and not simply sensational aberrations?
I suppose the argument might be made that this is just the price of inhabiting a “living” planet. The earth is in a constant state of flux, after all, therefore extremes are cyclical in nature. Right? You know, like the seasons, only over a much broader period of time. Point of fact: The Ice Age certainly didn’t happen as a result of man pumping harmful and toxic emissions into the atmosphere. The earth, itself, did that with volcanic eruptions so numerous as to create a winter seemingly without end.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking: This guy is siding with Exxon-Mobil and just doesn’t want to admit it, but . . . not necessarily.
Have you ever wondered if an animal from the age of dinosaurs could even breathe the air in today’s world? I’ve wondered many times and I have serious doubts. Consider the amount of cancer and respiratory problems among people today. There seems to be toxicity in our atmosphere that is not naturally occurring but we, as adaptive beings, may have developed a level of immunity to most toxins we breathe. Unfortunately, just not good enough to prevent diseases from rampant airborne particles tossed willy-nilly into the air in our modern world.
Who do we blame? Do we blame anyone? Would any one of us give up our collective addiction to life simplifying technology just so we might breathe a little easier? What if that global warming thing is true and byproducts of manufacturing to satiate these addictions is changing our climate negatively? Would we then change our ways to preserve the earth? I think not.
I, for one, know the depths of my addiction. I love cars, central heat and air, computers, time saving appliances and on and on and on. Oh well . . .
Whether you believe it or not, this really was a post about the weather.
Daniel Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009/print & ebook
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007/print & ebook
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press 2010/ ebook only
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX/print only
“Dancing Away”/short story/Untreed Reads/ebook only
COMING SOON
“Defining Family”/Whiskey Creek Press/2012/print & ebook
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934”
“Phobia”
“Helping Hand For Ethan”
“The Lost Decades”
Novelist
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright, Author
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
These Dreams
Okay, if dreams are supposed to be the windows to the soul then what in bizzaro world (otherwise known as my mind) have I been looking out on? Lately the slumber-time movies have been thought provoking and, yes, even a bit unsettling. One thing is certain; the whole experience is brought into question. What is it, exactly, that is firing the ol’ neuron transmitters lately. It must be one hell of a light show between these ears in the middle of the night.
I haven’t had a nightmare that could be described as frightening since I was a very young child. But, the dreams I’ve been having lately should throw me into a cold sweat. They don’t. And, that, unto itself, should be scary. Good heavens, am I just that jaded to surreal gruesomeness?
I must assume, for sanity’s sake, that my dreams are a convoluted mix of everyday events combined with potential novel plots that race through my head on a daily basis, sometimes hour to hour, depending on how active those creative juices happen to be on a given day. I fear that if a psychiatrist crawled inside my head and looked around, I’d be drugged and restrained drooling in a padded room.
Quick example: I am approached by a midget with cotton blond hair and huge anime baby blue eyes. I am sure this tiny creature wants to kill me and proceeds sizing me up for that purpose. I’m then compelled to shake his hand and introduce myself, all the while realizing he is raising a pistol in the other hand to shoot me as I look over to see bloody corpses of previous victims. I am calm . . . too calm . . . ridiculously calm.
Any dream interpreters out there?
This is no more, but no less, odd than any of the dreams I’ve had lately. They’re all strange. I wonder if this is a sign of diminishing mental capacity. Is it possible my resting mind cannot differentiate real from fantasy any longer? Maybe fantasy is preferable to reality and my head is simply in transition. If so, when that transition is complete, will I lose the link with the here and now in favor of what might be, or could be?
Like anyone else, I’ve always had the occasional strange dream, of course. But, there was a time when those dreams made no sense whatsoever, just images and flash scenarios; other times dreams dealt directly with reality and usually created a story, of sorts. Back then, they were always separate dreams. Now, my head has apparently become a stew pot of the real, could be real, might happen someday and the out-and-out fantasy of mythic proportions. Not only that, they all have a beginning, middle and end.
One thing I do know without question; all these dreams provoke endless hours of thought and contemplation. But why, and is it worth it?
Maybe, I should stop questioning and start taking notes.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press 2010/ ebook available
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
“Dancing Away”/short story/Untreed Reads
Coming Soon
“Defining Family”/Whiskey Creek Press/2012
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)
“Helping Hand for Ethan”
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934
“Phobia”
I haven’t had a nightmare that could be described as frightening since I was a very young child. But, the dreams I’ve been having lately should throw me into a cold sweat. They don’t. And, that, unto itself, should be scary. Good heavens, am I just that jaded to surreal gruesomeness?
I must assume, for sanity’s sake, that my dreams are a convoluted mix of everyday events combined with potential novel plots that race through my head on a daily basis, sometimes hour to hour, depending on how active those creative juices happen to be on a given day. I fear that if a psychiatrist crawled inside my head and looked around, I’d be drugged and restrained drooling in a padded room.
Quick example: I am approached by a midget with cotton blond hair and huge anime baby blue eyes. I am sure this tiny creature wants to kill me and proceeds sizing me up for that purpose. I’m then compelled to shake his hand and introduce myself, all the while realizing he is raising a pistol in the other hand to shoot me as I look over to see bloody corpses of previous victims. I am calm . . . too calm . . . ridiculously calm.
Any dream interpreters out there?
This is no more, but no less, odd than any of the dreams I’ve had lately. They’re all strange. I wonder if this is a sign of diminishing mental capacity. Is it possible my resting mind cannot differentiate real from fantasy any longer? Maybe fantasy is preferable to reality and my head is simply in transition. If so, when that transition is complete, will I lose the link with the here and now in favor of what might be, or could be?
Like anyone else, I’ve always had the occasional strange dream, of course. But, there was a time when those dreams made no sense whatsoever, just images and flash scenarios; other times dreams dealt directly with reality and usually created a story, of sorts. Back then, they were always separate dreams. Now, my head has apparently become a stew pot of the real, could be real, might happen someday and the out-and-out fantasy of mythic proportions. Not only that, they all have a beginning, middle and end.
One thing I do know without question; all these dreams provoke endless hours of thought and contemplation. But why, and is it worth it?
Maybe, I should stop questioning and start taking notes.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press 2010/ ebook available
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
“Dancing Away”/short story/Untreed Reads
Coming Soon
“Defining Family”/Whiskey Creek Press/2012
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)
“Helping Hand for Ethan”
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934
“Phobia”
Monday, July 11, 2011
Too Stupid To Know
The more I learn, the brighter the spotlight is on my stupidity. At least once a day, but usually many times, I say, “I didn’t know that.” I read and try to keep up with the world around me, but it’s a losing battle. The fact I learn today has no relevance tomorrow, or so it seems most days.
Life was so easy during the teen years; I had many of the privileges of adulthood, yet possessed the wisdom of a gnat. You know the age, when we’re the most intelligent beings on the planet. During those years, we simply don’t know how much we don’t know. It’s such a blissful time.
The first giant step towards realizing the depth of our stupidity begins the day we commit to learning; for some that might be college; for others maybe later, much later. Unfortunately, I slipped into that latter category. And, I don’t believe we can include those years through twelfth grade at all. It’s the rare child indeed that consciously wants to know things about the world beyond personal purview; so rare, in fact, not worth mentioning (my apologies to the few true prodigies out there).
During my final year in high school, the only things worth knowing were what everyone was doing Saturday night, who would be doing them, and how I might fit into that scenario. For heaven’s sake; what else did I need to know? That’s why, that year, I was the most intelligent person on earth. I was convinced.
Some exceptional people discover early during the college years that learning is really sort of fun and not just a chore to be endured to pass the next exam. I wasn’t one of them. Therefore, I continued to be quite intelligent and smugly so.
The genuine slide into stupidity began with landing the job of a television news reporter. I quickly discovered that I wasn’t even smart enough to know what questions to ask during interviews. The day I tanked an important interview with Barefoot Sanders in 1972, during his campaign bid for the U-S Senate, was the very day I thought it might be beneficial to know a bit more about the world around me. Don’t try to find out what questions I asked the man, just believe they weren’t relevant to anything that had to do with the political landscape of the day. Suffice it to say, it put a huge crack in that self-imposed intelligence quotient I bestowed upon myself.
By the way, I lucked out on that fiasco. That was in the day we used 16mm film and I just told everyone that the interview was “lost in the soup”; in other words, the film processor ate it. I should have gotten an Oscar for my performance on how frustrated and disgusted I was over losing that jewel of television journalism.
From that day till now, 38 years later, I still cram like I’m expecting a pop quiz, yet I find myself saying, “Gee, I didn’t know that,” far too often anyhow. For every new thing I learn, it only creates a dozen questions in need of answers. So, you can see that the learning curve only gets steeper.
The day is fast approaching that I’ll stop trying to learn all there is to know and go back to being the most intelligent person on the planet.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press 2010/ ebook available
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
“Dancing Away”/short story/Untreed Reads
Coming Soon
“Defining Family”/Whiskey Creek Press/2012
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)
“Helping Hand for Ethan”
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934
“Phobia”
Life was so easy during the teen years; I had many of the privileges of adulthood, yet possessed the wisdom of a gnat. You know the age, when we’re the most intelligent beings on the planet. During those years, we simply don’t know how much we don’t know. It’s such a blissful time.
The first giant step towards realizing the depth of our stupidity begins the day we commit to learning; for some that might be college; for others maybe later, much later. Unfortunately, I slipped into that latter category. And, I don’t believe we can include those years through twelfth grade at all. It’s the rare child indeed that consciously wants to know things about the world beyond personal purview; so rare, in fact, not worth mentioning (my apologies to the few true prodigies out there).
During my final year in high school, the only things worth knowing were what everyone was doing Saturday night, who would be doing them, and how I might fit into that scenario. For heaven’s sake; what else did I need to know? That’s why, that year, I was the most intelligent person on earth. I was convinced.
Some exceptional people discover early during the college years that learning is really sort of fun and not just a chore to be endured to pass the next exam. I wasn’t one of them. Therefore, I continued to be quite intelligent and smugly so.
The genuine slide into stupidity began with landing the job of a television news reporter. I quickly discovered that I wasn’t even smart enough to know what questions to ask during interviews. The day I tanked an important interview with Barefoot Sanders in 1972, during his campaign bid for the U-S Senate, was the very day I thought it might be beneficial to know a bit more about the world around me. Don’t try to find out what questions I asked the man, just believe they weren’t relevant to anything that had to do with the political landscape of the day. Suffice it to say, it put a huge crack in that self-imposed intelligence quotient I bestowed upon myself.
By the way, I lucked out on that fiasco. That was in the day we used 16mm film and I just told everyone that the interview was “lost in the soup”; in other words, the film processor ate it. I should have gotten an Oscar for my performance on how frustrated and disgusted I was over losing that jewel of television journalism.
From that day till now, 38 years later, I still cram like I’m expecting a pop quiz, yet I find myself saying, “Gee, I didn’t know that,” far too often anyhow. For every new thing I learn, it only creates a dozen questions in need of answers. So, you can see that the learning curve only gets steeper.
The day is fast approaching that I’ll stop trying to learn all there is to know and go back to being the most intelligent person on the planet.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press 2010/ ebook available
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
“Dancing Away”/short story/Untreed Reads
Coming Soon
“Defining Family”/Whiskey Creek Press/2012
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)
“Helping Hand for Ethan”
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934
“Phobia”
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Proud Participant
Father to adult son: “When you get home I’ll have a trophy waiting for you with “Participant” engraved on it.”
This was a line from a television show last week and intended to be funny. It was. I laughed out loud. But, it also has been circling my thoughts since. Allow me to explain what led to that comment in the program. A girl leaves her boyfriend because he never does anything. He counters by telling her that he most certainly does; he buys very expensive tickets to watch his favorite baseball team at least once every week during the season. She, in the end, put the brakes on his argument when she said, “Exactly. You spend your time watching life lived, not participating.”
After a short time, the humor vanished. It, in my mind, became a valid indictment of our culture. This is nothing new though. We can watch any newscast, read any newspaper and see at least one article or hear one story concerning obesity in America and the number of hours spent with television, electronic games, the internet and many other diversions, some absolutely mind-numbing. It’s just that it’s the first time I’ve devoted a few of my remaining active brain cells to the subject.
In no way can I sit in judgment of anyone in this discussion. I love movies and I love reading. I’ll watch a fair share of televised sporting events, hours of standard television fare plus numerous news broadcasts. And, let’s not forget the internet and wonderful social networking at sites like Facebook; ergo, the few remaining active brain cells comment. The point is; this is all sideline stuff, viewing life from the comfort of a chair, not living it—a fat fostering feeble fun-fest, so to speak. I don’t think I want to calculate the hours each week spent observing life lived by someone else. I might cry. And, that would put a damaging dent in my declining and jealously guarded machismo.
I think I’ll take a leap, a short one I believe, and tie in the dumbing down of America in this billowing scenario. We have all seen very recent examples of, so-called, leaders in Washington and wannabe leaders who get confused on what the constitution actually says or know American history very well. Do you suppose these people were raised on a steady diet of allowing someone else to think for them while eating potato chips and watching life lived elsewhere? I think so.
With each new age come challenges to be met and overcome. Could it be that the era in which we now live has provided us with too many conveniences, too much contradictory information, too many sources that occupy the mind but never challenge it? I think so.
The first step, I believe, in correcting this is a tiny one indeed, but important; make a point to approach someone today you don’t know. Shake their hand. Introduce yourself. Get to know someone new and find out about them; not because you have to for business reasons but because you want to. And, I don’t mean in a text, email, phone call or any other modern detached way. I’m talking old school, face to face. These days, it may actually seem like a new approach, a novel new way to learn about the world around us.
Before becoming housebound due to age-related problems, my eighty-seven-year-old father used to make daily trips to have coffee. It really didn’t matter where as long as it was in public. It had little to do with the drink and everything to do with participating in life. He would talk to anyone on any subject. In this way, he developed healthy opinions on living, politics and many other subjects. I’ve noticed that since he is at home all the time now that his opinions reflect that and are no longer his own but parroted from favorite news shows. I think his case is a microcosm of the greater problem today.
Am I shouting down televised news shows? No. I’m advocating balance. Do we really have healthy ways of forming opinions these days; or do we adopt others’ opinions and we really have no logical basis for believing what we do and could not explain a stand if called to do so? Is it possible that we just hear something ad nauseam from well-paid opinion editors, religious leaders, etc., until it becomes truth? I think so.
Does this mean that I’m giving up reading, watching movies and television, using the internet and all those other wonderful ways to be entertained and get information? Nope. I just need to get out amongst them more often. I’ll have to make a daily thing of it. After a time, maybe someone will present me with a trophy that is engraved with “Participant” on it.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press 2010/ ebook available
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
“Dancing Away”/short story/Untreed Reads
Coming Soon
“Defining Family”
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)
“Helping Hand for Ethan”
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934
“Phobia”
"The Lost Decades"
This was a line from a television show last week and intended to be funny. It was. I laughed out loud. But, it also has been circling my thoughts since. Allow me to explain what led to that comment in the program. A girl leaves her boyfriend because he never does anything. He counters by telling her that he most certainly does; he buys very expensive tickets to watch his favorite baseball team at least once every week during the season. She, in the end, put the brakes on his argument when she said, “Exactly. You spend your time watching life lived, not participating.”
After a short time, the humor vanished. It, in my mind, became a valid indictment of our culture. This is nothing new though. We can watch any newscast, read any newspaper and see at least one article or hear one story concerning obesity in America and the number of hours spent with television, electronic games, the internet and many other diversions, some absolutely mind-numbing. It’s just that it’s the first time I’ve devoted a few of my remaining active brain cells to the subject.
In no way can I sit in judgment of anyone in this discussion. I love movies and I love reading. I’ll watch a fair share of televised sporting events, hours of standard television fare plus numerous news broadcasts. And, let’s not forget the internet and wonderful social networking at sites like Facebook; ergo, the few remaining active brain cells comment. The point is; this is all sideline stuff, viewing life from the comfort of a chair, not living it—a fat fostering feeble fun-fest, so to speak. I don’t think I want to calculate the hours each week spent observing life lived by someone else. I might cry. And, that would put a damaging dent in my declining and jealously guarded machismo.
I think I’ll take a leap, a short one I believe, and tie in the dumbing down of America in this billowing scenario. We have all seen very recent examples of, so-called, leaders in Washington and wannabe leaders who get confused on what the constitution actually says or know American history very well. Do you suppose these people were raised on a steady diet of allowing someone else to think for them while eating potato chips and watching life lived elsewhere? I think so.
With each new age come challenges to be met and overcome. Could it be that the era in which we now live has provided us with too many conveniences, too much contradictory information, too many sources that occupy the mind but never challenge it? I think so.
The first step, I believe, in correcting this is a tiny one indeed, but important; make a point to approach someone today you don’t know. Shake their hand. Introduce yourself. Get to know someone new and find out about them; not because you have to for business reasons but because you want to. And, I don’t mean in a text, email, phone call or any other modern detached way. I’m talking old school, face to face. These days, it may actually seem like a new approach, a novel new way to learn about the world around us.
Before becoming housebound due to age-related problems, my eighty-seven-year-old father used to make daily trips to have coffee. It really didn’t matter where as long as it was in public. It had little to do with the drink and everything to do with participating in life. He would talk to anyone on any subject. In this way, he developed healthy opinions on living, politics and many other subjects. I’ve noticed that since he is at home all the time now that his opinions reflect that and are no longer his own but parroted from favorite news shows. I think his case is a microcosm of the greater problem today.
Am I shouting down televised news shows? No. I’m advocating balance. Do we really have healthy ways of forming opinions these days; or do we adopt others’ opinions and we really have no logical basis for believing what we do and could not explain a stand if called to do so? Is it possible that we just hear something ad nauseam from well-paid opinion editors, religious leaders, etc., until it becomes truth? I think so.
Does this mean that I’m giving up reading, watching movies and television, using the internet and all those other wonderful ways to be entertained and get information? Nope. I just need to get out amongst them more often. I’ll have to make a daily thing of it. After a time, maybe someone will present me with a trophy that is engraved with “Participant” on it.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press 2010/ ebook available
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX
“Dancing Away”/short story/Untreed Reads
Coming Soon
“Defining Family”
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)
“Helping Hand for Ethan”
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934
“Phobia”
"The Lost Decades"
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