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Thinking is Good, but Don’t Think too Much it Can Make Your Thoughts Way too Much to Think About Thoughtfully
Does a “what if” ever enter your mind? How about a “I never thought about that before?” or maybe just an errant thought from nowhere begins to bounce around in your cranium causing you to pause or maybe even chuckle. Fortunately, this happens to me all the time, bringing about fodder to keep to myself or share with the world.
For instance, American author L. Frank Baum, creator of the amazing story, “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” instilled in me a notion that was intriguing but useless to the story. Now why this came to mind I haven’t a clue, but I thought about the wicked witch of the west. We all know that Dorothy dissolved the old biddy with water. This led me down another road. If the wicked witch of the west couldn’t tolerate water, this would mean she’d never taken a bath. Can you imagine the odoriferous stench emanating from this smelly winch? I guess that would explain her green color and the reason she was so mean.
In my own writing, I feel sure I put a bit of myself into most characters. This tends to have a good and bad side. I find in my own life I try to avoid certain situations, but allow the same situation to abound within a character adding a “how could he be so reckless” to the story. I think what I’m trying to say is when it comes down to it there is no need to be stubborn on top of stupid. We’ve all heard the saying, “writing fiction is harder than writing non-fiction; fiction has to be believable.” Always remember there’s a fine line between believable fiction and “way out there,” and it’s hard enough to get read without being so high into the clouds where only the migrating geese might take a gander.
Seasons Are Seasonal Not to Say That Seasons Are Seasonable If Seasons Were Seasonable Then I Think Salt Would Be The Only Seasoning a Season Would Need to Be Seasoned With
Gazing out of my window, I felt an inkling to pause writing and share a few thoughts buzzing around in my cranium.
Once again, it’s that time of year. Yeah, you know the one I’m talking about. If you ask anyone, “What’s your favorite time of the year?” The majority will answer, “Fall.” Did you notice how I worked a bit of dialog into the first line of my blog?
It’s kinda my favorite time of year also. Now what I mean by “kinda” is that it’s not consistently on the top of my list of favorite seasons. “What is?” you ask.
Well now, let’s take a look at each season, one at a time.
Spring: The weather begins to warm, the tree buds will soon turn to leaves, flowers bloom, and the entire scene is full of beauty and new life. It is also the time of year my body produces an overwhelming amount of snot, itchy eyes, and an overall feeling that the green dust (oak pollen) will never leave and soon take over.
Summer: Hot and humid. . . . Nuff said.
Fall: Rivals Spring in beauty, with the leaves changing to glorious colors and all the insects (especially the biting ones) breathing their last. All these are great things indeed; however, my nemesis (ragweed) appears enticing my body to produce an overwhelming amount of snot for the second time during the year.
Winter: No heat, no humidity, no biting insects, no snot producing particles in the air. . . . “Get where I’m going with this?”. . . . Looky there, dialog again. No brag; just sayin’.
I guess what it boils down to is–I’m glad I live in an area that I’m able to experience all four seasons. The differences are what make each one unique. In truth, they’re just another gift from God’s creation that we are able to enjoy.
The increasing sea level went undetected until 2015. By then there was nothing to do but watch it
rise. Not that any course was viable had the increase in temperature been detected earlier. Mankind came to the realization he had no control over the climate, for better or for worse. That alone was in God’s hands. Not to say global warming wasn’t real, but there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it and nothing anyone could do to stop it.
North America’s western coastline stabilized at the Sierra Nevadas. The Appalachian Mountain range became the new East Coast. Tributaries allowed water to infiltrate the country’s interior, turning the Mississippi River into a tidal basin and the Great Lakes into the Great Lake. The Sea of Cortez migrated over halfway up the Colorado River. This intrusion engulfed two-thirds of the area between the Sierra Nevada and Rocky
Mountain ranges forming Grand Canyon Bay. Worldwide the story was much the same. Cities built higher than
two thousand feet above pre-twenty-first-century sea level remained.
With the upward push of water, the atmosphere also welled up, warming the planet
and setting off a
chain reaction that would further reduce the polar caps. This caused the water level to rise, fueling the vicious cycle until the last remaining vestige of ice was reduced to liquid.
After nearly a decade of unrest and political upheaval, established governments and factions alike came to the identical conclusion. Survival depended upon unity. What remained of the human race had finally gotten it right.
The scientific community did a respectable job of collecting and processing the massive amount of pollution seeping from sunken cities, refineries, and tank farms. In time, the planet did what man could not and digested the remaining toxins.
Travel by road or rail was limited but still possible. A handful of usable airports remained, but with so many waterways, sea-going vessels became the most practical way to transport not only people, but goods and services as well.
While the all-consuming need for oil created countless problems for the former world order, a limited need for fossil fuel still remained.
One drilling platform remained, simply because it supplied all the crude the world needed. Enter the planet’s last oilrig, the Omega Z, dubbed “OZ” soon after its conception. Maintaining this aquatic city was a constant undertaking.
This daunting task fell to a select few.
Aon, a solid core planet made of pure caladium, is under silent attack. The planet’s center is the hardest and most valuable element in the galaxy. Rogue officials, led by President Gaylen and in turn directed by off-worlder’s, set an 80-year plan in motion to seize Aon’s core. Off-worlders work to dissolve the unbreakable core using crude oil obtained from 19th century Earth. Once the oil is refined the by-product, gasoline will soften the caladium, allowing it to be collected. The off-worlders employ a band of corrupt inhabitants to carry out this work. The caladium core consists of living beings–these indestructible creatures prepare to defend their domain against the elements harvest. Separate alliances unwittingly come together in the dead city of Baine with Clay gravitating to leader. Their objective; preserve the planet. Disregarding all else, the crude oil thieves continue to process the pilfered caladium. Those who desire to save Aon will, along their path, face the core creatures, avoid horrific aberration’s one step behind, and dodge deadly pitfalls ahead. Once Clay melds the coalition, a battle for life and world begin.
It Seems to Me That Stuff Plays Such a Large Part of Our Stuff That the Stuff We Value Gets Stuffed Away Where No Stuff Should Be Stuffed, Rendering It Useless Stuff
I’ve been toying with a story idea I’d like to run past you. It would parallel real life and go something like this:
Kelly awoke startled by her bed-blaster alarm clock. She slid out of her Sleep Letter Bed and onto her new Lumber Bum apple-wood, pre-finished, laminated floor. Kelly washed her face with Spring Clean, brushed her teeth with Tarter Boom and combed her hair with Spray and Fill.
“There you are,” she said, placing her hand on her newly purchased make-up device. She sprayed an even coat of base with her air brush, followed by Lusty Eye mascara, Double Dip lipstick and a last minute dollop of Pimple Prep.
She slipped into her designer little black dress, designer 6” black heels and headed for the kitchen designed by Likea. She popped four Waste Away Fat Busting tablets, downed a quarter sized Weight Be Gone bran muffin, then headed to work.
Kelly arrived at work sporting her new BNW with no-hands parking technology. She worked until midday designing designer socks with open-toe technology. She devoured an alfalfa sprout salad for lunch and then returned to work designing brass-infused energizing socks.
Completing her day’s work, she stopped by the local gym to wile away several hours in the relaxing grip of top-of-line designer-weight machines.
Back at home she dines on a light meal of no nitrate hotdogs, gluten free bread, organic peppers and onions, organic sauerkraut, organic chili, organic cole slaw, organic tomatoes and organic cheese.
After removing her designer wardrobe, designer make-up, and scrubbing and brushing in reverse, Kelly lays down on her unbelievably comfortable air mattress. As she begins to doze off, an audible hiss followed by her sinking into her bed ensues. “No matter,” she says. “With the lawsuit I have against my diet pill manufacturer, the rodeo clown and those tainted alfalfa sprouts I eat everyday, I’m a cinch to get a settlement that will get me enough cash to afford that cloud-floating bed.
She falls asleep watching her 50 inch HD TV and the soothing sounds of the bountiful items she may partake of and the legal advice she may seek when the half gallon of ice cream she ate everyday for a year causes unsightly bumps in her little black dress. . . “C’mon man,” Kelly says, “its the circle of strife.”