Lawncare for the rest of us.

I have devised another idea for a book. I realized at my office christmas party last night that when I tell most people that I am a writer, everything said to me afterwards begins or ends with, "You should put that in a book." So, I am going to start compiling what people tell me to put into a book into a book, but not to make them happy. I intend to criticize the way a lot of people in our society think. I could call the book, " Nobody really cares about what you think." They could use it in writing classes as a resource for what not to put in a book, or how to deal with the fact that your walnut brained neighbor is completely convinced that the fact that his dog is scared of a vacuum cleaner is Nobel worthy literature. It's not, fool!

People seem to greatly enjoy distracting themselves from reality. I know this is a dated and hackneyed concept, but i have been noticing it with increasing regularity lately. Television, computers, music, social drama, empty romance, clothing, narcissism, the list goes on. I feel like people don't even realize anymore that they are able of pulling information or inclination from those deep recesses of the mind that can only be reached by listening to yourself think. I have encountered too many people who when I look at them, I see all that is there. It is like looking at a wall and knowing that there is simply another wall behind it and another behind that. What is the point of even bothering to speak to me if all you can offer is what you can see and all you can see is what is on the surface? If you are not going to think and try to better at least youself but preferably something beyond yourself, why do you exist? Make a point to make your life have a point.

Distractions are everywhere. I know so many people who are obsessed with at least one sport every second of the year, but if you ask them why they believe in God, they get uncomfortable and give a cop out answer. Were not learning anything from football except that Troy Aikman can see better with his contacts in. (Madden(ing)) From television we acquire the ability to bury our own creative abilities beneath what someone else created and we thought was clever. Most modern music seems to be nothing but a songwriter relating to the public what he or she sees and likes or dislikes. Not so much in the Swift satirical way, but in the, "I don't like peas, they're icky," way.

I am moving into the woods, at least in my mind.

If santa and satan really are the same person, does that mean that Hell's in habitants get a reprise on the night of December 24th since he is absent?