Sometimes one hits boundaries. I used to be terrible at seeing others, I suppose. I was told that I was by someone who was supposed to know. I don't think that's true, now. But have no way of knowing. That being said, my latest attempt to expand artistically hit quite a few boundaries of innocent people, who will remain nameless here, since I didn't give them that opportunity at my last, manic episode of "performance" Facebook Art.
I will not repeat names who should remain nameless. I have amends to make. I make no excuses, except asking for forgiveness ahead of time. Have mercy. I need so much more sometimes.
Today, I am calmer, and more centered. The dog Max, my little Tater, sleeps on his kennel, that's my new couch to you and me. Georgia is asleep at my head, and Rattie roams the wilds of the apartment that is so sunny.
Scarlett O'Hara once observed that tomorrow is another day, right before her story ended. But I am part of the semicolon project; I have no intention of going anywhere. Here I stand.