Tired Eyes

I have a plant in my room that isn't doing so well. I've had it for several months. I don't know what the problem is all of a sudden. The whole thing reminds me of the movie 28 days with Sandra Bullock. The goal is to get out of rehab and get a plant. If the plant survives a couple of months then you move on to a pet, if the pet becomes part of your family then you can think about being in a relationship. Stupid plant.

Bailey and I played in the sprinkler today. I sprayed her and then sprayed myself after pulling weeds and trimming hedges. She thought it was a riot and is now passed out on my bed, spread eagle.

I'm finding myself becoming surrounded by highly abrasive people lately. I don't like it at all. I need tranquility and calm. Relaxed people that know how to use their inside voices and keep their temper reigned in. As a result of this, I'm becoming more withdrawn and quiet.

The payoff is that I think my art is flourishing. It's always that way though. Happy people do not have time to write morose poems or journals. Art, wether written or drawn or created, or painted comes from very powerful emotions. It makes sense all of the great artists were troubled in some way.

"Well I saw you with your hands above your head
Spinning around, trying not to look down
But you did, and you fell, hard on the ground"

~Maria Mena