Photography is such an intimate experience. Their body and face at your command. Hopefully they let you glimpse their soul, somehow, with an expression or a movement. Your eyes take in every part of their body, watching and waiting. Trying to lead them, but it is all a façade. I’m just waiting to see when they let their guard down and I take it.

The post production is when you learn so much about that person. You spend hours learning every expression that they made, how their eyes portray some of their secrets. You memorize every mole, wrinkle, blemish and scar. And never let them see what you do to them! They only need to see the end product…how you see them, their beauty.

It is a pleasure to work with all of you…and thank you for fueling my passion.

Tonight I had the thrill of walking the tunnels underneath the hospital. I needed to leave the main hospital and travel 7-10 minutes, under the ground, to get to the psychiatric building. A building that used to house the nurses quarters back in the day, an old building with the speckled marble floor and institutional grey paint. Through the tunnel one walks, past the morgue, plant services, to the more secluded forgotten parts. The hallways littered with the skeletons of old beds, shoulder height trash bins in which your imagination sores on there contents. Wondering if anyone could sneak in here during the day and stow away, hoping to scare the crap out of a lowly hospital worker.

In the tunnel your senses are sharp, listening for sounds that shouldn't be there, your eyes darting across the abandoned clutter. Tonight I had noticed something that I had never paid attention to before. The smell. Our hospital is fairly new, and with that, usual smells, smells that you can place the origin. As you cross the threshold of the old psychiatric unit it changes. You can sense the age of the building, the history. Decades of smell combined. If anyone has ever been in a untouched aged building before, you may understand that musty odor. It felt familiar, like the smell in ones grandparents home.

Just something I noticed walking the old tunnels...

It's been around 2 months since I started this venture that is the internet scene. Talked to a few really wonderful people, some interesting characters, and some that should not be allowed amongst the general public.

I was always looking for someone with an edge, imagination and intelligence. So the first man I ever chatted with fit the mold perfectly, he was my "brooding writer". An interesting person, perhaps a bit intense but that is just a beacon for me. We talked for a bit, a few phone calls were made and an interesting night in my car on the phone with him. When it came time for a coffee date....he was sick. And we rescheduled for the next week. On that day, a week later, he was still sick. I took it for what it was, wished him good health and then deleted his number from my phone. Not angry in anyway, but also took it as a "not interested" situation. After the first little while, and not a phone call from him, I suspected I was right. But by that time I had found the "xoxo dirty boy". An interesting and wonderful character. The brooding writer forgotten. Although I do have to give him credit, he inspired me to start a blog and just write.

Then an interesting situation came my way. I found the brooding writer on my internet doorstep. He was excited to have found me again, I guess he ended up losing my number and was wondering why I had not called him back. We agreed to meet for coffee today. Correction, he wanted me to come to his apartment, I suggested coffee.

So I'’m here....doing it. Im sitting at Blendz, trying to not notice my hands shaking. Looking around at the sea of people wondering which one is him, will I recognize him from his pictures. Now I'm wishing I was wearing a different shirt. You start to question all your ideas before you left the house. You tried to be cool and casual, saying to yourself, "“it's me, it's all he gets.. Yet now you notice a piece of cat hair, the general appearance you were going for. But now it looks sloppy, unorganized and just not "“meeting a man off the internet"” worthy.

Still I sit, and try not to look like I'm searching out the crowd. Trying to elongate my body sitting down. Will he come? Will this curiosity be over with? Or will I leave here, everyday exactly the same?

No sign yet. My dear god, I just spilt coffee on my shirt. That’s it I'm running...fast!

Ok still here, but I'm not taking another sip! He promised a kiss before hello, and even at the coffee shop I wonder if I'm to expect it. Should I swallow my gum? Women are way too analytical.

A lady just commented on my laptop. Not a subsitute to a brooding writer, but I will take it. So I think I will wait until five, it seems like a goodly amount of time to wait. I'm not nervous yet, just way to anxious.

The plutonic love of my life. James, doesn't know about the internet thing. I just saw him walk past with a few grocery bags. I'm quickly trying to make myself invisable, although picking a coffee shop 2 blocks from his house may not have been the best laid plan. He is going to see my car. He walked past, but he has to pass my car, parked right in front of his place! Ok back to trying to look relaxed. Foot is asleep, do I chance standing to greet the brooding writer if he comes right now?

So many languages around me, I love people watching downtown. Ok no sign of James coming back up yet. And no sign of brooding writer. Tick Tock.

Well after what I have done in the last few weeks, this would not be undeserved. To be stood up, embarrassed, probably would do me some good. Kate is out of control, and I need to bring her in and make her behave.

Fifteen minutes to go.

I'm starting to feel relaxed. My head is swarming with ideas, if he knows that I meant this Blendz, if I got the hotel he works at right. Questioning everything, but yet feeling calm. The only thing that's going to be a bitch, is after telling a few customers that my extra seat is taken, I'd have to stand up and leave the shop. Never looking back.

Ten minutes.

Hmmm, the calm is settling in. I think I know how this will turn out. Now my only decision, do I go see James, or go home get comfy and enjoy the malebashing arena that are my girls.

Six minutes.

Yet now I'm confused. Why bothering to get me to call at all? What would have happened if I ended going to his apartment. He claimed it would take him 3 minutes to get here.

So now it's five, do I go? Is this a clear sign? Thirty minutes, is that too short?

So I think it'’s done, I called James. He is coming to meet me and I'm going to have to explain to him what the hell I'm doing. How do I do that? He is going to get a kick out of this.

Called my brooding writer, opps. Had to know if something had gone wrong. He thought I was meeting at Blendz by his apartment not the hotel. He will be here in 15 min....and oh look, here comes James.

So after all is said and done, after the few I have really begun to think fondly of, it's my first experience that I'm meeting.

Interesting how things turn out.

Thursday, June 8th, 8:07 pm....Rain

Friday, June 9th, 7:20 pm...Rain

Why do we live in this province?

Sunday, 6:30am. The campground is at peace, nature reclaiming its silence. The campers are asleep, their bodies getting ready for the hard day of correcting all the damage done this weekend. I myself cannot sleep. So I listen to the sounds around me. Wondering where my “Frodo” blanket went to? Wishing to stay a lifetime.

It was a weekend of good friends and great laughs, surprising turnouts and needed reflections.

My dearest friend brought up an old crush this weekend, a man I haven'’t seen in years. I wasn't sure how it would go, after all we had grown into completely separate lives. It felt as though nothing had changed, a comfortable feeling taking over as we laughed over old times. Realizing how much we had grown since knowing each other at 20. A perfect reflection for ones birthday.

I found my soulmate on this trip. A free spirit, gentle soul, a dirty mind, a spooning buddy and a has a little man named Rock Lee, what more could you need in a platonic soulmate? Steph, you are a crazy lady!

A raging debate with all the campers continued throughout the weekend. Horny vs Dirty. When one is horny there is a level of desperation to it, but can include "kinky" ideas. Whereas dirty means you are ready to go at any time, but your not horny because your just dirty. Your need isn't to just "get some", you want to play with it. Some think you can have both, but I think it's a different mind set, therefore different meanings.

We adventured a lot this weekend, and it paid off. During one of our day long hikes we came across an amazing waterfall. It came out of nowhere, and took out breath away. I asked at the beginning of the blog, "why do we still live in this province?"...this was one of the many reasons.

"Sleep in peace
When, ah, this day is done
And this old world
Is a new world
And a bold world
For me...

Stars when you shine
You know how I feel
Scent of the pine
You know how I feel
Oh, FREEDOM is mine
And you know how I feel
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me..."

"ba, ba da, ba da, ba da da da da ba"

-Feelin Good - Nina Simone

It's done.