I spent my sunday alternating between tea and beer, discovering my love for Super Store  and wandering around back alleys and parkades with Colby, a very dear friend and fellow “dork-ographer”/artist. You can see his incredibly beautiful, dreamy and smart (science!) film photographs here:

(my favorites are the black and white double exposures)

“Lets have a photography date! I’ll take pictures of you, and you take pictures of me.” There was a lot of, “Oh! Don’t move!” being said.

I’ve had little experience with film, besides a traumatizing episode with my Diana+ (7 rolls over exposed, I’m working up the courage to try again) and the disposable I bought at the dollar store a few weeks ago (yet to be developed).

Colby gave me an Olympus Trip 35 that he found second hand. The shutter is a little sticky though, which is incredibly frustrating when you’re on top of a downtown parkade and there’s a man in a strange purple toga wrap standing on his fire escape waving at you from below and your digital camera’s outa batteries, dammit.

My cold little hands vs. that stupid shutter.

Colby kept saying, “we’ll get you a new point and shoot, we’ll get you a new point and shoot.” and pressed the shutter for me a few times when I couldn’t get it. (insert cheesy “what are friends for” line here) Cutie.

He’s very encouraging that I should experiment more with film.

Here are some photos I took with my digital before the battery died:

And some panoramas (my favorites) :

I’m excited to see how our photos turn out, just hoping mine wont all be blurry and anticipating my face spliced into the side of a building and/or itself.

Substitute “Night” for “Day” (at any point)

It’s days like today when I feel most lonely.

Sundays and Tuesdays usually.

These are days off. Slow days. Days when ‘real life’ is happening.

Days when everyone is busy with their lives or their people. They’re at work or doing (home) work, they have cliquey friends to drink with, or far away friends at bars across town.

Days when I feel most out of place in this town, in this life. Like I should be somewhere else, that if I was somewhere else, I would feel more real. They are the days when I feel the most pressure to be “doing something” with my life. The days when I feel like what I do is the least worthwhile and the least exciting.

Days when I have no patience for mundane conversation, but hang out at the downtown pub anyway, hoping to just happen upon someone (anyone) that I love. The days when my walk home has me saying that I am a “strong independent woman”, reminding myself what I like about being single and reciting my to do list out loud.

Days when I have already spent ample time doing productive things alone and I wish that I had someone to be slow and real with.

These are the familiar days of winter, many of which I know await me. They are not bad days, or particularly hard working days, but they are lonely and cold and isolating.