The Year of the Purge

This picture is one of the prettiest among the 150 I took yesterday on my outing to Squamish.
As many people do on this last day of the year, I reflect on the happenings of the past year and rattle through my brain all of the goings on. This past year I am naming “the year of the purge”. I am almost speechless when I try to consider all the change, the accomplishments, the pouring out of myself after being locked away in my own grief for so many years.

I woke up this morning around 4am and lay in the dark contemplating the new year and in doing so remembered my past several years, thus I spent the next hour and a half sobbing. I survived yet another year, a feat in itself for many like me. I cried, trying to expel the last vestiges of pain left over from a year of trying to shrug it all off, shake off the dirt, pull my pants up and walk proud as if I had never fallen.

Ever since fibromyalgia claimed my life on Jan 14 2001, claimed the majority of my happiness, took my dream job away from me and left me wracked with pain for the past 7 years, I had stumbled around trying to figure out what was left for me. I had worked to support myself since I was 15, then supported the family I created for myself. I was a matriarch, responsible for all those around me (or always had thought I was and still think I am...) and I suddenly found myself having to depend on others (whom I am sad to say were not all that dependable nor supportive). I had dominated my world around me and suddenly found my self a subordinate, no longer in control of anything. For years I had wondered if I would ever work again, support myself again, feel productive and of some worth. I am glad that come tomorrow, the first day of 2008 I can say “I look forward to this coming year.”

Those words seem so very foreign to me. I will say them again. “I look forward to the year 2008 and all it has in store for me.” Seems profound, but I will make it all I can. This past year has seen a major growth spurt.

I began my year in a very odd way. At times I anger myself at how cruel I can be when I take what I need for myself, it’s rare enough for me to give to myself. But I began my year last Jan1st by telling my husband whom I had been separated from for nearly a year, yet dating once again, that my new years resolution was him. I wanted to dissolve what was left and say good bye. Start my year alone and I did, for 3 months anyways, until in a moment of weakness when my mental illness tried to claim me once more and he stepped back in when he knew I was helpless to say no. The only part of that resolution I succeeded in was that I never once said I love you again to him, that parts gone, never to return. We now only spend weekends together. I am still bound by the consequences that keep me fearful of leaving it behind once more. When you feel like your families happiness rides on your back its hard to turn it.

Those 1st 3 months without him around I tried to sink into my art. I painted quite a bit, I had been going to an artists studio to paint and was socializing again and pulling up my pants. I was knocked down a few times, but I got back up anyways. It was an odd thing that happened next. I had fallen in love with someone I admired from afar and let it consume me for some time. My love for him remained unspoken, not knowing what to do with it. I had spoken of my infatuation to a friend and she suggested I write it down. Write out what I feel, why, what I think I can do with it etc. I had been letting it consume and control my thoughts and I had wandered in my own daydreams and fantasies for months.

So I sat down and began to write. I had decided to start off by writing an account of what led up to me falling for him. I had tied it all in together with what I had experienced in the past 7 years and the way my life had been place at a dead stand still. So I wrote an autobiography about my past 7 years. It nearly landed me in the hospital, remembering all of what I had wanted to wipe out of my mind and in a way writing it all down helped purge some of the pent up suffering I had held onto so tightly. With that gone and writing about the long steps I took in ending my marriage that led to my independence and the freedom to actually fall in love with someone else, I began to write out how I fell in love.From there it grew into writing out a fantasy of what I wished would or could happen. Somewhere along the line I was side tracked and had begun writing erotic poems back and forth to an online friend. Never intending to ever take the steps to make a real life lover with him even though he lived in the same city, I let my mind free and wrote some of the most powerful poems I had ever written. He and I shared a battle of words and wit. He would fire one poem at me and I would reply to it with another. Before we knew it we had nearly 100 poems and decided we should organize it into a book. I’ll never forget that spurt of creative thought we shared, although brief. He had agreed to do some editing after I had arranged it into some form of order and while waiting I sat back and began to write more on my other story.

Then as I thought I had reached the end of that fantasy, I realized I was still not ready to let go of it. I had written it all in a 1st party perspective as if I were narrating my life story. But the story had evolved into a fictional work. So I set forth and divided the writings. I put aside the autobiographical parts and saved it for another time. I then rewrote the beginning of the novel, edited it , changed it to a 3rd party perspective and Psychic Passions was officially born. When I had reached the end I was reluctant to let it go yet again and after several edits I continued it until I had myself a full length novel. Although my thoughts of him continued and feelings remained the same I put a “The End” to my story.

I’ve given myself permission to feel what I feel and to not let it interfere with my life and although I still think of him and love him I know I’ll never have him, nor should I and I will allow my love to remain just that, pure and simple, accepting that I don’t have to let it die, I can allow it to just fade in time slowly, look back one day fondly and be thankful that it bore a novel to remember him with for the rest of my life.











With that said here is a list of happenings in my busy year.
- A dozen paintings.
- I pulled a major brain fuck with some Nigerian con-artist, whom I entertained myself with sadistically for 2 months before finally informing him I conned the con... hehe.
- An 80 page book of erotic poetry.
- A 7 year autobiography.
- A 97000 word paranormal erotic romance novel.
- 30000 words into a second erotic romance novel.
- I’ve developed many new friendships and acquaintances in the world of novelists through dedicated networking, blogging, chatting and running several myspace accounts.
- I’ve had a job interviewing authors for RG a 3D online chat forum, which I was sad to see closed its doors not too long after I had taken the job, (which took a lot of my time and I did not get paid for), but my goal had been to network and learn the industry, and I achieved that goal.
- I became involved with a friend and colleague from RG whom introduced me to the IMVU world and I was shown a world so foreign I immediately fit in. I found my long hidden persona and reclaimed my dominating needs and became a “virtual world” dominatrix/domme/mistress... what ever you wish to call it and reawakened a dead part of myself. Man did I ever miss me. (That’s another story I’ll write about one day...)
-To top it all off and make this year complete I was reintroduced to a colleague from RG and we became fast friends. I feel like I’ve known her a life time, but sometimes that’s how friendships are. I’ve come to realize that we meet the people we meet for a reason and every person in your life no matter how small take a part in creating your world.

The day before Christmas she offered me a fresh start in a position that suits my personality and skills... I am now the Marketing Manager for Eternal Press. An excellent way to begin a year, with a new job and a fresh open perspective.So I say it once more as if to affirm my faith. “I look forward to the year 2008 and all it has in store for me.” May all those I know and love be blessed.

WooHoo... Eternal Press Here I Come

OK that's it. I have just finished making turtle soup and I am eating up my blaaaaaa's and breaking open my shell. Nothing like the prospects of a new and exciting job to wake one up.

I have some terrific news. I have just been offered the position of
"Marketing Director"
at Eternal Press.
I will be receiving and signing my contract soon. My 1st day on the job will official commence on January 2nd 2008.


http://www.eternalpress.com.au
WOO...HOO!!!
A major Thank you to Dee Owens the CEO and Head Executive of Eternal Press.
As well as Julie D'Arcy Owner and Founder of Eternal Press.

I am a Turtle.

OK I am posting this because I am be questioned by people who have recently come to know me but don’t really know me, such as... Where are you, how come you haven’t posted, when are you coming back? Yadda yadda yadda...

Well I do believe it is on its way. This time of year usually starts to bug me the day after Halloween. November 1st the stores start to play Xmas music and my blood boils for a month, then for the following month I struggle to keep my head high enough to survive the holiday and keep my appearances up for family, the mask comes on. To me Xmas is all about expectations and that is what drives me batty. As I’ve said before, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because it is the one holiday where the only expectations everyone has is to have a good meal with the people you love. I no longer view Xmas as such a holiday, I wish I did, but I don’t. It seems to me to be an endless 2 months of I wants, can I haves and commercials convincing you that you will be loved if you get them an “Oh my God I love you” present. Fuck that shit! I really do hate my own cynicism and I will try as always to get into the spirit of things, put up a tree, paint a pretty winter scene on my patio windows and put up Xmas lights.

But because I don't want to suck everyone into my pit, I will suffer quietly. I learned that I loose friends when I dump my shit, so now I just stay as silent as can be until the storm passes. Once the holidays come to an end, I crash soon afterwards when I let all my bottled up shit spill out and I fall to the bottom level of my pit.
Below is my painting depicting my pit. The painting is named...
"Lost in Anguish"


I try not to do it every year and every year I fail. So I am going to expect it this year, I am tired of fighting so hard and beating my self up every year that I fail. So here it is, please don’t take it as a personal insult if I don’t write like I used to, post like I used to, chat or send cute little comments. Yes I enjoy your emails and comments, just please expect smaller ones than usual, and don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to. I beg you not to send me your suggestions on how to feel better, I’ve suffered in this way from the time I was 10 and I believe I’ve tried it all. I will hopefully post more when I am feeling the need. I do intend to do some things differently. I will try to post more in my support groups, I will chat more often and try to stay social on IM's to keep my brain busy. Stay out of bed and hope that I can go one more year without being hospitalized (20months so far, pretty good) again. I promise to be aware of my levels of despair and to head to the hospital if I know I am in danger.

I will most likely be unable to write much more on my book until I am feeling inspired again and at the moment I have only 1 ambition, to survive. Usually the first shoots of the spring crocus’s in February perk me up and get my attention and my heart and brain starts to pump me full of the I’m dying to feel good chemicals. So until then I shall patiently wait. For now just think of me as a Turtle hiding in its shell until it feels safe again to come out. Try not to worry.

My motto for this year is...

“The key to survival is self acceptance.”

Ok, I made my fear go stand in the corner.

I finally did it. I said to hell with my fear, I pulled up my britches, puffed up my chest, nice chest by the way, and I finally sent out my very 1st query letter. I am crossing my fingers, my toes, my arms, my eyes, never my legs, no no you can't make me.

I feel like puking at this very moment and may give into that sometime tonight. I know I will sit and stew. Grrrr.


For those just joining me and have not read the summary of Psychic Passions here it is.

Psychic Passions is a paranormal erotic romance novel, filled with empathic psychic passion, suspenseful psychological trauma, triumph over tragedy, mental illness issues, death and rebirth, concluding with a thrilling, cliff-hanging victory over deception, blackmail and evil. Oh and yes, plenty of hot, steamy sex, desire and fire.

The heroine and hero in this tale are Caprice Hutchins and Cassidy Cornwall. They are both empaths, both artists, both struggling to survive with their own distinct mental illnesses. Together they will have to fight for their very lives, to find and keep each others souls. They must learn to accept each other and triumph over their inner demons. They will be reborn through death, through time, to achieve a deep psychic connection, filled with desire, passion, obsession and unconditional love.

The Cornwall family, together as a unit, are tight and strong. They thrive with unyielding love and acceptance, their devotion binds them. They will fight to the bitter end to protect those they love from harms way.


Psychic Passions was written by Ally Robertson, a bipolar, empathic, artist, of Vancouver BC. You will find that she has written her works using her unique Canadian flavour, adding flare to her unique Canadian stories.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Time for some tricks and treats, what shall it be? Personally I like tricks over treats, candy rots your teeth, but then tricks can be expensive too... Just Kidding. I don't have to pay for it.

I saw a neat post over at Lust Bites the other day about Vamps ect... Was a great post. I had written a comment but it was lost in cyberspace when I lost my Internet connection, so out of frustration I didn't go back, but decided to post a few pix on Halloween from my Vampy, Goth, Emo years (my kids still call me an Emo). I actually went through several years with that look, from 18 to 21, that's pretty long. Now I am a redhead and have been for ages. But the Vampy look was all about speaking out for me. I came from a family which always frowned at my outspoken appearance, I grew up with peers that disdained anyone not in the norm. Since I felt oppressed mostly by all of those people all of my life, when I hit 18 I no longer cared what anyone thought. I had been on my own for several years, I worked full time in a strip bar as a cocktail server, was my own woman and said fuck it. I liked the look, it suited me, it spoke out to those who wanted to contain me and restrain me. It basically said FUCK YOU and I looked hot in it. I admit I am a much better red head now that I look back, but it sure was fun. I had always been a rocker and I loved Joan Jet. She was an icon then and to me she was everything I wanted to be. She was hot, she was outspoken, she dressed what ever way she wanted, she began some fads even. I also admired Kate Bush, she was another Vampy freak who I thought was another outspoken woman. Being an undiagnosed bipolar youth I never understood my own differences and had a hard time embracing myself, I disapproved of myself as much as the people in my life. That all changed when I began to let myself be the freaky self I had always fought to be. When I finally let go of my fears I was able to embrace myself. Although she was a platinum blonde I was also a major fan of Annie Lenox, she was more than everything I wanted to be. After my Vamp years I donned the short crew cut and spiky hair of Annie, my hair remained mostly short like that for a decade or so. I have long hair now and love it now that I am past the awkward stage. I have stopped dying my hair and have turned to rinses, my hair loves me for that. I no longer perm my hair and I have toned down my make up to earthy tones. One thing that has not changed is that I am still the outrageous and intense Ally. I still don't give a Fuck what people think and have realized after so many years of torturing myself that if people can't see the me I see, then they have no business knowing me. This pic was taken 3 weeks after I had my second son. I was a hot Mama! Maybe I should have more babies... NOT! Loved the cut. I also had a foot long tail growing down the back whice I curled into a ringlet.
HAVE A HAPPY AND SAFE HALLOWEEN

The Ozzy Concert Rocked My World

I had a fucking awesome time tonight. A week before the concert I began psyche myself up, I went to Value Village and bought a secondhand black leather jacket. I went to Walmart, bought some new jeans and a new black bra to go with one of my black tanks.

I bought a blue/black color rinse for my hair and planned to get decked out Ozzy style. I used the rinse on Wed night, but it only darkened my red hair and made it look bland, so I took out one of my burgundy rinses I keep on hand and redyed it. Worked better anyway, I've been a red head for so long it just sticks onto my hair easily and it goes great with my eyes. I got ready 3 hours before we left for the concert and paced my house for hours and nearly drove Bob insane.

My youngest son Richard came over for a preconcert dinner and we picked up my oldest son Max on the way. After finding parking an outrageous $20.00 and we walked 2 blocks to GM Place, and we were inside in moments and found our seats. I was so excited. The opening band sucked. A female punk rocker who couldn't scream worth a shit and I was relieved when she was done. Then Rob Zombie came on and he put on an amazing show, I loved his theatrics and they were all over the place with tons of action, flames and great music. My new camera was screwed up and the shutter won't open so I had to take my old digital, yuck, most of the photos didn't work and I was pretty disappointed I only got a few good shots, big difference going from a 7.0 with amazing zoom capabilities down to a 2.0 with little zoom. Ah well I had a great time anyways. Finally Ozzy came on and I lost it, literal, I can not speak now, I've killed my throat from my screaming and all I can now speak with is a scratchy rasp, I am sure it will be silence tomorrow.

I am happy I can say I got to see an Ozzy concert at least once in my lifetime, my favorite song "Crazy Train" has been an icon and theme song for my life of bipolar insanity. I have so much respect for Ozzy, he is bipolar too and although he still struggles I think it is so cool he survived his illness, his success and his fame.

I even cried when he sang "Here For You" just before the encore. It's sad to think he doesn't have many performing years left, although he seems so timeless, as an empath all I felt from him was exhaustion. His performance was great, but definitely not the Ozzy of years gone bye, when he had his manic energy, youth and vigor. He was a bit off key and struggled to keep up and I felt overwhelmed at his frustration. There were alot of people in the stadium and I could be very wrong with the feelings I was flooded with, but I rarely am. Those of you who have a chance to see him, go, the experience was a definite pinnacle for me.

I brought home Psychic Passions from my editor today.

Whew. That part is over. I was terrified when I first brought my book to the editor I hired to have it edited. He is a well respected, retired university professor of British decent. He taught at the University of BC, York University in Toronto, Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, College of Journalism in London/UK and several Medical Colleges lecturing about practices in Naturopathic Medicine. I am a woman whom did not earn my grade twelve diploma until I was 26, I had slaved all my life to a system and a family, and I am now just discovering who I am and what I am all about.

Why would I feel comfortable handing over something that I toiled over so much? I feel like I had birthed that novel like I had my own children, with hard labour, it's my newest baby. I was terribly awash with fear and anxiety thinking; Will he laugh at my audacity to think I could do something as extensive as this? Would he be horrified at my ghastly use of grammar and punctuation? Would he scoff at the way I pushed the envelope and crossed some invisible boundaries? Would he look at me like the freak that I think I am? Would he want to chop it up after I told him I wanted to keep the unique Canadian flavor in my flow of speech, my slang terms, my Canadiana?

I really judge myself far worse than anyone else ever has in my life.

The answers to the questions... No, no, no, no and no.
Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He did say that with his British upbringing, education and expertise that it was hard ignoring my distinct Canadian flavour, but he survived it and was rather sucked into my novel right until the end. He handed back my manuscript and we went through it.

He pointed out the minor corrections he'd made, the occasional spelling error my spell checker had missed, a few (there instead of their) faux pas, my over use of commas and the odd capital letter misplacement.

He did not laugh at me. He told me he was impressed with my intelligence and my knowledge of medical terminology.

He admitted I had plenty of punctuation errors, but offered to tutor me and pull me up to speed on some of the fundamental rules I could no longer recall.

He did not think I pushed the envelope too far and that what I wrote was not distasteful. He did say he'd had to stop now and then because of the intense feelings that it had "aroused" in him.

He also did not mention that he thought I was a freak and he even expressed looking forward to working with me again.

Best of all, my story is pretty much intact. There are many, many pages that went untouched and that gives me plenty of confidence.

Patting self on back now. Atta gal Ally, there's no doubt about it, it's ok to be Canadian eh. LOL.

So now that I have my manuscript back, the 500 words per day limit goal that I set for writing my next novel will be on hold temporarily. I am at 22,000 words so far but it will still be there waiting for me. I will be busy for now correcting the changes from my manuscript onto my computer document.

Let the "LAST" edit begin...

PS. Holding up wine glass and toasting to all my friends.
Mmmm, 2006 Grey Monk, Kerner - Late Harvest. An Okanagan Valley white wine, VQA certified. Awww, so incredibly delicious.

BLOG ACTION DAY

Before I go off on my thoughts and ramblings about how much I love the environment, I want to stress first what is important. Never more than now does Reduce, Reuse and Recycle carry more meaning. Please write those companies that you see who over package their goods or just plain boycott them and don’t buy it. Reuse what ever you can, when ever you can. Please recycle. If you think you don’t have the time then give what you don’t recycle to someone who will, the extra money may help them. I give much of my returnables to the homeless by leaving them on top of or beside the garbage cans instead of inside them, or I leave them in a clear bag outside near a trash and in no time they are gone. Sometimes I give them to my neighbours who need the extra cash. The smell at the recycle centre makes me ill, so I’d rather give them away to someone who would be more willing to do it, I give out approx $10 to $15 per month doing this. Turn on lights only when you need them, turn them off when you don’t. Fill a cup with water when you brush your teeth instead of running the tap. By eco friendly cleaning products. Take your unwanted items to charity, keep things out of the landfills for as long as possible. There are many places now that recycle computer parts, TV’s and other appliances. Put a brick in your toilet tank to reduce the amount of water you use just to flush and no need to flush every time. I grew up with a septic tank and I understand what it’s like to only flush when there is a number 2 in the bowl, no reason why it can’t be the same when using a sewer system in the city. Do what you can, when you can and you’ve done your part. One person can make a difference and when combined, we as a whole can make an enormous difference.

As a writer I wanted to not only get my story out there in a fun, exciting way, but also in a knowledgeable way, I want my readers to learn something. In my 1st novel I described and built an environmentally friendly home, an eco dwelling. In the second novel I am working on, not only are my characters stranded in the wilds of Northern BC but I will express the need for conservation, what effects the climate change has had on the environment and how to respect what we have left.

I have always had a very deep connection with the earth. I carry her rocks everywhere with me around my neck. I probably have several hundreds of pounds of rocks, crystals and gemstones combined in my home and on my patio. My largest rock is a large chunk of quartz that I made my husband carry down a mountain for me, it’s about the size of two footballs (40 lbs) and it guards my patio door to bounce away negative energy.

I keep the air fresh in my house by keeping many plants and it livens up the atmosphere.
Oct 14th 2007 Kids water park in an undamaged area of Stanley Park.

Against my better judgement and even after being told by those who know me most not to go to Stanley Park, I ventured out today and went anyway. It was a beautiful day today, one of the last sunny ones we may have before we have rain and clouds for the rest of the winter. I had been avoiding going to my favorite park since last December. There was a terrible windstorm that swept in from the Pacific ocean, trees were downed all around the coastal cities, but nowhere was the damage felt more than in Stanley Park.
The trees in this photo are gone.

Stanley Park is a city park in Vancouver. It is 10% larger than Manhattan’s Central Park and is well known as the largest urban park on the North American continent. I loved Stanley Park. She was home to some amazingly old trees. We just lost the oldest one a few days ago in high winds and it was between 800 and 1000 years old.
This is a picture with my husband Bob in the centre and my nephew Billy to the right in 2006. All of the trees behind them are gone now.

This is whats left of them after the damage.

The damage from last winters storm far outweighed what my mind was able to comprehend or imagine. I knew that the fact that I loved the park and that I connected with the park on an empathic level, that it would make me shed some tears for her losses. I was so wrong. My daughter warned me not to go. I didn’t just shed a few tears. I sobbed, I wailed, I keened, I grieved violently. I had waited 9 months, I had hoped most of it would be cleaned up by now. I expected to see some downed trees. What I saw on the western side of the park was absolute devastation. The only way to see the water from the top of Stanley park was to go to Prospect Point or down from the seawall, not now. I had never seen it from the road due to the thick lush green forests that towered all around, but I saw the ocean today, the forest was but sticks and splinters.
West side of Prospect Point and where Dodie and I used to smoke.

My first tear fell when we came around the bend approaching Prospect Point and I looked to the left and I saw the blue sky. The forest that stood there was gone. I had always connected that specific stand of trees as mine and Dodie’s (the daughter who warned me not to go) we had often snuck into the wooded area together to sneak away from the prying eyes of tourists to smoke a dube before we went hiking at the Hollow Tree. We had on one occasion been surrounded by racoons who thought we were there to feed them (I never feed wild animals) and we were all fried and freaked out and went running back to my Jeep. It’s all gone now, the trees, the animals and even the eagles who were roosting there. Not one tree is left standing in the specific patch of trees, it reminded me of the clear cuts I see when I go camping way out in the mountains. Going further around the bend I noticed that the whole slope was devastated. I began to sob then. My husband drove in silence, just shaking his head, even he couldn’t believe what he saw. This was one of the only times we did not park and go walk around the point and look over at the Lions Gate Bridge.
Me and the Hollow Tree Dec 2003 and The Hollow Tree 1891.

We kept going until we reached the Hollow Tree, even she did not escape damage, the top was gone once again. The Hollow Tree is a famous landmark 5.5 metres in diameter and the largest in diameter dead or alive in the whole park and the most photographed spot in the park. The main tree died long ago due to lightning strike, but its off shoots survived to grow and were themselves hundreds of years old. The tops are all gone now.
Bob and my nephew in the Hollow Tree 2006 and A picture from today.

But my main goal was within reach and the reason I braved to enter the park in the first place; my annual mushroom hunt. Yes the kind of mushroom that make you smile, and in my case make me incredibly horny too. I went to the same spot I’ve found them every year since my first year here in the city. I found them my first fall here six years ago and kept their exact whereabouts a family secret. A gift from the Mother, a gift of laughter, smiles and warm fuzzy feelings. I only pick enough for me, an odd treat to get me through the depressive days of winter when my moods crash, it’s the earths most natural antidepressant (ok hallucinogenic too,,, Ooo pretty colours). I eat three little ones now and then, and put on a not so fake smile. I froze what I brought home, enough for 6 small trips to Allyson’s wonderland in the dead of winter. Anyways...

All in all 40% of the trees where effected throughout the park and along the western edge 60% was lost with Prospect Point being the worst hit.
60% of the forests on the right hand side of both these photos are gone now.

I grieve as much for the rest of the earth and what is happening to her. Due to global warming BC is facing it’s worst outbreak of mountain pine beetle. The infestation has been devastation. I first saw the wide spread devastation on my travels to and from Alaska. It’s heart breaking to see so much death. It hasn’t been getting cold enough to kill them off enough to get them under control and the ministries practices of not allowing natural burns to take place, leaving the forests susceptible to disease. Not to mention what is happening on a global scale. I just can’t handle all of it, so I focus on the things closer to home.

I could probably go on for ages about this, but I find it too upsetting and frankly I’d rather spend more time writing about things I enjoy. So I will leave it up to the experts.

In closing I’d like to say that I have been a very fortunate person to have seen some of the most amazing sights, traveled in places few have gone and I’ve had the opportunity to spend time in some of Canada’s most beautiful spaces.
Yup That's Me!

I always respect the places I go. I often bring out more garbage than I take in and I NEVER leave even the smallest scrap of garbage behind. I leave every site either the same way I found it or in better condition. Please respect the places you go to for others to enjoy, get involved in cleaning up your communities and conserve where you can.
The view at the top of Burnaby Mountain 5 minutes from my home.