5:45 am The life of a dream runs through my head. The phone rings a second time. I grab the receiver to hear the recording of a woman's voice welcoming me to Boston. "Get your ass out of bed Barry," is all that registers. So I roll into the shower and get it done. Pull my batteries off the chargers, pack my gear, tie my shoes and bolt out of the room with a hot cup of coffee. The Colorado delegate and I get into a cab and head to Dialysis Clinic Inc. where a nurse connects her to life saving tubes that do the job of her failing kidneys. It set my heart right. I'm healthy. I'm happy. And I'm a photojournalist. Living my dreams is surreal sometimes. It never ceases to amaze me. I am blessed.

Noon: Boston Commons. A protest of some sort is scheduled to begin and I count 25 still photographers in a quick scan of the park. It sickens me that there are more media than protesters. I don't think there would be any protesters at all if there was no media. So I opt for a quiet assignment covering a Young Democrats seminar across town. I figure out when, how, and where Reverend Al Sharpton will enter the building and stage for his speech. My goal was to capture an off moment of a recent presidential candidate behind the scenes. Much like those old black and white documentary photographs of the John F. Kennedy. I did it! It looked cool and I was pleased.

I shot nearly 700 photographs today (see some of them) and it still seems like I didn't shoot my potential. My shoulders are sore, my legs hurt and my eyes are red. But as always it feels great to be living my dream.

Time for bed....Wake up call in five hours.