A Skewed View

Should I print this out and attach it to my resignation letter? (source: Dilbert.com) So tempting ...

I had fully planned to use this evening after my photography class to let you in on how my weekend in Toronto went. Instead, I came home from work to a note on my windshield. "Sorry about the dent." Yeah, this dent ... and paint chips ... and scrape ... and huge hole in the paint ... and bending of the metal around the headlight: Holy heavens people. LOOK at the space in the alley by my car. I am not even as far to the edge of my parking spot as I could be. This person rammed my car directly. Directly. Rammed. I mean COME ON! The "apology" was written on the back of a child's crayon drawing (and by child's crayon drawing, I mean a collection of crayon colours in a somewhat round shape that one is required to assume was drawn by a child of quite limited years). I called the number -- angry, as you can quite imagine. I got an answering machine. Then I took a plethora of photographs and called the police. Who advised me to give her 24 hours, and then call them ...

I wrote my resignation letter today. Brief. This is my two weeks notice. My last day will be such and such. I enjoyed working with the Committee and will miss them. I neglected to comment I can no longer take editing direction from a person whose own writing is more than simply laughably bad, it is painful to me as a writer to lay eyes upon. I hope her qualifications as the best friend of the boss’s daughter serves her well as she takes over when I leave – because if the documents I’ve seen her draft since she got here are any indication, she is barely literate. See, here is where poor management skills really bites you in the ass: We got notice last week that our office has to physically move in August. I had been planning to quit at the end of August, but when I heard we have to move I thought “Ah, that would be too cruel. I should leave in September [if I don’t move to Toronto].” But then it hit me like a truck – are you frickin’ kidding me?! (I LOVE this picture!) source: http://w...

I am currently reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Wow. Or rather: the reading of this book, quite separate from other books which have been read by myself upon occasion, although less frequently as had happened in my earlier years because of life’s obligations, not to mention increased diversions vying for my attention, keeps me quite on my mental toes. I find I can’t follow Shelley’s train of thought without moving my lips silently as I go along … similar to when I needed to read The Canterbury Tales out loud in order to have a hope of understanding what I had been assured was the English language. Even the story veers off in one direction only to dip and weave around to sneak back upon itself. At least I assume it will materialize behind itself by the end. I’ve already gone from a mariner’s letters to his sister to the recollection of a stranded man (Frankenstein) he came across in his voyage, who is now reciting the particulars of a third man’s (if you can call Frankenstein’s cr...

I'm finally taking an introductory photography class after eons of thinking of how great it would be to formally learn photography. I'm just doing it at the City Arts Centre, though, so it is taught by a photographer who isn't necessarily a teacher, rather than a teacher of photography. As far as introductory goes, it's fine. But the problem of not being led by a teacher is compounded by the student you will find in every class you ever take. The one who is confident they are sitting in on a private session that is only about them. The one who answers every question with an in-depth personal story that is more conversational than responsive... ...The one who spoke so much at last Thursday's class that time ran out before I and another student had a chance to present our pictures for critique because we had to listen to stories about the small hands of this woman's one daughter as she tries to learn the violin, how the other daughter's face is so expressive w...

I went to the loveliest wedding this weekend at the Devonian Botanic Gardens: The bride crossed a tree-lined bridge on the arm of her father to meet her groom ... ... which really pleased the groom. The bride was clearly in love ... and it would seem so was the groom, as they walked off to their new life. The baseball-sized raindrops even held off until the bridal party was shuttled off from the ceremony and guests could get back to their cars. Most guests, at any rate. I chose to wander around the gardens a little with friends to see what we could see ... until the rain threatened to give us concussions. Seriously, it was like each rain drop was a quarter cup of liquid a pop. Quite startling.