tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309265442024-03-13T07:41:53.650-06:00Prima GallerinaBeauty is only skin deep but ugly goes clean to the bone. This page is about the joys, the tribulations, the hilarity and the pure selfishness of being a gallerina.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-26719528866285615352007-03-20T21:45:00.000-06:002007-03-20T21:47:19.720-06:00How I love this!<object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BgoOihBb78w"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BgoOihBb78w" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />via <a href="http://www.schmutzie.com/">Schmutzie </a>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-14061230270398993632007-03-09T22:04:00.000-06:002007-03-09T22:09:41.563-06:00meeeee<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RfIu9a4VRrI/AAAAAAAAABI/qKDy2uQkXMc/s1600-h/meeee.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5040142565703501490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RfIu9a4VRrI/AAAAAAAAABI/qKDy2uQkXMc/s320/meeee.jpg" border="0" /></a> Taken at work (where I LIVE) waiting for my thirteen hour day to end so that I can go home and watch reality tv. Seriously. Sick. Of. Working.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-29671234733619500972007-03-03T12:03:00.000-06:002007-03-03T12:34:36.061-06:00February Book<strong>1. </strong><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/My-Dark-Places-James-Ellroy/dp/0679762051/ref=sr_1_1/702-7843649-4042454?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1172945066&sr=8-1"><strong>My Dark Places </strong></a><strong>by James Ellory</strong><br />Depressive, violent, excessive and utterly un-put-down-able. James Ellroy is the same author who wrote the <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Black-Dahlia-James-Ellroy/dp/0446698873/ref=sr_1_3/702-7843649-4042454?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1172945195&sr=1-3">Black Dahlia </a>and has basically made a writting career over obsessive with the violent deaths of women. His obsession (which itself is completely sick and twisted) started when he was ten when his mother was raped and murdered and almost consumed him as teenager. This book is the story of her death and his ensuing obsession, which he tried to solve in his forties with the help of a retired and beaten down L.A. homicide detective. James Ellroy is not likeable and there is so much gross in this books: from the awful way Ellroy lives most of his life, to the descriptions of hideous crimes against women. Still, it is a quick, sad read, with more to it then is initially evident. I think this book will stay with me, for better or for worse.<br /><br /><strong>2. </strong><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Holy-Terror-Andy-Warhol-Close/dp/0815410085/ref=sr_1_1/702-7843649-4042454?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1172945415&sr=1-1"><strong>Holy Terror: Andy Warhol Close Up</strong></a><strong> by Bob Colacello</strong><br />I am reading a series of Andy Warhol bios, diaries, letters and other scraps to prepare myself for the exhibition my gallery is presenting of his life and work in January 2008. This particular book really focuses on his life in the 1970's and a bit into the 80s and up until his death in 1987. Although the focus is the 70s it does put his whole life into context by giving some info on his family, his home town of Pittsburgh, earlier years, etc... Bob Colacello was the editor of Andy's magazine, Interview, during the 70s and became part of his inner circle along with long time art dealer/personal manager Fred Hughes. Though well written, my biggest criticism of this book is that it is a big exercise in name-dropping and Colacello assumes readers know the elite of New York society in the 70s so, with a few exceptions, he doesn't really explain who he is talking about. It is easy to get lost in a see of names. The really great part of this book is that despite a falling out before they parted ways, Colacello manages to present a Warhol that is very conflicted. He explains why so many people loved Andy, and why so many people despised him or were ruined because of him. While reading the book I felt in turns dislike for Andy and affection for Andy, by the end of the book I saw him as a really sad and tragic character who was perhaps the most lonely figure in modern pop culture.<br /><br /><strong>3. </strong><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Running-Scissors-Augusten-Burroughs/dp/0312938853/ref=sr_1_1/702-7843649-4042454?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1172945814&sr=1-1"><strong>Running with Scissors</strong></a><strong> by Augusten Burroughs</strong><br />I picked this book up for two reasons: 1. I was at a loss for what to read next, had heard something about this book and it looked like a quick read and 2. I remember Jackie talking about wanting to see the movie when it came out last year because she enjoyed the book and Jackie tends to read good books. I am not sure how I felt about this book. My biggest response was that I can't believe this is true story, that these people actually exist and live in the way Burroughs portrays them in the book. I found this book funny and sad in turns but truthfully, the biggest thing impression I had was how utterly gross this book is. From the state of the house, to the pooping, to the sex scenes... it just totally grossed me out. There were characters that I like, particularly Augusten, Natalie and Hope, but I didn't like them a lot and the other characters were terribly annoying - like Finch and Augusten's mother. The biggest problem I had was the ending, which seemed to wrap eveything up with a bit of a bow in a way that felt a bit phoney to me. It reminded me of the TV program Nanny 911 where everything is going to shit for 55 minutes then then within five minutes the lights come on, everything knows exactly what they do and the happy familly music begins to play. I don't like the sensation that things are being resolved primarily because we're running out of time. This book is funny though and there were bits that I absolutely loved and that made me laugh out loud such as this scene where Augusten and Natalie decide to sign for patients in a psychiatric ward of a hospital:<br /><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote>Our voices trembled at first, because of our nerves. Anytime you perform in<br />front of a life audience for the first time, this is bound to happen. But by the<br />second verse, we were both completely absorbed in the song. Natalie's voice was<br />truly beautiful, soaring high against the perforated ceiling panels. I closed my<br />eyes and tried to imagine a hushed audience wearing expensive earings, tissues<br />poised beneath their eyes.<br /><br />Which is why the wet smack was such as shock to both of us.<br /><br />"Fuckers." It was the hateful old man, the one without teeth, I now saw.<br />He'd coughed deeply, productively, and spat in our direction. Because we were<br />standing so close togther, his phlegm hit us both. In the face. It was deeply<br />replusive.<br /><br />And we did the only thing we could possibly do. Or at least Natalie did.<br /><br />She spat right back at him. </blockquote><br />There are also a few very touching bits such as this one where Natalie and Augusten cross under a waterfall and after probably nearly dying, "I lay back with my arms stretched out and stared at the sky. I had never felt so free in my entire life." There are plenty of lovely, disturbing and hillarious moments in <em>Running with Scissors</em> but, for me at least, it didn't add up to a wonderful book. David Sedaris does this kind of genre much better.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-75023008652410915032007-02-26T19:17:00.000-06:002007-02-26T19:22:17.744-06:00A little unhinged<div>It looks like Katie Holmes' circuits have finally short circuited, crazy, stepford woman that she is. Her eyes are all glazed over and crooked, like she's just been hit in the side of the head and needs a readjustment.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036017625493503138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 366px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="334" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/ReOHWTIlfKI/AAAAAAAAAA8/UfZcihPHHdk/s320/cruise_holmes_carter.jpg" width="241" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-49412313409940703292007-02-18T21:50:00.000-06:002007-02-18T21:58:10.688-06:00BirthdayToday is my 29th birthday. I usually don't like birthdays because, like so many other things in my life, I put far too much emphasis on making them 'special'. As a result, I spend most of my time marking and measuring their level of specialness and am usually disappointed.<br /><div>I tried to do things differently this year.<br /></div><div>Instead of planning something significant, I just let things happen and because I didn't have many expectations, the day unfolded in a lovely, unexpected way. I had brunch at a beautiful old hotel with my family, followed by cake at my grandperants, an afternoon at the dog park with my puppies (it is finally warmer here) and laziness on the couch with my sweetheart. Tomorrow we might drive to a local spa just out of town and soak in the warm mineral water. Nothing special, but somehow really just what I've needed. </div><br /><div>Here is a picture my grandperants gave me of my grandfather holding me the day I was born.</div><div></div><br /><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/134/394882707_40564dfe0d_m.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p>And here is a picture taken today with my mother and sister. </p><br /><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/156/394882701_f4900e0365.jpg" border="0" /><br /></p>I am happy to say that for this year anyhow, it is more than enough.<br /><div></div>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-38592463661507456682007-02-14T20:31:00.000-06:002007-02-14T20:43:54.806-06:00Valentine's Day is for LoversToday I am sick of listening/reading to people whine about how massively commercial and stupid Valentine's Day is. It seems that people complain more about V-day then other commercially based holidays as a reaction to thier own loneliness. People complain about Christmas and Easter, but not with the same vehemance they complain about Valentine's. There's venom and froth and anger.... It is really unsettling. It seems like a silly thing to waste one's energy on hating a holiday one claims is meaningless.<br /><br />I am not a sap by any stretch, but if there is any goodness or purpose in Valentine's it is just to remind us to let those we care about know that we care. So happy Vday everyone and love and be happy! (Lordie, I sound like a hippie)<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RdPIRK0TOrI/AAAAAAAAAAw/VGucGxgL_2Y/s1600-h/llama.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031585405990025906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RdPIRK0TOrI/AAAAAAAAAAw/VGucGxgL_2Y/s320/llama.bmp" border="0" /></a>I have been reading a lot of Tibetan Buddhism books lately, which could be having an affect on my desire to spread lovingkindness to the universe. It really is lovely though, and at its core is so easy but so totally impossible at the same time. Besides, I am totally in love with the Dalai Llama. Seriously, if I could have anyone in the world as my Valentine, it would be him. My favorite DL quote, "Kindness is my religion." Swoon!<br /><br />"What unites us all as human beings is an urge for happiness, which at heart is a yearning for union, for overcoming our feelings of seperateness. We want to feel our identity with something larger than our small selves. We long to be one with our own lives and with each other."<br /><br />Ah so.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-31503128921700273942007-02-04T21:25:00.000-06:002007-02-04T21:36:06.905-06:00A little of this, a little of thatSo, off the top the New Years resolutions are not all going swimmingly (but I suppose if they were then they wouldn't be NY resolutions). I am not updating more regularly and I am not even meeting my picture a day goal. Instead of beating myself up about it, I say OH WELL! Because it's not like I've been sitting around picking my nose instead of posting photos or blogging. No, I've been working my ass off.<br /><br />My gallery had it's big winter show opening last weekend and because of my massive schmooze effort we had a turn out of about 300 people, which is a very good number for this little arts community. The show is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">truly</span> lovely -- contemporary without feeling completely alienating and just so utterly cool. Cool artists = cool work in this particular case as I found out when I spent all my time not at work socializing with them (them being <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">truly</span> unique artists from all across the country). It was a weekend that felt exactly like it should feel to work in a successful gallery. Though it did mean a few too many martini's, a touch too much red wine and very little me time.<br /><br />Since then I've been doing about a zillion other work related things precipitated by the fact that February is a ridiculously short month, which means that I need to figure out how to fit 31 days worth of work into 28 days. Three less days. I nearly passed out when I realized it. Then I promptly took my ass to work, on a Sunday afternoon. The only <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">ok</span> thing about working non-stop is that the balmy weather has disappeared and it's been about -35 degrees for the past week, with no end in sight. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Truly</span> inhumane and hideous. So cold that my windows have ice lining the inside. So cold that it stings to breath. Other then work related things I (along with nearly everyone else) have been cloistered inside and in many ways, work has felt like a necessary break from the house and from stir crazy dogs. I can empathize with Jack Nicholson's pathological <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">behaviours</span> in The Shining.<br /><br />Other good news, my job is sending me on a week long, all expense paid trip to San <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Francisco</span> in April. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Hootie</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">hoo</span>! I've been to LA but never to San Francisco and I've heard it is beautiful. I will get to stay by Fisherman's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Wharf</span> and meet people from all over north <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">America</span>, and visit museums and galleries and learn all about the hip places (with more money then me) are doing with their websites. Maybe I'll make up for the lack of picture-taking when I'm there. Or maybe not.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">XOXOXO</span>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-2319710159739345042007-01-04T11:32:00.000-06:002007-01-04T11:48:23.127-06:00Spring in January<a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ladybug/345581051/"><img height="375" alt="Full Moon Melting" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/155/345581051_3bf9631159.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br />The last few days the weather has been a balmy +3 degrees - amazing by local standards. We are usually at about -20 this time of year. The other day I asked R, "what if this is actually spring come early?" Of course when I asked it, I was thinking this would be a terrific thing.<br /><br />He said, "Well, then it's likely that what's remaining of the glacial ice caps will melt and the world will be plunged into a catastrophic environmental disaster."<br /><br />Hmm. Yes. Damn.<br /><br />The moon was fantastic last though. A harvest moon in January, gigantic and yellow as it peered up over the treeline. There is a bitter, delicate beauty to this place. Even in the darkness of deep winter. Or maybe especially then.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-80550838833805882272007-01-01T21:38:00.000-06:002007-01-01T22:16:11.364-06:00New Years Is Here and I Feel Fine<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RZncN6q9EHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/hfiZ80KgbUQ/s1600-h/dancing.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015281791699587186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RZncN6q9EHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/hfiZ80KgbUQ/s320/dancing.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />And to prove it, here is a photo of me dancing in my livingroom with my puppy. This is actually part of a series of photos that I am going to try to add to called <em>Dancing With...</em> I am really trying to learn how to use the manual functions of my camera and while learning it seems that there are nifty little 'mistakes' to be found along the way. To see all the images in the series thus far, go <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ladybug/sets/72157594453231610/show/">here</a>.<br /><br />I survived New Years quite nicely. Generally I stress about New Years because it always feels like there should be something fantastic that happens in and around the stroke of twelve and instead, I always just feel like me (only usually drunk). As the date approaches, if there isn't some wonderful party or dinner or something planned I start to panic as though this is some kind of wickedly important emergency. This year, about two days before, as the bile started welling up my ever tightening throat at the prospects of nothing to do, I made a the crucial decision that I would control my destiny and make my own plans. My plans consisted of eating wonderful bad-for-me food, cuddling on the couch and watching movies. It was about -25 degrees here and instead of freezing my dressed up ass or waiting hours for overpriced cabs, I decided to stay in with those that are important to me and remember that New Years is nothing but an opportunity to reflect, relax and look forward. So, as for resolutions, here's what I've come up with:<br /><br /><strong>1. Take more photographs:</strong> Over the next year I would like to learn how to use the functions of my camera in earnest and take the whole thing a bit more seriously. I think I have a good eye and I really love it, yet I refuse to take it a bit seriously. As a first step towards this, today I took out a Flickr Pro account. I also started a set called <em>Photo Per Day 2007</em> and every single day I am going to try and post something. I am also going to try and post my photo per day here (though it may be a few at a time as opposed to one per day). Today's photo is the dancing photo above. I was a toss up though, between that and this:<br /><br /><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ladybug/341837153/"><img height="375" alt="Oakie and Finley Mugging for the Camera" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/161/341837153_70e4462545.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><strong>2. Be healthier:</strong> This is pretty general but I think I've come up with some genuinely tangible ways to achieve this, including:<br /><ul><br /><li>drinking eight to ten glasses H2O per day</li><br /><li>cutting own to two cans soda per week</li><br /><li>more fruits and veggies, less yucky fatty things</li><br /><li>three hours per week fitness</li><br /><li>one professional massage per month</li><br /><li>two half hours of meditation twice a week</li><br /><li>learning some techniques to better deal with stress</li><br /><li>regular journaling, both online and in private</li><br /><li>trying to laugh a bit more rather then taking myself too seriously</li><br /><li>1 multivitamin per day, every single day</li><br /><li>Try to avoid public (or private) drunkenness</li><br /><li>Stop checking and responding to work email at home </li><br /><li>Vacuum up animal dander and dust around house more often</li><br /><li>Dance more!</li></ul><br /><p><strong>3. Work Goals:</strong> </p><ul><br /><li>Increase attendance at Gallery and sales at Shop</li><br /><li>Have more fun with job! Spend more time in the galleries and meeting artists!</li><br /><li>Get national coverage</li><br /><li>Learn to listen more</li><br /><li>Allot specific time per week to organize and plan so that things flow more smoothly</li><br /><li>Find time to be creative</li><br /><li>Meet colleagues</li></ul><br /><p><strong>4. Find more time for creative endeavors:</strong> Write more - when I was a child up until my early twenties I loved to write, found time to write. Now, although I still have these great aha! moments where story ideas, or lines run through my head, I have a million and ten excuses to put it off. I am going to try to stick to it this year. Even if in small bits. I would also like to read more, go dancing more often, use my sewing machine more, learn to make clothes, spend time outside exploring my yard, traveling. There are so many exciting things to be doing and I feel like I am missing out on most of them and this year I am determined to change that. The scary thing about all of this is that it likely means less television and I am completely addicted. </p><br /><p><strong>5. Appreciate my life more:</strong> I am a lucky, lucky girl. I am healthy, I live in a country with an incredibly high standard of life, I am in a career that I love, I have a wonderful employer, my home life is loving and stable, I own my own little house and garden and I have friends that care. Despite all this, I still have this petulant teenager in my head who pipes up "I hate my life!" every time something goes slightly off kilter. I speed through things and am constantly thinking about the thing that is about to happen, completely missing the thing that is currently in front of me. As awfully cliche as it sounds, I need to learn to breathe and appreciate what is all around me and slow down and enjoy it. I will be 29 this year and I want to taste every bit of it. I also want to be more tolerant of the people around me. I know that I am a judger and it is mostly aimed at those I love most. I am also very critical of myself. I want to work on that. </p><br /><p>If I can even accomplish 10% of this, 2007 should be a wonderful year. I am so very lucky and really, really grateful for so many things. </p><p>I should stay in on New Years Eve more often. </p><br /><p>XOXOX</p>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-10966576538333467752006-12-29T17:01:00.000-06:002006-12-29T17:26:17.029-06:00Dear Blogosphere<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RZWjoqq9EGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Cuo-dkNExg8/s1600-h/dec06.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5014093679191461986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q3Ucqg8vUKU/RZWjoqq9EGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Cuo-dkNExg8/s320/dec06.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="left">Dear Blogosphere (which likely hasn't even noticed I've been away), </p><div>I am a terrible, neglectful blogger with, it seems, nothing much to say. I have no excuses other than, I suck.<br /></div><div><br />Here is what I haven't told you over the past month and a half:<br /></div><ul></ul><ul></ul><ul></ul><ul></ul><ul><br /><li>I saw, I ate, I drank in the Dominican Replublic and there are pictures, which I will try to post soonish.<br /></li><li>I've been sick ever since I got back from the DR (December 2nd) with various forms of sinus cementing infections and a cough that has become so annoying and rattling that I am surprised I haven't been kicked out of public venues. I only get sick about once a year but when I get sick, I get SICK biatch.<br /></li><li>It's gotten very cold here. </li><br /><li>My job is exciting and wonderful and I've just sent out a release to confirm that we will be showcasing an enormous Warhol retrospective exhibition next year. This makes me very, very happy.<br /></li><li>My house is a mess. </li><br /><li>I've made some new friends and lost some old ones and I'm not really sure how I feel about that.<br /></li><li>I still have no New Years plans except that I refuse to wind up at a sorry local bar paying $50 to get in for no other reason than it's NYE and people are so desperate for a place to go that they will pay $50 to go to a sorry local bar. I think NY is the most depressing of the holidays. </li><br /><li>I have a week and a half of holidays and have only changed out of my new jammies and robe to walk the dogs and one other time to have dinner with my grandperants. I have mastered the art of doing absolutely nothing.<br /></li><li>I went shopping in Ottawa and had meetings at the stunning National Gallery. This made me both jealous of their amazing space and expansive staff and simultaneously releived that my workplace is blessedly lacking in burocracy. </li></ul><p>I'm sure there is more but these are the highlights, sad but true. I know none of this is terribly exciting but in the meantime, check out <a href="http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/uncensored.shtml">this </a>Dick in a Box thing. It has made my holiday season. My favorite part, "One, cut a hole in the box. Two, put your junk in that box. Three, get her to open the box..." </p><p>More to come, including pictures from the DR, my yearly recaps and strategies for being a disgustingly happy individual in the New Year. Happy holidays!<br /></p><br /><p>XOXOX<br /></p><br /><p></p>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1163438452896574752006-11-13T11:12:00.000-06:002006-11-13T11:20:52.910-06:00Last Dance for the Queen of CathedralMy dear little Jackie is leaving me. Not just the area, the city, the province. She is leaving the continent, to marry no less. So in true form, and despite her hangover from the night before, we went out and painted the town varying shades of red and blue. I will miss her.<br /><br /><div align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/j_awaysm9.jpg" border="0" /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/1600/j_awaysm8.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/j_awaysm8.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/1600/j_awaysm13.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/j_awaysm13.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/1600/j_awaysm2.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/j_awaysm2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/1600/j_awaysm14.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/j_awaysm14.jpg" border="0" /></a>This is photoshopped to "Make her look like one of those<br />wierd dogs in dog food commercials." It's true, but I am<br />allowed certain indulgences because she is leaving me. <br /></div><br />For a complete photographic accounting of the evening, including <a href="http://flickr.com/photos/ladybug/296515474/">Roof Bitches </a>and <a href="http://flickr.com/photos/ladybug/296515464/">Scene from a Romantic Comedy </a>visit my <a href="http://flickr.com/photos/ladybug/">Flickr</a>.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1162086981165830992006-10-28T19:54:00.000-06:002006-10-28T19:56:21.176-06:00me and danes<a href="http://www.myheritage.com" title="MyHeritage Celebrity Collage" alt="MyHeritage Celebrity Collage" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.myheritagefiles.com/G/storage/site1/files/06/19/61/061961_65658961804454hqzkla03.JPG" width="500" height="574" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It has always baffled me that more people don't compare me to Clare Danes. We're practically doppelgangers, no?Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1161751549442003182006-10-24T22:42:00.000-06:002006-10-24T22:55:02.573-06:00me, if I lived in a comic<strong><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></strong><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">Veronica</span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></strong><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/1600/arg.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/arg.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">Betty</span></strong> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/1600/ohlala.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/ohlala.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"></div>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1161662092917631962006-10-23T21:44:00.000-06:002006-10-23T21:54:52.926-06:00Listening to Queen Bitch Laughing at WhatcottI'm feeling much more in-tuned with the world since my last post. Although I think it is an accurate representation of what I experiences and the true meanness of some people, I am embarrassed at how much it effected me. I was never picked on a bunch in elementary school or high school, but if I was, I would imagine I would have felt similarly to how those girls made me feel last week. It bothers me that I was so bothered.<br /><br />I saw <a href="http://www.sonypictures.com/movies/marieantoinette/index.html">Marie Antoinette </a>last weekend and I loved it as I love all of Sophia Coppola's films. It is a visceral reaction really and not one well articulated. The places and the music are all as vibrant as the main characters and all are beautiful and sad in a romantic way but one that plays to my sensibilities. And despite the costumes and the cakes, Marie Antoinette was so, so sad and lonely and it really made me think about those everything girls and how sad they might be. How hard it would be to have everything. I recommend it and actually, next to the Virgin Suicides it's my favorite Coppola.<br /><br />This made me laugh today:<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dyWtEpIrbQY" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed><br /><br />Anyone who has seen this man's awful dead fetus propaganda outside of abortion clinic or had the misfortune to receive any of his homophobic pamphlets will likely appreciate it.<br /><br />XOXOXBernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1161380288461904182006-10-20T15:02:00.000-06:002006-10-20T15:38:08.473-06:00Art Bitches<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/1600/ATC-Bitch.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7654/3325/320/ATC-Bitch.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />There is no kind of bitch in the world quite like an art bitch. They are usually beautiful and project an air of fun hipness that, from a distance, seems so welcoming. But then you get up close and it's this awful monstrosity barely concealed underneath perfectly applied makeup. Tina Fey should write Mean Girls II and it should all take place in the Fine Arts Dept. of a university. The high school bitches would be put to shame by the cruel snobbery of the arts bitch.<br /><br />I suppose there is some satisfaction in knowing that 99% of art bitches are really only good at being mean. It becomes their practice. Like performance art or something.<br /><br />Why do I work in this industry?!Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1160413081263672942006-10-09T10:49:00.000-06:002006-10-09T10:58:01.286-06:00Made My Day<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4">Here.</a><br /><br />Sorry it's been so long. I miss my little blog and will try concertedly to come back more often.<br /><br />For those of you in Canada, happy Thanksgiving. Here is some of what I am thankful for this year:<br /><ul><li>A job I love that also pays me enough to live comfortably and even eat sushi now and then. </li><li>Circumstances that allow me to be surrounded by art for at least eight hours a day. </li><li>Passionate people who continue to inspire me every single day. </li><li>My doggies and R for being loving and wonderful but for also letting me have my space (ok, the dogs are not so good about that). </li><li>For not having had a cold since May. </li><li>For living in a city filled with parks and in a neighbourhood where I can walk one block and feel like I am in the country, or 15 minutes in the other direction to feel like I am downtown. </li><li>For the trip we are planning to take at the end of November to the Dominican Republic. </li><li>For my little house. </li><li>For my feet, which take me everywhere I need to go (and some places I don't need to go). </li><li>For still loving the person I was ten years ago, even if I bear little resemblance to her now. </li><li>For writing and reading and hot baths on cold days. </li><li>For geese gathering together to make noise in preparation for their southern journey. </li><li>For my friends and family, who remind me to shut up every now and again. </li><li>For TIVO!, the Rapture, impromptu dance parties and crinolins under full skirts. </li><li>For sake martini's.</li><li>For stillettos and comfortable shoes. </li><li>For long, long mornings sleeping in. </li></ul><p>There is so much! </p>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1159247384103866882006-09-25T23:06:00.000-06:002006-09-25T23:09:44.116-06:00late night last minute thingI feel like I am in highschool again, only I am getting paid to be there and do the work. Case in point: it is 11 p.m. and I am so tired my eyeballs ache, but I have three reports due at an all day meeting tomorrow. So what do I do? Stay up all night, finish the work and be incontinent tomorrow or go to bed, bank on how smart I'll be after a good nights sleep and hope to god that the hours and a half I have in the morning before the meeting is amazingly productive and that I somehow am able to churn all this out.<br /><br />Either that or promise my first born to a little gremlin and have him spin it out of thin air as I snooze. Wouldn't it be grand?Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1158624149159828872006-09-18T17:57:00.000-06:002006-09-18T18:02:29.170-06:00self inflicted pain is the worst kind of painOn Saturday night I took the opportunity of having two long-lost friends in town to be an excessive freak and drink more booze then I've probably done all together in the last six months combined. And shooters! I never do shooters! Between swigging the red wine, I also indulged in Jaegger (I don't even know how to spell it!) and at least two ounces of the raunchiest tequila I think I've ever had in my life. Even three sheets to the wind I had to stuggle to hold it down. It was an ugly, slurring, stumbling, falling on my ass in the middle of the dance floor kind of drunk. Oh, it was ugly and I am still feeling the pangs even today.<br /><br />And you know who I blame? The gallery, of course. I've been working so many hours that I was just craving a stupid release. All of my overtime and squinting into this stupid screen resulted in a mass of pent up ugliness that was either to explode on someone in my office or on myself, via alchohol induced vomitting.<br /><br />Oh lord.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1158122062144401842006-09-12T22:21:00.000-06:002006-09-12T22:34:22.166-06:00Prima Gallerina Does FashionTonight, after eight and a half hours of work, I mosied my fashionista ass down to our local pedway mall for a fashion show/arts fundraiser/dance thing in support of a local modern dance company and one of my co-workers who was walking in the show (for those of you not in the know - or those of you who don't watch America's Next Top Model - "walking" means she was modeling). It was kind of pretty and I felt all important with my complimentary ticket, glass of sparkling champagne and the rose petals scattered at my feet. The dancing was great, the clothes alternated between absolutely hideous (think black garbage bag dress and mid-calf length leggings, ick!) and fabulous (a wonderful brown knit suit cut in all the right places). Maybe it is my obsession with all things top model and project catwalk but I was really struck by how completely uncomfortable and lost most of the models appeared. I could just hear Tyra Banks and Miss Jay whispering in my ear, "That's not fierce! A model needs to be fierce!" and unfortunately, few of them lived up to my television-driven expectations. I found myself internally critiquing everything from the vacant expression in their eyes to the awkward walking in stilettos to the mostly terrible choice of music (Born to be Wild). The highlight of the night was this funny art thing when a group of men came out and did a choreographed dance down the catwalk, all clad in paper skirts. It sounds crazy, but it had me grinning so wide that my teeth hurt. The best part was seeing Carlos, the owner of a local Italian deli and likely among the most colourful men in the city, bouncing up and down in a pink paper skirt, a wrapped sausage in his hand, his jerry-curl mullet bouncing up and down in the late afternoon breeze. It was priceless and well worth the hour of otherwise mediocre performances and fashion.<br /><br />Afterwards we all sauntered into the store that was sponsoring the fashion show and I deigned to imagine that I might find a cute scarf or hat to add to my cute little fall wardrobe. My head spun when I saw the insane prices - $120 for a scarf! A scarf! That is about $100 more then I would ever spend on a scarf given that at the places I currently shop at, $120 could likely buy me three shirts, a dress and a sweater (a bit of an exaggeration but close). So, like the classy gal I am, I guzzled a few glasses of the cheap champagne and left, all the while sneezing from the (likely) expensive perfume that rich people seem intent on dousing themselves with.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1157912915674407182006-09-10T12:24:00.000-06:002006-09-10T12:28:35.693-06:00gitI am such a git. I was supposed to have this fun weekend but I keep missing the people I am supposed to have fun with. My new telephone plays Fur Elise, and apparently that isn't obnoxious enough a song for me to even notice that it is playing. Bugger! As a result, no dance party on Friday, no drinks last night and no brunch today. Instead I spent Saturday pm at work. So the message, find a phone with a more annoying ringer.<br /><br />Today though I am going shopping for a new fall wardrobe and nothing delights me more. Except maybe fresh steamed mussels, which I bought from the fish store yesterday and intend on having for dinner tonight. Oh glory!<br /><br />As for the gallerina business, it is going well. Crazy busy but as well as can be expected GIVEN MY BOSS QUIT ON WEDNESDAY AND HIS LAST DAY WAS FRIDAY. (Holy Mother of Gawd! Sacre Bleu! &^%^%$^#+!). But more on that later. The mall is calling my name in the sweetest voice....Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1157419729592176592006-09-04T19:23:00.000-06:002006-09-04T19:31:02.120-06:00one of those...<p><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ladybug/234446643/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/86/234446643_09ec4be76d.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="the happy arcade" /></a></center></p><p>Yes. Despite being on the tail end of a lovely last-weekend of summer I am feeling desperate today. I've had a strange weekend, fluctuating between being overjoyed by time alone reading in my slowly browning yard, or walking the dogs - to feeling completely in despair over a variety of things, all valid, none of which I feel I can really nail down. I keep telling myself that my over-emotional state is due to PMS, and I am sure that is partly true, but only partly. I have a lot of things to be glad about:<br /><br />1. a job that I love<br />2. lovely weather of my favorite variety - warm during the day and wonderfully cool at night<br />3. pets that I adore<br />4. a kind and loving man in my life<br />5. a house that feels like home to me<br />6. a sense that I am where I should be, rather than a niggling feeling that I am missing something going on just around the corner<br />7. books I have loved reading, like this one<br /><br />Really there are a lot of things to be happy about. But there are also these buggers:<br /><br />1. my grandfather (really more like my father as he raised me, my own father having abandoned me and my mother before I was born) has a lesion on his lung and at this point we aren't sure what it is. It doesn't look promising though as he was in construction most of his life and during that time, they loved to use asbestos, which they have discovered causes lung cancer.<br />2. so much overtime that I occasionally feel like my head is about to crack open like a coconut and an awful sense of urgency in the pit of my stomach like I am forgetting something/screwing something up/going to be found out/in terrible trouble/sinking in quick sand.<br />3. I let my oldest friend move away from town without saying goodbye to her. I had a reason, I was busy and she was being a bit of an ass. But in the end, none of that should have mattered and I should have made even ten minutes to say goodbye, even if wasn't willing to do the same for me. If anything ever happened to her, I would never be able to reconcile not taking the time out and be the bigger person and wish her well.<br />4. I haven't emailed my father back (biological who just came back into my life this past spring) in about a month. I want to but there is something keeping me from actually doing it. It is weighing on me but I am frozen into some stupor, unable to act and unwilling to really analyze my feelings about it.<br />5. I just feel overwhelmed and a little bit lost - a bit like a woman made out of tightly strung elastic bands. I really, really don't want to snap.<br /><br />All this sounds very dramatic but writing about it makes it somehow better, or at least more manageable. I am just such a nostalgic fool. I love fall, it's my favorite season and I look forward to it every year but it makes me so sad. Anther summer is slipping away and there will never be another one exactly like this and although in many ways that is a good thing, the control freak part of me (which, let's face it, is a big part of me) hates that there is nothing I can do to slow things down. I think this feeling is amplified by my grandfather's potential illness and the idea that these loves cannot ever be permanent, no matter how nurtured they are. Like everything else, they pass and I am still trying to hold on to every moment and the harder I grasp, the quicker things seem to turn to smoke and slip through my fingers.<br /><br />XOXOX<br clear="all"></p>Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1156800444740424552006-08-28T15:15:00.000-06:002006-08-28T15:27:24.836-06:00Stupid Afternoon FunThis list was forwarded to me via email (sorry, no idea who originated it so no credit). I've highlighted the ones that really resonate with me in pink. Hot 80's pink.<br /><br />You know you grew up in the '80's if ...<br /><br />1. You've ever ended a sentence with the word "SIKE"<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">2. You watched the Pound Puppies.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">3. You can sing the rap to the "Fresh Prince of Belair" . . . and can do the "Carlton".</span><br />4. Girls wore biker shorts under their skirts and felt stylishly sexy.<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">5. You yearned to be a member of the Baby-sitters club and tried to start a club of your own.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">6. You owned those Strawberry Shortcake scented dolls.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">7. You know that "WOAH " comes from Joey on Blossom.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">8. Two words: Hammer Pants. <em>(Note: I actually owned Hammer Pants. And they were hideous!)</em></span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">9. If you ever watched "Fraggle Rock"</span><br />10. You had plastic streamers on your handle bars... and"spokey-dokes" or playing cards on your spokes for that incredible sound effect.<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">11. You can sing the entire theme song to "DuckTales " (Woo ooh!).</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">12. It was actually worth getting up early on a Saturday to watch cartoons.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">13. You wore a ponytail on the side of your head.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">14. You saw the original "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" on the bigscreen...and still know the turtles' names.</span><br />15. You know about those clips that would hold your shirt in a knot on the side.<br />16. You played the game "MASH"<br />17. You wore stonewashed Jordache jean jackets and were proud of it.<br />18. L.A. Gear....need I say more?<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">19. You know the profound meaning of "WAX ON, WAX OFF"</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">20. You wanted to be a Goonie. <em>(I am still convinced I was a Goonie and I still put the Cindy Lauper Goonies song on almost every mixed CD I make)</em></span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">21. You ever wore fluorescent clothing.<br />22. You can remember what Michael Jackson looked like before his nose fell off and his cheeks shifted.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">23. You have ever pondered why Smurfette was the only female smurf.</span><br />24. You remember the CRAZE, then the BANNING of slap bracelets.<br />25. You still get the urge to say "NOT " after every sentence.<br />26. You remember Tie-Dyed t-shirts.<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">27. You thought She-ra (Princess of Power!) and He-Man should hook up.</span> <em><span style="color:#ff99ff;">(But didn't they hook up??)</span></em><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">28. You thought your childhood friends would never leave because you exchanged handmade friendship bracelets.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">29. You even owned a pair of Jelly-Shoes. (and like probably inneon colors, too)</span>30. After you saw Pee-Wee's Big Adventure you kept saying "I know you are, but what am I?"<br />31. You remember "I've fallen and I can't get up"<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">32. You remember going to the skating rink before there were in-line skates.</span><br />33. You ever got injured on a Slip and Slide.<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">34. You have ever played with a Skip-It.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">35. You had (and attended) a birthday party at McDonalds!</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">36. You've gone through this nodding your head in agreement.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">37. "Don't worry, be happy"</span><br />38. You wore socks scrunched down<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">39. You remember boom boxes .</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">40. "Say Anything" . . . need I say more <em>(John Cusack is still a dream!)</em></span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">41. You remember watching both "Gremlins" movies.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">42. You know what it meant to say "Care Bear Stare!"</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">43. You remember watching "Rainbow Bright" and "My Little Pony Tales"</span><br />44. You thought Doogie Howser was hot.<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">45. You remember Alf, the li'l furry brown alien from Melmac.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">46. You knew all the characters names and their life stories on "Saved By The Bell," The ORIGINAL class.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">47. You know all the words to Bon Jovi - SHOT THROUGH THE HEART.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">48. You just sang those words to yourself.</span><br />49. Daisey Duke shorts<br />50. You still sing "We are the World"<br />51. You tight rolled your jeans.<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">52. You owned a banana clip.</span><br />53. You remember "Where's the Beef?"<br />54. You used to say "What you talkin' about Willis?"<br />55. You had big hair and you knew how to use it.<br /><span style="color:#ff99ff;">56. You're still singing "shot through the heart" in your head, aren't you?</span><br />57. You know what gimp is.<br /><br />Those were the day, no?Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1156564028950026012006-08-25T21:41:00.000-06:002006-08-25T21:47:08.960-06:00My allergies have been unbearable all day. Anytime the barometric pressure shifts and the temperature either drops or raises drastically, I am a mess. Today my little office was filled with snotty kleenexes and my keyboard and phone were sticky from the constant eye/nose oozing. Not a pretty sight. So tonight I promptly filled my prescription for Flon@se, a miracle cure for those of us plagued with ugly sinuses. While waiting in line at the S@feway pharmacy this strange woman approached me and said, "Your hair is beautiful. It looks like movie hair. In a good way." It was nice to hear, even if she was crazy. It reminded me of the time Friday convinced me to buy a bubble gum pink coat against my better judgment (though I came to love it) by saying, "You have to buy this! You will look like a character out of a film, walking around in your pink coat." I like the idea that something like a coat color or hair can create ambiance, that in some way I am designing the color of my life in the way Sofia Coppola might decide to create a nostalgic mood in a film by choosing to put the Jesus Mary Chain on the soundtrack.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1156447524665241952006-08-24T13:16:00.000-06:002006-08-24T13:25:24.680-06:00Finding What You LoveThe last few days have been eaten up with me editing and placing the content for the next gallery newsletter in its professionally designed but malleable template. The newsletter has been around for at least ten years and throughout those years has veered between being just a newsletter to being much more like a magazine or publication a person might actually want to pick up and read. Being the over-achiever that I am, I am taking it in a whole new direction from the current events listing on tabloid size paper that is has turned into with a slick new design that actually looks like a professional magazine, and a whole roster of what I hope are engaging feature stories, some written by me, some by others.<br /><br />I love it! It's been driving me crazy and the source of many, many hours of overtime but I can't remember ever feeling so fulfilled doing anything work related in my life. I love the gratification of managing this little project and ending up, four times a year, with a real, tangible, publication that I have created from virtual scratch. I love the power of editing copy with a red marker. I love the creativity of trying to rearrange things so that I can fit text and the image that I desperately want people to see. I LOVE IT ALL SO MUCH THAT I AM DIZZY.<br /><br />When I was eighteen years old I sent an email to an indie literary journal on the west coast and inquired whether they might be interested in me spending my summer with them as an editorial intern. As it turned out, they were interested, but I couldn't go because they couldn't pay me and not only did I need money for school in the fall but apart from living in an empty refrigerator box on the streets of Vancouver, I couldn't afford to go. As school and jobs progressed, I kind of forgot about working for a magazine until now, as it comes crashing back upon me like a tidal wave, or nausea. This is what I should be doing. Maybe not this exact publication for all time, but I need to keep going with this, whether I be an editor for a magazine, a journal or a publishing house. Editing, designing and the wonderful feeling of holding a lovely thing you've built in your hands. Of having people read it.<br /><br />What more could a person want in life?Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30926544.post-1155940545156235452006-08-18T16:32:00.000-06:002006-08-18T16:40:31.986-06:00one picture, everyday for three yearsI can't really explain why but <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55YYaJIrmzo">this </a>has mesmerized me today. I've watched it nearly a dozen time. Maybe it's just the way I'm feeling today. It makes me feel nostalgic.Bernice Sequinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03775266831704002203noreply@blogger.com1