48 Hour Margarita

by Sherard Harrington

In the past 48 hours, I have:

-Had an awesome Skype session with my co-blog host, Tamra Martin (in which we discussed in part the following topics: men, interning, coffee, the effects of winning the lottery, and harem cruise ships).
-Tasted three different kinds of margaritas.
-Received a call from a friend who resides out of the country (in which we discussed in part the following topics: teaching, architecture, red wine, growing old, and moving in with your girlfriend).
-Sent out four “Thank You” cards to job applications—just to say thank you for even considering me.
-Woken up with my arms around a cute guy.
-Drank coffee from a wine glass. (Clearly, a future architect in the making.)

-On that note, drawn 12 drawings/diagrams, and counting!
-Sang both Heart and Ke$ha songs, equally badly.
-Cleaned my room.
-Fallen flat on my face while on the phone in front of the post office.
-Found out that my dad is seeing someone new. (Good for him.)
-Walked from Copley to South Station because the Green Line was PACKED.
-Realized that people actually use LinkedIn.
-Updated my LinkedIn.
-Argued for the sake of the good in humanity.
-Come to the conclusion that maybe I can really pull this semester off.
-Considered bartending as an alternative option.

Meanwhile, Reading Update

by Sherard Harrington

Know what I’ve been reading lately? David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster. And you know...it’s not bad so far. Very interesting to read on public transit.

99 Luftballons

by Sherard Harrington

Listen, you can tell it to my heart, you smooth operator, but we all know that the rhythm is going to get you. Those girls are always looking to have fun in our house, so sure, I’ll take you home tonight; come on Eileen, let’s dance, and when I think we’re alone now, I’ll melt with you. You can take my breath away with your open arms and careless whispers, because—I’m so excited—I just want to dance with somebody. Those Bette Davis eyes are invincible though, you heartbreaker, and that’s what keeps me holding on through those manic mondays when I’m stuck in cars having a total eclipse of the heart. “What does love have to do with it?” you ask, oh sweet child o’ mine, which was hitting me with your best shot. “I love you always and forever,” I say, because it must have been love, it was so automatic and like a prayer that had gone crazy on you when I was alone. What about love, that eternal flame that broke my stride? Well, as the saying in those sweet dreams (that are indeed made of this) goes, “Another one bites the dust.”

Bullchaos

by Sherard Harrington

I’m coining a new term that describes the academic model of architectural programs. Let’s call it bullchaos.

Bullchaos is a course load that inhumanely does not expect you to sleep, cook meals, or enjoy any part of society while demanding you to design a space to be inhabited by humanity.

Bullchaos is what happens when you can spend 8 hours on 3 different detailed drawings (each equipped with its own detailed layover diagram, equalling 6 drawings in total) and have your teacher dislike all of them, without offering any constructive criticism.

Bullchaos is when you’ve been going to a school for 9 months and the tech guy you see every other week decides that now, as you sit down on a Sunday (because you’re at school on a Sunday) at the computer lab, which computers have scanners and which ones have rendering software.

Bullchaos is the expectation of proficiency in 4 different softwares, wholesale costing more than your already exorbitant rent—each—in order to work an entry-level position at a firm.

Bullchaos is not having time to apply to said firms.

Bullchaos is hauling a plastic bin with you everywhere you go because your school won’t offer you your own workspace.

Bullchaos is all art stores closing at 6pm on the weekends.

Bullchaos is that stuff that has been metaphorically (because, as another form of bullchaos, architects despise language as communication and rue the concept of hyperbole) heaped onto my front lawn, has been splattered all over the walls—I’ve got some on my shoe—this bullchaos is EVERYWHERE. Bullchaos! This shit is bullchaos!

The Voices

by Sherard Harrington

Voice: Oh my God, Sherard, you took an architectural history exam this morning, did your taxes in the afternoon and went into the city to try to do your Rhino software homework on the school computers? You are accomplished. Good for you.

Other Voice: Seriously. And you cleaned and did your laundry too? Ugh, amazing.

Voice: Outstanding. And on a Sunday! And look, he’s still working.

Other Other Voice: I’m so proud of that guy. Really he deserves a break.

Other Voice: A vacation, all expenses paid. Something with hot stone massages.

Voice: And Mai Tais! Can there be Mai Tais?

Other Other Voice: Totally. He should Mai Tai it out.

Other Voice: Boy. He’s about to pull another all-nighter, isn’t he?

Voice: He’s so hardcore.

Other Other Voice: And he looks so cute in that new baseball tee he got at Urban Outfitters.

Voice: The one he got on sale?

Other Voice: Yeah—he’s so savvy.

Voice: Yeah. He loves a good sale.

Other Other Voice: Good for him. I love it.

Cardboard Monster

by Sherard Harrington

Cardboard Monster! There’s a Cardboard Monster in my room!

Wait....no. Just building another model. Nevermind.

Checklist

by Sherard Harrington

You know, those moments when I’m feeling stressed out, or overwhelmed, I hear Tamra’s voice in the back of my head asking me three questions:



1) When was the last time you ate some good food?

2) When was the last time you had a drink?

3) When was the last time you saw a naked man?



Remedying one of these always seems to fix the problem.

Anyone Have the Time?

by Sherard Harrington

Bought this cup at Urban Outfitters on Newbury Street/Mass Ave.

Appropriate, am I right? It’s my new water cup. One glass of water for every cup of coffee I force down my gullet to keep up with my schedule.

Entranced by Stone Carving Classes

by Sherard Harrington

So, this past Easter, I ran around desperately trying to find an art store that was open. And there was nothing. I mean, at least stay open for the egg hunters and arts n’ crafters, if not for us architecture students who need random art supplies on demand 24/7 due to bizarre requests from our professors and our chaotic schedules. I deeply considered building a site model out of spaghetti.

Anyway, this atrocity to my schedule (and the disparity of my teachers’ expectations vs. business hours of art stores/what a person can carry home each trip) led me to start hunting for alternative art stores besides my usual haunt, Dick Blick’s in Cambridge off of Central Square. And across the street from them, in a basement, is indeed an indie art store. Squeezing through the homeless people who were waiting around for the 1 bus into town (who I so eloquently refer to as my “homies” given their gregarious nature), I went down into the store and discovered awesomeness.

They sell cardboard and foamboard in different—more manageable to carry—sizes, and they have so much more stuff. In fact, I saw this poster in their stone section (stone section), and I thought, “You know, that seems really awesome.” I think I’m going to try it. Why the hell not, right?

Meanwhile, Random Hot Guy with Kitten!

by Sherard Harrington

Just cause =)

Although, I have to admit, I think his cuteness is greatly magnified by the adorably freaked out kitty.