by Tamra Artelia Martin
Man of Steel is coming out this week, and I really hope it doesn't suck. Yes, the trailers have been amazing. But I've learned to not fully trust them. Sometimes they give away everything that's good about a movie in the entire 3-5 minutes.
Still, that's not the reason I don't want it to be bad. It's because I'm a Henry Cavill admirer (I'd say fan, but that gives me scary pictures of screaming teenagers with "Will you marry me?" signs. So admirer it is). It'd be kind of bad if the first British actor to play Superman made people cringe at the though of the finished movie.
Most of all I want him to succeed because we finally need a Superman worthy of filling Christopher Reeve's blue and red spandex, who was the best version. Although I loved Dean Cain in Lois and Clark and Tom Welling in Smallville, their versions were created for television, not blockbusters.
I adored Henry Cavill long before he donned the famous red cape. As a historical fiction fan, I first noticed him in The Tudors. I have been trying to figure out exactly what I liked about his acting. I still can't pinpoint it. Maybe because he played cute and mischievous, and we're supposed to be attracted to bad boys, right?
Maybe it was his range as Henry VIII's friend, Charles Brandon. I felt he acted better than Jonathan Rhys Myers, who played Henry VIII. Honestly, the guy is eye candy, and accents are definitely creamy icing on a very rich-and-bad-for-you cake that you eat anyway because its good (I'm 100 percent sure Sherard agrees with me here).
After seeing Immortals, which did disappoint me a little due to the story line since I'm such a mythology fanatic, it solidified that I want to see more Cavill. I mean, he was close to playing Edward in Twilight. I have a feeling that more adult women would have surpassed teenyboppers in sales if he'd been the lead. It kind of makes me cry a little inside for the lost potential.
Oh, well. I hear they're planning a Magic Mike 2. I may have a suggestion for a new lead. Channing Tatum will be busy with fatherhood after all. Even if Henry Cavill can't dance, I'd go see it. A few times.
Bye Chai,
Tamra
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Physics Final Exam
by Sherard Harrington
Whaaaaaat? Awesomeness? Totally. My buildings will stand proud. I’m not a science dunce after all!
Whaaaaaat? Awesomeness? Totally. My buildings will stand proud. I’m not a science dunce after all!
Tweet? Me? What?
by Tamra Artelia Martin
So I remembered that I created a Twitter account in 2010 for class. The last tweet I did? 2010. For class. Went online to update my Twitter account and realize I have nothing to say. I'm on Facebook. Isn't that enough?
Why do we still have Twitter? Celebrities seem to be the only reason. Maybe I'll just connect it to Facebook, but my comments go beyond the limited 140 characters.
I feel like I'll only use it for something profound to say. Yes, I'm laughing on the inside too.
Bye Chai,
Tamra
So I remembered that I created a Twitter account in 2010 for class. The last tweet I did? 2010. For class. Went online to update my Twitter account and realize I have nothing to say. I'm on Facebook. Isn't that enough?
Why do we still have Twitter? Celebrities seem to be the only reason. Maybe I'll just connect it to Facebook, but my comments go beyond the limited 140 characters.
I feel like I'll only use it for something profound to say. Yes, I'm laughing on the inside too.
Bye Chai,
Tamra
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Architecture Documentation
by Sherard Harrington
Because, my life is lived in a series of models and drawings now.
For the last project of the semester, we were asked to design a sort of art park containing three art pieces. For me, I chose The Privet by John Chamberlain, In The Wall by Tory Fair, and Hanging Fire: Suspect Arson by Cornelia Parker. I’m just now getting around to the documentation of the models and the sketches and the drawings and throwing away all of the cardboard scraps.
Being an architecture student is messy. But in a creative, cool way, when you’re not in the thick of it.
Because, my life is lived in a series of models and drawings now.
For the last project of the semester, we were asked to design a sort of art park containing three art pieces. For me, I chose The Privet by John Chamberlain, In The Wall by Tory Fair, and Hanging Fire: Suspect Arson by Cornelia Parker. I’m just now getting around to the documentation of the models and the sketches and the drawings and throwing away all of the cardboard scraps.
Being an architecture student is messy. But in a creative, cool way, when you’re not in the thick of it.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Meet Up!
by Sherard Harrington
In the past three days, I’ve managed to watch Star Trek the movie, go to a CG party*, a birthday party, the vicinity of a comedy show**, and brunch, and I have a lunch meeting planned today. I had no idea I was such a social creature.
But still, somehow, I don’t feel social enough. This is weird, considering a passage I just read yesterday in David Foster Wallace’s Consider The Lobster, in which he points out that people on the coasts are always on the move to go see someone, while people in Bloomington, IL are always on the move to go watch TV with someone.
So, I’m thinking about joining a Meetup or something. I don’t know how I’d find the time. I don’t have the time to do any of the things that I do, but still, somehow it happens, right?
*The Central Gays are what I call them. It’s a group of professional gay men who meet around Central Square in Cambridge, who—if you were to replace “Lawyer” and “Doctor” and “IT Specialist” with “Hitman” and “Thug” and “Mobster,” would probably be the most deadly and effective form of organized crime this side of Five Points. As they stand right now, they’re deadly to red wine stains and effective in comparing Italian social theory with French social theory.
**It was sold out, so a friend of a friend (who is now my friend) and I hung out in the bar next door until the show was finished so we could congratulate the rising comedienne star, Kenice Mobley.
In the past three days, I’ve managed to watch Star Trek the movie, go to a CG party*, a birthday party, the vicinity of a comedy show**, and brunch, and I have a lunch meeting planned today. I had no idea I was such a social creature.
But still, somehow, I don’t feel social enough. This is weird, considering a passage I just read yesterday in David Foster Wallace’s Consider The Lobster, in which he points out that people on the coasts are always on the move to go see someone, while people in Bloomington, IL are always on the move to go watch TV with someone.
So, I’m thinking about joining a Meetup or something. I don’t know how I’d find the time. I don’t have the time to do any of the things that I do, but still, somehow it happens, right?
*The Central Gays are what I call them. It’s a group of professional gay men who meet around Central Square in Cambridge, who—if you were to replace “Lawyer” and “Doctor” and “IT Specialist” with “Hitman” and “Thug” and “Mobster,” would probably be the most deadly and effective form of organized crime this side of Five Points. As they stand right now, they’re deadly to red wine stains and effective in comparing Italian social theory with French social theory.
**It was sold out, so a friend of a friend (who is now my friend) and I hung out in the bar next door until the show was finished so we could congratulate the rising comedienne star, Kenice Mobley.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Itemized!
by Sherard Harrington
Welcome to my life, in note card form.
Okay, so that’s not my entire life—more like a brief (blurry) snippet of the last two weeks. (COFFEE.) Seriously, in order to stay on top of things, every day for the past three weeks or so I've made a little to-do index card and then track my progress. It helps tremendously, but they do start to add up after a while...
Anyways, it’s a finals week (#2 of 3 weeks’ worth—isn’t that something?), so that’s really all I have to say before going back to my mountain of cardboard. And my job applications. And my packing.
Welcome to my life, in note card form.
Okay, so that’s not my entire life—more like a brief (blurry) snippet of the last two weeks. (COFFEE.) Seriously, in order to stay on top of things, every day for the past three weeks or so I've made a little to-do index card and then track my progress. It helps tremendously, but they do start to add up after a while...
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Sunday, April 28, 2013
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$ha songs, equally badly.
-Cleaned my room.
-Fallen flat on my face while on the phone in front of the post office.
-Found out that my dad is seeing someone new. (Good for him.)
-Walked from Copley to South Station because the Green Line was PACKED.
-Realized that people actually use LinkedIn.
-Updated my LinkedIn.
-Argued for the sake of the good in humanity.
-Come to the conclusion that maybe I can really pull this semester off.
-Considered bartending as an alternative option.
In the past 48 hours, I have:
-Had an awesome Skype session with my co-blog host, Tamra Martin (in which we discussed in part the following topics: men, interning, coffee, the effects of winning the lottery, and harem cruise ships).
-Tasted three different kinds of margaritas.
-Received a call from a friend who resides out of the country (in which we discussed in part the following topics: teaching, architecture, red wine, growing old, and moving in with your girlfriend).
-Sent out four “Thank You” cards to job applications—just to say thank you for even considering me.
-Woken up with my arms around a cute guy.
-Drank coffee from a wine glass. (Clearly, a future architect in the making.)
-Sang both Heart and Ke$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.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, April 15, 2013
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.”
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.”
Monday, April 8, 2013
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!
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!
Sunday, April 7, 2013
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.
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.
Cardboard Monster! There’s a Cardboard Monster in my room!
Wait....no. Just building another model. Nevermind.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, April 5, 2013
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.
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.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
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?
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?
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
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.
Just cause =)
Although, I have to admit, I think his cuteness is greatly magnified by the adorably freaked out kitty.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Not Too Hot, Not Too Cold
by Tamra Artelia Martin
Is that too much to ask? For weather that doesn't freeze the blackness off of me or heat that puts it back on? It's spring, but cold is everywhere from Boston to Orlando. Spring, I tell you. Spring.
I've always found it odd that intelligent humans depend on groundhogs for weather predictions. These animals are facing the wrath of disappointed followers everywhere. If I was near that inaccurate animal, I'd eat it as punishment.
You know what my dream weather conditions are? A nice 75 to 85 degree range with warm sun and cool breezes. Shorts weather, although I don't wear them. If I found a place like this year-round, you'd have trouble keeping me from moving to it. Add cute guys, beautiful scenery, and some fruity drinks, and I'll advertise it for free. Okay, money's tight, so I'll do it for cheap.
Bye Chai,
Tamra
Is that too much to ask? For weather that doesn't freeze the blackness off of me or heat that puts it back on? It's spring, but cold is everywhere from Boston to Orlando. Spring, I tell you. Spring.
I've always found it odd that intelligent humans depend on groundhogs for weather predictions. These animals are facing the wrath of disappointed followers everywhere. If I was near that inaccurate animal, I'd eat it as punishment.
You know what my dream weather conditions are? A nice 75 to 85 degree range with warm sun and cool breezes. Shorts weather, although I don't wear them. If I found a place like this year-round, you'd have trouble keeping me from moving to it. Add cute guys, beautiful scenery, and some fruity drinks, and I'll advertise it for free. Okay, money's tight, so I'll do it for cheap.
Bye Chai,
Tamra
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Gay Club Memories
by Tamra Artelia Martin
Have you ever compared gay clubs to straight clubs? Fun goes to die in straight bars. There's only dancing, music, and drinks. If one of those three things are messed up, you end up hating the entire experience. Gay clubs are just more exciting.
In gay bars, you get all three plus shows, hot dancers, and fun interactions. Less chance of being bored out of your mind. I should say Florida gay bars are fun because, try as we might, Sherard and I have searched multiple states and haven't found the ones like our usual haunts in the Sunshine State (Mister Sisters RIP).
Sherard and I visited Savoy for his less-than-24-hour visit this week. We enjoyed the nostalgia, familiar (an unfamiliar sights), and our drink of choice: a Dirty Shirley. We ended the night with more drinks, Taco Bell, and a great movie (FYI: For A Good Time, Call... is movie genius, and you should see it). Sometimes all it takes is a decent gay bar, good food, and a great friend. Simple pleasures make life worth it.
Bye Chai,
Tamra
P.S.: If you know of some great clubs (gay or straight), let us know. Our standards are high but flexible.
Have you ever compared gay clubs to straight clubs? Fun goes to die in straight bars. There's only dancing, music, and drinks. If one of those three things are messed up, you end up hating the entire experience. Gay clubs are just more exciting.
In gay bars, you get all three plus shows, hot dancers, and fun interactions. Less chance of being bored out of your mind. I should say Florida gay bars are fun because, try as we might, Sherard and I have searched multiple states and haven't found the ones like our usual haunts in the Sunshine State (Mister Sisters RIP).
Sherard and I visited Savoy for his less-than-24-hour visit this week. We enjoyed the nostalgia, familiar (an unfamiliar sights), and our drink of choice: a Dirty Shirley. We ended the night with more drinks, Taco Bell, and a great movie (FYI: For A Good Time, Call... is movie genius, and you should see it). Sometimes all it takes is a decent gay bar, good food, and a great friend. Simple pleasures make life worth it.
Bye Chai,
Tamra
P.S.: If you know of some great clubs (gay or straight), let us know. Our standards are high but flexible.
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