BU Today

BU Today blogs from left: Proto Pop by Jennifer Choi (COM’10), Paradigm Thrift by Brendan Gauthier (COM'11), I've Thought About It by Zach Kohn (COM'11), Case Studies by Sarah Zlotowitz (UNI'11), and Pedal Pusher by Andrew McFarland (CAS'11, COM'11). Check out the latest, below...

When I cross the Cambridge footbridge, I can’t help but notice the magnificence of Allston street art.

Coming up the bridge from Lower Allston, cyclists and pedestrians beat the nearly 45-degree incline with the spray painted words “hang in there honey” and “you’re almost there,” while neon pink and green stencils of AC/DC’s Bon Scott (circa the High Voltage years) stare up at you from the bridge.

Street art is everywhere, though many of us pass it by without recognizing the genius, wit, and risk poured into each tag, post, and stencil.

Last winter’s scandal is over; as many of us know (and are reminded of every day if you pass International Bikes), Shepard Fairey graced Boston with his signature art and was eventually arrested for it.

Fairey, famous for his red, white, and blue Obama “Hope” image and Andre the Giant imagery, was taken into custody in February on warrants charging him with tagging locations, including the BU Bridge.

Usually working between 2 a.m. and sunrise, street artists put a lot on the line to convey their message and make Boston a little easier on the eyes.

In recent years, New York City street artist Danielle Bremner was sentenced to six months in jail and five years probation for tagging in the Back Bay and in one of MBTA’s rail yards.

Street art isn’t child’s play.

Because of the legal risks, most street artists remain anonymous for the duration of their careers and lives, taking neither payment nor credit for their work.

While Fairey’s work is among the best known in Boston, other pieces pepper our campus and the surrounding neighborhoods, too.

First, the famous Goldenstash. Not much is known about the man behind the mustache, but the legendary image greets thousands of Bostonians daily. For those who aren’t familiar with the image, picture a cartoony-looking ’70s playboy with a full head of hair and a glistening golden mustache and chain.

Other notable Boston artists include PIXNIT. A rare find, PIXNIT adds a feminine touch to the boys club. Floral stencils from Allston alleys to Back Bay rooftops mark her famous work.

But the freshest pieces I’ve spotted in our neck of the woods would be from none other than Stay Cute.

Right behind the West Campus dorms, in the Bank of America kiosk, an almost nauseatingly cute cartoon creature stands above the words “Stay Cute.”

Stay Cute’s made a name via snickering.

So, if midterms or the gloomy Boston weather are getting you down, keep your eyes peeled for some street art in your neighborhood.

Found anything sweet slapped onto a building, box, or streetside near you? Send e-mails to jenchoi@bu.edu. Follow me on twitter @jenchoi.

Where do you get your art scene info? Let us know in the comments.

Read more Proto Pop here.

“You played lacrosse in high school?”

“No, this was my sister’s shirt,” I usually respond.

Long out of the house, I continue to wear my family’s hand-me-downs, such as my favorite lacrosse T-shirt, weathered and worn. It gives the illusion that I was athletic in high school.

A quick glance into my closet and I can pick out polos, Oxfords, and sweaters that once belonged to brothers, father, and grandfather. Growing up, I got used to the idea of free clothing.

As a teenager I walked the halls of my Catholic high school in shirt and tie. I loved having a uniform. I cycled through the same pants and shirts each week. Laundry was light.

When I came to college, I realized just how few clothing items I actually owned. I went through my “normal” clothes in about two weeks. In high school, it didn’t matter if I wore the same thing everyday. That’s the point of a uniform. Unfortunately, that’s unheard of at BU.

So I bought more clothes. But lately, because of my documented dive into personal saving, shopping was been banned. I usually stop by J.Crew a few times a semester to pick up some “necessities,” but this fall, I’m counting down the days until Christmas. My list is short but full of things I actually need.

If you can’t wait until the holidays, and you still want to save money, here’s a list of places that offer great discounts.

Second Time Around is a designer consignment store that resells high-end clothing donations. Stores are in and around Boston, including two on Newbury Street. I’ve found clothes and shoes from Ralph Lauren, Lacoste, Cole Haan, and Calvin Klein. And each item is color-coded, with different colors going on sale every day. There’s usually also some retro digs at cheap prices.

Also try the Closet, on Newbury Street, which sells discounted designer styles. It has a nice selection of coats, jackets, and shoes for men.

For even bigger savings, Boston offers a wealth of thrift stores that are teeming with hidden gems of sartorial frugality.

The Garment District, famous for its $1.50-per-pound shopping deal, has a huge selection of donated clothing. Stop by and sift through piles of clothing that cover entire floors. On Fridays, the deal gets even better: a dollar per pound.

On campus, the Goodwill Store sells clothing, furniture, electronics, books, and movies. I got a $5 television there last semester. The picture was a little bit fuzzy, but Saved by the Bell looked just fine.

My personal favorite, Urban Renewal, at 122 Brighton Ave., is a warehouse full of donated clothing waiting to become wardrobe staples. I recently found a tweed blazer with suede elbow patches for $6. New winter coat? Yes, please. They also have a huge selection of furniture, artwork, and other oddities. Last semester I bought a typewriter in working condition for $12. What will I use it for? Well, who knows when the power might go out.

Dressed in seemingly first-hand clothes, Brendan Gauthier can be reached at btgauth@gmail.com.

Where do you find clothing bargains? Let us know in the comments.

Read more Paradigm Thrift here.

A few months ago, I was biking up Comm. Ave. through Packard’s Corner. Just as the street swung away from Brighton Ave., my front wheel caught in the T track, sending me flying over my handlebars.

As I lay on the cement, a slight tingle in my left shoulder, I watched two pedestrians pass me a few feet to my right and a car roll by on my left. As I picked myself off the ground, I realized that Boston biking is a lonely undertaking.

Not quite a motorist, not quite a pedestrian, many bikers find themselves lone wolves between the two camps. As a result, it has become easy for people to characterize cyclists as heartless half-machines half-jerks who disregard traffic laws and ride onto sidewalks.

While the claim’s not entirely undeserved, I’ve come to see and appreciate the quiet, unique community that exists among bikers.

For example, one night I biked with my friends Devon and Ian to Trader Joe’s in Coolidge Corner. Halfway through the produce aisle we heard what sounded like a ton of bricks landing on the roof. People on the sidewalk began to run inside to avoid torrential downpours and flash floods. All we could do was stand there speechless and wish we’d worn something waterproof.

“Do you bike?” one of the workers stocking fruit asked us.

We yeahed a reply and asked how she could tell.

“I could see the happiness drain from your faces the second it started to rain,” she answered.

She was a biker too, and talked for a few minutes before excusing herself. When we were in the checkout line, she found us and offered three plastic trash bags.

“Stay dry,” she said with a smile. We thanked her and told her the same as we ripped holes for our heads and hands and slipped on our makeshift ponchos.

This random act of kindness seems to exemplify an empathy that sometimes goes unacknowledged among us all.

Despite our soulless crimes — like speeding through a crosswalk flooded with people, or taking up two lanes during rush hour — we do have feelings. It does hurt bikers when pedestrians call us names, or when we get drenched to the bone by a speeding car. It’s a dog-eat-dog world on the streets of Boston, which makes the occasional bit of compassion all the more appreciated.

So, wherever you are, Trader Joe’s girl, thanks.

Andrew McFarland can be reached at afarland@bu.edu.

Have you received some random acts of kindness? Let us know in the comments.

Every time I mention Twitter, people roll their eyes and tell me how pointless Twitter is. “There is no reason for it,” they say. “I don’t care what you had for breakfast.”

Sure, Twitter is useless, but so are paperclips, bidets, Hershey’s Kisses, and the water cups in beer pong. That doesn’t stop people from using or eating them. So let me spread it to the world right now: I love Twitter.

For those new to the most recent in a line of social networking sites, I’ll give you a quick breakdown.

1. Twitter, like Facebook and MySpace before it, will only remain popular until your parents get one.
2. There are no friends on Twitter. Only followers and followings. Don’t go around talking about your Twitter friends or everyone will know you’re a big phony.
3. When you publish something to Twitter, it is called a “tweet.” This is to make sure that you feel uncomfortable every time you talk about Twitter.
4. Each tweet can be up to 140 characters because after that nobody is listening anymore.
5. Following celebrities isn’t that much fun. It turns out Ashton Kutcher doesn’t have anything interesting to say in less than 140 characters, either.

Despite its flaws and its uselessness, I have embraced Twitter. I have many important things to say all the time, but usually, people stop listening. When I post them on Twitter, I trap everyone who follows me. Read my thoughts! Now everyone can know that Doritos make me feel sick and that my conditioner bottle is empty, so I’ve been filling it with water to get the last drops out.

When friends question me about it, I am able to shout them down. “I’m a communications student! I need a Twitter!”

I’m not sure what that means, but it usually works.

The biggest challenge for Twitter users is knowing when to stop. All my thoughts have started to form in my head in less than 140 characters. It has gotten to the point where I think I can write a decent dissertation in four to five pages.

So yeah, Twitter is pointless, but it’s also a whole lot of fun. Plus, it’s only a matter of time before my mom gets one.

When he’s not tweeting, Zach Kohn can be reached at zachkohn@bu.edu. Follow @kohnisrad and @butoday on Twitter.

Do you follow @kohnisrad on Twitter? Let us know in the comments.

Read more I've Thought About It here.

It’s been a month. At least. A month of a strict hot soup/hot tea/cough drop diet. Of purchases of everything from Kleenex to Robitussin to Sudafed. And while my CVS rewards card has done well for itself, I am still sick.

I was in denial for a while, refusing to believe that my persistent cough meant something real. But I soon realized that everybody else figured out what was up. They knew I was sick, and they were ready to diagnose me. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when, as I left the Warren dining hall in a sudden coughing fit, a freshman looked at me, shook his head, and said with a mixture of pity and condemnation:

“Swine flu.”

As it turns out, I have bronchitis, which is slowly but surely being remedied by some pretty intense antibiotics. But to the general public, the diagnosis doesn’t matter. As far as they’re concerned, I have H1N1 written all over me.

It was a popular Halloween costume: a pink pig with a mask and its scientific alias scrawled across the front. It’s been nicknamed and abbreviated; everybody loves to joke about “the swine.” But while people laugh about this public health scare, they’re nervous. I know this is true, because no matter how hard I try to stifle my cough, I still get the look.

The look says a lot of things. We’ve all done it — the quick sidelong glance. It can be cruel or compassionate, but it usually means one of the following:

“Lock it up.”

“That sucks for her.”

“Get away from me.”

“Why did she come to class?”

“Is she serious?”

“SWINE!”

“I hope I don’t get whatever she has.”

And, my personal favorite:

“Your cough is disgusting.”

Like most realities of life, it seems that the best medicine is laughter, that joking about it makes us feel better. But if you go to Student Health Services, I can promise that no one is laughing.

It’s that time of year. Everyone’s sick with “flu-like symptoms,” and when you walk into SHS it’s clear. When I stepped into the packed waiting room, it was pretty much silent save for the white noise of stifled coughs and sniffles. “The look,” however, was rampant. Even though we were all sick, we were staring each other down behind our blue masks. Sitting as tightly as possible, crossing every body part as if to ward off our neighbors’ illnesses, we couldn’t find compassion for each other, even when we were in the same shoes.

So the next time you’re tempted to give “the look,” have some empathy — after all, it could be contagious.

Even while she’s recuperating, Sarah Zlotowitz can be reached at sarahz11@bu.edu.

Getting 'the look'? Let us know in the comments.

Read more Case Studies here.