Feeling a Little Van Gogh

I have an affinity for hideously orange bedrooms. They follow me everywhere, or perhaps I seek them out. Whatever the case may be, I seem to attract them. The last two places I have come to call home have both had bright orange walls. The last one, in New Paltz, had a bit of an autumnal feel. It was a pleasant pumpkin orange with brown trim. Currently, I am sitting in a room that should be dedicated to the Florida Gators. The orange is borderline neon with a splash of electric blue. I would like to meet the females who occupied these residencies before I took over, but that seems highly unlikely at this point.

I have finally begun to settle in. I have moved into an apartment and, as you know by my last post, I have a job. Now that I have set up a base of operations, I can begin to take over the world. Work is nice and my social life is nicer. I have taken up the art of Ultimate Frisbee as my modus operandi for exercise. It is lots of fun and quite exhausting. It might be the most tiring activity one can engage in (next to soccer, of course).

So I am expanding my borders and conquering new territory everyday, however, I am not forgetting about the home front. I'm doing a little bit everyday to make this home feel a little bit more like... well, home. Today I went out and bought a mattress pad and decided to carry it back to the new apartment by myself on the subway. It was very entertaining, both for me and every other person who must have been thinking to themselves "crazy white boy." I managed to take a few people out in the process. I got off at Guting station and began the 8 minute walk down Tong An St. toward the river (which I live literally a stone's throw from) and decided to make life just a little bit more difficult. Ginormous mattress pad in one hand, I stopped to grab some lunch to go in the other. I wobbled the rest of the way home, trying not to spill my soup and decided that was enough Martha Stewartness for one day. Tomorrow... I paint.