On orange

It was my last week in Austin. Thursday. And I was at the gym. I was becoming very reflective, and savoring every last drop of Austin that I could. As I was running on my treadmill I noticed the amount of burnt orange around me. I remembered how this seemed horrible a short four years ago. I thought, with an almost sweet condescension, about how I would miss these people and their odd love for this color. I saw a girl with a shirt that proudly read "Come Early, Be Loud, Stay Late, Wear Orange", and I had a twinge of nostalgia - for this sentiment, for this color, for this team. But still, I viewed them all as sweetly silly, clinging to this color. It was around this time that I looked down and took note of my own outfit. Burnt orange shirt with a longhorn. Black shorts and a burnt orange boarder with a longhorn. Then I realized, I felt such nostalgia because I had become one of them without knowing. How quickly things change, how quickly the plethora of burnt orange went from odd to normal, as if it had always been.

And now, having been gone a short 6 days, I wish Baltimore had a "color", because I already miss the familiarity of burnt orange and belonging to something awesome.