Once upon a time, this was my secret shame: I painted a big Asia mural on the wall outside my college dorm room in 1985. (Hume Hall at the University of Florida, in case anyone really wants details.)

The mural remained there for about 10 years, until the entire building was torn down. (For the record, I also painted stars in neon paint on the dorm room ceiling, so when you turned on a black light -- which was required equipment for every college kid back then -- and killed the lights, you'd see a virtual galaxy above you. (High-brow entertainment, especially if you added a Pink Floyd album and other enhancers to the equation.)

For years, I'd return to campus in the fall for football games and visit the dorm to see the painting. Sometimes I'd knock on my old room door and ask if they see anything at night when then turn off the lights. "You're the 'star' guy, aren't you?" they'd exclaim. "Did you do this freakin' Asia painting, too?" I always flat-out denied it.

UF has since rebuilt Hume Hall. And don't think I'm not tempted to return there late one night, paintbrush in hand. Pride in the 80s -- it's a horribly addictive vice.