What can I tell 'ya. a cornucopia of colors so my outfit becomes a mood uplifter as opposed to a 'teen beat' hearthrob magnet. I may not nab the hunk, but I figure whoever is left standing beside me while I am wearing orange tights, a purple skirt, a yellow shirt and some mint green for good measure, will be the real m'coy. Authenticity is key - not everyone is comfortable with color. Black is safer. or whatever.
I guess that's convention, and convention leads to routine and routine leads to mechacnics, mechanical behaviour, mechanical man. hey and I'm not gonna be a machine! I'll dance the robot but that's as close as it's gonna get. I want to switch it up, live in the moment, go with the flow and all that jazz. Quit pullin' a heavy and harshin' my mellow or somethin', ya know?