1/3 Life Crisis

I refuse to call it a mid-life crisis.  I absolutely reject the idea that I am only gonna live to... wait, if i say then I'll be admitting that I am not 16.  Crap.  Let's just say I figure my age times 3 is old enough but times 2 is not old enough...  for death.

I have noticed that the other people who have my music interests in their blogs are all children.  little kids.  damn kids. 

Except for a recently associated with dude (Juan) who I stumbled on by clicking Adam Ant.  There are probably more but I quit looking after like the 12th teenager.  Blink.  Big with the kids... who knew? 

All my friends think I've gone insane.  Look at your clothes, Penny.  What's with your hair, Penny?  You're so Goth now, Penny.  Seriously.  The one that said this thinks I'm goth because I dyed my hair black and have some red nail polish.  Goth.  HA!  I dyed my hair because I am tired (TIRED TIRED TIRED) of having red hair.  Thats it.  thats all.  No gothness here.

and those bondage pants.  that's not goth its punk.  it's punk and repressed sexuality.  Just like the bondage boots (laces up the back very, very hot) and the hand cuff t-shirt.  Okay, maybe I have gone insane.  They don't call it a crisis for nothing.