We think we’re pretty smart…

We think we’re pretty smart…

Oh I’m taking a break from the Halloween Countdown—and I’ve had to because it was yet another exhausting week at work. I hope THAT gets better soon.

I can’t decide if  I love it or not. I know I don’t like office politics. But I love the work, I love so many of the people. I love helping kids, and teachers.  It’s politics. I suck at that. I’m guessing my Machiavellian bone was left out like that extra rib. That’s funny for a (n ) in disguise/in hiding/in drag/lapsed gothgirl to say.

I wasn’t good at scene politics either. I’m rather straightforward, goofy and actually pretty damn nice.

Also hyper.

ANYWAY… so I have been investigating torrent to help me get digital copies of what I own ON VINYL  so yeah.

I’ll give you a preface. I’ve always felt like the Joe Jackson  or the Danny Elfman of our group. Goofy looking but talented. I’m not as talented as they are (or even as good looking) but bear with me on the simile.

They are poets right now and always. I was once. Yes there are other songs but try these:

She was a simple girl without much to say
So one day she just upped and left her dreary home
And she left all her friends behind to wander all alone
And at first she was afraid, she was so far away
From her home but slowly she got to like it anyway
Oh Mary won’t you please come…
Well in time she found that
The mountain that she had been taught
Her whole life, that she must avoid
And though at first it hurt, and no one could comfort her
She finally came to appreciate it
And she like it, she like it – oh wasn’t she surprised
And though still alone, she grew so much inside
Oh Mary won’t you please come…

And after a time, she became so sublime
She could look in peoples eyes and read their minds
Though her hands would sometimes bleed and occasionally
She would long for her past and the memories they bring
She decided to return to her old home town
And her heart was burning with all the things she found
Oh Mary won’t you please come…
So, Mary came back and at first no one recognized her face
And her friends were all a little bit afraid
When they heard what she had to say
They all slowly backed away
And her family took her aside and put their arms around her
They said Mary won’t you please come back to us now
There is still time to repent for all your sins
And Mary started to cry when she realized
That she’d never come home again in her life
Oh Mary won’t you please come
Mary won’t you please come home…


And yes that song is so much of what I feel about moving home. But then accidentally I listened to this other one tonight.

I found one on CD and the other on  vinyl and


I’M OLD and IT freaks me out. Also I don’t feel old. And  have a hard time acting like a grownup.


Sigh. Listen to Take on me, or Karma Kameleon or whatever drek you listened to then– then damn you, listen to this.

Of all the stupid things I could have thought
This was the worst
I started to believe
That I was born at seventeen
And all the stupid things
The letters and the broken verse
Stayed hidden at the bottom of the drawer
They’d always been
And now I plough through piles
Of bills, receipts and credit cards
And tickets and the Daily News
And sometimes I just . . .
Wanna go back to my home town
Though I know it’ll never be the same
Back to my home town
‘Cause it’s been so long
And I’m wondering if it’s still there
We think we’re pretty smart
Us city slickers get around
And when the going’s rough
We kill the pain and relocate
We’re never married
Never faithful not to any town
But we never leave the past behind
We just accumulate
So sometimes when the music stops
I seem to hear a distant sound
Of waves and seagulls
Football crowds and church bells
And I . . .
Wanna go back to my home town
Though I know it’ll never be the same
Back to my home town
‘Cause it’s been so long
And I’m wondering if it’s still there
Back to my home town
Though I know it’ll never be the same
Back to my home town
‘Cause it’s been so long
And I’m wondering if it’s still there

I love the background of palchabel’s canon. The first time I ever made out with a boy was to that music. It’s a lovely sepia memory.

It’s not the same. It is. They didn’t like me then, they don’t like me now.  But some of them do and so do some new ones. I was weird then, I’m weird now. It’s kinda the same except when it isn’t.

And that rocks. It’s sad and happy and confusing and makes total sense Also, we’ll leave one day. One day when she’s old enough and safe I think we’ll leave because…well as much as we belong here—as much we don’t.

“They” think we’re weird ya know and you can only miss your home town so much.

And maybe now our home town is San Francisco? It’s funny how that changes. Maybe I’m just having a hard time being an adult. Cause again—it’s not them, it’s me.

One comment

  1. Hi Jyllian-wanted to stop by and say hi. Thanks for visiting over at CC. Love the look of your blog. You know, I always thought I was kind of weird, too, but then I noticed that virtually everyone is kind of weird once you get to know them well enough. And if we’re all kind of weird then…we’re all normal, right? And that made me feel less special.

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