I’m not me.

Sometimes parts of songs stick with you forever. I can’t hear someone say, “If you go away,” without adding (or singing, sadly), “on a summer’s day, then you might as well, take the sun away…” Same goes for “Mama?” Yeah. Just killed a man.

The worst is “She did it.” It’s an Eric Carmen song and I’ve never known the words exactly, so when I hear “she did it,” I have to reply, “Walla malla she did it ahyaa-aa.” It’s right up there with “Daniel’s driving tonight on a plane.” That’s just how I heard it in the seventies, people.

Brings me to today’s post: I’m not me. Or, more lyrically, “I’m not Lisa. My name…is Julie.” Well, it’s Joo-ooly.

I’m not Kaylee. My name… is… well, it’s not Kaylee. She’s my pseudonym. Of course, pseudo = fake and nym = name. Even better is the boiling down of medieval. Medi, like in medium; ev, like in evolution – it means “age”; and al, a suffix that means “pertaining to”. So, backwards, medieval means “pertaining to the age middle.” Why do I love that? And how great is a blog that I can write that rather than say it to people who look at me like I’m from Mars? I see you. But I’m not me, anyway. And I’m not from Mars, I’m from California. Same thing? That’s another post entirely.

Why do I write under a pseudonym? See previous post. Apparently, fear rules my life.