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Today I woke up at 12:30 PM. That’s much later than I usually do on weekends. During the week I’m up at 2:00 AM, so my weekends begin around 7:00 AM. I consider anything past 9:00 AM “sleeping in.” So it was pretty shocking to see that late time on my phone. I felt as thought I had already slept the day away. And if I had shut my eyes, I could have slept more. But I didn’t. Instead, I lay there in bed, booking a reservation at the downtown golf club so I could drive a few balls off the Chelsea Piers. It was an idea that just came to me, and I was determined to see it through.

It would have just been so easy for me to stay at home and surf the internet until my eyeballs popped out, but I knew it was time for me to do something else. I used to go to the driving range a lot when I lived in Jersey. There was a time I was hitting it up every weekend. I’d go to “get my aggression out.” And it was usually directed at one person. He didn’t like me anymore. So I was mad about it. And I’d hit those balls and wish for mean things. Nothing cruel, just a lot of passive aggressive drama queenery that never even mattered in the first place. That person is far and away out of my life right now, and I sincerely hope that he’s doing well. But today, I wasn’t out to do that.

I just wanted to see how far I could go.

I’m not good at driving, mind you. I have no idea if I’m even doing the correct golf stance. My form is probably totally off, but it’s fine. I just wanted to push the envelope and make something go as far as I could get it to go. The farthest I hit today was about 135 yards. I only did it once, but was proud of that. Because a majority of my balls sliced into the net 35 yards away or boinked off the roof and back into my stall. And because the balls automatically get teed up from under the putting green, I couldn’t do anything but throw those ones out onto the fairway. It’s fine. I was having too much fun to care. I sweated a lot, though. I forgot that I would do that. Guess it became my workout for the day.

Overall, I was satisfied with the job I did for the first time in a long time. I did what I set out to do. I made a choice to step outside my box and was happy with the results. So happy that I kept it going by hitting the golf club bar, and then treated myself to dinner at the outdoor cafe. I may have overindulged tonight, but it is the weekend. Today I was meant to do something that was just for me. I did it to get back in touch with me. To do things I like to do and spend time with myself. Because today was a window into what the next ten years of my life could look like. It’d be on par with just doing things that I really like to do, speaking with whomever wants to speak with me, and going wherever it is the night takes me. As long as I arrive home safe and sound. And as the years go on, I’ll find more and more extravagant places to go. I’ll just be doing it as a solo adventure.

It has to remain and option, even though it’s not what I ultimately want to happen. But I’m prepared either way. It will be a good life with or without my wish. I can putter around with anyone. I can drive things as far as I need to, even if all my attempts aren’t the best. It’s good knowledge to have about myself, no matter how late I sleep in. And while I cart from one location to the next, I’ll keep imagining I’ll hit that hole-in-one someday. I’ve been close enough. I’m ready to make it a reality. The days of landing in the rough are over. That green jacket is as good as mine.

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