Eternal adolescent

Another day, another embarrassing round of golf. I could stop right there. I should stop there. But, of course, I won't. I will continue my embarrassment here in this blog. Not by relating my round , stroke by stroke, but by pretending to be a writer.

It's just one of those days. I am sure you've had them. You get up in the morning and things are just not right. You want things to fall into place but they don't. Well, they fall into place but it is the wrong place. There's a song that seeps out into my consciousness at these times...

People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down

When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange

You can say what you will about Jim Morrison and The Doors but they had songs that spoke to those of us on the weird side. And in the heydays of The Doors, I was certainly weird. I was trying to figure out just where I belonged in the world. Mostly thinking I didn't. Fit, that is. The people I hung out with didn't fit either.

But that has pretty much been the story of my life. I have never really fit in. I always felt I was playing a role in a play that made no sense. Shakespeare wrote...

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts

I have played many parts. Youngest child and favored, bullied baby brother, teacher's pet, teacher's nightmare, thief, delinquent, troublemaker, sailor, doper, partier, father, husband, worker, liberal, conservative, libertarian, but mostly confused about who I am and what I am doing.

I may get out of puberty one of these days.