And the next thing you realize, a week has gone by. I told myself I wasn't going to write more in my Enagement log until today, and now, it's today. It has me frightened, the realization that tomorrow I'm going to ask a father for his daughter's hand in marriage. I feel that this is exaggerated by my presumed protectiveness over my children once I reach that stage. Yes, I plan on being the intimidating asshole father, "So, you wanna date MY daughter?" Yesterday, I thought I had time, that this was nothing to worry about, however, I worry.

I told myself that I wouldn't propose, that I would not make a commitment on such a scale, until I was at a point in my life I wanted to be at. Originally, this was graduation from college. Currently, it's not failing out a second time. I am not too sure that this will be the case. Even though, I feel that I cannot back out from this situation I've gotten myself into. And even if I do fail out again, I know I'll be happy to have more of a "lock" on my girl.

I cannot forsee what I will do, whether fail or not. I've begun changing my habits, not going out on weekdays, not partying on weekdays, going to class, studying more, etc. Hopefully, I will reap the benefits of these changes sometime this semester. That is, of course, if I get myself from where I am to where I want to be. My problem has been that I spent my high-school years as a slacker who didn't give a fuck about any fuckin shit. Nothing really mattered. I didn't care if I lived, or died. I was depressed, but too pussy to kill myself, as I think most people are at that stage of life.

Depression and angst aside, the only book I ever enjoyed reading that was assigned by an english teacher in high school was Catcher in the Rye. I knew that Holden Caulffield and myself were very similar. However, I am not Holden, nor do I live in his fictional world. My greatest semblance to Holden, in my own opinion, is our fear of growing up. I look at my father, and while he's well off, I don't think he ishappy. He chomps down pills for this condition and that, or to prevent this condition from happening, etc. I don't want that. He complains about bills and this and that, and yet we have two receivers in our house for satellite TV. He works from 7am to 6pm, atleast he doesn't wonder why he has an ulcer.

I digress with my ramblings. The thought of proposing does not scare me as much of the thought that my girlfriend will change to my fiance, something I doubt I will ever get used to. Until, perhaps, she becomes my wife, or if I want to use the hip vernacular, my shorty, or wifey. And no, she ain't my baby-mama. Again, I digress.

Growing up is a scary thing, especially when you've fought it for so long. Oh well, expect the final engagement log on Saturday, as she'll get the ring on Friday night or Saturday morning. That is, of course, assuming that I have a laptop or other such computer while on break.

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