Ok.  So I am learning so much about being engaged, and I am sure I will learn TONS more after getting married.  So here it is.  Rules of Engagement part 3.

****Disclaimer****

I do not “get in trouble” for these things I am talking about.  I write only about the cute little quirks, and things I didn’t realize would be so difficult during an engagement, or while planning a wedding.  I want to say Andrea is OVERLY awesome about the whole ordeal, and is very understanding about my cluelessness of planning something like this.

She is your fiance NOT your girlfriend.

Yes, I said it.  She is your fiance.  There is NO excuse for calling her otherwise.  You cannot say, “I’m sorry love, I am still getting used to it”, or “It’s just a habit”  And definitely don’t say something like, “Sometimes, I just forget.”  These are all logical things, that really could happen, even to the best engaged man in the world but remember, to a woman, this is a VERY important step, and something she has waited for her entire life.  (Men have too, we are just more hard headed)

Basically, you made the decision to propose.  You want to spend the rest of your life with her.  Learn to call her your fiance.

As for me, I am sure just as I am getting used to calling her my fiance, we’ll be married, and I pray to God that on our honeymoon, I don’t introduce my new wife as “my fiance”.  Pray with me.

So.  I did it.  I left this wonderful country of ours….  and I loved it.  The freedom of electronics, (I didn’t take anything with me) the freedom from America.  I have SO much to write about, and even more work to catch up on.

We went to a squatter community.  I honestly thought I had seen poor.  As a matter of fact, a week and a half ago, I thought I had been poor.  I thought that my house meant I was the lowest of the low, and I spent the majority of my elementary days feeling sorry for myself.  I thought that I had it rough, because we had to go to a store and ask for a loaf of bread.  I thought I had it rough, because neighbors were buying us clothes.

I thought I had it rough.  Quite honestly, I am a humongous ass.  I was feeling sorry for myself.  Even when we got there, I felt like a jerk.  I was walking around, looking at people, feeling like I was relating to them.  I went there thinking, “I understand what they are going through, so this will be good for me”  I have never been more wrong.

These kids were so happy with what they had.  When I was their age, I was crying because I wasn’t wearing name brands.  I don’t know what else to say but, geez.  My eyes are wide open, and I have a feeling I may not have even seen the worst of it.  I really feel like there is something more that I haven’t seen.  Something more that I can do.  Something more that needs to be done.

My fiance writes a lot about injustice, and I don’t think I ever really got it.  I still don’t think I fully do.  I think I need to pray a little more before writing more.  But there is more to come.

And some time soon, I am going to attempt to show my sense of humor.  I really really am.  I am a funny person, I promise.

More to come and hopefully it may have more final thoughts than just blabbering.  and maybe more of a story.