9 March 2001

The Question
When anyone mentions the specific phrase “The Question” it only means one thing. It is the most important question that any person can ask another person in the life. Not because of the question itself, but of all it implies, and all it brings with.
But before I get to that question, I’m going to speak a bit about the second most important question there is, only second to “The Question” but because it is a question that you can ask yourself, there are times when it is THE most important question.
“What do I want to do with the rest of my life?”
I personally have asked myself that question every single day for a long time. As long as I can remember. Most of the time, I had no answer to it. Sometime, the answer started out fine, but whittled itself down to a “sure I can do this for a while” kind of answer.
So I go to Mardi Gras. Did I not mention that? Oh yes. Took a group of 6 down to New Orleans for the Fat Tuesday celebration. Myself, my two roommates, my girlfriend, and 2 of her roommates from England where she goes to school. Had a pretty damn good time too.
Anyway, we are at Mardi Gras and basically everyday I find myself not caring much for the holiday. Just a bunch of drunken people, mostly college frat boy losers, some of whom get naked, and beads. Lots of beads. If you ever go to Mardi Gras, never, ever, under any circumstances buy beads, there will be plenty (more than plenty) thrown off the parade floats at you. And sometimes, thrown HARD. 🙂
Back to it… so I’m not caring much for the holiday, but I am enjoying the city. I need to go back when its not overwhelmed with retards. The shops, the streets, its a very cool little town.
On Fat Tuesday itself, my girlfriend and I break off from the pack and just go wandering around the city after dark. A nice fog settles in over the town giving it that last touch it needed to complete its look of old European streets. We are away from the crowds and walking near the river. We happen upon and bench and sit down just to take in the sights and sounds of the city around us and to talk and hold hands.
Well, before long she heads off find a bathroom, and I’m left there just staring out at the river and listening to the sounds of the party a few blocks behind me and watching a ferry churn the waters of the river. A few stars had managed to peak through the fog and I was trying to figure out which ones they were. Giving up on the stars I go back to staring at the river. And smiling. And my mind just starts to wander around about the usual stuff: my job, bills, my friends, is my car safe in the parking deck, my family, did I leave the stove on in Atlanta, what are the others up to, and more.
And I ask myself that question…
“What do I want to do with the rest of my life?”
… and for the first time in my life I had an answer. Not some half assed answer. No “pretty sure”s. No “for a while”s. An honest to God “This is what I want to do”.
And it felt good. To finally know. To have figured out something for once instead of guessing. And I kept on smiling.
Before long, my girlfriend returned, and sat down beside me. We talked a little, but it was all heading to one point. I wanted to share with her my answer. I wanted to tell her what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. And I did. The only way that I knew how.
And I asked her “The Question”.
“Will you marry me?”
She said yes.

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