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I woke up this morning in that “rested but don’t know why” kind of way. I could’ve slept a couple more hours, but I decided to get this day started earlier. Whenever I come down here to the coffee shop, I always end up writing better journals.

I was stuck in an airport in Newark, NJ, when a businessman in line in front of me managed a free ticket and an afternoon in the VIP Lounge. I took mental notes, and was ready to do and get what he did. But the ticket agent was a Real World fan, so I didn’t have to work as hard.

I soon joined him in the lounge and asked what he did for a living. He explained that he was a negotiation expert. I come to find out negotiation experts aren’t always fun to talk to, but he did have something to say. He told me the primary tool for negotiation is information. Information helps you know what to negotiate for, and how to get there.

My books on how to buy a house have been worthwhile—I hope. Everyone and their brother has a book about 101 things you don’t know but you need to know. They may or may not be accurate about their reader, but one thins is for sure: you can sell a book if they pretend they know more than others. The handful of books that I’ve read about buying a home have boosted my knowledge and given me more confidence. Now I have to apply what I have learned.

You know, I don’t like a lot of adults. It’s not adults, really—it’s people. As a Christian, I am called to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. That is why scandal will always surround Christianity, because wolves sneak into their circles. Anyway…back to the people I don’t like. There were kids I didn’t like in high school, and kids like that become adults. When I bought my car, three adults didn’t mind lying to get me to pay $3000 more than I should have. It was like three high school kids trying to sell me a speaker box off the street. But, I’m not trying to be the best friend of the car dealership, so I decided to become “difficult”. You can’t chase an uneasy feeling by making a quick decision. After two hours of prodding, they finally surrendered. It’s fun to make an adult look at you and admit they lied.

Columbo was the ultimate detective. I’d watch that show with Mom and Dad because he had messy hair and always cracked a case without anyone knowing what he was doing. He just played dumb and asked the right questions. Is Columbo on DVD now?

So my new thing is scooters. I road a scooter with my friend Jeffrey in high school, and I thought they were so cool. I saw an old scooter called a “Vespa” outside of a coffee shop near my sister’s dorm. That fascination passed, but only for a little while. Who needs a scooter in the mountains of Georgia? I don’t think anyone in the Phoenix area has as pretty of a drive as I do. It starts in a hip part of town, passes through parks, and ends in a well-groomed mountainside neighborhood. I cruise along at 45 mph because it’s the law and why hurry a pretty drive? But wouldn’t it be nicer on a Vespa?

So I am going to finish this journal and walk across the street to window shop for a Vespa.

I’ve been abused for two years. Ever since The Real World, I’ve been abused.

I trust that if I am sincere, other people will be sincere too. I ignore the fact that I am on MTV, because reminding myself of that always causes bigger problems. But, I was not chosen to be on RWNO because I am a boring and undesirable person, so I have confidence that people enjoy being around me. But sometimes, they cling too much.

Now, after two years of this, I can look back and site a dozen new friends who had wrong motives. They liked the idea of being with “Matt from the Real World,” not Matt from Hiawassee. Since I am kind and friendly, it made our friendness all the easier to solidify.

They could be teenagers, college kids, or even parents.

People can be pretty reckless in trying to manage the Real World side of me. Usually, hot girls will try to act stand-offish or “who cares”. But they always stick around longer than anyone who really doesn’t care. Some will act like it isn’t even a part of me, but their vanity and attention to the rest of the worldly makes their oblivion difficult to believe. Others will demean and insult any bit of excitement over me. That probably pisses me off the most.

I hate having to question people’s motives. Ugh.  This is something I never knew I’d have to deal with. I was never loaded with cash and I wasn’t a hot girl, so I never had to wonder why people wanted to be near me. I could retreat from it all and be a jerk like everyone else, but why ruin the party? I won’t let those few screw up my social life.

I am a bad friend. I’m not a good listener. I need to work out again. I get irritated with the same five questions about the Real World. I’m sure I do look taller on TV.

I don’t pray as much as I should. I wish I could be more famous for young people so I could say something—anything—that would inspire them to make the world a better place. If I were more Christlike, then maybe each person I met would know how much God loves them. But no, I am going to continue to screw this up.

Am I just wasting my time? Can the Internet be more than a hell-hole where people become addicted to porn? Are all those endless flights across the country helping anyone at all, or just stealing my weekends? I hate airplanes. I hate airplanes. I hate airplanes. Why do I wait for the girl I’ll never meet? I am tired of going to bed alone.

I am reading a book by Richard Rohr called “Everything Belongs.” I hope it will break me out of the spiritual rut I’ve been in. Each line of this book is profound. I have to reread every paragraph before I am ready to go on with the next. One line echoed what I learned in psychology class, “you don’t think your way into new ways of living, you live your way into new ways of thinking.” The book really breaks through modern Western thought and I want to do more of that.

“I believe that we have no real access to who we are except in God. Only when we rest in God can we find the safety, the spaciousness, and the scary freedom to be who we are, all that we are, more than we are, and less than we are.”

I woke up yesterday morning at Hilton Head, an island off the coast of South Carolina. It was a fun hanging out with the teens there. I hung out with several of them a couple years before, and I was so excited to see them again. After the event a dozen of us went walking along the beach till one in the morning. The last time I was on a beach in South Carolina was a couple years ago, hand-in-hand with a girl I had met the week before: Meredith.

I slept through most of the flight home. Matt M.’s parents were over our house having brunch as I dragged my luggage up the stairs. It’s nice to see people LIVING in our apartment, not just sleeping there. I think “living” always comes when you have a woman. Guys, by nature, tear through continents and dorms, falling asleep wherever they can.

It was time to go looking for a new home. For four hours and seventy miles, I drove all around Phoenix area. In way southeast Phoenix, I stopped to get a Vanilla Coke at the quintessential Arizona roadside stop. It was so classic, I was waiting for a jeans commercial to happen around me.

I spotted a really cute 1930’s cottage close to downtown. I walked in the open house and said I had just moved here from New York. “Just from New York” snaps Realtors awake. I seem to get more respect, sometimes. She explained to me how historic districts “work” in Arizona. Yes I was lucky, because this cottage was just as people want them: not corrupted with modern amenities. She explained to me that new kitchens, appliances, and floors instantly dropped the value of the home. Hmmm…so you want the home “all original”, just like a 1930’s Model T in a junkyard? I’ll drive a mint condition ’69 Mustang, but don’t expect me to live in an “all original” leaning shack from 80 years ago. I asked her if the house comes with the stock lead paint too. She said, “of course…it’s a lot of money to take that off.” Whew…I am glad the owner left that prize ritual for me. As Charlie Brown would say, “good grief.”

Last night Monsignor Dale unleashed the thunder. You just wanted to yell out “AMEN!” I know how much it takes to write a homily like that. I am so thankful he gives all he can. As exhausting as this weekend was, I was refreshed stepping out of St. Tim’s last night.

Mondays are always so exciting for me. In another hour I’ll be at the studio having fun. I already have plans till Thursday. Let the week begin!

Doing the right thing makes my life fun and rewarding. But, I still struggle with doing the right thing. The rewards are long term, the struggles are immediate.

When I came back for Thanksgiving my freshman year of college, I was explaining to Mom the impossible amounts of work I have to put in just to pass my classes. She said, “if it were easy, everyone would do it.”

Is it easy to live for yourself. It is easy to create your own morals.

Argh…sometimes I feel like every hormone in my body is dancing at once. I get hit by a train of temptations and it takes all I have to do the right thing. I have to distract myself and get moving on something else. Like writing a journal.

Girls don’t fully understand what they are doing when they put on their clothes. If they put on any clothes at all.

This is an everyday thing for me. I could write about it in my journal, but it’s the same old story.