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To see all casts in one studio at one time was so bizarre. It was some sort of wacky human zoo. The RW kids come in different shapes, sizes, colors, and personalities, each shockingly different from the next. Knowing that 35,000 people try out each year, this group is what happens when mass of 300,000 boiled down to sixty-three.

The filming, interviews, and photo shoots were such an ordeal. I sat on the couches and watched the rings of drama spin around the place, bumping into innocent bystanders, flinging off some players and absorbing more. A social psychologist would have a field day in this place. I enjoyed the drama and glitter of the day, knowing it would be a short-lived experience.

It was so fun hopping from couch to couch talking to the nine generations of kids. The New York cast is full on adults now (as could be expected) with kids, careers, and normal lives. It was surreal sitting with NY, LA, and SF casts b/c I watched those seasons when I was such a young impressionable teenager. I was like, “did you know my friends modeled themselves after you guys?” And now we are peers in some uncanny clique.

I am so glad I sent that videotape off to BMP/MTV two years ago. Trying out was something I always wanted to do, a door passed by but never knocked on. What a valuable lesson in life: to know that one never know where one can go, what one can do, and who one can become unless one tries. Life is such an adventure!

It is about 3 AM my time and everyone here in LA is still going strong. I am fresh out of school and am happily entrenched in a 9am to midnight cycle. It won’t be long until I crash.

MTV decided to be generous and get us a room at The Ritz-Carlton. It is funny: this evening they came into the room and folded down the covers on my bed. There is not much you can do to a hotel room experience to top the competitors. Making the bed in the morning isn’t enough now, they’ve got to help you get in at night. They have heated towels, luxury bath stuff, fluffier bath robes, less fake wood, marble counter tops…but it is still just a bed looking at a TV with a desk pushed in the corner. I would gladly stay at Motel 6 and keep the difference.

I rode here from the airport with David (”I was the brotha that got kicked out of The Real World LA.) We drove near their loft on the way to the hotel and he spilled out some funny stories from way back when. I ran into David (RWNO) in the hotel lobby, then Lars, then… After two hours I felt like I had attended a family reunion/RW hall of fame, right there in the lobby. One after another dozens of Real World kids from over the years came in and joined the pow-wow.

John, Beth (both RWLA), and I had dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. It was so nice sitting outside by candlelight, looking out into the shimmering marina and the subtly bobbing boats tethered to the rows of docks. It is always so fascinating talking to other Real Worlders. It’s like we sit around talking about “it” all the time, but just seeing how/what they are doing and who they are becoming given that we all share a common experience.

It feels weird leaving my new place in NY for few days when it feels like I just moved there. My stuff is still in boxes and I don’t have a bed there yet. My new roomies have been supercool in making me feel at home. I hope that I can find a good group of friends in New York. This summer can be ok, good, or remarkable. I know it will take effort not to sink into ok or good, but to get out there and make it remarkable.

You know my friend Dr. Heinreich told me something that has really stuck with me, “It doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor, famous or unknown, we all long for the same things.” Michael Jordan wants to feel loved by his wife, and the manager at the bowling ally likes to hold his newborn baby.Why is it life feels mundane after the credits roll in a movie? I ask this because they’ve rolled one film after another for our flight back to the US. In New Orleans I watched a couple movies at the theater. The closing song came on, the isle lights were flicked on and so were our cameras. My life in a TV show picked up where the movie left off. There I was soon to become an MTV personality, and all I felt was reality…the reality of driving back to our house, going to bed, and then waking up the next morning. And when our cameras stopped rolling in late May, the scissors of the editors began to create a TV show about our lives, guaranteed to be the best yet and a must see on the 10spot. Now I watched the edited version and all I can think is, “wow that’s edited.” If my life were really that entertaining, I would have people looking over my shoulder watching me type on this laptop. But they aren’t, reality loses.

So pop culture follows the lives of celebrities through magazines, tabloids, and entertainment news. But essentially they are following an edited version of each of those people. (I flip through “People” from the seat pocket in front of me.”

Fame.

My 15 minutes will be up and then another stranger will assume position in a hip house along with 6 others. I know this is passing. Five years from now I will order a cup of coffee and she will look at me just long enough to give me a receipt. I am not pouting in my own defeat (I am not over yet), but am recognizing that the root of m@ will carry me through life, not the elusive spotlight of a fickle industry. In Britney Spear’s song “Lucky” she asks, “What happens when it stops?” For me, I roll with the life I’ve forged over the past 21 years. For her? I don’t know.

Today is the last day of my endless summer. I haven’t secured credit hours to push me towards graduation, I haven’t gained job experience to give me the upper hand in the next job interview, and I haven’t stressed at all. It is a bittersweet step back into classes. So much has happened in the last 8 months of my life. Almost every day of those months I have typed out the events, thoughts, and perspective on my present. Seeing an increase in depth and texture to each journal entry reflects that I have grown very much in this small bracket of my life.

The clock is ticking and we are edging our way back to Atlanta.

Today I spoke in front of 400-500 teens from mostly America about what it means to give your all to Christ. I know for many people this “giving your life to Christ” has become hackneyed, myself included. I talked about sacrifice, trial, and reward. It was hard for me to talk about the first two, because what I am living now is the reward. I am not driving a Hummer or starring in a new movie, but I am loving life and very happy with all that I do. I can’t imagine trading places with anyone in the world. It is always so cool to chat with individuals after I have spoken to the group. We can change this world.Most Americans here recognize me. Random Americans on the streets of Turin shout my name then yell, “…that’s the guy from the Real World!” I never thought this would happen to me. The non-Americans don’t look at me twice. It doesn’t hurt my ego; it is just interesting to contrast the two groups. I didn’t know how American I was until I came to Europe.

For lunch my new friend Matt Maher and I went to a cute sandwich shop to grab something to eat. We sat out on the deck by the street and talked about how we got where we are in life. He has had such an interesting journey. It is so much fun to see how two separate journeys have converged for this week. Make that hundreds of thousands of journeys converging. It doesn’t matter how we all got here, but that we are here. Matt is an amazing musician, songwriter, and singer. I am listening to his CD now. I’ve got to get some more for my friends.

Our lunch finished before our conversation did, so we walked a few blocks along the streetcar line and stepped into a coffee shop. The cappuccino here is so good! Even the cappuccino from the vending machines is damn good. We sat and chatted about adventures in relationships. I couldn’t help but talk about her for 20 minutes.

I don’t know what to expect this fall. I know she is leaving for several months. Some say I will get used to her not being around. I don’t want to get used to her absence, because I want to be with her all the time. Part of me wants to stay here in Europe for weeks more, and part of me wants to fly home in an hour to see her. I will see her on the 21st, less than ten days. And counting…

After a few hours of sleep, my sister hauled me to the MARTA station. It was one of those mornings where I knew I was way too tired and shouldn’t be up. If it weren’t for the tight graffiti along the rail line, I probably would have gone to sleep on the train. I hustled through the airport to find my beautiful family of friends waiting for me. Everyone was so excited about our trip. Bags were packed so neatly and backpacks were full of entertainment for the plane trip. We hopped on the plane en route to El Paso, Texas. We were excited about helping those in need, growing as a family, and growing spiritually.During our layover in Houston, I spoke to some folks at Bunim-Murray about the Real World/Road Rules Challenge 2000. They wanted to know if I was interested in joining the team. I paused, looked around at the teens eagerly waiting for the next plane–I like this reality better. I told Bunim-Murray thanks and that I appreciated their interest, but that I was happy where I am. I slipped my phone back in my pocket, confident that I was where I needed to be.

A friend of a friend invited our group over for dinner at his farm. We drove through fields of chili peppers, pecan trees, and palms and arrived at the cutest home. The walls were stucco, the roof Spanish tile. The side yard was roofed with a canopy of flowers and vines weaving through an overhead terrace. I followed the brick sidewalk to the patio behind the house. The table was set and dinner was almost done. At the edge of the patio was kidney bean-shaped pond stocked with fish. I showed my city-slicker friends how to cast a line (a country boy can survive.) The home was so perfect with the arid, earthy, and mountainous western backdrop.

Over dinner of exceptional local Tex-Mex, Laura (a teen from our group) and I compared lion stories in Africa. I told her about my safaris in southern Africa. My biggest thrill was a daddy lion awakening to find a truck full of cameramen parked at his feet. He let out a roar. I thought that was pretty cool. Her tales were better. When she was five, lions jumped up onto the deck where she and her brother were sleeping. I don’t remember what she said happened then. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention. Then she told me that her cousin and his girlfriend were hopping from rock to rock crossing a river. In between two rocks a crocodile sprung from the water and bit a chunk out of the girl’s leg. Her cousin had to sew her up right there on the riverbank. I think the next time I tell this story, I will make me the boyfriend-yeah that would be cooler.

After dinner a group of us took a walk down the dusty roads that bordered the green and brown striped fields. In the distance we saw a lightning storm moving closer towards us. Its wind blew the dust from our heals. We stopped to snap some pictures in front of the sunset. It was such a Kodak moment…one of those times/places I was glad I was there to experience. It was getting dark, so we headed back to the house through the lines of pecan trees.

On the ride back home Michaela, Laura, and I talked about trusting God and knowing that He will take care of us. They are both such interesting people; I can’t wait to spend the rest of the week with them, getting to know them more.

I am sitting in the corner of a church hall, typing on Tony’s laptop. Dozens of lunchroom tables and orange chairs fill the room. The teens are blow-drying their hair, inflating their mats, and cuddling into their sleeping bags.

Life is so much fun.