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Adults are young people that got nudged out of their youth. I am sure they would continue being the kids, but there’s no room for them as the younger generation continues to grow. The phrase “adult child” has become more well known as we meet more adult children of alcoholic parents.

With my MTV hype, I’ve met a lot of young women. It is baffling to see what someone will do to solicit attention, or, essentially, love. It hurts to meet so many girls whose dad never told them he loved her. They would do anything to be felt loved and cherished by a man.

They are just little girls that got nudged out of their youth, left empty and without confidence to face the world as a woman.

St. Therese of Lesieux spoke such simple words with deep impact:

“Do the smallest things with great love.”

I struggle over how to perfect the brief interaction I have with people I meet on the road and around town. If they remember the day they met Matt from The Real World, I want it to be a good memory. I can’t love her to make up for what her dad didn’t give, but I can do small things with great love. That’s what I have to do.

“Celebrity,” Nsync’s new album, came out yesterday. I met Lori from the new RWNY for lunch in Union Square. She and I have been emailing since she was half way through the casting process. We met in the final days at their house, but this was the first time we were able to talk like real people do. After lunch we hopped across the street and picked up the new CD. We were both excited; I made no attempt at quieting my excitement.

Bright and early this morning I was downtown to shoot the cover of “Guidepost for Teens.” I figured it would be just a photographer and myself for the day. Much to my surprise, there was a six-person crew in a RV waiting for me. We shot in the industrial parks near the Chelsea Pier, then at a spot in SOHO. In between locations I made them crank up my new CD on their huge system. I proudly showed off my new dance moves to each song. We were nothing but a rolling disco on Sixth Ave this morning. It sure was a fun and glam way to start off the day.

After the shoot I met up with my friend Fr. Bill. He and I first met him in an elevator in Atlanta, then coincidentally sat next to him the next day on a flight back to NY. We stepped into St. Francis on 34th before heading to Rockefeller Center for lunch.

Fr. Bill is probably old enough to retire, but his love for people and for God will not let him stop. We ate at a nice restaurant underneath Rock Center. After a few minutes, I recognized the plaza as the place the VMA after party was held. Looking out the window, I laughed as I recalled the different celebrities I met there. I mentioned to Fr. Bill, “You know, I hit on Mandy Moore just a few feet behind you.” He smiled but had no clue who I was talking about.

Over the next hour and half, Fr. Bill and I shared our enthusiasm for being alive and serving Christ in our modern world. He is so gentle, encouraging, and loving.; Throughout our talk, I would put down my fork just to absorb how cool it is to be alive…to be truly alive, giving up everything to serve God. I told him about my deep admiration for St. Francis of Assisi and my experiences with the Friars earlier this week.

Fr. Bill told great stories about children of God finding peace in Him, serving Him with no fear. I was enamored by every word he said. But during my own words, my eyes would float over his shoulder onto the gorgeous hostesses. There is nothing wrong with that, but I was more embarrassed I couldn’t even pay attention to what I was saying. Am I that boring, or am I that easily distracted?

To my left was a couple in their late forties. His solid body filled his suit well, his dark hair nicely groomed. His date carried quite a figure for her age. Though her wide-brimmed sunhat and Hollywood sunglasses hid most of her face, she was unmistakably beautiful. Throughout my meal, I would unknowingly check up on my couple to see how their conversation was going. Each time, their expressions were dull, their words scarce. They put their napkins on the table, already cluttered with silver and china. She slipped her arms through the handles of her glossy shopping bag and they were out the door.

What did they talk about? What brought them there today? I don’t want to assume anything about either of their characters, I just hoped that they could experience joy. I hope that they experience joy. I hope that worldly pursuits had not left them empty as their life passes.

But what got me the most about my couple was my dwindling, yet still notable fancy for their lifestyle…to be beautiful and carry an air of prestige. I pulled my eyes to my coffee cup, my spoon melting in some sugar. …this is my life right now: my fascination for things of this world, and my love for what is not of this world. I looked out the window again, wondering if I could make it to this year’s VMAs. I looked back to Fr. Bill and smiled.

I will not let my fancy for this world derail my reason for existing. It will be my battle everyday, but I will just have to continue to look up to my Father in heaven every time I am tempted.

Fr. Bill and I hugged and said goodbye, two friends remarkably close after about four hours of being around each other. I stepped onto the sidewalk and began my journey home. Block after block, something he said to me kept resonating within me:

“Matt, in the end, the only thing that really matters is Jesus.”

I am sitting in the corner of the Salt Lake City airport sucking some power from an outlet. It’ll be a half-hour before we begin boarding.

With every journal entry, I have to decide what I am going to write about and what I am not going to write about. Some feelings stir in me during journal time are fleeting and stupid and are not worth immortalizing in a journal: frustration from a crashed computer, disappointment about not getting a phone call, or the new found confidence that my shirt fit more snug after working out.

At the same time I have to be honest with myself about the reality of my life. Since I’ve gotten off The Real World, I’ve sought to define myself outside the context of the show. I am not only that guy from the RW, but more. There is more. In an attempt to put the RW behind me and not having people think I am gloating, I’ve avoided writing about some of the day to day experiences of a young man in his fifteen minutes of fame. With that…

I have a unique affection for my weathered orange Life Teen hat. When I pack my bags, it is as valuable as headphones, toothbrush, or a snoozy pillow and blinders for sleeping. With my hat pulled low, I am able to walk through an airport and get stuff done. I keep my head down every time I pass a group of high schoolers or college kids. I can board my plane and be off to the next city.

There is nothing worse than someone recognizing me when I am not able to stop and say hello. It’s not cool to dis a fan of the show. It’s not cool to dis anyone, but especially someone who has watched every show and bought every book and video. I’ve almost missed flights because I’ve stopped to talk to people.

Nothing infuriates me quite as much as seeing somebody auctioning off my signature online. I don’t even check the RW auctions unless someone has acquired something unique along the way. (How the hell did that guy get my student ID? I want it back, I can get discounts with that thing.) It sucks to know that I took the time to greet, share, and make a personal message and an autograph, just so they can scan it and sell it. I mean, if that is how it ends up, I’ll just sit around with my TRW roomies and write our own money. If it were all about ephemeral personal gain, I would be trying to get laid instead of signing an autograph.

Sometimes, I just feel like I am a snack machine that went crazy and is giving out free stuff. People come by and push all the buttons and loot what they can. Kids get greedy. A few autographs, a cute conversation, and a hug isn’t enough. They want my sunglasses, a picture with a kiss, my email address, my screen name, my phone number… I don’t know what to do: I want to be nice and considerate, but only if they are willing to do the same.

When I go out with my friends, I always ask for certain seat and blame it on being left-handed. The real reason is so I can put my back to the crowd and have a meal with out someone coming over to talk to me, and possibly stirring up jealousy or contempt from the people I am with. I don’t like that: that I have to quiet something that is a part of my life just so people won’t get jealous. I just want to say “screw you, this is me, take it or leave it.”

(A really cute girl just sat down next to me. Maybe if she looks at my monitor I will type a message to her letting her know I think she is pretty.)

Mom is the only one I can tell everything. To her, I am still her little boy telling her about my day at school. I can tell her about getting mobbed on Fifth Ave, about waving to someone from the TRL window, and about feeling uncomfortable when people blatantly tell me they didn’t like me on the show.

It feels so good to release some of that. Next thing you know I’ll be talking about how people call me Vanilla Ice.

The Real World New York is on and I am sitting in my sister’s apartment in Reno, Nevada. It’s funny b/c I live in NY, I’ve been on the RW, and I’ve met all the NY kids…so the surreal factor is high. It is difficult for me to watch the show and not interject something every few seconds about the reality of editing, cast playing to the camera, and manipulation. I am not pissy, just happily educated and entertained.

I remember this time last year was so odd/cool. I would watch MTV like I always had…I would listen to the groovy 10spot previews and see my face and hear my voice. Nothing can prepare you for seeing yourself in the MTV picture frame. The RW was my life with six strangers pushed through the editing room filter. What you get is juiced-up family video that everyone in the world can watch.

(Rachel is cute.)

Stepping back now and watching this show, I see how the plots are so high-schoolish. I knew it, but now I KNOW it. It is young people learning how to express their emotions, deal with differences, and define who they are amidst a group. People with new found or contrived confidence proudly gain importance by expressing their emotions. You don’t see educated adults telling each other like it is while their peers cheer them on. This hit me at the Real World 10-Year Reunion, when Kevin (RW1) yelled something at Puck. The cute black girl from RW Miami reminded Kevin, “you’re too old to be talking like that.”

–As if the guys in the club don’t know “that girl” is on the RW and he gets on TV when he talks to her.–

So this is the last day of my vacation. I’ve enjoyed playing with the baby, tinkering w/ my new computer, and visiting with my sister and her hubby. It is cool just to hang around a home. In NY I never stay in my apt for more than 12 hrs. Maybe it’s because so much is going on around town, or my apt is not quite my home. Either way, I am out of my apt as much as I am in it. But here I have been lounging around, napping, eating otter pops, checking my email, and reading about cool stuff online.

–”Undressed” is so sick. It is such a mockery of teen sexuality, but the teens eat it up and replicate it. It’s kind of like teens being fans of 2ge+her, a boy band made to make fun of boy bands.–

Rachel has a cute personality.

I’ve been watching MTV for an hour now. It is the first hour I’ve watched in several months now. I can see so many young people watching, entertained and left empty. They see these shows and videos and glam and rock-n-roll lifestyle. ..and this show “Becoming” solidifies people’s longing to live that life. A few lucky kids get to be their favorite star in a video. The kids at home turn off the TV because it is late and their eyelids are heavy. The room fades to dark, the humming fridge and the AC making the only sound. They slide into their sheets wondering “why can’t I live like that?”

Now that I think of it, people like Britney Spears, Limp Bizkit, and the Backstreet Boys don’t live lives like that. It’s not like Britney walks down the halls of her own house with dancers behind her. Destiny’s Child don’t have their living room coordinate with their outfits. J-Lo has to take Pepto sometimes. On this show, they don’t make the kid deal with a messed up girlfriend before he goes on the set. The kid doesn’t have to wonder how he’s going to deal with his manager when he gets a new one. The girl doesn’t have to delete half of her messages on her cell phone because she doesn’t even know who the people are. (This girl is crying now because it was the best day of her life, being Britney Spears.)

…you’ve just got to get out their and make it happen. I am not talking about becoming a rock star (though you can), but just making your own life happen. I’ve had fun lounging around here in Reno, but I am ready for life in NY again. This was a time to recharge my batteries, now it is time to get goin’ in life.

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!