I have never been one to brag, but some things just naturally come up in conversation and you make things awkward by not acknowledging them. Like—as I’ve been forced to discuss on dddt—my innate but as of yet untested combat skills or the fact that I was a zone leader (the tallest zone leader too) on my mission (which, if you’ll remember, was basically higher than AP in my particular mission. Ryan was an AP in a second world country, which is the equivalent of a district leader in the U.S. Davis was a Zone Leader in a third world country, which is the equivalent of a 34 year old sister missionary with mustache and a peg leg in the U.S. And before you suffragists start picketing my house, let me say that this ranking system didn’t come from me; it’s in the handbook. Page B28. Look it up.)
Anyway, so I don’t like to talk about myself, but there is an elephant in this cyber room and I might as well get this over with. Those of you who have lived in Utah County are familiar with a tony publication called Schooled Magazine. For those of you who live in underground bomb shelters in the Gobi Desert who haven’t heard of Schooled Magazine; it’s like the Vanity Fair of Utah County. Well anyway, I want you to click on the link below, then scroll all the way to the bottom to that page, September 2003.
Yes I know, you recognize that guy and yes that is Carmen from American Idol and Kyla from the Bachelor on the issues after mine. I know, that’s so incredible, blah blah blah. Whatever. And I know you want an explanation, which I’m sick and tired of giving. But I don’t want all 32,000 of you separately emailing and bugging me about it, so I might as well address it here. But what’s to explain? I was chosen to be on the inaugural cover of a prestigious magazine? Big freaking whoop. All of us have neat things happen to us in our lives, yours are just on a drastically smaller scale. But the emotions are essentially the same. Like how sleeping in a mink blanket basically feels like sleeping in a burlap blanket, because in the end they’re both just blankets. Ok, I guess it’s not the same and unless you’ve been there I can’t explain it to you.
But fame has a darker side. Everyone assumes you think you’re better than them simply because they know you’re better than them. The Belmont/Arlington crowd hates you because they want to be you. The homely and poor students in the Colony and the Riviera are too intimidated to even approach you. It’s terribly lonely. Then one night you snap out of it and find yourself lost in a sea of zebra-striped hair and slutty pumpkin costumes at a UVSC Halloween party and you think “what have I become?”
But it doesn’t have to be that way. A question I get a lot is “Christian, how does instant fame affect a person?” I just smile and do my best to answer graciously. The answer is fame only changes you to the degree you let it change you. If having pet white tigers that are trained to bathe and towel you erodes the type of person you are inside, then you have no business being famous.
Anyway, please don’t email me about this (friends) or ask to represent me (modeling/acting agents) or ask me for Hollywood intros (my good friend Juliet). I’m over it. I’ve settled down now and am the CEO of a reputable company in the U.S., so.