Conference Session 1

Usually my favorite session of conference is Sunday morning, but it's going to be hard to top this first session. The music and speakers were all awesome. My favorite speakers were Oaks, Pieper, and Faust. Wonderful messages, and lots of really good scriptures. If you didn't watch it, go online and watch it now because it was fantastic. And now, it's time for Stephalumpagus to stop being lazy and go shower.

Is it bad that Book of Mormon is my least favorite class?

It's not that I don't like the Book of Mormon. I really love it and enjoy reading and studying it.

Here's the problem: This is school. Not church. I love church. I love feeling the Spirit. But in church, usually you learn the spiritual lessons of the scriptures. Because this is school, I was hoping for some non-spiritual lessons---historical background, Jewish culture, Hebrew writing styles, etc. Yet I feel like I'm in Sunday School every time I go to that class. Even then, it's not as good as Sunday School because I'm in a room with 60 freshmen who all make the same comments and a teacher whose voice makes me want to classify him as a bad therapist.

Ok, I should be nicer. Brother Larsen is a nice man, he has a testimony of the Gospel and everything...I just don't think he's a good teacher. He gets caught up in the semantics of definitions and doesn't really get into the juiciness of the Gospel. I listen during class, but the many doodles on my notes are evidence that not much is really being talked about.

Then I took our first exam today. I don't think anything could have prepared me for that. I almost started laughing in the middle of the testing center. The first part of the exam consisted of questions that 1) were not very difficult in the first place, and 2) had such outrageous answer choices that they were impossible to get wrong. I speak the truth when I tell you that the words "Daffy Duck," "termites," "tribolites" (ahem what?), and "Columbus, Ohio" appeared on that exam.

So I was cruising through these questions, laughing in my head, and then all of a sudden it gets hard. Questions like "What did Nephi have a vision of in 1 Ne. 14?" started popping up. Nephi had a visions that comprise 1 Ne. 11-15 or something like that, and he saw all sorts of stuff. I can't remember what happened in that chapter. Some of his questions were worded oddly, and I wasn't sure what he meant. I finished though, with an 83%. Meh. I wonder how everyone else did.

In conclusion, I would like to say that I love the Book of Mormon very much, but that I don't love my class very much. It's not completely awful, and I really like the manual, but I will definitely be switching teachers at the semester.

The Problems with Pedometers...

For my HEPE class (yes, I'm taking HEPE. Let it be known now and forever) I have been wearing a pedometer every day and recording how many steps I take. Then I average it each week and look at some chart to see how active I was. I must say that I am often offended by the results. Let me tell you why.

First of all, pedometers cannot possibly calculate all activity. What if I were sitting down and lifting weights? I think doing a weight workout should be considered as activity. Also, the pedometer really doesn't get put on until right before I leave the house, so it doesn't get all of those steps I take walking around my apartment in the morning. I realize it's not a huge difference, but it could be enough to push me into the higher bracket.

The biggest problem with pedometers is that they just count steps, but they don't differentiate between what kind of steps. Whether I'm jogging or walking, it counts the same amount of steps, even though jogging is obviously the more strenuous activity. What if I have to walk up a bunch of stairs, or walk up a hill? It certainly doesn't take that into account. It also doesn't take into account elevation or pressure changes, which can cause you to burn more calories than you normally would.

Another problem is that pedometers specific to walking. If I swim, I can't wear the pedometer. So if I walk only 100 steps to the pool, and then I swim for three hours, the blasted thing still tells me I was inactive.

In conclusion, I suggest that although pedometers are lots of fun, they aren't very good measures of activity. Swimming is better than walking anyway.

The Problems with Pedometers...

For my HEPE class (yes, I'm taking HEPE. Let it be known now and forever) I have been wearing a pedometer every day and recording how many steps I take. Then I average it each week and look at some chart to see how active I was. I must say that I am often offended by the results. Let me tell you why.

First of all, pedometers cannot possibly calculate all activity. What if I were sitting down and lifting weights? I think doing a weight workout should be considered as activity. Also, the pedometer really doesn't get put on until right before I leave the house, so it doesn't get all of those steps I take walking around my apartment in the morning. I realize it's not a huge difference, but it could be enough to push me into the higher bracket.

The biggest problem with pedometers is that they just count steps, but they don't differentiate between what kind of steps. Whether I'm jogging or walking, it counts the same amount of steps, even though jogging is obviously the more strenuous activity. What if I have to walk up a bunch of stairs, or walk up a hill? It certainly doesn't take that into account. It also doesn't take into account elevation or pressure changes, which can cause you to burn more calories than you normally would.

Another problem is that pedometers specific to walking. If I swim, I can't wear the pedometer. So if I walk only 100 steps to the pool, and then I swim for three hours, the blasted thing still tells me I was inactive.

In conclusion, I suggest that although pedometers are lots of fun, they aren't very good measures of activity. Swimming is better than walking anyway.

What if...?

What if I just didn't study anymore for tomorrow's physics exam?
What if I just said, "Forget it, I don't care if I fail."
What if I stayed up all night watching movies, blogging, and eating junk food?
I would probably freak out, cram as much as possible, delete my blog, become a total hermit, and study for the rest of my life.

Darn my inherent perfectionism.
Darn my inability to get bad grades without ripping my hair out.

I have to go study. :(

A Good Quote

This is in the visiting teaching message this month. I've always firmly believed this, but Wirthlin says it well:

"The Church is not a place where perfect people gather to say perfect things, or have perfect thoughts, or have perfect feelings. The Church is a place where imperfect people gather to provide encouragement, support, and service to each other...We are here with the same purpose: to learn to love Him with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves."

Joseph B. Wirthlin "The Virtue of Kindness," Liahona and Ensign, May 2005

Of a more serious nature...

I got home from class today, and for some reason I began to think about an old friend of mine. We aren't really friends anymore; in fact, we haven't spoken in over a year. We didn't have a fight or anything, but our conversations died out with some various disagreements we had. I learned a few things about him after we stopped talking, and I felt like I had been mistreated and used. It really upset me for a while, but I just tried to forget about it. It wasn't like I saw him frequently--he lived in Utah.

Well, here I am, a little over a year later, living in Utah. Probably about 35 minutes away from him. The thought occured to me today: What would I do if I ran into him somewhere? What would I say? What if he were to try to give me a hug or something? I don't want to hug him. I don't want to be friendly. I don't want him to just get away with what he did--I want him to know that I know he's a jerk! Then I said to myself, you should be grateful he's a jerk; you grew a lot from that experience and became a lot more independent. I said to myself again, but he treated me like garbage!

And so my thoughts tumbled along, pulling back and forth. And then a scripture popped into my head. Here it comes. Compelled to humility, again.

"I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men."

It's so hard though! I don't want to let him get away with stepping all over me! Then I remembered how the Savior forgave the men who mocked him, and spat on him, and crucified him. He loved them, so why can't I? Why can't I just let this go? I don't hate this person, I even had a lot of good times with him. But he used me! He lied to me! I feel like he needs to know that what he did was wrong!

But that's not up to me. It's the Lord's job to judge. Not mine. My job is to forgive.

I have made up my mind. If I ever see this person, I will be kind to him. I can't say I'll be affectionate or anything, but I won't bring up the issue. I'm going to try to really put this behind me, to really forgive this person. It's going to take a truckload of humble pie. Here it goes.

A Secret Identity and a New Major

Some disturbing news.
My father is in fact a professional salsa dancer posing as a dentist.
My adopted older-but-shorter brother broke it to me:
"I discovered this horrible, horrible secret one night in Vallejo. I was helping an old lady look for her cat [He's so kind, always helping the elderly find their various pets] and I saw your dad in an alley practicing his moves. He was wearing a cape and a total outfit. Then he went to a club and I saw someone hand him a bag with a dollar sign on it."
I'm still trying to get over the shock.
But I love my dad and I will just have to adjust to his salsa-dancing lifestyle.
Oh and I am officially declaring my major:
Piratism. With an emphasis on pilfering and a minor in swashbuckling.

Pie

I love pie. Mostly chocolate pie, or cheesecake-type pies, apple pie, peanut butter in pies, strawberries.....

But can anyone guess my absolute favorite pie? ;)

The Marvelous Sites of Provo

The following were sited today in Provo:

A car with a sign in the window that read, "Security Health is the worst insurance company ever. Never buy from them."

A male playing the ukelele on a street corner.

An old man sitting on his porch watching traffic go by.

A male student running down the street with bell peppers in his hands.

Aaaah Utah. *shake of the head*

Tintinnabulation of the bells, bells, bells...

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: This blog is extremely nerdy and could be hazardous to your health. If you have never participated in various band or choir merriment, you should not partake.

With that said, I have some very exciting news. But first it is expedient that we investigate my history with handbells. Otherwise, my excitement may seem excessive.

When I was just a little kid in elementary school, the Sylvan Singers from Wood were the center of an assembly every year. Eh, the singing was great, but what I was interested in was the bell choir. Being a young musician, I appreciated how different an instrument the handbell was, and it absolutely intrigued me. I determined that someday I would play handbells.

My freshman year, I wasn't a part of the choir program, but I asked Mr. B. about playing bells and he plopped me into a training choir. I caught on quickly since I read music well, and I absolutely loved it. The following year I auditioned for Sylvan Singers--not because I was interested in choir, but because I wanted to be in the advanced bell group.

So the next three years I was in Tins (as we were called), and I even taught the training choir my last two years in high school.

So anyone that really knows me (or reads this blog) would know that I worship handbells and I pretty much know everything about them--how they work, how to fix them, how to clean them, proper technique, all style techniques (ha! I even invented my own!) , how to conduct a bell choir... I just love bells. (ahem I would like to start a bell choir at BYU but that's another story altogether).

Ok, we've established my history with this glorious instrument. Now, the trick was finding a bell choir here in Utah. I wasn't sure I was going to find one, as they are not very common. However, the Good Lord is merciful, and he definitely provided for me this time.

When in doubt, consult the internet. I went cybersurfing for bell choirs in the Provo/Orem area, and one popped up. The Utah Valley Handbell Choir. It looked promising, so I emailed the lady and what do you know, she responded telling me to come to a rehearsal.

There was one open spot. I got it. They needed someone on bass bells. I love bass bells. The church they rehearse in is on 700 E. I live off of 700 E. It worked out so perfectly.

So I went last night. We were sight-reading level 4 music. It was glorious. The perfect level of ringing for me--advanced enough to be challenging and fun, but not impossible. I fit right in. Their folders are absolutely PACKED with delicious music arranged by such wonderful people as Cynthia Dobrinski. 5 octaves of Malmark bells (oh I was so scared they would be those piece of crud tin cans that are Shulmerich), and I believe they own some bass chimes as well. The lower half octave of bass bells (from F#3 to C2 I believe) are aluminum, which makes ringing quickly a bit easier.

And everyone was so nice and funny! It was great. I'm so excited to be a part of this. Christmas season is coming up and I can't wait.

Mental Processes

I'm sitting outside of the JFSB with a delicious lunch consisting of pasta and salad. As I eat, I check the time, and what-do-you-know, it's actually lunchtime. I haven't eaten lunch at lunchtime for at least a week, maybe even longer. This got me thinking about how my eating/sleeping/organizational habits have significantly changed since I moved to Uta (no h, they don't want it I hear).

I go too sleep at a different time every night. On the weekends its somewhere between 12am and 2am. Weeknights, between 10pm and 1am. I have taken one nap since I've been here. I eat when I am hungry, not at mealtimes. So some days I will eat around 11am and then not eat until around 8 pm. Other days I constantly snack (I tried to buy semi-healthy snacks, so at least I'm trying not to be completely unhealthy). My meals usually random things at the CougarEat, macaroni and hamburger, Campbell's soup, frozen burritos, various sandwiches, and pasta.

So I'm going back and forth between my amazing pasta and my computer, laughing at my weird friends...Apparently a small ant wandered into my food and I put it in my mouth (it looked just like a piece of basil!) and it freaking bit my tongue! I was thoroughly confused as to why a piece of my food had latched on to my tongue and was pinching it. I pulled it off and squished the poor thing, hoping that this ant hadn't ruined my ability to taste my wondrous lunch. Alas, he had not, and I enjoyed the rest of my lunch in peace.

12:49 pm. Book of Mormon at 1:00. I supposed I should be responsible and go to class. I highly doubt it would matter if I didn't go, except that I get 5 points for being there. This is not my favorite class for reasons which will have to be explained in a later blog.

Off I go.

Thoughts and Observations of a College Student in What is Commonly Known as "The Wilk"

Approximately 11:56.30 am in the Wilkinson Center. Estimated temperature: 12 degrees Fahrenheit, excluding wind chill factor (yes, there is actually a breeze in here). Smells: Taco Bell, teriyaki, and ice cream.

When observing a college student in their natural habitat, one must be very cautious. If the observer's presence is known, the consequences could be fatal. These high-strung procrastinators are known to use only the most deadly of pick-up lines when they make eye contact with the opposite sex. I must remain unnoticed.

Two males are approaching. They sit down in front of me, and proceed to eat. Though one has an orange, his instincts will not allow for a completely healthy meal, especially at feeding time. He eats a large sandwich, while the other has only ice cream.

They begin communicating. One is under stress because he is enrolled in 16 credits (oh please). The one with the orange is now attempting to peel the fruit with a pen cap. Primitive indeed. He discusses lighting the orange on fire. What a fascinating display.

These two appear to be in the upper half of the hierarchy of the tribe. They discuss having freshmen around. Little do they know they are being astutely observed by one (insert evil laugh). I'm an amazing actress.

One just used a large word. Most likely he has been waiting to slip it into conversation all day. It is a common technique used to make the student seem more intelligent. Now that he has used the word successfully with another male, he may use it in conversation to attract females. Neither of these two have chosen a mate yet, and I highly doubt the use of a big word would help.

They stand up and leave, discussing the location of a building that I don't think exists.

Another wonderful lunchtime.
Off to class.

Word of the Day

Garbologist. One who studies and analyzes the elements of garbage.

This is a real form of archaeology. Apparently it's a pretty big deal.
Who would have thunk it?

Burnt Vacuum

When I got home from class this morning, I decided to clean up our apartment. I organized and put away clutter that was sitting out, I washed the dishes, and I wiped down all the counters in the kitchen and bathroom.
My whimsical roommate Courtney walked in and made a comment that it smelled like "burnt vacuum" outside. I tried to imagine what that smelled like, but then just shrugged it off.

Since our broom has gone missing, I decided to vacuum the kitchen, and then the hallway and our room. I plugged in the vacuum and turned it on. It worked for about ten seconds; then, all of a sudden, our vacuum from hell emitted a spark and a *poof!* and a copious amount of smoke frothed out of its jaws like some rabid animal.

I now know what burnt vacuum smells like.

Macaroni

It has come to my attention that there are people in this world who are over the age of 20 that have NEVER made macaroni and cheese. Ever.

That's unfortunate.

For those of you normal people who have amazing macaroni-cooking skills, I have a suggestion for you that will change your lives forever: add hamburger.
Some will laugh at this idea, others will say I'm sick, but until you try this incredibly delicious combination, your poor, uneducated palate will be missing out on something revolutionary.

When I cook it, I like to add some minced onions and random spices to enhance the meaty flavor.

Don't scoff. What do you think Hamburger Helper is? My way is just way more delicious.

Brontosauruses

Brontosauruses (not brontosauri) are pretty much my favorite kind of dinoasaur, I've decided. For three reasons: 1) They are tall like me; 2) They have long necks like giraffes, which are also tall like me; and 3) They are nice dinosaurs that eat plants instead of ripping the limbs off of other animals, like me. Jk about the last part.

I wonder if brontosauruses like soy butter pecan ice cream like me...I ate some today and it was quite delicious. Although it's still not good for you. Don't let the soy part make you think it's healthy, cuz IT'S NOT.

It is delicious though. Unlike Utah. Utah tastes like salt. And there are not enough gangsta people around. But my hair does dry faster, and my popcorn burns if I push the popcorn button on the microwave because it cooks faster at this altitude.

Despite the altitude, the sandman still comes, and he's after me.






(Psst!!! Scott!! How do you like it?)