<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802</id><updated>2012-01-13T11:47:26.153-07:00</updated><category term='weather'/><category term='Terrance'/><category term='necessities'/><category term='housing'/><category term='Sarah'/><category term='Ashley'/><category term='Laura'/><category term='church'/><category term='Sini'/><category term='roommates'/><category term='Elise'/><category term='family'/><category term='sports'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='dating'/><category term='Mitch'/><category term='football'/><category term='Braden'/><category term='Adam'/><category term='academic'/><category term='Trevor'/><category term='life'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>The First Year</title><subtitle type='html'>Ten students take a fresh look at BYU.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Jeff</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18232797036594734646</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SSG4NJaHuLI/Sdl8suInvwI/AAAAAAAABM4/fNRR7s0L1Ww/S220/jeff2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>214</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2186870850492776976</id><published>2010-04-24T20:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T20:31:00.109-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Checkout Insanity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Checkouts . . . *sigh* . . . what a long, long week. It started out alright—only a few checkouts per night, mostly over the phone, not too much junk in the lobbies or overflowing from the dumpsters. Friday, though, was madness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of 13 boys' rooms, only two were ready for their final checkout walk-through at the time they scheduled. While I waited for the next room to be ready (as I was on duty and couldn't really leave my building to do anything else), I built architectural wonders out of the turned-in mattress pads. :) What did I care though that the boys were all late? I was on duty all day (with the exception of a few hours in the middle of the day for quick meal), and the rooms all needed to be done that night; I'd just do them all right in a row. And did. And it was painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For five hours I did deep-cleaning checks, recording the things that needed to be completed, the jobs that needed redoing, and the charges for boys who had already left, etc. You know that black mold that shows up on top of shower-curtain rods and seems to come by the pint? No? Well, neither did most of the boys in my hall. I usually had to get some on my finger first from checking it before telling them that the rod would need a quick scrubbing. And splashboards—oh, how I hate checking the splashboards!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, Friday night at 10 p.m., the last of the walk-throughs were done. By 10 a.m. the next day, all of the boys were out of the building, and I had the rest of the day (until 6:30 p.m., when I finished) to prep the building for the next event for which housing was required: Women's Conference (talk about a tough crowd to satisfy in terms of cleanliness)!  I put a blanket, mattress pad, and pillow on each bed, closed all the blinds, turned off all the lights, locked all the doors, filled out final work-order requests, collected all the things that boys forgot about or didn't realize that they'd forgotten (six boxes full of everything from posters to magnets to socks to pots). Lobby trash cans were emptied, leftover cleaning supplies taken to the central building, smoke alarms tested, and fire extinguishers checked. At last, at 6:30 p.m., I finished. FREEDOM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all sincerity, the RA job has been a blast all semester! I've loved the chances I've had to help my boys, plan programs, be involved, and learn people-management skills; but man, way to end with a bang . . . a somewhat painful, but relatively brief, bang.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2186870850492776976?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2186870850492776976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2186870850492776976' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2186870850492776976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2186870850492776976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/checkouts-insanity.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Checkout Insanity&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-158391769462055039</id><published>2010-04-24T19:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T19:05:00.451-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Left Behind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vast majority of the boys in my hall are going on missions this summer, and a lot of them live far from Provo. With no need for leftover spices, core ingredients, or kitchenware in the near future, many of them opted for the "I'll-just-give-it-to-DI-and-buy-more-when-I-get-back" option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The result? Because I love my older sister, who agreed to wake up at 4:30 in the morning to drive me to the Salt Lake City airport for my flight home, I collected. A few pots, a few pans, a pie plate, a billion spatulas, wooden spoons, silverware, tupperware of every shape and size, a toaster, a nice track jacket, two sleeping bags, a new pillow, a laptop case—these are just a few of the things boys gave me as they were leaving, or things they left for me to pick up after they left. And then there was the food—from my apartment alone, my sister got roughly $250 of nonperishable foodstuffs: cans of vegetables, boxes of crackers, packs of hot pockets, jars of peanut butter, bags of marshmallows, stacks of ramen noodles, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The advantage of leaving early? You don't have to throw away the stuff that nobody wanted, and cleaning jobs are a bit easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The advantage of leaving late? Lots and lots of free stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-158391769462055039?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/158391769462055039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=158391769462055039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/158391769462055039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/158391769462055039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/left-behind.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Left Behind&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5782644491784621927</id><published>2010-04-24T16:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T16:28:00.821-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Sleep Data Comparisons</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got the stats on my winter sleep patterns! By themselves, the stats aren't too astounding. The comparison with fall semester is rather amusing, however.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trend lines are the most interesting to me. Whereas fall semester saw bedtime gradually getting later and later throughout pretty much the entire year, winter semester remained fairly constant. And what's even more intriguing: both semesters had the same average bedtime (1 a.m.-ish) over the course of the semester! At the start of fall semester I was going to bed early, then I realized that I could stay out later and later until my average bedtime was around 2 a.m. By winter semester I knew approximately what I could handle, and I stayed nearer to that bedtime pretty much all semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the day-by-day comparison, in fall semester, my bedtime gradually got later each night from Monday up to the weekend. In winter semester, I started out the week going to bed late, then got more sleep each night during the week until the weekend came, at which time I went to bed as late as I did fall semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfYx61S0BWI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/SoT7iHWEbvE/s1600-h/Bedtimes+by+time+-+comparison.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfYx61S0BWI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/SoT7iHWEbvE/s400/Bedtimes+by+time+-+comparison.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329502095847720290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfYyOoNlJzI/AAAAAAAAAGY/RtXCsQaLyhc/s1600-h/Bedtimes+by+day+-+comparison.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfYyOoNlJzI/AAAAAAAAAGY/RtXCsQaLyhc/s400/Bedtimes+by+day+-+comparison.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329502435933497138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfYyUHGAz8I/AAAAAAAAAGg/tXiSaVab7hw/s1600-h/Bedtimes+by+time+-+Winter+09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfYyUHGAz8I/AAAAAAAAAGg/tXiSaVab7hw/s400/Bedtimes+by+time+-+Winter+09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329502530122600386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfY07-T0fPI/AAAAAAAAAGw/fV4CwX6DqLs/s1600-h/Bedtimes+by+day+-+Winter+09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfY07-T0fPI/AAAAAAAAAGw/fV4CwX6DqLs/s400/Bedtimes+by+day+-+Winter+09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329505413982616818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5782644491784621927?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5782644491784621927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5782644491784621927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5782644491784621927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5782644491784621927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/sleep-data-comparisons.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Sleep Data Comparisons&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SfYx61S0BWI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/SoT7iHWEbvE/s72-c/Bedtimes+by+time+-+comparison.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8577534189005870705</id><published>2010-04-23T23:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T23:09:00.354-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Free at Last</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am done with finals!  Wahoo!  It is a priceless feeling. All of that studying and hard work and worrying and studying and cramming and... and... and studying in preparing for one last test has reached its end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite days to walk on campus is the last couple of days of finals.  You can look at the face of someone walking by and immediately interpret how their week is going.  Some are totally at peace and may have a few drips of ice cream smeared on their lips from celebrating their freedom.  Others are in denial and have a strange look on their face, suggesting that they are and thinking, "I've still got time."  Some are holding a study guide in their hands and would run right into you if you didn't dodge their studying path.  I have even run into a few who are very open with their panic, asking their study buddy something to the extent of, "Tell me everything you know about the Great Depression in the next 60 seconds!"  Yet as I was driving in the car and saw the clock strike 10 p.m., there was an immediate flow of relief that filled the surrounding air and a feeling of excitement and celebration.  Ready or not, finals happened, and now they are done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have six days of pure joy until I begin my spring classes, and I don't think I will have a problem figuring out how to spend them.  I feel so good about "last semester," and I was relieved to see how everything really came together in the end.  I feel so proud of all I was able to accomplish, and my first year has taught me that I really can do hard things.  I have loved BYU and look forward to the years to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8577534189005870705?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8577534189005870705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8577534189005870705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8577534189005870705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8577534189005870705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/free-at-last.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Free at Last&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-231658604839665297</id><published>2010-04-23T18:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T18:45:00.249-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Final Food Showdown</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With checkouts around the corner and lots of leftover food in our cupboards, our ward decided to organize a potluck Thursday night before a lot of students went home for the summer. I was expecting stale, half-opened bags of chips and straggling Hot Pockets. I forgot to consider that these same students also had meal plan money that needed using up, so instead of a "junk-food, leftovers" meal, we had a smorgasbord! Smoked salmon, funeral potatoes, lasagna, garlic bread, macaroni and cheese, a 3-gallon tub of ice cream, sloppy joes, etc! What a delicious meal! I think that meal had more variety than any other I've had all freshman year, except, perhaps, for when I ate at the Cannon Center, but it would certainly be a close call.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-231658604839665297?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/231658604839665297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=231658604839665297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/231658604839665297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/231658604839665297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/final-food-showdown.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Final Food Showdown&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8429871436948563064</id><published>2010-04-22T14:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T14:20:00.768-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trevor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Settling on a Major</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Trevor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the first year at BYU has officially ended. I promised myself at the beginning of fall semester that I would not choose a major this year. That way I could keep my options open and see what might spike my interest—I wouldn't limit my opportunities by chaining myself down to one major right from the get-go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that the year is over, I can go ahead and declare a major with a clear conscience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After much debating, I've decided to pursue a career in animation. This came as a surprise to me. Though I've been known in my apartment and all through high school as being the "Disney Guy," I never seriously considered working for a major studio. In fact, I never considered any kind of degree in visual arts at all. But, as everyone says, the first year of college changes everything, and I can testify that this is true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For your enjoyment, I've attached my three projects from my beginning animation class. (Hopefully they play correctly. 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href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b86fdf3b1b3c880b&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=c9bae8793b5ab50&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8429871436948563064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8429871436948563064' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8429871436948563064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8429871436948563064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/settling-on-major.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC6633&quot;&gt;Settling on a Major&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Trevor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8390439198340001847</id><published>2010-04-21T22:39:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T22:39:00.248-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><title type='text'>Hello, Goodbye</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think one of the hardest things in high school was saying goodbye.  It was hard saying goodbye to friends, knowing that we were going our separate ways in life, not knowing when we would see each other again.  It was hard saying goodbye to the senior power, knowing that I'd would have to painfully endure names such as "freshie" and "squashmore" all over again.  It was kind of scary realizing that I was now considered an adult, technically, and was gaining much more independence than I'd ever tasted before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, with all the fears and worries, it has been exciting—something that I could never put a face value on.  I have gained so much over the last year of my life. I've experienced an abundance of new thrills attending BYU.  When I look back to that first campus tour at New Student Orientation, I can't believe how fast it has all gone by.  It seems like I was entering as a brand new student just yesterday. And after my finals I will be retiring the name of "freshman" with hard-earned calluses from my study habits, now a few steps closer to graduation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life goes by so fast; it makes me realize how important it is to live in the moment and not miss out on great opportunities.  Reaching the end of the semester and saying goodbye to friends, teachers, and classes hasn't gotten any easier since high school, but I think I have learned that there are a lot of hellos in my future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8390439198340001847?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8390439198340001847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8390439198340001847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8390439198340001847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8390439198340001847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/hello-goodbye.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Hello, Goodbye&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8522864954538202640</id><published>2010-04-21T13:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T13:48:00.762-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Camping Indoors</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and I have really enjoyed going to Divine Comedy shows this year. Divne Comedy's amazingly huge popularity makes getting front-row seats rather difficult, however. How did we remedy this problem? With a tent. And pizza. And cards. And gummy worms. and marshmallows. And a lot of spare time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Se91DFzuYMI/AAAAAAAAAF4/kdFPus1R1Bw/s1600-h/DC1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Se91DFzuYMI/AAAAAAAAAF4/kdFPus1R1Bw/s400/DC1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327605580161769666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Se91BKlGkcI/AAAAAAAAAFw/uwxWx2X8Hww/s1600-h/DC2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Se91BKlGkcI/AAAAAAAAAFw/uwxWx2X8Hww/s400/DC2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327605547082879426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Se90-bdL0zI/AAAAAAAAAFo/9flZn4-pU58/s1600-h/DC3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Se90-bdL0zI/AAAAAAAAAFo/9flZn4-pU58/s400/DC3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327605500073464626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We showed up just before 5 p.m. for the 7 p.m. show and set up camp. The time really flew by after that, and we were first in line! I think my friend Tom summed it up best:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Renting a tent: $7&lt;br /&gt;Ordering two pizzas and having them delivered to the JSB lobby: $12&lt;br /&gt;Buying a Divine Comedy ticket: $5&lt;br /&gt;The look we just got from that kid over there: Priceless&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8522864954538202640?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8522864954538202640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8522864954538202640' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8522864954538202640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8522864954538202640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/camping-in.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Camping Indoors&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Se91DFzuYMI/AAAAAAAAAF4/kdFPus1R1Bw/s72-c/DC1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1254540381091025357</id><published>2010-04-20T22:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T22:52:00.271-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Major Decision . . . Maybe</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Mitch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I have finally chosen a major! This is big news, considering I almost, no, definitely shot myself in the foot if I ever wanted to pursue a business degree—accounting was a great class, just not a great GPA-builder. That's all I need to say about that. Then I considered majoring in history, because I love American Heritage, and I am actually doing well in the class. But I decided that history was too boring. No offense to any history majors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I think I have chosen my major, and it is public relations. Of course, I have to apply to get into the major after I complete the prerequisites, which could be fatal, but I have a good feeling about it. I think that PR is the best route for me, and I can minor in history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choosing a major has been a long battle, and I'm not sure it's over yet, but for now the smoke has cleared and I can see somewhat clearly. I love working for campaigns and speaking on behalf of people; what better major is there for me? And this major will prepare me for law quite well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advice to the future freshmen: don't sweat declaring your major! Take some classes first and feel out all of your strong suits. Choose a major you like and you can excel in. It doesn't have to be the major you  have dreamt about since junior high. Those dreams are great, but they may not be a reality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1254540381091025357?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1254540381091025357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1254540381091025357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1254540381091025357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1254540381091025357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/two-semesters-down-one-major.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#333366&quot;&gt;Major Decision . . . Maybe&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Mitch Staley</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1871742180127629209</id><published>2010-04-20T15:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T15:21:00.333-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Allergic to Goodbyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbyes are in the air, and it's making me nauseous. Really, I can't go anywhere or do anything these days without somebody making a comment like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is the last time we'll ever do this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wonder if all of us will ever be in the same place again. . ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Man, I'm going to really miss this class."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you remember that time we [insert nostalgic moment here]?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, anybody/everybody is allowed to be a little bit sad that things are going to change in the very near future, but do they really have to? All the crying and tender moments . . . there haven't been TOO many instances yet, but I'm sure it'll get worse as the week goes on and people start leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cold and heartless as this sounds, I really kind of wish the semester could just end and we would all go home. If you haven't said something important to a particular someone yet, then why in the world should they believe you when you say it right before you leave them for a few months or a couple years? And then there's that awkwardness about how to say goodbye: Do you give everyone a hug? What if you don't know them very well? Do you give them a handshake? No, that's awkward and lame. Do you give them a high five? What if they think you're going in for a hug after all and then it turns into one of those awkward, sort-of-caught-me-by-surprise hugs? And must we really hear all of those old yearbook signature messages again?! "Have a great summer!" "I'm glad I met you!" "Don't change!" OK, so people don't ACTUALLY say stuff like that very much anymore, but you can almost taste the forced goodbye awkwardness in the air sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what's worse—I'm not leaving until the very, very end of the week, so I'm going to have to bear the full brunt of this somewhat painful experience! Maybe if I lock myself in my room as soon as I finish finals and only come out to use the microwave and the restroom, I can avoid it all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all actuality, I'll probably just have to tough it out, day by painstakingly sappy, goodbye-full day. *sigh* Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1871742180127629209?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1871742180127629209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1871742180127629209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1871742180127629209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1871742180127629209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/allergic-to-goodbyes.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Allergic to Goodbyes&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5303941606572783041</id><published>2010-04-19T20:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T20:50:00.235-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>The Final Crunch</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I finished my two hardest finals of the semester: microbiology and chemistry.  They were scheduled one right after the other, which made the past few days of studying hard, trying to find a balance in studying enough for both.  I had my microbiology final first, and the professor surprised the class by telling us that the pretest from the first week of class would be the final.  My thoughts raced back four months as I tried to recall the questions; I remembered how I had never heard any of the vocabulary or microbiology language before.  It was overwhelming to be exposed to all of that information at the outset and see an overview of the material we were going to cover.  Yet as I retook the pretest this morning, I understood the questions, and it made me realize how much I have truly learned and understood over the semester.  It was a hard class for me and it really pushed me to work hard, but I also really enjoyed it and have already seen how relevant the information is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My chemistry final brought back memories of the ACT.  It was timed: 60 questions within a five-minute time limit.  I think the hardest part was pacing myself to get through all of the questions and finish on time.  The whole class jumped with panic when our teacher made the three-minute announcement, and the air was thick with tension.  We have to wait about a week to get our scores, but it feels nice to have the test done with and to see how the many hours of studying paid off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finals are scary and stressful. It's easy to be overwhelmed with the final crunch at the end of the semester. But having made it through two semesters, I know that everything really does work out in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have loved being at a university where you can gain comfort from having class prayers; it makes such a difference.  It has been wonderful to have both secular and nonsecular education in all my classes and to see how each subject relates to the gospel in different aspects.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5303941606572783041?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5303941606572783041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5303941606572783041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5303941606572783041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5303941606572783041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/final-crunch.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;The Final Crunch&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1406827710249536367</id><published>2010-04-19T15:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T15:14:00.534-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Delinquent Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday we had our last big get-together with everyone before people start heading for home, missions, summer jobs, the rest of their lives, etc. And at this party we did whatever sounded fun while still being legal and safe-ish. We ate lots of junk food. We massacred a pinata. We launched a Reeses cup 60 yards at DT field. And we made sugar bombs. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sugar bombs are wonderful things. You stick a boatload of powdered sugar in your mouth, somebody lights a match, and you blow. Pretty pictures result. And honestly, what else could we have done with all of our leftover powdered sugar? It was fun seeing everybody one last time. We'll probably most definitely never all be together again. At least we each have our own picture of spewing fire to remember the night by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SeuVrUdueoI/AAAAAAAAAFY/injRPDNtpZM/s1600-h/Our+Last+Fiesta+044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SeuVrUdueoI/AAAAAAAAAFY/injRPDNtpZM/s400/Our+Last+Fiesta+044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326515555756046978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1406827710249536367?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1406827710249536367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1406827710249536367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1406827710249536367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1406827710249536367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/delinquent-party.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Delinquent Party&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SeuVrUdueoI/AAAAAAAAAFY/injRPDNtpZM/s72-c/Our+Last+Fiesta+044.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5433211375467679549</id><published>2010-04-18T10:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T14:08:59.052-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Only in a BYU Ward</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday everyone in my ward stood up, raised their right hands to thank everybody for their service, then sat back down without callings. It was kind of fun! Of course, the bishop made a disclaimer: "This is not how it's normally done and not how it normally should be done, but our special circumstances make it necessary and we've been approved to do it this way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, a lot of things about the way this ward has been run have been like that! We don't have a primary. For the first two or three weeks, nobody under the age of 40 in the ward had callings. There is not a single widow in the ward for whom the nonexistent scout troop can rake leaves or the imaginary young women can bring cookies. Excluding the bishopric, it takes two minutes to walk from one end of our ward boundaries to the other (assuming you start and end on the third floor of the respective buildings). Ward budget comes by the semester rather than by the year. Ward prayer is, of course, something that's not done in a regular ward. Every once in a while, on a weekend where not very many people are expected to be around (Thanksgiving, Christmas, beginning and ending of semesters, etc.), we have church as a stake instead of a ward, even though it's not time for a stake conference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been fun being in a temporary ward made up of a specific demographic (18- and 19-year-old college students). Thank goodness I get to do it three more times at least!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5433211375467679549?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5433211375467679549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5433211375467679549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5433211375467679549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5433211375467679549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/in-byu-ward.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Only in a BYU Ward&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-123104386455557331</id><published>2010-04-17T16:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T14:17:50.259-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Bonuses</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I went to the bookstore to sell back some of my textbooks, not really expecting any of them to be taken. One of my professors had said he was almost done with a new edition of the book, and that class only has one section available in spring term, so I figured that if the book was returnable, the quota would fill really quickly. Another professor told me that this was his last semester using our current book, and I knew that one of the other two professors who teach that course was already using a different book, so I didn't think the Bookstore would be accepting it. On top of that, I bought this book online, and it showed up in pretty bad condition. With a few well-placed pieces of packing tape, I had it looking much neater, but still, I didn't think I'd be able to return it. But then, surprise! I left the Wilkinson Center with $133 of cold cash in my pocket. It was like finding a quarter on the sidewalk, or reaching into the pocket of a jacket you haven't worn for a while and finding a dollar bill  . . . only like 532x or 133x better! Better yet—I bought both of those books used, one for $20 before selling it back for $50 today, and the other for $55, which I sold back for $83! What a wonderful, beautiful thing. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-123104386455557331?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/123104386455557331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=123104386455557331' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/123104386455557331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/123104386455557331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/bonuses.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Bonuses&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1890428142743129398</id><published>2010-04-15T13:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T13:10:00.166-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Studying in the Spring Weather</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During reading days and finals week, finding a place to study is crazy.  It's like trying to find a parking spot in a BYU student parking lot at the busiest time of the day.  I have had to weave in and out of study areas to find a spot that is vacant. I have found myself studying out in the boonies, in desperation, to start studying.  Yet one thing that has seemed to help with this crowd problem is the nice spring weather.  It's that time of the year when everyone is excited to see anything that isn't snow or rain.  It feels so nice to be able to study out on the lawn and walk to different buildings in the sun.  I know that the weather can play mean jokes in the spring, but I hope this nice weather stays and that we won't have to pull out our ice scrapers and snow boots again for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1890428142743129398?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1890428142743129398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1890428142743129398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1890428142743129398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1890428142743129398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/studying-in-spring-weather.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Studying in the Spring Weather&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1822466653564335616</id><published>2010-04-14T19:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T19:35:00.432-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trevor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>End-of-Semester Woes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Trevor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finals are almost over. As the semester winds down, I've found that my life has become more complicated than relaxing. I recently found out that I'm not eligible to stay in on-campus housing, so I must move home and try to work out how I'm to commute to Provo twice a week for my Spring class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if that wasn't bad enough, I need to find a job in my hometown, which is easier said than done in this economy. Though I've picked up several job applications, none look too promising at the moment. This is quite a problem when spring tuition is due in two days and my mission is coming up in just a few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, rather than enjoying a care-free last few days of the semester, I'm freaking out trying to get all of the loose ends that will govern the rest of my spring and summer tied up. Who knew the end of school could be so stressful?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1822466653564335616?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1822466653564335616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1822466653564335616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1822466653564335616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1822466653564335616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/end-of-semester-woes.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC6633&quot;&gt;End-of-Semester Woes&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Trevor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4262152701746894155</id><published>2010-04-14T14:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T14:33:00.480-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>Almost Done!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first year of college is almost over. WOOT! It still feels like I have a while 'til I get to go home, but really I leave in three days. It is becoming really depressing in my dorm. We've been packing and taking down all of our pictures and posters. Our walls are bare and ugly. I am excited to go on my Creamery shopping spree to spend all the money that I have left on my meal plan card. I am planning on stocking up on things for next year like laundry detergent and toothpaste. I just wish Saturday would get here so I can be with my family at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading days kill me because I spend so much time studying for one class that I just want to get the final over with. I am very lucky to have only three finals to take during finals week. My plan is to take two on Friday. The other one is an online final, so I will take that on Monday when I am back home in Washington. Saturday will be spent packing and cleaning and saying goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year has been a great experience. It was hard at times adjusting to living on my own with new people, but overall it was great. I have learned a lot about myself while being here and I have grown so much (ha ha, not in height). I know that BYU is the school for me and feel very blessed to have been accepted to this wonderful university.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4262152701746894155?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4262152701746894155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4262152701746894155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4262152701746894155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4262152701746894155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/almost-done.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;Almost Done!&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-3603316498691573796</id><published>2010-04-14T09:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T09:48:00.395-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Boy Band</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SeSxGBkhUWI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/t_dYuWy_FNg/s1600-h/backstreet+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SeSxGBkhUWI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/t_dYuWy_FNg/s400/backstreet+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324575376517714274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ward had another talent show as part of our final activity for the year. My old roommates, whom I sang with at the last talent show, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to perform again, so we prepared and performed "I Want It That Way" by the Backstreet Boys. Now, performing "boy band" music at a ward talent show is not an original idea. I've seen it done before plenty. But the boys never actually sing—they lip sync. We sang—in four-part a cappella sweetness—and the girls absolutely loved it, naturally. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funniest part was seeing some of the boys dressed up for it. I have one roommate who is the farthest thing from punk possible. Thus, when he wore a sideways cap with a pink tie and a black shirt with a skull on it, a lot of people were quite surprised. He said a total of seven people came up and told him that they hardly even recognized him at first when he got on stage with us! And now that we've got our songs prepared, we're going to go lighten a few burnt-out peoples' days on Thursday by visiting them in their lobbies all "punked" out and ready to sing songs by their favorite group from middle school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-3603316498691573796?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/3603316498691573796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=3603316498691573796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3603316498691573796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3603316498691573796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/boy-band.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Boy Band&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SeSxGBkhUWI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/t_dYuWy_FNg/s72-c/backstreet+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8690256822838609485</id><published>2010-04-13T22:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T22:41:00.054-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Time to Stir</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Mitch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I participated in one of the thousands of tea parties taking place across the country. It was a blast! I am pretty conservative, and by nature I don't protest. In fact, today was my first protest experience. I've been active in many other political rallies and conventions, but never a full-blown protest. It felt great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sea4hYh95EI/AAAAAAAAABM/8J4xVOdzcVk/s1600-h/IMG_0420.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sea4hYh95EI/AAAAAAAAABM/8J4xVOdzcVk/s320/IMG_0420.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325146493072303170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When my country, into which I had just set my foot, was set on fire about my ears, it was time to stir. It was time for every man to stir." —Thomas Paine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That sums it up. I believe that our government is outspending and over-regulating. Just as I am about to embark on my journey through adulthood, I feel the present administration is paving the way to failure for me. I am just about to step foot onto the soil of American politics and I've seen the sparks of the fire being spread around my ears and I am about to stir. Today was my first step in a series of "stirs." Boy, I can't wait to get further into adulthood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8690256822838609485?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8690256822838609485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8690256822838609485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8690256822838609485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8690256822838609485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/protesting-out-of-my-skin.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#333366&quot;&gt;Time to Stir&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Mitch Staley</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sea4hYh95EI/AAAAAAAAABM/8J4xVOdzcVk/s72-c/IMG_0420.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2313557354681973862</id><published>2010-04-12T17:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T17:57:00.317-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trevor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Cursed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Trevor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At our last ward prayer, as is customary, everyone who received their mission call recently announced it to the rest of the ward. At this particular ward prayer, we had about seven or eight guys announce their calls. Many have only to finish up the semester before they'll be leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though this is exciting news for them, I can't help feeling a little left out every time it happens. I was cursed with having a late birthday. By the time I can submit my papers (let alone receive my call), most everyone that I know will already be gone, and I don't know how many letters I can write without my hand falling off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All is not lost—I'm working on my papers right now. I just have to wait much longer to get the white envelope. . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2313557354681973862?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2313557354681973862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2313557354681973862' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2313557354681973862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2313557354681973862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/cursed.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC6633&quot;&gt;Cursed&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Trevor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2750457690549599244</id><published>2010-04-12T09:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T09:56:00.288-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>The Best Two Weeks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part of every semester is the last two weeks, when all of your projects are turned in, teachers have stopped assigning homework, classes slow down or stop altogether, and you've got nothing left but a few finals to worry about! Some people fret and squirm and say finals are terrible, but the way I see it, we've been taking exams all year—it's just that this time, they actually give us time to study for them! LOTS of time! Two reading days would be enough for me to do all of my studying, since I make sure to review past material all semester. That leaves five days of finals where I have no commitments whatsoever with the exception of maybe a two- or three-hour chunk of time when I have an exam. What a lot of playtime! I never feel bad for not being more productive either, because I can't possibly work ahead in any of my classes. I can't go home either—not until all of my exams are over. So I take my one exam for the day, then hang out with friends, pack stuff, go for a walk, go to the temple, read a book, or do whatever else I feel like with no guilt or reservations that I'm not accomplishing anything for school. What a wonderful couple of weeks these are going to be!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2750457690549599244?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2750457690549599244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2750457690549599244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2750457690549599244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2750457690549599244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/best-two-weeks.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;The Best Two Weeks&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4486539772039311742</id><published>2010-04-11T18:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T18:19:00.328-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>The Map</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our main lobby, posted above the fireplace in the center of the room, is THE MAP. This is the map that you check periodically to make sure that you haven't missed anybody opening their call. This is the map that you can't help but take a closer look at when you walk by, marveling at just how many places around the world the boys from our ward are being sent to. This is the map onto which I post a sticky note with your name on it when you get your mission call. This is THE MAP—our favorite hall decoration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SdlLlFmVFjI/AAAAAAAAAFI/IE2xv5Km530/s1600-h/Mission+Map+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SdlLlFmVFjI/AAAAAAAAAFI/IE2xv5Km530/s400/Mission+Map+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321367535245137458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4486539772039311742?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4486539772039311742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4486539772039311742' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4486539772039311742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4486539772039311742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/map.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;The Map&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SdlLlFmVFjI/AAAAAAAAAFI/IE2xv5Km530/s72-c/Mission+Map+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5186951209415757271</id><published>2010-04-10T11:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T11:11:00.787-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>Sixth Graders, YIKES!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, for my physical science class, I had the opportunity to go to an elementary school and teach about the solar system. My physical science class is for those going into elementary education. This whole semester we have been preparing lessons to teach to students at Farrer Elementary. It was almost like a science fair. The elementary students came in and went around to each of the stations set up by us college students. My lab peers and I were the lucky ones to teach the sixth graders—the kids who think they are all that because they are the oldest. We were not too thrilled. The topics we were assigned were pretty basic; I was given the topic of the relative position and movement of the earth, moon, and sun. Most sixth graders already know this, so it was interesting trying to teach them. It was a really good experience, though, to be able to go into an elementary school and have that experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also volunteer for Tutor Outreach to Provo Schools (TOPS); I go to Wasatch Elementary every Friday and help with math time in a fifth-grade class. I get to assist the teacher and interact with the students, and it's helped me see that I really do enjoy being in an elementary-school atmosphere. I believe I have made the right decision to go into teaching.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5186951209415757271?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5186951209415757271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5186951209415757271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5186951209415757271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5186951209415757271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/sixth-graders-yikes.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;Sixth Graders, YIKES!!!&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2301192309280688383</id><published>2010-04-09T17:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T17:54:00.313-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Waiting Impatiently</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So getting a mission call is great! Waiting for your report date is terrible! Everybody said it was going to be so hard to focus on school after I got my call. It hasn't been too rough for me to stay focused . . . it's school—we've been in school for 14 years now. It's just going to kill me to have to wait two more months! I don't want to study baroque composers; I want to go sit in on a Russian class! I don't want to be designing fan parts on CAD systems; I want to be memorizing scriptures and discussions! I don't want to be in mission prep; I . . . oh wait, that class DOES feel relevant to my next two years! (It really is a rather wonderful class.) But man, am I excited to do nothing for 12 weeks but study Russian and the discussions! How fun! (I know you can't hear the lack of sarcasm in my voice just now, but really, I'm so stoked!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along those same lines, though, today at the temple, I walked by a district of missionaries on their way out, and they looked &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;young&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt; How in the world are these boys old enough or prepared enough to go out and teach for two years on their own with no adult supervision?! And some of them really ARE younger than me, since I had my 19th birthday a few months ago. Missionaries are going to look only younger and younger to me until the day I die. It's like how I remember being in second grade, looking up (literally) to the sixth graders. When I was finally a sixth grader, I didn't feel that big. Same thing happened in high school, looking at how much farther along in life/school seniors were than I. When I was finally a senior, I still felt young and not all that ready to go be "completely independent" (thank goodness I still don't really have to be). And now I'm in college, a soon-to-be missionary, and yep, I still feel young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder at what age I'll finally feel OLD?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2301192309280688383?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2301192309280688383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2301192309280688383' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2301192309280688383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2301192309280688383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/waiting-impatiently.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Waiting Impatiently&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4035595950901077749</id><published>2010-04-08T10:18:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T10:18:00.409-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Props from a Pro</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stacy Wetzel, a violinist in the Los Angeles Philharmonic, gave Sini props during her visit to BYU. The School of Music had arranged a master class taught by Wetzel for all violin majors. Only five students were chosen to workshop pieces with Wetzel in front of the whole group; Sini was one of them. “I played solo,” says Sini, who performed her jury piece, &lt;i&gt;Sarasate.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Overall, she liked the way I played.” Wetzel talked about the rhythm, pacing, and improvisation. “Then there’s this really fast part—she wanted it a lot faster,” says Sini. Wetzel also performed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She has a really nice sound,” says Sini. “When you play in an orchestra, you don’t have time to practice on your own stuff—it can kill your musicality. She plays really musically.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4035595950901077749?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4035595950901077749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4035595950901077749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4035595950901077749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4035595950901077749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/04/props-from-pro.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Props from a Pro&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8240649031890456675</id><published>2010-04-07T22:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T12:46:56.287-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Drinking from a Fire Hydrant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today in mission prep, we got fried. The topic was "The Second Coming," and Brother Bott explained that he once gave a thorough lesson on it at Education Week, for which he was given three hours and was only able to present a tenth of the material he prepared; so today he had essentially 30 hours of information to give us in 50 minutes. He said it would be like drinking from a fire hydrant, so just try to survive and don't forget to gasp for a breath of air every once in a while. Well, I'd heard that sort of comment before—"We've got a lot to cover, so pay close attention because we're going to move fast." Bott is an extremely good teacher, and the subject material is particularly interesting, so I knew it'd be a good class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifty minutes later, we finished, and we all just kind of sat there, fried. He finished with a comment like, "I'm sorry, that's probably the lousiest overview of the Second Coming you've ever had; we had to skip over so much!" And I left thinking, "Dang . . . that's probably the most thorough lesson on the Second Coming I've ever had." Talking to one girl after class, she said, "I had to sort of zone out there at the end to protect my finite little brain from exploding." And to think I get college credit for this fire-hydrant drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so blessed to be at a college where I can have awesome religious classes like this from awesome religion professors like him every semester!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8240649031890456675?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8240649031890456675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8240649031890456675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8240649031890456675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8240649031890456675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/drinking-from-fire-hydrant.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Drinking from a Fire Hydrant&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-7443267610542397297</id><published>2010-04-06T17:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T12:16:11.937-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>General Conference Traditions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Elise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s funny how people outside of my family have different traditions than we do back home. Conference is a good example. I always assumed that everyone plays conference bingo, runs around the house during the intermediate hymn, draws pictures to describe the speaker’s topic, gets a candy every time they hear the word “faith,” plays kickball in-between Saturday sessions, excitedly anticipates the “Isn’t it about time?” commercials, and plays a wide range of games involving insane amounts of candy to keep all the kids awake and paying attention. Apparently this is not the case.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-7443267610542397297?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/7443267610542397297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=7443267610542397297' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7443267610542397297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7443267610542397297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/general-conference.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#3399cc&quot;&gt;General Conference Traditions&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Elise</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8268002555917455599</id><published>2010-04-02T17:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T12:14:43.977-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Surving April Fools'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing strikes fear into the heart of a male RA like April Fools' Day! (Well, maybe there are a few things, but April 1 is definitely up there on the list.) Because boys like pranks. Boys feel extra prankish when away from home. College is designated as the "wild" time of one's life, when one does crazy, stupid things because one can. So I was pretty wary of the holiday designated for such endeavors. The night before and day of, I locked my door . . . and our front door . . . and the side door that we always leave unlocked. Consequently, I wasn't too worried about my own safety, just about the work that might come should any boys decide to do something in one of the lobbies or dorms that resulted in a mess that would need addressing or an incident report filled out. My saving grace proved to be the fact that we have a girls dorm across the way, and girls are more fun to prank than boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mattresses were stolen, signs posted, beds relocated, food dyed funny colors, etc. But all in the girls' hall. *Sigh of relief.*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8268002555917455599?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8268002555917455599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8268002555917455599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8268002555917455599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8268002555917455599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/surviving-april-fools-day.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Surving April Fools&apos;&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5040900501325974179</id><published>2010-03-31T23:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T23:51:00.461-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>The Unstuffing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now for the unloading of the 34 boys after we'd shut the door. It took substantially less time and is vaguely (or perhaps not too vaguely) reminiscent of clowns getting out of a car at the circus:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="307.5" width="410"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/1061065132818"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/1061065132818" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="307.5" width="410"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5040900501325974179?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5040900501325974179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5040900501325974179' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5040900501325974179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5040900501325974179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/unstuffing-2.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;The Unstuffing&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-465842910585851762</id><published>2010-03-31T23:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T23:49:00.181-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>The Stuffing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if this will work (I just copied and pasted the code for "embed this video" from Facebook), but this is what I've been up to lately: 5,534 lbs in a 5-cubic-yard room. Amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="307.5" width="410"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/1061062532753"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/1061062532753" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="307.5" width="410"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-465842910585851762?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/465842910585851762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=465842910585851762' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/465842910585851762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/465842910585851762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/04/stuffing-2.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;The Stuffing&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6739823416934704811</id><published>2010-03-31T10:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T10:20:00.568-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Dreamy Athletes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Known for good pizza, Brick Oven, Sini discovered, was also a place to spot the men’s volleyball team. Enjoying a pie after a home game, she and her friends recognized some of the players and were fortunate to be accompanied by one of her roommate’s aunts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“My roommate’s aunt is like a scholarship person who knows everyone who’s in sports at BYU,” says Sini. “And she told the players to come talk to us.” In fewer words than Sini used, he was beautiful—though the players are “all pretty cute.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6739823416934704811?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6739823416934704811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6739823416934704811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6739823416934704811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6739823416934704811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/03/dreamy-athletes.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Dreamy Athletes&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5811639853199520787</id><published>2010-03-30T22:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T22:59:00.312-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Squeaky Clean</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/SdBR5lfO8JI/AAAAAAAAAB0/BM5GG2-ryQU/s1600-h/IMG_0995.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318841209682063506" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 240px; height: 320px;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/SdBR5lfO8JI/AAAAAAAAAB0/BM5GG2-ryQU/s320/IMG_0995.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Something that I have learned my freshman year of college is that there isn't enough time in the day.  You can have a very productive day, look at your clock and realize that it's past midnight, and still have a list of things you want to accomplish before going to bed.  A lot of my classes this semester involve memorization, and I have found a new study method: if you put your papers or note cards in a plastic baggy and then tape them somewhere in the shower, you can get in vital study minutes that make all the difference. Now I can take a long, relaxing shower and still feel like I am not wasting my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think every college student has different methods of multitasking while studying.  I have seen people eat while studying, listen to music while studying, walking to class while studying—some have even tried to master the art of  sleeping while studying.  I guess everyone has their methods, but mine is squeaky clean.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5811639853199520787?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5811639853199520787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5811639853199520787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5811639853199520787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5811639853199520787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/multi-tasking.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Squeaky Clean&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/SdBR5lfO8JI/AAAAAAAAAB0/BM5GG2-ryQU/s72-c/IMG_0995.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-244104698073874408</id><published>2010-03-30T13:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T13:28:00.831-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Waging War</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Elise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time there were two cunning and mischievous roommates, both named Elise. No one knows what prompted their actions (boredom, most likely), but one dark and stormy night they kidnapped and held hostage the two flags that hung in their guy-friends’ apartment. The prized spoils were tacked to the wall and ceiling in the two cohorts’ bedroom, beyond the chalk line of honor that prevented the boys from retrieving their hostages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The initial kidnapping set in motion a devious and elaborate plot to capture the Elises’ prized DVD collection and use it as collateral. The girls counterattacked by stealing keys, cell phones, name tags, and their foes’ collection of DVDs.  The war escalated to include chases, wrestles through doors, decoys, betrayals, and alliances. Finally the UN intervened and suggested (for that’s really all the UN can do) that the two parties call a truce and return all POWs. The troops were sent home and the treaty was sealed with a pinkie swear. The war was finally over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-244104698073874408?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/244104698073874408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=244104698073874408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/244104698073874408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/244104698073874408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/waging-war.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#3399cc&quot;&gt;Waging War&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Elise</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8790879282054436012</id><published>2010-03-29T17:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T17:53:00.280-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trevor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Paper Shortage</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Trevor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before coming to college, I bought myself a ream of plain white copy paper. After fall semester, I think I had used up all of about 10 sheets. Up until the beginning of the second semester, maybe about 15 sheets. But since starting my animation class, I have finished off my first ream of paper and started on the second. This class is eating up all of my paper! For example, for a near 10-second animation of a bouncing ball, I used 58 sheets. I later did some research and found that the average Disney animated film uses about 2.5 million sheets of paper for the finished film (which doesn't include concept drawings, trashed drawings, thumbnails, storyboards, background drawings, etc.). If this does end up being a career, my employer had better be the one supplying the paper, because I'm sure not buying it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8790879282054436012?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8790879282054436012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8790879282054436012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8790879282054436012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8790879282054436012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/paper-shortage.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC6633&quot;&gt;Paper Shortage&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Trevor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4334965541900471797</id><published>2010-03-27T21:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T21:49:00.210-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><title type='text'>The Day Will Come</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walked out of my apartment one day this week, my roommates were watching the end of the movie &lt;i&gt;The Best Two Years&lt;/i&gt;.  It was at that part in the train station where he fulfills his companion's promise, "The day will come when you will have a fluent conversation with someone in the new language without even realizing it."  As I was walking up to campus, there was a car that pulled up next to me and the passengers asked if I could explain where the JKB was.  Without even thinking about it, I was able to direct them in the right direction with ease.  On the rest of the walk to the library, I thought about how I had just spoken fluently to someone in the college language, and I felt so proud of how much I have learned and accomplished while attending BYU.  The first couple of weeks, I had a couple of cars of people pull up to me in a similar manner, asking for directions.  I would usually use the excuse that I was a freshman and told them that if they kept driving straight, they were bound to find it.  I think I have gained more confidence in my campus navigation skills.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4334965541900471797?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4334965541900471797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4334965541900471797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4334965541900471797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4334965541900471797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/day-will-come.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;The Day Will Come&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-9032426366882241684</id><published>2010-03-26T19:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T03:29:11.262-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Living in a Pigsty</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My apartment is not often very clean. My room is spotless; our kitchen is filthy. My roommates care less than I do about keeping everything in it's place and washing dishes immediately after they've been used—and one of them sleeps on the couch in the kitchen more often than he sleeps in his bed (literally; four of the past five nights he's been asleep in the kitchen when I come in for breakfast in the morning). Normally, living in dirtiness like that would drive me crazy! But it just doesn't seem worth it to try to change four other boys' living styles to accommodate my own, so I changed mine—I just never spend time in the kitchen. If I'm home, I'm in my room. When it IS mealtime, I go in, heat up my food, find a chair, scrape off a few square feet of the table to use, eat, put my food away, wash my dishes, put them back in my cupboard (I always use the same plate, bowl, cup, fork, knife, and spoon), and go back to my room. During that brief amount of time that I am in the kitchen, I try very hard to not pay attention to how filthy the kitchen is. Likewise with the fridge and freezer—I use one little corner on the bottom shelf of the fridge, and I keep my burritos in the back right corner of the freezer. Our fridge started to smell terribly from all of the old food the boys had left in it from previous meals, so one day they decided to clean it out. They found five Tupperware containers full of rotting food hidden throughout the fridge. Not starting-to-go-bad food—food already fuzzy and blueish-green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, normally, living in such a way would drive me absolutely crazy. Instead, I retreat to my isolationist attitude of letting them live the way the four of them prefer to and finding my own little space to use that I keep separate (little pockets in the fridge, my own dishes, my own clean room, etc.) It's not the ideal way to live, but knowing that this is a temporary arrangement makes it all better. If these guys were my family or more-permanent roommates, that would not be so good, and we'd have to find a way to reach a long-term solution. I'm just really banking on the fact that my wife is going to be as compulsive about keeping a tidy house as I am!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-9032426366882241684?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/9032426366882241684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=9032426366882241684' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/9032426366882241684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/9032426366882241684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/living-in-pigs-sty.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Living in a Pigsty&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-3067007139912662909</id><published>2010-03-25T10:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T10:27:00.513-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>The Hunt</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All six tenants of Sini's apartment decided to room together as sophomores, and the hunt for off-campus housing began. Knocking doors all over the south side of campus, they decided on Park Place. “The place we found looks like a Russian subway station to me,” says Sini, “but the once I saw the inside, it was all right.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-3067007139912662909?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/3067007139912662909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=3067007139912662909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3067007139912662909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3067007139912662909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/03/hunt.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;The Hunt&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-9103751507591608644</id><published>2010-03-24T21:36:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T14:54:43.874-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><title type='text'>We Are "That Team"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was our team's final game in the intramural basketball season.  We had so much fun this season learning from each other, celebrating each other's victorious moments, and laughing at each other's major air balls.  The girls in my ward are awesome and I am so glad that I was able to be on the team.  As much fun as it was, when it comes down to winning,  I think we ended up being 0 and 6. I guess some would call that a consecutive losing streak, but someone has to be the team that loses in a game. We just happened to be "that team" all season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was our best game yet.  It was a nail-biter to the bitter end; we ended up losing 36–38 in the final 20 seconds, but we'd also made the best comeback our team has ever seen.   After the first 10 minutes we were losing 2–16, but we slowly fought our way back into the game.  I guess those coveted intramural-champion T-shirts will have to be won another season.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-9103751507591608644?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/9103751507591608644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=9103751507591608644' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/9103751507591608644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/9103751507591608644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-are-that-team.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;We Are &quot;That Team&quot;&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8113731510445517038</id><published>2010-03-22T23:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T23:52:00.695-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>How Many Freshmen Can You Fit in a Closet-Size Room?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we fit these 28 manly men and one woman . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Sccj-MBzRhI/AAAAAAAAAEg/PoDEYzFzeVI/s1600-h/boy+stuffing+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Sccj-MBzRhI/AAAAAAAAAEg/PoDEYzFzeVI/s400/boy+stuffing+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316257436421801490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . . into this 1 x 2 x 2.5–yard entryway between two apartments:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/ScckMLXAHVI/AAAAAAAAAEo/gyVIuvs1NZY/s1600-h/boy+stuffing+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/ScckMLXAHVI/AAAAAAAAAEo/gyVIuvs1NZY/s400/boy+stuffing+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316257676760456530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did we do it? Because we could. Because it was there. Because we got to talking one day--when five of us got in each other's way as we were walking in and out at the same time--and somebody thought out loud, "I wonder how many boys we could fit in here if we really tried?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Saturday night I collected a bunch of boys and we really tried.  First we made two rows of boys and loaded them in. Then we tossed a boy on top. Then we loaded another couple rows of boys. We tossed another boy on top. We shoved some more boys in the entryway. Then we shoved a third and fourth boy on top. Then we found a way to fit a boy in under the legs of the other boys. Then we ran out of boys, so we grabbed a girl and stuffed her in there as well. Then we shut the door, for closure's sake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all climbed out, and the couple-dozen girls in the hallway, who'd been watching and taking pictures, counted as we came out of the room like clowns out of a clown car: "1, 2, 3, . . . 27, 28, 29!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My, what a beautiful thing! It was tight, for sure.  In fact, I couldn't move until after 12 of the boys were already out. And it got pretty hot in there. But think about what we were able to do! We had 5.8 boys per cubic yard! And these weren't little boys either—we had a lot of rather big boys in there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few photos of the loading process:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SccmBpd_snI/AAAAAAAAAEw/xPDK0LJV1UY/s1600-h/boy+stuffing+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SccmBpd_snI/AAAAAAAAAEw/xPDK0LJV1UY/s400/boy+stuffing+4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316259694887547506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SccmLuCFHZI/AAAAAAAAAE4/6gSgO2YmKVE/s1600-h/boy+stuffing+9.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SccmLuCFHZI/AAAAAAAAAE4/6gSgO2YmKVE/s400/boy+stuffing+9.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316259867911331218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SccmUYB53PI/AAAAAAAAAFA/LuigQ1JYQ_M/s1600-h/boy+stuffing+14.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SccmUYB53PI/AAAAAAAAAFA/LuigQ1JYQ_M/s400/boy+stuffing+14.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316260016623836402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sign on the door of that last picture was absolutely true: "Warning: Contents may be very hot and extremely habit forming." (It's a phrase from a Blackjack pizza box.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much fun was had by all . . . but we're not satisfied yet. We think we can fit at least 33 if we pack a little more intelligently, fit a few more between the boys' legs, and save our littlest people for on top. So we're currently working on plans for an encore performance: bigger, better, and even more manly than the first extravaganza!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8113731510445517038?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8113731510445517038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8113731510445517038' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8113731510445517038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8113731510445517038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/man-stuffing.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;How Many Freshmen Can You Fit in a Closet-Size Room?&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/Sccj-MBzRhI/AAAAAAAAAEg/PoDEYzFzeVI/s72-c/boy+stuffing+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8818250200663888422</id><published>2010-03-19T16:50:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T16:50:00.270-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Theoretical vs Tangible</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was asking my math professor a question today during his office hours, and we got to talking. He was really surprised to find out that this is my first math class since high school (partly because it's Math 343, and partly because I've been doing so well in the class). Then I got a letter this week inviting me to the Mathematics Undergraduate Recognition Dinner, "based on the recommendation of [my] professor." (I'm excited for it—they're going to have free food and a "mathemagics" show!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My professor said that I should definitely get a math minor, like I'm planning on doing, and maybe even a math major, since it comes so easily for me. I don't think I will (I just need a degree; experience and results in the places I work will be what actually get me places), but it was nice to hear. And it's true that I do prefer the computational part of science. I find the manipulation of numbers to be really satisfying. Studying inferential statistics in my high-school AP statistics class was really exciting, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While optimization in mechanical engineering requires number-manipulation out the wazoo, I find actually working with physical parts to be frustrating—everything is so inexact and variable! It makes me wonder every once in a while if I'm really in the right major, but I think I am. I'll just select a job or branch of mechanical engineering that deals more with computer models and simulations and have somebody else go through the pain of actually creating the tangible representations of my models.  Unfortunately, to get my undergraduate degree, I need to go through those pains myself as I take all the classes on manufacturing and machining—gross!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8818250200663888422?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8818250200663888422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8818250200663888422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8818250200663888422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8818250200663888422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/theoretical-vs-tangible.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Theoretical vs Tangible&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8675300213804775035</id><published>2010-03-18T23:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-18T23:59:00.642-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Good Steak Dinner</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Mitch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday I cooked a great dinner for two girls: bavette steak with golden potatoes and beurre rouge. It took two hours, but it was well worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sb885FnIqPI/AAAAAAAAAA8/M6oB9Epxd6M/s1600-h/Plate+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sb885FnIqPI/AAAAAAAAAA8/M6oB9Epxd6M/s320/Plate+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314033036777007346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To top that off, one of the girls made an excellent angel food cake with raspberries. It was a delicious meal! I know that it's not typical, but it just goes to show that with a little brain power and a few extra bucks, great things can happen at college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sb89IdbzhjI/AAAAAAAAABE/Ve9jc6Z907w/s1600-h/Slice+of+Angel+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sb89IdbzhjI/AAAAAAAAABE/Ve9jc6Z907w/s320/Slice+of+Angel+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314033300869973554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8675300213804775035?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8675300213804775035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8675300213804775035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8675300213804775035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8675300213804775035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-dinner-and-fly-fishing.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#333366&quot;&gt;Good Steak Dinner&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Mitch Staley</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X866DUP2PeM/Sb885FnIqPI/AAAAAAAAAA8/M6oB9Epxd6M/s72-c/Plate+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1407419019538092800</id><published>2010-03-18T15:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T12:13:06.937-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>Licking Rocks!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOOT! I am finally done with my physical science lab. We had our final today. It consisted of identifying a total of 30 rocks and minerals. We also had to identify properties and how they form. For some of the rock and mineral samples, we actually had to lick the rock and rub it against our teeth. That was really disgusting—what if someone was sick? Although it was very entertaining to watch people's faces after tasting the salty rock. I can now name 15 minerals, 8 metamorphic rocks, 11 sedimentary rocks, and 10 igneous rocks. I still don't understand why I need to know all these rocks to become an elementary teacher, but oh well, it's done now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1407419019538092800?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1407419019538092800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1407419019538092800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1407419019538092800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1407419019538092800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/licking-rocks.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;Licking Rocks!&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8086938715621806849</id><published>2010-03-17T10:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T10:23:00.310-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>A Sini Specialty</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sini won’t brag, but others say her meatballs are the best. “I don’t even have a recipe for them; I’ve made them so much I know what I’m doing,” she says. “I always put leaves of onions and oats in mine.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8086938715621806849?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8086938715621806849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8086938715621806849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8086938715621806849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8086938715621806849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/03/sini-specialty.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;A Sini Specialty&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1134830488332692132</id><published>2010-03-16T15:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T15:48:00.680-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Stealing Spring Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BYU doesn't have a spring break, but my friends and I felt like we needed one—so we created one. One of my friends has very nice grandparents who own a cabin in the middle of nowhere in Northwestern Utah, by Grouse Creek. So 10 of us went up there for the weekend and had a blast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made a menu and took a trip to the Creamery, where we asked the very cooperative cashier if she could please split the bill by 10 people. Between the people from Utah, we were able to produce enough sleeping bags to complement the accommodations at the cabin.  On Friday we packed up two cars, said a prayer,  and drove away from Heritage Halls at 6 p.m. I drove one car (Heather's) and Kyli drove her own. While traveling, we listened to a combination of songs from three different iPods and ate muddy buddies, Doritos, snicker doodles, granola bars, and oranges. What's a vacation without excessive amounts of junk food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you have to understand, this cabin really was in the middle of nowhere.  We lost cell phone reception an hour before we got there, and the nearest gas station was 35 minutes away, as far as we could tell. Friday night we chopped wood for the weekend (we felt so rustic and manly). We watched three movies, went horseback riding, rode the four-wheelers, played board games, and just chilled. Kyli's grandparents were so funny, too! As her grandpa was driving a few of us in his truck, he told us about how he enjoys fly-fishin' in the "crick." It was awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday we made breakfast, packed up, drove an hour, stopped at a chapel, went to church, then got back in the cars and kept on driving to get back home in time for ward prayer! What a fun weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1134830488332692132?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1134830488332692132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1134830488332692132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1134830488332692132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1134830488332692132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/stealing-spring-break.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Stealing Spring Break&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2232621545709398148</id><published>2010-03-15T14:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T14:15:00.345-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Study or Fly-Fish?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Mitch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to go fly-fishing today with my roommate. Fly-fishing is one of my top-10 favorite things to do; after all, I come from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;National Geographic'&lt;/span&gt;s no. 1–rated town to live in for sportsmen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Provo River is kind of dirty, but just casting was enough to make me content. Sometimes I get so tired of school. Let's just say it doesn't take long for me to wish I was out doing things I enjoy so much more. Unfortunately, school is necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think today was a grand start to a beautiful fly-fishing addiction here in Utah. I hope it doesn't take too much time away from my studies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2232621545709398148?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2232621545709398148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2232621545709398148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2232621545709398148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2232621545709398148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/08/study-or-fly-fish.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#333366&quot;&gt;Study or Fly-Fish?&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-7896177711535808435</id><published>2010-03-15T13:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T13:09:00.756-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>Lucky Duck</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAzTJJ3nqI/AAAAAAAAACE/VN_J7DfoGXw/s1600-h/Roomies+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309800364637658786" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAzTJJ3nqI/AAAAAAAAACE/VN_J7DfoGXw/s320/Roomies+%282%29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I can't believe how fast these two semesters have gone by. Seems like I just arrived at college, when in reality I will be going home in less than two months for summer break. I have been thinking about how lucky I was to get such great roommates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know any of them before I came. At first it was really hard because three of them knew each other and the other two knew each other. So I was the only one who didn't know anyone. We haven't had any serious issues or fights. Actually, I don't remember any apartment fights. The only issue we have had is people not cleaning up their messes. I haven't had to worry about people stealing my things or eating my food. We all get along great and it has been a fun year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having roommates that I get along with so well has made the transition of living on my own a lot more easier and enjoyable. I will be living with three of them again next year. And I know we will be friends for life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-7896177711535808435?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/7896177711535808435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=7896177711535808435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7896177711535808435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7896177711535808435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/lucky-duck.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;Lucky Duck&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAzTJJ3nqI/AAAAAAAAACE/VN_J7DfoGXw/s72-c/Roomies+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4734367379342391978</id><published>2010-03-11T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T21:34:00.230-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>I [heart] Provo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being here at BYU. We have so many amazing opportunites, like going to a temple that is within walking distance, attending the live CES firesides, and being in the same room as general authorities and the Prophet. Last Saturday I got to go to the Draper Utah Temple open house. This was the first temple open house I have been to, and I absolutely loved it. The temple was so beautiful and incredible. I can't wait to be able to attend the dedication (another exciting opportunity). I never even imagined some of these things would ever come true for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4734367379342391978?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4734367379342391978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4734367379342391978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4734367379342391978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4734367379342391978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-3-provo.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;I [heart] Provo&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2178175000793957793</id><published>2010-03-10T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T19:59:00.120-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Sneaky Subconcious</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As late nights and busy days increase, I give my body less and less sleep, and my body is finding sneakier and sneakier ways of getting the sleep it needs anyways. I take precautions: to keep from falling asleep in class, I sit in the front few rows, never slouch enough to get comfortable, and eat sugar before and during class.  To prevent sleeping through my alarm clock, I use my own recorded voice on my cell phone alarm in conjunction with my alarm clock and watch alarm. My subconscious recently discovered a real devil of a trick, though—it convinces me that even though I can hear my alarms, they're not important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to explain it, but somehow, within my dreams, I just know that that alarm isn't really for me. It's to help wake up somebody else. Or it must have been left set from the previous day. Or school has been canceled today, so I don't really need to get up. Or somehow, within my dream, I earned the right to sleep in a little longer with no negative consequences. Or time won't really start again until I acknowledge the alarms, so if I ignore them long enough, I'll get extra sleep without losing any time. Or even though it's terrible to sleep in, if I do wake up, then all these people here in my dream with me will die when I hop out of that world and into consciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all of the excuses that it has come up with so far. It doesn't happen every night, but it does happen a lot of the time--maybe 2 of every 3 nights. In a way, it's sort of exciting to wonder what new way I'll think up to trick myself into sleeping a little longer. In another way, it's really terrifying. I never know who's going to be smarter: the unconscious me that's sleeping, or the unconscious me that's scheming. And me making it to class on time is in the balance!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2178175000793957793?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2178175000793957793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2178175000793957793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2178175000793957793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2178175000793957793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/sneaky-subconscious.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Sneaky Subconcious&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6837016112934071233</id><published>2010-03-09T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T10:24:00.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Laundry Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laundry day is the day Sini runs out of clothes. “I realize, ‘Oh, I have no underwear, it’s laundry day,’” she says. She can’t wait to have an apartment with her own washer and dryer. In Heritage, it seems like someone else is always using one of the two sets of machines. “I have to remember to run down there every 40 minutes.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6837016112934071233?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6837016112934071233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6837016112934071233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6837016112934071233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6837016112934071233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/03/laundry-day.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Laundry Day&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-7491130673947233424</id><published>2010-03-08T21:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T21:02:00.414-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>A Thorough College Education</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As part of Student Development 358R (a class for resident assitants), we learned about effective methods of communication and how to handle crucial conversations. To do this, we made a case study of a specific conversation that our teacher happened to have recorded: the proposal scene of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pride &amp;amp; Prejudice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Darcy and Elizabeth's encounter, we learned the importance of stating your intentions, recognizing when another person feels uncomfortable or threatened, and some good general dos and don'ts for proposing to somebody someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fairly positive we all paid much closer attention and learned more that class period, watching scenes from a chick flick, than if we had covered the same material in typical textbook-style fashion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-7491130673947233424?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/7491130673947233424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=7491130673947233424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7491130673947233424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7491130673947233424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/thorough-college-education.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;A Thorough College Education&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8227058694375621729</id><published>2010-03-05T12:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T12:18:00.055-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>In Need of a Haircut</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAvvGye5RI/AAAAAAAAAB8/odhjpF8t7Mw/s1600-h/DSCN0547.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309796446992524562" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAvvGye5RI/AAAAAAAAAB8/odhjpF8t7Mw/s320/DSCN0547.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was in real need of a haircut to get rid of my split ends. I mentioned this to my roommates, and one of them said she would cut my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure why, but I agreed. I trusted her, I guess, and I knew she wouldn't give me a mullet or some other interesting hairdo. Plus it was free, so who could pass that up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAvunm4egI/AAAAAAAAAB0/SjYwKqT24F4/s1600-h/DSCN0546.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309796438622370306" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAvunm4egI/AAAAAAAAAB0/SjYwKqT24F4/s320/DSCN0546.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We went to Wal-Mart and bought hair-cutting scissors. That night my roommate cut my hair. She gave me a trim and some layers. The next night she decided she wanted to give me more layers and I agreed. So now I have my own personal hairdresser who lives the next room over, and good news: I am living with her next year too, which means free haircuts for another year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8227058694375621729?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8227058694375621729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8227058694375621729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8227058694375621729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8227058694375621729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/in-need-of-haircut.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;In Need of a Haircut&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/SbAvvGye5RI/AAAAAAAAAB8/odhjpF8t7Mw/s72-c/DSCN0547.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1694007626753314646</id><published>2010-03-04T08:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T08:00:08.008-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><title type='text'>Enduring to the End</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/Sav6agXQGSI/AAAAAAAAABs/VekjsS4K_s8/s1600-h/IMG_0973.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308611919057262882" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 240px; height: 320px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/Sav6agXQGSI/AAAAAAAAABs/VekjsS4K_s8/s320/IMG_0973.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This past week we hit the halfway point of the semester. For me, this semester has gone by so fast, and it is a reminder to me of how short the college years really are. If you don't take advantage of this time, it will be very easy to look back with regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's crazy to think that I will be done with my second semester of college soon! I made a chain for our door to count down the days until the end. I think the second half of the semester will be a lot harder than the first because there are no more breaks from here on out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so young still, but looking back, I have this great feeling of fulfillment from how much I have accomplished at BYU. I can now make my way around campus without stopping every couple seconds with a confused look on my face. I now know how to prepare myself for tests and how to take good notes that I can read again later. I can now budget my money each week and plan meals for each day. I have learned so much in the classroom, but I also have learned so much from having more independence and living in an apartment.  Life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1694007626753314646?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1694007626753314646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1694007626753314646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1694007626753314646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1694007626753314646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/enduring-to-end.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Enduring to the End&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/Sav6agXQGSI/AAAAAAAAABs/VekjsS4K_s8/s72-c/IMG_0973.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6025582959127405014</id><published>2010-03-03T23:40:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T23:40:00.717-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Fake Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I walked around campus in shorts, a T-shirt, and flip flops. It was February. February is supposed to be cold and windy and miserable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I saw boys shovel off the last bit of snow from the basketball court to start shooting hoops, and the newly uncovered sand volleyball court was once again being used!  Students went outside voluntarily to study, and not once all day did I see a heavy coat being worn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like the weather is taunting us . . . it's luring us into a false sense of security that spring is finally here, and then BAM!  It's going to dump a few feet on us.  I just know it is!  And I'll be mentally ready for it, because I know it's coming!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime though . . . why waste perfectly good spring weather? Tomorrow is going to be another T-shirt day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6025582959127405014?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6025582959127405014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6025582959127405014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6025582959127405014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6025582959127405014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/fake-spring.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Fake Spring&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4213003618528173677</id><published>2010-03-02T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T20:39:00.353-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>The Saga of Finding Housing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommates and I found what we thought was the perfect place to live next year (&lt;a href="http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/livin-on-street-in-box.html" target="new"&gt;see this post on Feb. 9&lt;/a&gt;). We waited and waited and waited to hear if we got the contract. We finally had to contact the management again, and they said to wait another week. When we called back the following week, they informed us they wouldn't take us because they only wanted tenants who would sign full-year contracts or spring and summer contracts at that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't they tell us that before? They said they'd hold our applications until the end of summer. Uh, HELLO! We would like to find a place to live—we can't wait that long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/Sa9LkcFBXxI/AAAAAAAAABU/VmqSPi9laXo/s1600-h/DSCN0551.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309545575077732114" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/Sa9LkcFBXxI/AAAAAAAAABU/VmqSPi9laXo/s320/DSCN0551.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So my roommates and I got up early on Saturday and went and stood in line at 7 a.m. in hopes of getting an apartment at the complex that was our back-up plan (a place we weren't too excited about, but we need a place to live). As we moved closer to the front of the line, the manager informed us that there were only two completely empty apartments left—and we were the third group in line. The complex assigned six to an apartment, and the group in front of us only had three people. If there was a half-full apartment available, the group in front of us could take it, leaving us with the last empty apartment—and allowing the six of us to live together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager went to check, but came back with bad news. There weren't any apartments with  three contracts still available, so the group in front of us would take half of the last empty apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/Sa9Lkq4OfKI/AAAAAAAAABc/XOVAnAdlzIo/s1600-h/DSCN0559.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309545579050597538" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/Sa9Lkq4OfKI/AAAAAAAAABc/XOVAnAdlzIo/s320/DSCN0559.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We were bummed, but we decided to continue waiting in line. We're lucky we did, because the manager was wrong: he came out later and told us there was one apartment that still needed three people, so the group in front of us could take those spots. After waiting for five hours, we got the LAST full apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a day! We decided to go to Brick Oven to celebrate (it was my first time there). While we were eating, Cosmo showed up and we got a picture with him. It was a great Saturday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4213003618528173677?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4213003618528173677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4213003618528173677' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4213003618528173677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4213003618528173677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/housingwhat-nightmare.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;The Saga of Finding Housing&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e4NHTIqbj2M/Sa9LkcFBXxI/AAAAAAAAABU/VmqSPi9laXo/s72-c/DSCN0551.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6335571759595583103</id><published>2010-03-01T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T10:28:00.375-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Self-Guided Tour</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While visiting her home ward in Sandy, Utah, Sini’s roommate signed all of her roommates up to help clean the Draper Utah Temple—then undedicated and open to the public—without their consent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We loved it,” Sini says. “But I was dusting—there was &lt;i&gt;no&lt;/i&gt; dust. They clean it every night.” After cleaning they were free to walk around on their own. “When you go on a tour, it’s kind of fast,” Sini says. “We got to spend as long as we wanted.” They lingered in the celestial room. “You know, it’s cool to get to see the whole temple, because usually you don’t—baptisms, that’s all I can do right now. It was fun to be there with our roommates and do that kind of thing. It was really neat.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6335571759595583103?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6335571759595583103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6335571759595583103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6335571759595583103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6335571759595583103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/03/self-guided-tour.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Self-Guided Tour&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-952242775317000277</id><published>2010-02-28T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T23:40:00.382-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Missionary Shopping</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday I went shopping for all of my missionary gear! Here's what I got:&lt;br /&gt;1 suit&lt;br /&gt;12 white shirts&lt;br /&gt;2 ties (these were free with other purchases)&lt;br /&gt;4 pairs of slacks&lt;br /&gt;1 belt&lt;br /&gt;12 sets of garments&lt;br /&gt;2 sets of thermal wear&lt;br /&gt;2 pairs of sturdy, waterproof shoes&lt;br /&gt;12 pairs of black socks&lt;br /&gt;2 pairs of wool socks&lt;br /&gt;1 sweater&lt;br /&gt;1 set of baptismal clothing (white pants, white socks, white tie)&lt;br /&gt;1 missionary bag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all cost a grand total of $1,142.19&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was totally worth it! I have to have all those things, and I've been saving up all my life for mission expenses. And today, I got to wear my new suit to church with my new white shirt, a new tie, new socks, and new shoes, plus a new "Russia Samara" pin on my lapel (that one wasn't required, but I like having it). I love new clothes!  It hurts a little bit knowing that they'll all be fairly worn to shreds by the time I get home, but such is life. We (my dad and I) were able to get all of the required articles from three stores: Missionary Mall, Mr. Mac's, and Sports Unlimited (for the thermal wear). Now the tricky part is getting all of it home, along with all of the stuff that I already have with me here at college, and then getting all of it back in the limited amount of suitcase space that I'm allowed to have at the MTC and in the mission field!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-952242775317000277?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/952242775317000277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=952242775317000277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/952242775317000277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/952242775317000277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/missionary-shopping.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Missionary Shopping&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1046332247390303272</id><published>2010-02-28T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T21:13:00.595-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><title type='text'>Devotionals, Forums, and CES Firesides</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something that I have really grown to love while attending BYU is the opportunity I have to attend devotionals, forums, and CES firesides.  I really enjoy Tuesdays; I look forward to a break from my studies to be motivated by the speaker.  It's an hour in the week when you can sit back and ponder how you can do better—the changes that you need to make.  Today I was able to attend Elder Robert D. Hale's CES fireside in the Marriott Center.  I always feel so blessed to be in the presence of General Authorities and Church leaders, to see their passion for the gospel and feel of their spirit.  I absolutely love being a student at BYU and participating in the great traditions of this school.  There are opportunities that are available here that you cannot experience anywhere else, and I am so grateful to be a part of that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1046332247390303272?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1046332247390303272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1046332247390303272' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1046332247390303272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1046332247390303272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/devotionals-forums-and-ces-firesides.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Devotionals, Forums, and CES Firesides&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4987750522392134242</id><published>2010-02-27T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T16:17:00.859-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Braden's Brilliant Burritos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made another wonderful batch of burritos today. Here's the recipe I used:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pour 6 cups of water into a large pot on the stove with 3 cups of rice. Let it simmer until all of the water has boiled out. In the meantime, pour the following ingredients into a very large bowl (not a huge bowl, just a bowl that's a little bit bigger than what you're thinking of right now):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;1 can chili&lt;br /&gt;1 can pinto beans&lt;br /&gt;1 can black beans&lt;br /&gt;1/2 bag of grated cheese&lt;br /&gt;1/2 lb sour cream&lt;br /&gt;1 jar cheese sauce (or "salsa con queso")&lt;br /&gt;1 jar of salsa&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stir the concoction a bit, then heat it in the microwave until the consistency is that of a rather thick, odd-colored, chunky soup. Then stir some more. Add the rice at this point in time, as well as cut-up little pieces of meat, if you so desire. Stir some more. Heat the tortillas (about 30 tortillas are required for this amount of filling). Then start packing the burritos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put a large spoonful of the mixture in the center of a tortilla and wrap it up. Stick the wrapped burrito in a sandwich bag, and don't worry if burrito guts begin to ooze out of the tortilla edges—it'll all freeze, and the frozen filling has no problem sticking with the burrito when you remove the burrito from the bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel like eating one of the burritos, pull it out, microwave it for two and a half minutes, and voilà! Deliciousness will come to you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4987750522392134242?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4987750522392134242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4987750522392134242' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4987750522392134242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4987750522392134242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/bradens-brilliant-burritos.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Braden&apos;s Brilliant Burritos&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-228644434805059719</id><published>2010-02-26T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T16:31:01.437-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Lovely Dependency</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad was in town the past few days, and he gave me cause to remember just how lovely being a dependent really is! We went shopping for mission stuff, and I didn't have to double-check the receipt after paying, because I neither paid with my card nor kept the receipt! We went out to lunch and dinner a few times . . . and I got free food! Normally, when making returns to stores, I have to head up the transaction. But not so—when we had to return a pair of shoes to the store, Dad took care of it! In everything we did, it was understood that Dad was kind of in charge of the situation, so I was able to just enjoy doing whatever we were doing! Being "independent" and "in control of my own life" is fun and all that, but it's really nice not having to be in charge every once in a while—or at least not having to be 100 percent responsible for my well-being. Pity that this feeling is going to be so rare in the rest of my life. . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-228644434805059719?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/228644434805059719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=228644434805059719' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/228644434805059719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/228644434805059719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/lovely-dependency.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Lovely Dependency&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8442508837816251583</id><published>2010-02-25T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T16:33:00.362-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Freak Out!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/SaHmQpL7lOI/AAAAAAAAABk/wsQjqsqsAnA/s1600-h/IMG_0951.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305775009627346146" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 240px; height: 320px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/SaHmQpL7lOI/AAAAAAAAABk/wsQjqsqsAnA/s320/IMG_0951.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I loved social dance so much last semester that I decided to take the next level this semester. It is sooo much fun and is, no doubt, one of my favorite classes. Every semester, all of the social-dance classes have two huge labs in the Wilkinson Center Ballroom. All of the social-dance students come to practice and to get to know new people. At the lab there is food, dancing, and music, and a couple class sections perform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this particular lab, my class (section 280) was assigned to perform the cha-cha to "Le Freak." Everyone was decked out in '70s-era D.I. goods when it came time to perform. The crowd went crazy, which made it easy to feed off of their energy. It was a blast! My sister recorded about half of it and I attached the video here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b3e02d46b0fe9f72" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db3e02d46b0fe9f72%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329884936%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C3EE0066622F57160D972438D24741475F9C8A0.71BFA47F7A7D3A1893BB1ABBD3F666E3050E2AE9%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db3e02d46b0fe9f72%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DZQjxG3W6L_HF9T1obhxaJKasbkQ&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db3e02d46b0fe9f72%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329884936%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C3EE0066622F57160D972438D24741475F9C8A0.71BFA47F7A7D3A1893BB1ABBD3F666E3050E2AE9%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db3e02d46b0fe9f72%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DZQjxG3W6L_HF9T1obhxaJKasbkQ&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8442508837816251583?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b3e02d46b0fe9f72&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8442508837816251583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8442508837816251583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8442508837816251583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8442508837816251583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/freak-out.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Freak Out!&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jcu3i4haJMI/SaHmQpL7lOI/AAAAAAAAABk/wsQjqsqsAnA/s72-c/IMG_0951.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-946406109026586262</id><published>2010-02-24T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T15:01:00.097-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trevor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Supplemental Income</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Trevor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Extra money can be a little hard to come by when you're in school. Somehow, we need to be able to afford rent, groceries, textbooks, etc. This past week, in order to mitigate some financial troubles, I became one of the many BYU students who earn a little extra money by donating plasma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I wasn't sure exactly what to expect. I've rarely been to a doctor, and I must admit, this was my first real experience with needles since my required kindergarten shots. But, as it turns out, I can keep my composure even when being poked by thick needles. After an hour or so of sitting in a chair with a needle in my arm, I got to go to the magical machine that spits out money to compensate for the pain and suffering endured. With a little extra income, I may be able to afford more schooling after this year's money runs out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-946406109026586262?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/946406109026586262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=946406109026586262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/946406109026586262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/946406109026586262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/03/supplemental-income.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC6633&quot;&gt;Supplemental Income&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Trevor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-7218561674868831693</id><published>2010-02-23T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T23:40:00.118-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Missionary Fever</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they come!  The white envelopes that boys have been waiting all their lives to receive are streaming into dorm mailboxes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had three arrive this week and two the week before that. Three more are expected to come this week, based on our projections!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they do come, word is passed that "__(fill in name here)__ got his letter today!" Some open their envelopes in private, but most do it in the lobby, surrounded by the whole ward with family members on the phone. When they open their letters, they read the call aloud, and a lot of girls scream. The mission-call recipients can't stop smiling. They write their names and missions on the list we have going on our bulletin board, then I write those names on sticky-note arrows and put them up on the map over our hall fireplace. They announce where they're going and their report dates in elders quorum, then again at ward prayer. Romania, Iowa, New Zealand, South Africa, Argentina, Colorado, Taiwan, Guatemala . . . the calls keep on coming, and everybody loves the atmosphere!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, almost. A few girls have been feeling weepy lately, now that their boys are going to be leaving so soon. And a few others are afraid that the boys who have their calls will become so focused on their missions that they aren't going to want to hang out with girls any more. I highly doubt that will be the case, though. They're still boys, and they still have at least three months before they report.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, it's fun to see all this happening! Now the whole ward will wait with bated breath for Wednesdays and Thursdays to see what calls will come in the next batch of big white envelopes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-7218561674868831693?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/7218561674868831693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=7218561674868831693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7218561674868831693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7218561674868831693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/mission-fever.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Missionary Fever&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4986359098542948442</id><published>2010-02-23T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T10:22:00.646-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Sacrament-Meeting Talent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, members with musical inclinations are found in every ward. But Sini’s freshman ward was a rare exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First-year students who join Freshman Academy can elect to live in dorms with students who have similar interests; the Freshman Academy music community, of which Sini was a part, was concentrated between a couple Heritage Halls buildings—and in one ward. That meant sacrament strains from 25 music majors, some of whom had declined offers from Julliard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ve performed maybe 15 times in sacrament meeting so far,” Sini says. Her ward orchestra, which included the violin, viola, cello, bassoon, oboe, piano, trombone, and trumpet, joined the stake choir for conferences and firesides.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4986359098542948442?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4986359098542948442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4986359098542948442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4986359098542948442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4986359098542948442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/02/sacrament-meeting-talent.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Sacrament-Meeting Talent&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6923577472239901164</id><published>2010-02-22T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T17:22:00.175-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>One Day at a Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School can be crazy! Thinking about all of the the assignments, quizzes, tests, and finals that happen in a semester can be overwhelming. Just thinking about it makes my palms a bit sweaty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week I have four tests, one of which is a final for my computer-block class. How can I manage my time to make sure I prepare myself for each of them? You know that you have spent too much time studying diseases when you sign "Laura Bacteria" as your name on top of your assignments, or when you talk in your sleep about diagnosing diseases.  It's hard to figure out how much time you need to put in for each class to make sure that you stay caught up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that the best way to do it is to focus on one day at a time. Focusing on how you are going to spend the next 24 hours is a lot easier than focusing on everything you have do to before the end of the week. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6923577472239901164?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6923577472239901164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6923577472239901164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6923577472239901164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6923577472239901164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/one-day-at-time.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;One Day at a Time&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4390100051495964330</id><published>2010-02-19T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T18:23:00.332-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>RA Oddities</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a few more weeks on the job, and now I have a few more fun stories to tell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) A grandmother called and told me that her grandson (who lives in my hall) was having a hard time in school, and she asked if there was anything that I could do to help him. I talked with her for a while and assured her that I would indeed go talk to her grandson. After hanging up, I went on up to his room, knocked, made some small talk, brought up school, heard where the problem areas were, made suggestions, helped him make a plan, and went back down to my room.  Then I sat for a while and wondered, "When did I become a 'responsible adult' who grandparents call about their grandchildren?! I'm only 19!" I certainly didn't mind helping, but it was still a new experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) We had a fire drill the other day in our hall.  My favorite part? Being told to pull the fire alarm! It was another odd am-I-really-actually-in-charge-here? moment as I went to all of the rooms and knocked to make sure that everybody was out of the building. This is most definitely the first time in my life that my instructions during a fire drill weren't "Get out of the building as quickly as you can."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) As an RA, I turn weekly reports in to my hall advisor.  Part of those reports is telling her something new that I learned about a resident from each apartment.  The first few weeks were easy. However, as people have gotten busier, and as I come to know more about the residents, it becomes harder and harder for me to come up with interesting new information about 13 different apartments! Last week's report included things like "Eddie recently made a pastel drawing of a Hostess cupcake for his beginning art class" and "On Wednesday Josh was running in the morning and puked about 10 minutes into the run for apparently no reason."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) A girl was "held hostage" the other day outside one of my boys' apartments. No, really. She was tied to a chair when a roving RA found her. The culprits claimed that the hostage's apartment had kept sending girls over to bug them about something, so they decided to take drastic action. I was rather amused. And rather sad that the incident reports that I write up never have stories quite as interesting as that one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4390100051495964330?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4390100051495964330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4390100051495964330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4390100051495964330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4390100051495964330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/ra-oddities.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;RA Oddities&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2841388953701209299</id><published>2010-02-19T10:33:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T10:33:00.599-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Sound Investment</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to violins, never buy new, Sini advises. “The wood changes in the first two years.” Hers, made by Eero Haahiti, a Fin, was made in 1995. “It’s a young violin. My last one was made in 1845,” she says. “Some people say older violins have a softer sound, and it’s true, but this one is a lot better than my old one.” It was made for her violin teacher back in Finland, who sold it to her for roughly $18,000, which she paid entirely in scholarship money. Insurance on the instrument is about $150 a year, which also covers the bow—a good thing, because rehairing the bow costs $60. “I’ll have this one maybe forever, unless I get rich,” Sini says. If money weren’t a problem, she could spend $100,000. “Violins are an investment,” Sini says. “I could sell mine in 20 years and make money.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2841388953701209299?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2841388953701209299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2841388953701209299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2841388953701209299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2841388953701209299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/02/sound-investment.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Sound Investment&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5078776874733497432</id><published>2010-02-17T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T20:29:00.379-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Sixth-Week Slump</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sixth-week slump is finally here. It happened last semester, and it's happening again this semester: EVERYBODY is tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it happens because we've all gotten comfortable in our schedules, so we start pushing the envelope on how late we can stay up.  Perhaps it happens because people are starting to get to know each other better, so they start spending more time together, and that results in later nights.  Perhaps enough weeks have passed since all those New Year's resolutions, and the vast majority of students are now giving up on getting to bed earlier this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the cause, it's definitely true wherever you look—there are fewer kids in class, and of those who are in class, more are asleep. The moans and groans of "I'm SO tired!" are becoming more audible and prevalent, because EVERYBODY is tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5078776874733497432?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5078776874733497432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5078776874733497432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5078776874733497432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5078776874733497432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/sixth-week-slump.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Sixth-Week Slump&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6258815881154903923</id><published>2010-02-16T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T11:31:00.193-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>The Next Young Ambassador</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Elise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people just can’t let go of childish dreams. I’m one of them. I’ve always loved singing and dancing. Always. And growing up, I’ve always admired Young Ambassadors and wanted to be one someday. It was just one of those dreams you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I saw the Young Ambassadors show, and I renewed my resolve: I am going to work hard and take dance classes and become a better dancer and singer. And then in a year or two I’m going to try out. I’m really gonna do it! I’m so excited! If I don’t get in, that’s fine, because prepping for the audition will be fun regardless of the outcome. It’s a win-win-win situation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6258815881154903923?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6258815881154903923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6258815881154903923' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6258815881154903923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6258815881154903923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/young-ambassadors.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#3399cc&quot;&gt;The Next Young Ambassador&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Elise</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4263295366136179185</id><published>2010-02-16T10:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T10:25:00.337-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Unforgettable Devotional</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the second devotional of the semester, Sini’s favorite of her freshmen year, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland (BS ’65) spoke about Lot’s wife, who looked back. “He talked about how we need to move on in life and not look back in time,” Sini recalls. “Christ died for us, and we have a responsibility to use that gift and let the Atonement work in our lives and in other people’s lives.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read or listen to this devotional on the &lt;a href="http://speeches.byu.edu/?act=viewitem&amp;id=1819&amp;tid=2"&gt;BYU Speeches Web site.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4263295366136179185?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4263295366136179185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4263295366136179185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4263295366136179185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4263295366136179185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/01/unforgettable-devotional.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Unforgettable Devotional&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1833564137738685235</id><published>2010-02-15T22:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T22:25:00.351-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Kimball Hall Winter Olympics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had another hall activity this past week: the first-ever Kimball Hall Winter Olympics Classic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did we do it? Well, first of all, it satisfied the requirements of a "cultural" activity: the boys were assigned to teams from different countries, which we provided trivia facts about. We also played the national anthem of the winning team at the closing ceremonies. On the program proposal, I stressed that the boys felt cooped up in the cold weather and desperately needed outdoor physical play.  Also, since a lot of the boys will be leaving on foreign missions this summer, it was an opportunity to get them excited for experiences that involve other countries. That's what I wrote down, anyway. For the most part, these boys just wanted to have a ball playing outside in the snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it didn't snow for two weeks. And all the snow that we did have melted. So we adjusted. The event began with the opening ceremonies. We split the boys into countries (we decided to just go with two, Ireland and Spain). We then passed a torch through the building (using a big flashlight since open flames aren't allowed in the buildings, particularly not when they're being carried through multiple flights of stairs by running boys). We blasted the Olympic theme song and officially let the games begin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first event was icicle archery!  With no icicles, however, we used dough balls!  The boys threw the balls from the third-floor balcony down to a target that we had on the ground. The second event was snowball shotput!  With no snowballs, however, we used a volleyball! The third event was a sled race! With no snow, well, the boys didn't have a hard time making those sleds fly through the grass and dirt. The last event was going to be beach volleyball in the snow, but due to melted snow, the courts were sandy swamps. Instead, we had a Popsicle relay throughout our hall: run up three flights of stairs, down three flights, pass off the Popsicle, repeat.  The last guys to get the Popsicles had to eat them to finish the race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the closing ceremonies we had doughnuts and apple juice for all, and pounds (literally, I bought three pounds) of candy to be divided between the two winning teams—the winning team got two pounds. Much fun was had by all, even without the snow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1833564137738685235?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1833564137738685235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1833564137738685235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1833564137738685235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1833564137738685235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/kimball-hall-winter-olympics.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Kimball Hall Winter Olympics&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4554591466515979568</id><published>2010-02-13T18:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T18:31:00.288-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Love Is in the Air</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's February, and love is in the air!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The number of couples in my ward has easily doubled since first semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's talk of engagements among the freshmen girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard a lot of plans for Valentine's Day this weekend, from both official couples and non-official couples!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night, one boy in the apartment that shares a corner with mine was giving his roommate kissing lessons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now, when she starts fiddling with her keys, that's a good thing. She won't stick them in the lock yet; she's hinting that she wants you to make a move. Take a half-step forward so that she gets the idea that you catch her hint. Then you go in 90 percent and wait for her to come in the last 10 percent. However, you'll want to save the first kiss for your date next weekend on Valentine's Day. I know it's painful to wait, but it'll be worth it, trust me. So on your date this weekend, you should just give her a hug."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can't I at least give her a kiss on the cheek?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, that'll confuse her.  If you start moving in and she doesn't know whether you're aiming for the lips or the cheek, she won't know what to do, and a very awkward collision of faces could occur.  Go for a hug."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I guess you're right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;etc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4554591466515979568?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4554591466515979568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4554591466515979568' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4554591466515979568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4554591466515979568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/love-is-in-air.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Love Is in the Air&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4463796388047260177</id><published>2010-02-12T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T21:51:00.269-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Two Little Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two little words—two very painful little words—ruined my day today: "RAM deleted."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you feel too bad for me, it wasn't my computer.  It was just my calculator.  It still hurts, however; especially when you consider how many hours I've spent building myself the most beautiful assortment of homemade programs any student could want! I spent my first two classes this morning adding to my glorious collection, this time with programs for calculating dot products, cross products, and orthogonal projections for linear algebra. I tested each program, and they all worked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then decided to clean up the code a little bit, for the sake of having pride in my work, so I started to combine two of my programs. Then something went terribly wrong. The screen of my poor TI-83 Plus made a picture that looked like each pixel had been randomly selected as "on" or "off."  I pushed 2nd, then Quit. Nothing happened.  I tried "Clear." Nothing happened. I turned off the calculator. I turned it back on, and something happened: the screen went black, then white, then up popped those two terrible little words—RAM Deleted—and all my pretty little programs disappeared. I imagine that's what it would be like to watch your dog being put to sleep right before your eyes. *Sigh.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'll start rebuilding.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4463796388047260177?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4463796388047260177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4463796388047260177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4463796388047260177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4463796388047260177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/two-little-words.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Two Little Words&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8675460386416171454</id><published>2010-02-11T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T20:49:00.611-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trevor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Writer's Cramp</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Trevor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One big contrast between college life and life in high school has been the absence of writing papers. I have never been inclined to pursue the field of English in any form. Attending college was a dream come true when I found out that I didn't have to take an English course every semester. I've found that I'm perfectly content to fill my schedule with math and science courses, where there is no writing of any kind required.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, this lack of paper-writing also has its drawbacks. Because I'm not required to write papers on a regular basis, the task of writing anything has become much harder to complete. On the rare occasion that I am required to write, I can literally spend an hour or so trying to find a way to phrase a certain idea to my liking. Hopefully I can get myself back into the habit of efficient writing, but in the meantime, I'm content with the lack of writing in my schedule.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8675460386416171454?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8675460386416171454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8675460386416171454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8675460386416171454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8675460386416171454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/writers-cramp.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC6633&quot;&gt;Writer&apos;s Cramp&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Trevor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5074575919430128539</id><published>2010-02-11T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T10:14:00.798-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Upgraded</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In January Kory Katseanes, director of orchestras, called Sini to announce he was moving her up to Chamber Orchestra, BYU’s elite touring orchestra. But that’s not all. That same night she got an e-mail from him: “It just said, ‘P.S. I moved you to Phil.’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phil, short for BYU’s Philharmonic Orchestra, was Sini’s first-semester dream—and she didn’t even have to audition. “I was so happy, I was jumping around. I was the only violinist to get moved up. . . . I guess I’m good,” she smiles broadly. She still had to audition for chair position in February, but she was in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5074575919430128539?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5074575919430128539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5074575919430128539' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5074575919430128539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5074575919430128539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/02/upgraded.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Upgraded&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-3305627865501280428</id><published>2010-02-10T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T20:45:00.572-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>How the Stock Market Crashed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in the hallway of the Testing Center a few days ago, doing one last review before going up the stairs to grab my test. I heard a commotion by the main stairwell, so I took a look. All of a sudden, the line to pick up your test was going down the stairs and growing every second! I, like everybody else, picked up my stuff and hurried to get in line—I didn't want to be waiting forever to get my test! In a matter of 60 seconds, the line went from nonexistent to wrapping all the way around on the second floor, down the steps, and then down the hallway on the first floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did it happen? Like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An accounting class of 300 kids had to take their test by 4 p.m. that day, and it had a one-hour time limit. The vast majority of them waited until the last day, coming with just enough time to study for a wee bit before taking the test.  A group of friends walked in the door and got in line. Those who were studying accounting saw that the line was getting full and knew they needed to jump in line to get their full hour! Those not in the accounting class didn't want to be stuck in line forever, perhaps rationalizing, "I want time to study, but I don't need THAT much time," so they all rushed to get in line.  The slightly slower accounting kids saw the rapidly growing line and panicked and ran to the line.  Other kids saw those kids running, so they ran too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all very exciting. And now I know how the stock market crashed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-3305627865501280428?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/3305627865501280428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=3305627865501280428' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3305627865501280428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3305627865501280428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/how-stock-market-crashed.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;How the Stock Market Crashed&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6718504229682063202</id><published>2010-02-09T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T10:14:11.954-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley'/><title type='text'>Livin' on the Street (In a Box)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Ashley&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One question seems to be on everyone's mind: Where to live next year? Three of my roommates and I have decided to live together again, and we've spent the past four Friday afternoons looking at apartments. We were about to give up and just live in a box on the street because we couldn't agree on a place: it was either too expensive, too "ghetto," too far away, too ugly, or unlivable due to some other reason one of us came up with. We were getting sick of looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, last Friday, we agreed to make a final decision after checking out one more place. We got there and unanimously agreed we would not live there, but we decided to check out another place right next door. That place was better, but still not perfect. My roommate had a prompting to ask one of the tenants where she lived before. She seemed to really like her last place, so we decided to go check it out. The building was pink; we felt like we were in Mexico by the look of it. We practically had to drag one of our roommates closer to check it out. We knocked on a door and were welcomed inside, and the apartment was great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After each place we visit, we have a team meeting. This was the first team meeting where we all felt good about an apartment. We submitted our applications that night and returned on Saturday to pay our deposit. Now we just have to wait to hear if we were accepted. It was just amazing that we were guided to that place; by the look of the exterior, we never would have checked it out on our own. So that goes to show you: never judge a book by its cover.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6718504229682063202?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6718504229682063202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6718504229682063202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6718504229682063202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6718504229682063202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/livin-on-street-in-box.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#669933&quot;&gt;Livin&apos; on the Street (In a Box)&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>A. Falcon</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2391940858608389188</id><published>2010-02-08T11:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T11:27:00.212-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Housing! AAAAHHH!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Elise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We barely started winter semester and we’re already scrambling to find housing for next year. It’s a little bit ridiculous. In the process of looking for housing, we realized that many housing complexes have a stigma or stereotype. Of course, the stigmas aren’t important enough to sway our decision, but I think they are so interesting. I wonder how those stigmas started. They seem like self-fulfilling prophecies to me. For example, if a certain complex has X reputation, it will attract X kind of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think stigmas are ridiculous and I’m baffled by how prevalent they are. My roommate and I were thinking of living in a complex that apparently has a “partier” stigma attached to it.  Here’s the conversation we had with probably five different friends on five separate occasions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Us:&lt;/span&gt; We’re thinking of living at ___.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Them:&lt;/blockquote&gt; (Raised eyebrow.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Us:&lt;/blockquote&gt; What? What’s wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Them:&lt;/blockquote&gt; Oh it’s nothing. . . . I was just gonna say . . .  but it’s not a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Us:&lt;/blockquote&gt; C’mon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Them:&lt;/blockquote&gt; Well I just heard that __________. But it’s not a big deal. It’s not like people actually believe that. Just forget I mentioned it. (Friend is squirmy and apologetic.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Us:&lt;/blockquote&gt; (Laughing on the inside).&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2391940858608389188?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2391940858608389188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2391940858608389188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2391940858608389188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2391940858608389188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/housing-aaaahhh.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#3399cc&quot;&gt;Housing! AAAAHHH!!!!&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Elise</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2206595220915905482</id><published>2010-02-05T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T21:39:00.351-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trevor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Another Way to Test</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Trevor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I had my first exam inside the Testing Center. That's not to say this was my first test or quiz, it's just that in all of my other classes, the exams were administered either online or in class. Now that I think about it, I really prefer them to be that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When tests are online, I tend to feel a lot more relaxed. I can take the test in the comfort of my apartment. And when exams are taken during class hours, there is a set time limit and the test is made to be taken within a set amount of time. As I took my test in the Testing Center today, neither of these comforts was offered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Testing Center is a house of fear, fear so pungent you don't need to be a dog to smell it. As the semester continues, I pray for more tests taken outside of the Testing Center where there aren't so many bad vibes reverberating off of the walls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2206595220915905482?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2206595220915905482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2206595220915905482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2206595220915905482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2206595220915905482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/another-way-to-test.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC6633&quot;&gt;Another Way to Test&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Trevor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4724674110036703339</id><published>2010-02-04T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T21:56:00.272-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>My Mission Call</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened! It finally happened! My call came! It finally came! And I cannot stop smiling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I say where I'm going and when, there are a few things you have to know:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) My brother gets home from his mission in Taiwan on May 25. As soon as my brother and I were old enough to do the math, we figured that we might just barely miss each other between our two missions. We corresponded about availability dates throughout this past year, trying to figure out what would be perfect. I didn't want to have to wait too long to leave, but I wanted to see my brother. There are typically a few weeks between your availability date and your report date, but it's not always the same length of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, we decided (via e-mail) that a May 14 availability date would be perfect. It was most likely that I wouldn't have to report for at least a few weeks after that, and we'd be able to see each other, but it wouldn't be too far into the summer. Then over Christmas break, when I was filling out my papers, I made a comment like, "I'm so anxious to go!" to which one of my parents replied, "Well, you are 19. You can set your availability date for whenever you want." And then I was like, "You know, why not? I'm dying to go soon. I'm setting my date for May 1, and if Travis and I don't get to see each other, I won't like it, but I'll survive."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't mention the change in plans to him, but then he asked, so I had to tell him about the switch. I really considered moving the date back a week or so, closer to May 14—what's one more week before reporting compared to having the whole family together for one week in four years? But May 1 just felt right. I thought about it a lot, prayed about it a lot, and it just felt right, so I kept it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Every pre-missionary responds to the inevitable question, "So where would you like to go on your mission?" at least once in his life with, "Wherever the Lord needs me." And it's true, that's where I wanted to go. But I suspect that every one of those boys and girls also thinks in his or her head at least once, "I'll go wherever, but wouldn't it be especially fun to go to _____." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I had one of those places. For as long as I can remember, when people said, "I know that you're not supposed to pick favorites, but IF you did get to pick where you would like to go, what would you choose?" I always responded with this country. When my uncle came home from a mission to this country a number of years ago, I remember thinking, "Wow—that'd be perfect! I hope I go somewhere like that!" When everybody in my family wrote down where they thought I'd go, I secretly made my own guess, and it was this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer I found out that due to visa troubles, this mission was being closed to North American missionaries. I groaned just a little bit on the inside, but I knew that I was going to get called to wherever I was supposed to go anyway. Then last week, after my papers were already in, I heard from an RM that the mission had recently opened back up again to missionaries from North America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so excited! I went home and sent my parents an email with the title, "______ is open again!" since they've always known that I have a sweet spot for it. "I don't expect to go there, of course," I told them, "but it is nice that it's an option again, at least!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week ago my key chain broke, so I told myself that I'd just buy a new one in a week or two of the flag of whatever country I'm going to (United States included). Two days ago, when I was in the Bookstore, I took a look at all the flags, and naturally my eyes searched first for this country's flag. After I found it, I mentally slapped my wrist for showing preference, and went on to my next class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I asked anybody with mission-call experience about when they thought I should expect to receive mine. There were just too many opinions for me to know anything for sure, but I was pretty positive that my call would show up sometime in the middle of the week, most likely on a Wednesday. This past Wednesday, a boy who sent in his papers a week before me received his call. I figured that meant I still had at least a week to go, so I stopped thinking about it. Then this morning I found out from my grandparents, who have a contact in the Missionary Department, that my call was mailed out yesterday! All of my focus disappeared instantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came home from classes at 1:30 p.m., hoping to find the call, but no. I went to the temple for an hour and a half and came back expecting to find my call, since our mail usually comes by 2:30 p.m., but no. The mail had come, but it wasn't there. I went to my 4 p.m. class, content to wait until tomorrow to begin checking compulsively again. I got two phone calls during class that I didn't answer; I checked my voice mail as soon as class ended, and one of the messages was from the Helaman Halls Central Building. They said they had my mission call there! I was rather confused, since I live in Heritage Halls, but they had my call and I wanted it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I was already on my way to meet up with somebody for dinner, and we were supposed to meet up in five minutes! I rushed to dinner; we ate and talked for about an hour. I had to fight so hard to keep myself from jumping up and sprinting to the central building. And then I got the letter; it was about 6 p.m. by this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried really hard not to look at the postage; I've heard varying stories on what it means, and I didn't want to speculate. I wanted to open my call with my ward, but I also needed to pick a time when all of my family back home could be on the phone, so I chose 8:30 p.m. I texted all the people whom I'd promised to tell when I got my letter and passed the word around the ward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I tried, failing miserably, to study for my test tomorrow. I couldn't concentrate for more than maybe 30 seconds at a time. "Two hours left . . . 1.5 hours . . . 1.3 hours . . . 1.15 hours . . . 1.12 hours . . . 1.11 hours . . . is time moving at all?!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another boy in the ward was scheduled to open his call at 8 p.m. The ward showed up, and he read that he was going to Brazil, and his report date was May 24! That scared me a little: if he put his papers in on the same day as me, and he's reporting on May 24, odds are pretty good that I'll report on the same day, and I'll miss my brother by one day!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last 30 minutes were by far the longest. I went for a walk to burn the time. And then 8:30 p.m. finally came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called up my family back home, hushed everyone down, my sister started recording, and I opened up the letter:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;Dear Elder Hancock:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the RUSSIA SAMARA mission!&lt;br /&gt;(my thoughts: "I CAN'T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY GOT CALLED TO RUSSIA!")&lt;br /&gt;You should report to the Missionary Training Center at Provo, Utah on Wednesday, 3 June 2009!&lt;br /&gt;("I can't believe that I'm going to Russia, AND I get to see Travis before I leave!")&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then everybody clapped and cheered and congratulated me and I couldn't do anything but smile, thank them, smile, reread the letter, smile, and find where Samara is in Russia, and smile some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to get any more studying done tonight. All I want to do is look up Russia, Samara, the Russian language, my application for a U.S. passport, my mission boundaries, stories from people who went to my mission, the list of supplies I'm going to need, etc. WOW, what a rush! It turns out that it is the exact same mission where my uncle went! I can't wait to hear stories, see pictures, and start learning all about where I'm going to be living and serving for the next two years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I would have been thrilled no matter where I was called. It's still so amazing to me that we 19-year-old boys are allowed to be called to such important roles in the grand scheme of everything! And I cannot wait to share the gospel with all of the good people in Russia! It's made me so happy! If I can just help them see how much they have to gain, how much easier and happier their lives will be with the gospel, they'll know that it's worth it. And even if you told me that not a single person I talk to will join the Church in all 24 months that I'm there, I'd still go in a heartbeat! This is going to be a wonderful two years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And wow—to be called to the place I've always wanted to go AND see my brother before I leave AND not have to wait any longer to get my call—I'm certainly on cloud nine right now, and I'm not coming down anytime soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4724674110036703339?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4724674110036703339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4724674110036703339' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4724674110036703339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4724674110036703339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-mission-call.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;My Mission Call&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2300115563113139101</id><published>2010-02-04T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T19:07:00.472-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Opening It Tonight!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my word! My mission call got sent to the wrong address, so I just barely got it at 6 p.m. today! I'm opening it up at 8:30 tonight in my dorm lobby. I'll post the full story later. :) This is killing me that I need to wait another hour and a half to open it when it's sitting right here on my desk...!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2300115563113139101?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2300115563113139101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2300115563113139101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2300115563113139101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2300115563113139101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/02/opening-it-tonight.html' title='Opening It Tonight!'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-3267248270101252073</id><published>2010-02-04T10:16:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T13:18:37.728-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sini'/><title type='text'>Dictate This</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pick a piece of music; memorize it in a semester; then write it out, without listening to it, in class on the day of the final. For this semester-long assignment, given in Sini’s music violin master’s class, Sini selected &lt;i&gt;Sarasate,&lt;/i&gt; by Zigeneurweisen. “It’s a gypsy song, something that all violinists have heard—but this one is horrible, it is so hard,” she says. “My master’s teacher even announced in class, ‘Hey, guess what Sini’s dictation piece is,’ he thought it was so funny.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-3267248270101252073?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/3267248270101252073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=3267248270101252073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3267248270101252073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3267248270101252073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2010/02/dictate-this.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#CC3333&quot;&gt;Dictate This&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-9046876098184976353</id><published>2010-02-03T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T19:20:00.297-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Floor Discrimination</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During first semester I lived on the third floor of my hall.  This semester I live on the first floor. Last semester I figured it was all the same,  the only exception being that I had to climb two more flights of stairs whenever I came home from classes. Now I know the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third-floor people are a little more isolated.  There is more activity in the first-floor lobby. If somebody's doing something stupid in the first-floor lobby, I'll hear it and get to watch. Before, I probably wouldn't have noticed the noise, or I wouldn't have cared if I had. On Thursday, three people wanted to play spades and they needed a fourth.  My room is right there connected to the main lobby, so they hollered, "Hey Braden, wanna play spades?" and I did, so we played.  Had I been on the third floor, that would not have happened, and I probably would have done something else or gone to bed 30 minutes earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not just my hall either—I've noticed that in the girls' hall, too. The ones who live on the third floor have their own  friends—roommates or corner buddies or whatnot—but they don't often spontaneously hop into activities with the first-floor girls; they don't really know the first-floor girls very well because they live two floors up!  And since everyone enters their rooms from the outside staircases, there's no pressing reason to interact with other floors in your hall outside of planned hall activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I don't think it's necessarily a terrible thing that needs fixing, or that the upper floors are purposely excluded in any way, but I did think it was interesting. Life really IS different on the first floor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-9046876098184976353?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/9046876098184976353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=9046876098184976353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/9046876098184976353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/9046876098184976353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/floor-discrimination.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Floor Discrimination&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4987599327108317860</id><published>2010-02-02T14:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T14:05:00.748-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>The Hunt</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time of the year: people are out searching for the apartments they'll be living in next year. A bunch of girls have knocked on our door, asking for a tour of my apartment and interviewing me about the ward, the boys in the ward, rent, and maintenance. Even though it's still the beginning of winter semester, you have to start thinking about the location and the roommates you are going to live with next fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The apartment complex that I am living in is really competitive to get into, and the management holds its drawing for contracts in February. I have loved my apartment! Even though I am one of the minority freshman who decides not to live in the dorms, I have loved the location, the ward, the roommates, and all of the new experiences that have come with my apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also had a few of my close high school friends, who are planning on attending BYU next year, over for a weekend. Incoming freshman often don't know how important it is to start the housing search early, whether they are looking for off-campus housing or reserving a spot in on-campus housing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4987599327108317860?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4987599327108317860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4987599327108317860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4987599327108317860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4987599327108317860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/hunt.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;The Hunt&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-8869243498840454784</id><published>2010-02-01T17:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T06:07:29.825-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Being an RA</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a resident assistant (RA) this semester has been so much fun! A few of my favorite moments this past month:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I got a call on my landline phone in my room from two girls that went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;"Hi, this is Braden, the RA of Kimball Hall. What can I do for you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Um . . . we're locked in our room. Can you come help us out?"&lt;br /&gt;"Ha ha, wait, what? You're locked IN your room?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I know it's kind of pathetic.  But I have class in 30 minutes, and I need to get out of here.  So you can come unlock it?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I'll be right over!"&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went on over, and sure enough, they were locked in! Their doorknob had come lose so that the door was stuck in the closed position, and turning the knob did nothing.  Well, we (their hall RA saw me come in, heard their story, laughed, and came with me) got the master key and started jiggling, and the key grabbed onto something that turning the knob wasn't grabbing. We were able to get the girls out in time for class, and we called maintenance to come fix the door.  So far I've helped eight people who were locked &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;out&lt;/span&gt; of their rooms, and just those two girls who were locked &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) In the student development class that you have to take while you're an RA, they go over what to expect this semester. Here's the gist of it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;"Right now it's January and nobody wants to be back at school.  By February everyone will have hooked up, so expect more PDA.  In March residents are getting bored, so you'll probably see more pranks.  In April all the boys are going to be experiencing reverse-trunkiness; they see no point to school, they just want to be on their missions already. Good luck!"&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went over how to handle all of those phases, of course. I found the cyclical nature of each freshman class amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) One of my dormmates, sick of answering the door when I'm not home for people who need their rooms unlocked, has posted a sign outside of our door that says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;"Braden, the RA, is:" followed by a flippable sign that says, "OUT. Go Away!" on one side, and "IN. Come on in!" on the other.&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Part of being an RA is organizing events and programs with which to spend our allotted hall budget for the semester!  A few that I've incorporated since "taking office":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;a) The "stud- or dud-of-the-week" moment in hall meetings.  Anyone who had a particularly brilliant date or terrible shutdown from a girl that week tells his story, and the person with the best one gets a candy bar!  Now that's male bonding time if I've ever seen it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b) Cleaning checks are not enjoyable. To make them less painful, I added an incentive: after cleaning checks each month, I'll have a drawing to see which room gets two free large pizzas. Tenants qualify for the drawing by signing up for a cleaning-check time on the sheet outside my door before a certain day, and by not having any rechecks.  I've found that the boys are significantly more motivated with this added incentive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c) For the hall activity this month, we had a mission-deferment party!  Almost all of my boys needed to defer their academic enrollment and scholarships before leaving on missions this summer, so why not do it all at once and have food at the end?  One of the girls in our ward who works at the administration building brought the forms and showed everyone how to fill them out, and we had chips and salsa as soon as we finished.&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-8869243498840454784?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/8869243498840454784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=8869243498840454784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8869243498840454784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/8869243498840454784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/being-ra.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Being an RA&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4988400416877636248</id><published>2010-01-31T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T15:22:00.198-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Busy Sundays</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did Sundays get so busy?  My word!  I used to come home from church (back when I lived at home) and read a book, play a game with my siblings, or take a nap. But somehow Sundays have gotten really busy since I got here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a recent Sunday I had church, ward council, a mission interview, hall meeting, hall council meeting, a visit from my home teachers, home teaching appointments to set up, a fireside, ward prayer, a weekly journal entry to write, and a phone call home to make!  And somewhere in there I ate lunch and dinner. Whew! I guess this is what Sundays will probably feel like for the rest of college, eh? There will be different things filling the slots each week, but there's always something. Sunday is still a break from the rest of the week, but it is restful in a busy, restful kind of way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4988400416877636248?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4988400416877636248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4988400416877636248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4988400416877636248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4988400416877636248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/busy-sundays.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Busy Sundays&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-7218331902205187155</id><published>2010-01-29T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T13:57:00.468-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Easter Island 2.0</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when you mix a lot of snow with a lot of kids and a lot of time? A gigantic snow cave with a seven-person capacity and a sculpture of a face on the front, of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SW-j-JfKV_I/AAAAAAAAAEY/6apm3b-gYT4/s1600-h/Winter+Semester+3+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SW-j-JfKV_I/AAAAAAAAAEY/6apm3b-gYT4/s400/Winter+Semester+3+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291628375277459442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SW-j0Xf8qJI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/7Y-Qi8XRnQE/s1600-h/Winter+Semester+3+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SW-j0Xf8qJI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/7Y-Qi8XRnQE/s400/Winter+Semester+3+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291628207240161426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-7218331902205187155?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/7218331902205187155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=7218331902205187155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7218331902205187155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/7218331902205187155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/easter-island-20.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Easter Island 2.0&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SsYY_FFL03o/SW-j-JfKV_I/AAAAAAAAAEY/6apm3b-gYT4/s72-c/Winter+Semester+3+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2092676961033864584</id><published>2010-01-27T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T14:40:00.213-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Nap Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried really hard to do better this semester—really, I have. But no matter what I tell myself, I just can't seem to get in bed before midnight.  There's too much happening late at night to sleep through it all!  At the end of last semester I was averaging a 2 a.m. bedtime.  This semester started with an average around 1 a.m., a minor improvement. However, my schedule also changed; my first class no longer starts at 11 a.m. on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Now my first class starts at 8 a.m.! So I save one hour of sleep five times a week and lose three hours three times a week; that's a net loss of four hours of sleep per week for Braden!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have remedied this with the reintroduction of nap time! (Reintroduction in that nap time WAS once a part of my schedule, but I was 3 feet tall then).  I suppose it isn't necessarily a scheduled thing. Usually it happens just two or three times a week; I get in bed in the middle of the day and set my alarm for an hour or two later. These naps are nothing big, but they sure do help me keep my head during the week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2092676961033864584?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2092676961033864584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2092676961033864584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2092676961033864584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2092676961033864584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/naptime.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Nap Time&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5431095509880321181</id><published>2010-01-26T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T15:22:00.292-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>The Class that Ate My Second Semester</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I thought that after the first couple of assignments from my ME 172 (engineering graphics) class, everything would get easier, because I'd start to understand the programs, and assignments would take less time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, each assignment still takes five to six hours to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've done five assignments now; we have two assignments per week. I'm just not used to such large assignments!  Reading assignments for my other classes never take that long, and any single math assignment has never been that large. And these aren't even projects; they're just regular homework assignments that, by nature, take forever to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness I took this class this semester instead of last semester! If I'd been introduced to college with this class, I do believe I would have died—or at least been very distrusting of college for a very long time. Because I already have a semester under my belt, I now know that this class is the exception and not the rule, though it may be normal when compared to other mechanical engineering courses; I guess I'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5431095509880321181?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5431095509880321181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5431095509880321181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5431095509880321181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5431095509880321181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/class-that-ate-my-second-semester.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;The Class that Ate My Second Semester&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-317599959739763733</id><published>2010-01-25T15:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T15:51:00.248-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Love of Learning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At my high school graduation, a very wise teacher gave all of the graduates advice for college.  He said, "Don't let school get in the way of your education."  I don't think I fully understood this advice until I actually started my college classes.  It can be so easy to adopt the mindset of just reading through the syllabus and seeing only the requirements for that dream A grade, and then just going through the motions to get the work done.  However, I am attending BYU to get a worthwhile education, and my classes present an incredible opportunity to learn and grow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having a sincere love of learning makes my classes so much more enjoyable. My homework is more meaningful when I find ways to apply what I've learned as opposed to just regurgitating a list of definitions from short-term memory.  I absolutely love the feeling that comes when you can tell your roommate, as she is eating a potato, that it contains more nutrient-dense potassium than the banana your other roommate is eating.  I love the feeling that comes when you can help your little brother with his chemistry homework. I love the joy that comes when you work so hard that you are able to celebrate by dancing to the midnight library music. I love the feeling that comes when you understand the tricky details of microorganisms enough to know that if you lick your hands after touching the door handle, the drinking fountain handle, or the toilet seat that you could get some nasty diseases. Those are the moments that make all of the time, hard work, and lack of sleep in college completely worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-317599959739763733?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/317599959739763733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=317599959739763733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/317599959739763733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/317599959739763733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/love-of-learning.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Love of Learning&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2429397573223353918</id><published>2010-01-24T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T16:21:00.447-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Turning in Mission Papers</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I sent my mission papers to Church headquarters in Salt Lake City.  But the process of getting them completed up to that point started a few months ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In November I turned 19 and arranged an interview with my bishop through the ward executive secretary.  In the interview, we set up an account for me online and he showed me the papers I had to fill out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over Christmas I had my medical and dental forms completed by my doctor and dentist.  Well, sort of.  I went and had my doctor's appointment.  I got home and realized that they hadn't given me two of the shots I needed. So I went back and got those shots.  Then, the day before leaving, I realized that they hadn't done the blood work or tuberculosis (TB) tests that I needed.  I got the blood work done, but TB tests take three days, so I had to get that done at the BYU Student Health Center once I got back out to Utah.  My insurance covers a dentist cleaning once every six months.  I had to go back to school sooner than my next six-month appointment, so instead we paid for just a little examination and I'll have the cleaning done this summer before I leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all of my papers finally reached my bishop, and after my bishop got back from a vacation he'd been on, I was able to have my second interview.  We went through all of the papers and double-checked everything, he wrote his recommendation, then he forwarded it on to the stake president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I showed up in the "first-come, first-served" line for stake presidency interviews on Sunday at noon. An interesting fact about BYU stakes: they are the only stakes in the church where it is approved for the counselors in the stake presidency to do mission interviews, in addition to the president. Because we send off multiple hundreds of missionaries each semester in this stake, it makes sense to spread the workload.  I had my interview, President Brad Wilcox (the first counselor in my stake presidency) typed in his recommendation, and then they let me click "send."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to not think about it now.  I've heard various reports about what day of the week mission calls typically show up in the mail, how long it takes for them to show up, how the amount of postage correlates to stateside vs foreign calls, how many weeks after your availability date you are typically asked to report, etc.  The other hard thing is deciding what to do when I get my call!  Some people open it with the whole ward looking on and their family on the phone.  Others open it up by themselves and announce it at ward prayer.  A part of me wants to go for a walk and open it by myself. On the other hand, I always find it so exciting when someone from the ward opens his publicly. I just don't know! I suppose I have approximately two weeks to decide. Now I just need to find out what time of day the mail comes so I can start checking the mail compulsively every day for my envelope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2429397573223353918?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2429397573223353918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2429397573223353918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2429397573223353918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2429397573223353918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/turning-in-mission-papers.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Turning in Mission Papers&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-4874066960844733828</id><published>2010-01-22T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T14:41:00.149-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>It Starts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday that thing that I always knew was going to start happening, but couldn't see actually happening, finally happened: I got a Facebook invitation with the title, "Justin and Mollie are getting married!" I probably should have been quieter—a few of my roommates were already asleep—but I started laughing. Hard. Somebody MY age . . . getting MARRIED . . . NOW?! It doesn't make any sense. We're too young. What is she thinking? Is she sure she's ready for such a large change? Once the engagements start, they won't stop coming for a while. Who will be next?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few big breaths and a little more laughing, I got a hold of myself.  But man, marriage? Already? I suppose it's a little bit more fathomable for girls, but still.  I guess I'd better get used to it, though, 'cause no matter what I think or do, it's gonna keep happening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-4874066960844733828?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/4874066960844733828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=4874066960844733828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4874066960844733828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/4874066960844733828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/it-starts.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;It Starts&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-2845035302373338579</id><published>2010-01-22T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T10:33:00.440-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Fifth-Grade Review</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Elise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently sitting in Bio 100 learning about the scientific method. I’m pretty sure we learned this in fifth grade and have reviewed it every year since. Gotta love general eds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-2845035302373338579?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/2845035302373338579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=2845035302373338579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2845035302373338579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/2845035302373338579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/fifth-grade-review.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#3399cc&quot;&gt;Fifth-Grade Review&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Brittany Karford Rogers</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-6739003944789443701</id><published>2010-01-21T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T19:04:00.222-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>(Not) Hungry? Why (Not) Wait?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has taken a while to transition, but at last I think I've made the change: I no longer eat at mealtime, I eat whenever I'm hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a big change. At home I couldn't raid the kitchen whenever I felt like it, because I was going to "spoil my dinner." Not only that, if one kid gets to snack whenever he feels like it, then all the kids in the family can—and that would be chaotic. Furthermore, at home I didn't have those delicious, homemade frozen burritos to fall back on whenever I was hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started first semester eating at somewhat set times, but I have since digressed. Yesterday, for example, I wasn't hungry when I woke up, so I didn't eat breakfast.  I had class until 2 p.m., after which I came home and had a mega-meal (roughly equivalent to 1.67 meals in mass), followed by a regular-sized meal at 10 p.m. night and a .33-of-a-meal-sized snack around 12:30 a.m. I'm still getting three meals a day—I'm just not quite so picky about the shape, size, or order they come in. I'll eat when I'm hungry and not a moment before!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-6739003944789443701?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/6739003944789443701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=6739003944789443701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6739003944789443701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/6739003944789443701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/not-hungry-why-not-wait.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;(Not) Hungry? Why (Not) Wait?&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-344939371459891076</id><published>2010-01-20T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T22:45:00.089-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><title type='text'>Modern Homework</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've made the adjustments needed to get back into school mode.  I have my schedule memorized and don't have to look at a printed copy to find the room number.  Faces are becoming familiar and I've learned a couple of names.  However, when it comes to homework, things have changed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The majority of the classes for my major require homework to be submitted online.  Forget the paper and pencils—it's strictly uploading your answers, and I don't know if I like it.  It's kind of scary to think that a computer is grading my homework, and computers can be ridiculous.  For example, in my chemistry class, if your answer is plural, the computer classifies your answer as incorrect. Spell a word wrong or put a space in an incorrect place and CLINK—docked credit.  I have never been so nervous or so unsure about my homework answers in my life.  Not because I think I did the calculations wrong, but because I think I did something grammatically incorrect that won't meet the computer's standards. A lot of general and core classes are switching to online submitting; it makes me wonder if future college generations will ever know what paper, pens, and drop boxes really are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-344939371459891076?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/344939371459891076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=344939371459891076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/344939371459891076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/344939371459891076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/transition-of-traditional-to-modern.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#663366&quot;&gt;Modern Homework&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Laura</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-778488644016612701</id><published>2010-01-19T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T15:02:00.384-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>"Taking Notes" = "Tkng Nts"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think it would be really nice to have a laptop to take notes in class. There are few things more frustrating than missing the last few lines of notes on a slide and knowing that you're going to be tested over the information that you just missed. One method I've been using to minimize this risk:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skppng vwls in the wrds I wrt on my ppr. Nw, I knw it isn't the prttst thng to lk at, bt fce it, you cn stll rd wht I'm wrtng, cn't you? And it crtnly svs tm onc you gt gd at it. The cntxt of the wrds tpcally tk cr of any uncrtnties, and it's nt the wrst thng in the wrld if you nd to add a vwl or two in a lng wrd for clrty's sk, lk I jst dd in "uncrtnties."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I obviously don't skip all the vowels: leading vowels stay. When a word is only two letters long, it gets both letters; otherwise "at," "it," and "to" would all look the same, as would "in," "on," and "no." And if a word is one syllable long but doesn't end with a consonant sound—such as "the" or "you"—it usually gets to keep its final vowel(s) as well. There are a few other things to watch for, such as silent Es; they are included when they change the sound of the letter before them. Thus, the word "face" becomes "fce"; the word "once" however becomes "onc" because there really aren't many words that begin in "onc." I know, it sounds like a headache, but shorthand is really rather intuitive once you start doing it. And like I said, it isn't too terrible if you accidentally add vowels in places where they wouldn't be normally—just don't make a habit of it; it'll slw you dwn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-778488644016612701?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/778488644016612701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=778488644016612701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/778488644016612701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/778488644016612701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/taking-notes-tkng-nts.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;&quot;Taking Notes&quot; = &quot;Tkng Nts&quot;&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-3041711576357282572</id><published>2010-01-18T21:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T14:29:38.758-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Elise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Three-Day Weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Elise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you get when you cross a bunch of poor college students with a three-day weekend? Way too much fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night a group of friends got together to play games. It started with a game full of running and hitting (with a club made of newspaper). The games then escalated to trying to rip open presents while wearing snow gloves. Trust me, it is harder than it sounds! And we ended with a game where the loser gets his or her face written on with charcoal. A word of warning if you decide to try this at home: if you say (even jokingly) that you want to get your face charcoaled, your friends will chase you, pin your arms, and hold you in a headlock until they color your entire face . . . not that I speak from experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-3041711576357282572?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/3041711576357282572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=3041711576357282572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3041711576357282572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/3041711576357282572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/insert-clever-title-here.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#3399cc&quot;&gt;Three-Day Weekend&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Elise</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-5403275430605699000</id><published>2010-01-15T13:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T13:48:00.132-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='necessities'/><title type='text'>Thanks for the Haircut</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, "Wow, I have a lot of hair." It was getting a wee bit scruffy in the back, too. I remembered seeing one of my hallmates with haircutting accessories, so I asked him if he'd give me a nice little trim—you know, just clean up the edges and thin it out a little bit. So he started cutting. We got to talking as he snipped away, having a good conversation. Then he finished and said, "Go see what you think." I got up, looked at myself in the mirror, and thought, "Wow, I don't have very much hair." My bangs went from 3 inches to 1 centimeter. It looked good, just not what I was expecting. I thanked him for the haircut, told myself that it'll all grow back eventually, and continued on with my day. On the positive side, I'm not going to need a real haircut for another few months now! I'll probably need a trim somewhere there in the middle, but now I know to ask one of the girls in my ward next time—I imagine they'll be a little less likely to give me a buzz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-5403275430605699000?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/5403275430605699000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=5403275430605699000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5403275430605699000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/5403275430605699000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/thanks-for-haircut.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Thanks for the Haircut&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-170046611140964760</id><published>2010-01-14T12:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T17:44:59.864-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>Snow!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Sarah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LasrRIj0YVU/SW44qC-s3JI/AAAAAAAAAAg/t8AkjA0KlD0/s1600-h/SDC10134.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LasrRIj0YVU/SW44qC-s3JI/AAAAAAAAAAg/t8AkjA0KlD0/s320/SDC10134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291228907212430482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;For most people, snow isn't a big deal, but for me, it is.  I come from a tropical paradise where people put on scarves and mittens at  60 degrees (that's Fahrenheit, not Kelvin). Before this winter I had never been in a snowball fight, built a snowman, made a snow angel, had my legs sink up to my thighs when I stepped in the wrong place, or even seen snow for that matter!&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;Preparing for the snow was all new to me. I had to get a warm jacket. They don't even sell those those in Florida! I also had to get snow boots. I have a quick question: What are those exactly? Not to mention the ever-popular long johns—the only thing I could think of, aside from ski pants, to keep my legs warm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you see someone dressed like an Eskimo, wandering around campus sticking her tongue out to catch snowflakes, don't be alarmed! It's just me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-170046611140964760?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/170046611140964760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=170046611140964760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/170046611140964760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/170046611140964760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/snow.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#cc7999&quot;&gt;Snow!&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>Eggy0101</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LasrRIj0YVU/SW44qC-s3JI/AAAAAAAAAAg/t8AkjA0KlD0/s72-c/SDC10134.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-739355511786376635</id><published>2010-01-11T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T15:14:00.233-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>New Material that Is Actually NEW</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last semester I took Book of Mormon, chemistry, biology, physics, health, and history. Even though I'd never taken those classes in college, they were all review for me. I've been studying the Book of Mormon for as long as I can remember; I took chemistry in 10th grade; biology in 9th; physics in 11th and 12th; health in 7th and 9th; and history in every grade in high school and in middle school. Even when my college classes taught "new" material, it was usually merely an extension of material I'd already had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This semester, that is not the case. I'm taking Math 343 (linear algebra) and ME 172 (engineering graphics), and they aren't just building on old information. These classes are legitimately new, and it's throwing me a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent six hours in the computer lab yesterday doing my first homework assignment for 172. I had to produce two of the simplest machine parts in the world on the computer, but I had to do each in computer-aided-design (CAD) programs that I had never used before! And worse—there wasn't a single TA in the lab the entire time I was there! I brute-forced my way through making the parts, using make-shift techniques and digging through my instruction manual to find whatever I could to make my parts look like the diagrams I had. It was not very enjoyable. I'm sure the class will get easier once I know how to use the programs, but at the moment it feels an awful lot like tossing a kid who can't swim into the ocean and saying "learn how to swim, or else."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Linear algebra is similar, but not quite as bad. I think I learned about matrices once in algebra II my sophomore year of high school. I knew what a matrix was and, very briefly, what one could do with matrices if he or she felt up to it. The second homework assignment for the class had already surpassed what I'd learned how to do in high school, and I found myself needing to pave new paths in my mind to understand this near-completely new material. Likewise, I imagine thinking in terms of reduced row-echelon augmented matrices will come more easily soon enough, but that doesn't make these first few weeks any less confusing or stressful!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-739355511786376635?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/739355511786376635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=739355511786376635' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/739355511786376635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/739355511786376635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-material-thats-actually-new.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;New Material that Is Actually NEW&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8212029852936464802.post-1342664684260241543</id><published>2010-01-08T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T00:46:00.314-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braden'/><title type='text'>Painful Misunderstanding</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-transform:uppercase; font-size:78%; font-family: Verdana, Arial; color:#999999"&gt;Posted by Braden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking volleyball this semester. I didn't take a gym class last semester, so this is my first time having a permanent locker in the Richards Building (RB) and regularly getting the BYU athletic-issue clothes. On the first day of class, the teacher said that we could get socks, shorts, and a shirt—which we must wear to participate—in the locker room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for the next day of class, I got each item of BYU issue. But there was one problem: they're like '80s-style clothes! The socks are tube socks that go halfway up your leg, and the shorts are the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;short&lt;/span&gt; shorts that almost make you feel immodest—the kind that basketball players wore in the '80s with their tube socks, for goodness' sake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But since we had to wear BYU issue, I sucked up my pride, put on the shorts and shirt, and went to the gym, somewhat consoled by the fact that everybody must feel as ridiculous as I did. (I did skip on the socks; I figured I could get away with just keeping my own ankle socks, and there are some things my pride just won't let me do.)  I walked into the gym and found only ONE other person wearing these gross shorts! And 15 seconds later, class started, so I was stuck wearing them for the rest of the period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out, only the BYU shirt is absolutely necessary; you can wear your own shorts and socks if you want to, no problem! Now I know, and never again will I put on those abominations from the RB locker room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color=#5588aa&gt;&lt;b&gt;Note:&lt;/b&gt; At the end of winter semester 2009, BYU phased out its physical education clothing. This post by Braden, as with all posts on this blog, was written a year ago, before the clothing was discontinued. &lt;a href="http://magazine.byu.edu/?act=view&amp;a=2456"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; is a brief article from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;BYU Magazine&lt;/span&gt; about the clothing change.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8212029852936464802-1342664684260241543?l=firstbyuyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/feeds/1342664684260241543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8212029852936464802&amp;postID=1342664684260241543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1342664684260241543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8212029852936464802/posts/default/1342664684260241543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstbyuyear.blogspot.com/2009/01/painful-misunderstanding.html' title='&lt;font color=&quot;#999966&quot;&gt;Painful Misunderstanding&lt;/font&gt;'/><author><name>BradenJH</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
